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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
EIGHTH EDITION.
ENCYCL0PJ1DIA BRITANNICA
OR
DICTIONAKY
OF
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
EIGHTH EDITI0N.
WITH EXTEN’SIVE IMPIIOVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME III.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH.
MDCCCLIII.
^4c/r. ' .
[ The Proprietors of this Work give notice that they reserve the right of Translating it.]
ENCYCLOPEDIA BKITANNICA
ANATOMY.
BOOK II.
DESCRIPTIVE, PARTICULAR, OR SPECIAL ANATOMY.
i
Special Special Anatomy may be defined to be that science, the
Anatomy.^ provjnce 0f which is to determine the situation, shape, and
component parts of the several textures and organs of which
the human body consists. In the course of this, however,
it is requisite to premise some observations on the external
shape of the body, and the different regions into which it has,
for the sake of greater precision, been divided.
The external shape of the human body is so well known,
that it is superfluous to describe it. Besides its division
into right and left halves, anterior and posterior surfaces, it
is divided into head, trunk, and extremities. The trunk is
subdivided into neck {collum), chest {thorax, pectus), and
belly {abdomen). The extremities are subdivided into tho¬
racic or upper, and pelvic, abdominal, or lower.
The shape of the head is ellipsoidal, or oblong spheroidal;
the greater diameter being antero-posterior, and the trans¬
verse smallest. The neck is cylindrical, spreading out above
and below. The shape of the trunk is that of an irregular
cylinder, flattened before and behind, broad above, and ta¬
pering below the chest, but expanding again at the pelvis.
The extremities affect the cylindrical form, inclining to the
conical.
These several parts may be still further subdivided. The
head is distinguished into two great divisions, the head pro¬
per, and the face. The former corresponds to the scalp, and
may be divided into coronal, temporal, parietal, and occipi¬
tal regions. The coronal or syncipital may be reckoned
from the anterior margin of the seal]) to the site of the an¬
terior fontanelle, or the line named the coronal suture. Be¬
hind this to the crown {vertex), and downwards on each side,
are the parietal or lateral regions; from the parietal and
frontal is the temporal; from the crown to the flexure of
the neck is the hind-head or occipital {occiput) ; from the
last point to the level of the shoulders is the cervix ; on each
side are the lateral regions of the neck; and before is the
laryngeal, jugular, or anterior region of the neck {jugidum).
The face consists of the brow, front or forehead ( jrons), with
the glabella or mesophryon at its base, in the middle, and the
eyebrows {supercilia) on each side ; the nose {nasus), the
upper lip {supralabium), the lower lip {infralabium), the chin
{mentum), the cheeks {gence), the chops {buccce), the upper
jaw {mala), and lower jaw {maxilla).
Besides these, it is usual to distinguish the prolabium, or
the red portion of the lip, upper and lower, as covered by a
thin half-cutaneous, half-mucous skin and epidermis.
VOL III.
Distinc¬
tion into
regions.
The chest, besides its distinction into right and left halves,
anterior arid posterior surfaces, and upper and lower boun¬
daries, may be distinguished into a sternal region in the
middle {sternum), a mammary region on each side, an axillary
region, a costal region, a hypochondriac region, a scapular
region, and a vertebral region.
Several of these regions it is convenient to subdivide in
the following manner. The upper anterior region, imme¬
diately below the collar-bone, is distinguished as the sub-
clavicular region; the space between the breast and the
axilla as the extra-mammary region; that between the breast
and the sternum as the intra-mammary region ; the space
below the breasts on each side as the infra-mammary region ;
the space below the armpit as the sub-axillary region. On
the posterior surface of the chest, the space above the spine
of the scapula is called the supra-spinal region ; that below
it the infra-spinal region.
The abdomen may be distinguished into regions in the
following manner. The triangular space between the false
ribs and navel, commonly named the pit of the stomach, is
the epigastric region {scrobiculus cordis, epigastrium). Be¬
low this, in the centre, is the umbilical {umbilicus), with the
iliac region or flanks, {ilia) on each side, and the hypogas¬
tric {hypogastrium) below. Behind, on each side of the
vertebral column, are the loins, {lumbi).
Next to the abdomen is the pelvis, the posterior lateral
parts of which are the buttocks {nates), the anterior, the
pubes, and the inferior, the hips or ischiatic regions {ischia),
with the perinceum in the middle between them.
In the trunk of the body, besides the chest, the abdomen, and
the pelvis, it is proper to distinguish the region of the back-bone
or spine, extending along the whole length of the trunk from
the head to the lower end of the trunk. The spine or spinal
region is divided into four subordinate regions; the cervical,
the dorsal, the lumbar, and the sacral or sacro-coccygeal.
In each pectoral extremity are recognized the following
division; the shoulder {humerus), the armpit {axilla), the
arm {brachium), the elbow {cubitus), the fore-arm {ante-
brachium), the wrist {carpus), and the hand {manus). The
latter is subdivided into the fore-wrist {metacarpus), the
fingers {digiti), the palm {vola), and the back-hand {thenar).
Each abdominal extremity presents the following separate
regions; the haunch {coxa), the thigh {femur), the knee
{genu), the ham {poples), the leg {tibia), of which there is
the muscular part or calf {sura), the ankle external and in-
A
Special
Anatomy.
\
2
ANATOMY.
Special ternal {malleolus externus et internus), the foot (pes), sub-
Anatomy. divided into the ankle-joint {tarsus), the foot-joint {meta-
tarsus), the toes {digiti pedis), with dorsal or upper surface,
and plantar surface or sole {soled).
These divisions, though not so numerous as they have
been made by some, are sufficiently so for the purpose of
general anatomical description. Where more minute dis¬
tinction is requisite, it shall be introduced as we proceed.
Descriptive or Special Anatomy includes not only the de¬
scriptions of the situations and relations of the different
classes of textures in the human body and that of the inter¬
nal organs, but it comprehends also a particular form of
anatomical knowledge necessary to the surgeon. This con¬
sists in defining, as accurately as language and measurement
can do, the boundaries of the different regions into which
the human body may be divided, and ascertaining the posi¬
tions and relations of all the important parts that are liable
to become the seat of local disease and chirurgical operation.
To this department the names of Chirurgical Anatomy, To¬
pographical Anatomy, and Anatomy of Regions, are given.
The limits within which the present article must be con¬
fined permit not to enter upon this department of Anatomi¬
cal knowledge. It is sufficient to say, that useful treatises
on this subject have been published by Velpeau, Blandin,
Edwards ; and that in the systems of operative Surgery,
especially that by Mr William Fergusson, and the work of
Mr Maclise, correct information upon the boundaries and the
relative positions of the various regions is communicated.
Stature. The stature of the body varies in the two sexes, in indi¬
viduals, in families, in tribes, and in nations. The Romans,
when they first visited Gaul, remarked the gigantic stature
of the ancient inhabitants of that country compared with
themselves; and, generally speaking, the modern Italians,
though by no means a pure or unmixed breed from the an¬
cient stock, are a diminutive race. The Germans, and most
of the English and Irish, are rather tall. The inhabitants
of Finland are distinguished for their great stature, amidst
the dwarfish tribes by which they are surrounded. In general
the Europeans are taller than the Asiatics.
Height or The average height of the adult male varies from 5 feet
length. g inches to 5 feet 10 or 11 inches, or even to 6 feet. The
dimensions of different parts vary according to those of the
whole body; but the following measurements of a male
of 5 feet 8 inches, and one of 5 feet 11 inches, may com¬
municate some idea of the length of different regions of
the body.
Inches. Inches.
Total height   68'00 71'00
Between the tips of the middle fingers, with the
arms extended  68-00 72'75
From the crown to the pubes  34’00 45’00
From the crown to the lower tip of the chin ... 9‘75 9'00
From the tip of the chin to the top of the breast 3’85 3'25
From the top of the breast to the pit of the sto¬
mach  6‘08 9-75
Between the pit of the stomach and the navel.. 6'08 7'00
Between the navel and top of the pubes  6-08 6*75
Between the top of the shoulder and the bend
of the elbow  12'06 ^’OO
From the bend of the elbow to the top of the
hand  10,02 10’5
The hand, from the wrist to tip of middle finger 7'75 7*375
Between the top of the thigh inside and the
knee inside  14*06 17*00
From the knee inside to the sole  18*05 20*00
The foot, from the heel to the point of the great
toe  9*75 10*00
The average height of the female varies from 5 feet 3
inches to 5 feet 5 inches and 5 feet 7 or 8 inches. A woman Special
of 5 feet 10 inches is unusually tall. The length of the dif- Anatom
ferent regions is proportionally less than in the male. ■
The length of the body previous to adult age varies with
the period of life. The length of an embryo of three weeks,
represented by Soemmerring, is about g- of an inch ; one of
eight weeks is about 1 inch ; and one at the end of the fifth
month is about 10 inches. According to Burns, however,
the length of the foetus in the fifth month does not exceed
6 or 7 inches ; in the sixth it is about 8 or 9, in the seventh
about 12, and in the eighth about 15 inches. At the period
of birth, the average length, according to Roederer, is about
20^ inches.
The only part of the foetus of which it is important to de¬
termine the average dimensions at the period of birth is the
head. Its largest diameter, which is that from the crown to
the chin, is in general about 5 inches. The transverse diame¬
ter between the parietal protuberances is at the same time
about Stt inches. Of 60 male and 60 female infants born
at the full time, whose heads were measured by Dr Clarke,
the circumference passing through the occipital process and
the middle of the brow was at an average 13*8 inches, while
the arch from ear to ear over the crown was 7*32 inches.
One measured 15 inches in circumference, and one Sc¬
inches from ear to ear; but none were under 12 inches in
the one direction, or 6^ inches in the other.
It is well established that there is a difference in the aver¬
age dimensions of the male and female, even in the foetal
state. Roederer found the mean length of 16 male children
born at the full time to be 20|f inches, and of 8 females only
20t% ; and of the 60 male and 60 female infants measured
by Dr Clarke, the average circumference was 14 inches in
the former, and only 13f in the latter ; and the parietal arch
was 7£ in the former, and 7£ in the latter. Of 120 infants,
in 6 only, which were males, did the circumference of the
head exceed 14^ inches.
The weight of the adult male varies from 9 stone to 11 Weight,
or 12. Ten stones, or 140 lb., may be stated as the average.
The female weighs about 8 stone, and rarely more than 10.
After the age of 35 or 40, when fat begins to be deposited,
the weight rises considerably ; and the average weight at
this age is from 13 to 14 stones. In some extraordinary ex¬
amples of corpulence, combined with large stature, the weight
of the body amounts to 20 and 25 stones.
The average weight of the foetus in the early months is
uncertain. According to Mr Burns, it weighs about 2 oz.
in the 12th week ; about 1 lb. in the 6th month; and about
4 or 5 lb. troy in the 8th month. At the period of birth the
mean weight is about 7 lb. avoirdupois. Dr William Hun¬
ter states, that of several thousand new-born perfect infants
weighed at the British Hospital in London by Dr Macaulay,
the smallest was about 4 lb., the largest about 11 lb. 2 oz.,
and the greater number varied from 5 to 8 lb. avoirdupois.
He knew no instance of a new-born infant weighing 12 lb.
Of 60 male and 60 female infants weighed by Dr Clarke, the
lightest was 41b., the heaviest 10 lb., and the average 71b.
13 dr. avoirdupois. The average weight of 26 children at
the natural period, weighed by Roederer, was about 6^ lb.;
the lightest about 5^ lb. and the heaviest about 8 lb.
The difference between the weight of the male and fe¬
male infant at birth is estimated by Dr Clarke at about 9 oz.
avoirdupois, which agrees with the results obtained by
Roederer.
In the case of twins, the average weight of each twin is
in general less than that of children born at single births;
but the combined weight of both is greater. Dr Clarke found
the average weight of 12 twins to be 11 lb. avoirdupois each
pair; the heaviest being 131b., and the lightest 8^-lb. Mr
Burns, however, states that he has known instances in which
Special
Anatomy.
Average
weights of
Individual
Organs.
ANATOMY.
each twin was rather above than below the usual weight of
a single-birth child.
An important and useful point is to determine the average
size and the dimensions of the principal organs of the human
body in the adult state. Krause has, with this view, given
the measurements of all the regions and the dimensions of
most of the organs. All these modes of estimating the size
of organs, however, are fallacious. The only one which can
be employed with any precision is to ascertain the average
weights of organs, and to note the proportion which these
weights bear to that of the whole body. Attempts of this
kind, applying, however, only to certain organs, have been
made by different inquirers.
The organs specified were found, according to numerous
--trials made by Dr Clendinning, in males between the ages
of 21 and 60 years, to weigh on an average, at the following
rates— oz Gr. Lb. Oz.
Brain  461 = 20,226 = 2 141
Heart    9Th — 3,982
Liver   531 = 23>408 = 35
Kidneys  9J = 4,025
Spleen  5 = 2,lb8
Pancreas  2§ = 1,148
Stomach   5 — 2>^88
Lungs   46 — 20,116 — 2 14
In the same persons the whole person weighed 941 pounds,
which is between 46 and 48 pounds less than the average,
140 or 142 pounds (Quetelet), at the age of 40 years.
Among the persons weighed, however, several were 124,
125, and 1261b.; two weighed 1401b., one weighed 1331b.,
and one at 50 years weighed 200 lb.
These results differ in a very slight degree from those ob¬
tained by Dr Reid and Dr Peacock in the Royal Infirmary,
Edinburgh. In 89 males the average weight of the heart
amounted to 11 oz. 1 dr.; in 53 females to 9oz. 4 dr. In
60 males the average weight of the liver was 52 oz. 12^ dr.;
in 25 females 45 oz. 3£ dr. The right kidney weighed, on
an average in the male 5 oz. 7 dr.; in the female 14 oz.
13 dr. the left kidney 5 oz. 11 dr. in the male; in the fe¬
male 5 oz. 2 dr. / 7-r 7 7 7 \ •
The average weight of the whole brain {Enkephalon) in
131 males, between the ages of 25 and 55 years, was found to
be 50 oz. 3tVt dr-5 in females between the same periods
to be 44 oz. 14ff dr.; giving a difference of 5 oz. 4*95 dr. in
favour of the male brain. x_
The average weight of the brain proper {Cerebrum) m 95
males between the ages of 25 and 55 years, was found to be
44 oz. 3-4 dr.; in 58 females within the same periods to be
39oz. 3-3 dr.; making a difference of 5 oz. 0T dr. in favour
of the cerebrum of the male.
Special Anatomy has been divided, according to the classes
of textures of which the human body is composed, into dif¬
ferent parts, with appropriate denominations. Thus the ana¬
tomy of the bones has been named Osteology, Osteography,
and Skeletology ; while that of the soft parts in general has
been denominated Surkology• Where more minuteness is
attempted, the anatomy of the soft parts has been still fur¬
ther subdivided into that of the ligaments, Syndesmology ;
the muscles, Myology ; the vessels, Angiology ; the nerves,
Neurography and Neurology; the membmnes, Hymenology;
the glands, Adenography and Adenology ; and the internal
organs, Splanchnology. ,
Though these are convenient terms to designate the
several divisions of Special Anatomy, they afford little as¬
sistance in the general arrangement of the subject. It is
justly observed by Bichat, that this arrangement, if such
it can be named, is objectionable, by separating different
organs which ought to be united. It is indeed remarkable
only for connecting organs by arbitrary, and often unna- Special
tural principles; and though it may answer in a subor- Anatomy,
dinate manner, it is unfit to furnish the principles of a
general and natural mode of arrangement.
The most eligible method is that which arranges the
organs according to their physiological purposes,—a me¬
thod adopted by Haller and Soemmering, but which re¬
quired the hand of Bichat to give it its full and perfect
developement, and which has since been adopted from
this author by most subsequent writers.
According to this method, the organs of the human
body may be arranged in three great classes: first, those
pertaining to the animal functions, or which establish the
connection between the individual and the objects of the
external world—the organs of relation; secondly, those
pertaining to the organic functions, or which tend to the
continuance of the individual—the organs of nutrition;
and, thirdly, the organs relating to the continuance of the
species—the organs of reproduction. The first class con¬
tains the organs of locomotion, speech, and sensation ; the
second those of digestion, circulation and absorption, respi¬
ration, and secretion ; and to the third are referred the
organs of generation.
This method may not be altogether free from objec¬
tions ; several of which are anticipated by Bichat. It is
sufficient, however, to observe that it is less objection¬
able than any other; and one of its advantages is, that it
furnishes a clearer and more precise idea of the connec¬
tion of the different classes of organs of the animal body
than any other yet proposed.
This method of arrangement may be conveniently ex¬
hibited in the following table.
I. Organs pertaining to the Animal, Voluntary, or Relative Functions.
{Instruments—Bones, Cartilages, Ligaments,
and Fibro-cartilages.
Agents—Muscles, Tendons, and their appen¬
dages.
f The Organs of Proper Sensation—Smell, Sight,
J Hearing, and Taste.
j The Organs of Common Sensation—Touch,
k Tact, &c.
( Laryngeal Voice—the Larynx.
-< Oral Voice or Speech—the Lips, Tongue, and
( Teeth.
( Central Organs—Brain, Cerebellum, and Spi-
Energy, or In- < nal Chord,
nervation. I Distributed Organs—the erves.
2. Sensation.
3. Voice.
4. Nervous
II. Organs pertaining to the Organic or Nutritive Functions.
f
1. Alimentary or
Limitrophic
Function.
Digestion.
' Mastication—Mouth, Tongue, and
Teeth.
Deglutition—Pharynx and (Eso¬
phagus.
Chymification—Stomach.
Chylification—Duodenum and Ile¬
um.
Defecation and Excretion—Colon
v and Rectum.
Lacteal Absorption—Lacteal s and Thoracic
Duct.
Nutritive Circulation—Heart and Blood-ves-
sels.
2. Circulation. -{ Aerating Circulation, or Respiration—Lungs,
^ Secretory Circulation, or Secretion—Glands.
III. Organs pertaining to the Reproductive Function.
Male or Impregnating'!
_ .. Organs. I procluct—the Foetus.
Generation. Female or Ootrophic [
Organs. J
4
ANATOMY.
Special
Anatomv.
PART I.
ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF THE ANIMAL, VOLUNTARY,
OR RELATIVE FUNCTIONS.
The organs belonging to the functions of animal life
are those of locomotion, sensation, voice, and innervation.
1 ese organs are distinguished by two general characters,
symmetry of form and harmony of action. By the first
!s meant that each organ possesses similar parts on each
side of the mesial plane. By the second is meant that
the action of that part which is on the right side of the
mesial plane corresponds with that on the left.
CHAP. I. THE ORGANS OF LOCOMOTION.
The organs of locomotion may be arranged in two orders,
active and passive. The first are the agents of motion,
or the organic substances which produce motion; the se¬
cond are the bodies moved, or the instruments of motion.
The muscles, strictly speaking, are the former, though to
these are added certain appendages. The bones and their
appendages constitute the second.
With the latter order of parts it is usual to begin the
business of special anatomy, for obvious reasons. The
bones are at once the most durable and regular in shape
of all the organic solids; and as an intimate relation sub¬
sists between their mechanical figure and the soft parts
connected with them, the knowledge of the former con¬
stitutes the best introduction to that of the latter species
of organs.
SECT. I. OSTEOLOGY, SKELETOLOGY.
The assemblage of bones composing the human body
constitutes the skeleton, which, like the body, is divided
into head, trunk, and extremities. The length of the
skeleton is about an inch less than that of the body; that
is, the skeleton of an individual 5 feet 8 inches in height is
about 5 feet 7 inches long, and of one 6 feet, about 5 feet
11 inches long. The weight of the skeleton varies at dif¬
ferent periods of life. That of a middle-sized adult ranges
between 160 and 200 ounces. A male skeleton, measur¬
ing 5 feet 6 inches long, I found to weigh 168 ounces,
or 101 ]bs>j avoirdupois.
The number of separate pieces amounts to 254, of which
56 belong to the trunk, 60 to the head, 72 to the pecto¬
ral extremities, and 66 to the pelvic. Of these several
parts, the trunk is the most important, because, Is#, it is
developed before the head or extremities; and, 2dly, be¬
cause if we look to its place in the animal kingdom ge¬
nerally, it is the most essential and constant, and pre¬
sents the general modulus or type according to which the
osseous pieces composing the head are constructed.
The Trunk.
The trunk. The trunk of the skeleton consists of three parts, the
spine or vertebral column, the chest or thorax, and the
pelvis.
§. 1. The Spinal or Vertebral Column.
Vertebra!.)
(Spina Dor si;
wJer' '^ie ver*:e^)ra^ column, situate in the posterior part of
Jumn. C°" I"jrunk’ length of which it determines, unites the
head to the pelvis, supports the former, and is supported
by the latter. When completely developed, it consists of
29, and rarely of 30 pieces, named vertebrae (spondyli,
tf^ovSuXo/), from the circumstance that each admits of a
slight degree of rotatory motion. .Twenty-four of these
bones, which are in the healthy adult separate, are de- Special
nominated true vertebrae (vertebra: verve). The 25th, Anatomy
named the sacrum, though in adult life forming a single
bone, consists in early life of four separate pieces, which ver^
become consolidated, and are therefore named false ver- brae
tebrev, (vertebra: spuria:). The four last constitute what is
named the coccyx, dhe column thus formed, though
straight at birth, assumes afterwards several curvatures
in the antero-posterior direction, giving it the aspect of
the Italian f. It may be divided into four regions, the
cervical, dorsal, lumbar, and sacral. In the first it is al¬
most straight, but begins to bend backward in the second,
so as to form a considerable curvature with the convex
surface posteriorly. A little below the middle of the
dorsal portion it bends forward, and continues to do so to
the lower part of the lumbar region, where it once more
bends backward, and forms the sacrum into a concave
hollow. At the lower end of the sacrum it again in¬
clines forward, and the coccyx is in general considerably
incurvated anteriorly. (Plate XXVI. fig. 1.)
Besides the antero-posterior curvatures, there is in ge¬
neral a lateral one near the lower part of the dorsal re¬
gion, on the left side, to which its concavity is directed.
This has been observed by anatomists, from Cheselden,
who first represented it, to Soemmering, Bichat, and
Meckel.
In length the vertebral column does not vary much ;
and differences in stature depend more on the dimensions
of the members than of it. In thickness it augments
progressively from the cervical to the sacral portions, af¬
ter which it once more tapers to a point. It may be com¬
pared to two cones united by their base, the superior of
which is truncated.
The vertebrae, true and false, possess certain common
characters. . Of these the most general is the annular
shape, or a ring of bone, the opening of which, in conti¬
nuity with those of the whole column, constitutes a lon¬
gitudinal cylindrical cavity for lodging the spinal chord
and its envelopes. It is therefore denominated the hole
of the spinal marrow (foramen medulla: spinalis, Soem.),
or simply the vertebral hole (Bichat). Anterior to this is
a mass of bone, generally the largest of the vertebra, and
therefore named its body (corpus vertebrae). The ante¬
rior surface is flat, sometimes slightly convex; the poste¬
rior is always concave; the upper and lower surfaces are
slightly concave, and correspond with the intervertebral
fibro-cartilages.
Behind the hole the vertebra is moulded into an arch
or annular segment, the outer surface of which forms
seven processes. The first at the back of the vertebra
on the median line is the spinous process, which may be
said to be formed by the union of the spinal plates in the
middle. On each side are two, which, from their situation
with respect to the column, are named transverse pro¬
cesses. Other four, two on the upper and two on the
lower surface of each vertebra, near the base of each
transverse process, are named oblique, from their direction,
and articular (processus articulares), because the inferior
ones of the superior vertebra are articulated with the su¬
perior ones of the lower vertebra. These processes are
easily distinguished by being covered with cartilage and
synovial membrane. They constitute true capsular joints.
Each vertebra presents four notches or depressions,
two at the upper and two at the lower surface, between
the body and the oblique processes. Each of these, with
coiresponding notches on the vertebra above and below,
forms a hole (foramen conjunctionis, vel intervertebrale),
for the exit of the spinal nerves and the entrance of
blood-vessels.
ANATOMY.
Special All the vertebrae, excepting the atlas and vertebra den-
Anatomy. tata, are united in the same manner, and at the same
points. The bodies are united by the intervertebral fibro-
T he verte-carl;j]agegj which consist of white concentric annular lay-
l,raB‘ ers of fibrous matter, placed in juxtaposition, and con¬
taining internally semifluid jelly. In adults this sub¬
stance becomes firm and consolidated ; but in the young
subject it is so soft and compressible, that young persons
are found to be one or two inches taller in the morning,
or after they have been some time in the recumbent po¬
sition, than in the evening, or after the spinal column has
sustained for some hours the weight of the person. In
advanced life these fibro-cartilages become still more so¬
lid and shrivelled; and in some instances they are con¬
verted into bone, so as to unite two or more vertebrae in
a single mass. This change is one reason of the greater
stiffness and incurvation of the spine in the old and de-
crepid, than in those in early life.
Besides the connection by the intervertebral cartilages,
the vertebrae are united at their articular processes by means
of capsular ligaments, so as to allow slight flexion and
extension on each other; and at the basis of the spinous
processes, by means of short, firm, and inelastic yellow
chords (ligamenta Jlava), named yellow ligaments. These,
with a thick fibrous fascia extending along the anterior
surface of the bodies (ligamentum anterius, fascia longitu-
dinalis anterior)^ a similar fibrous fascia behind, lining
the vertebral canal, a ligament connecting mutually the
apices of the spinous processes, and the incumbent mus¬
cles, retain the vertebrae firmly in their places, and pre¬
vent them from being dislodged, unless by a force ade¬
quate to break the bones and rend the ligaments.
The vertebrae vary in structure. The bodies consist
chiefly of loose cancellated tissue, without solid bone. The
spinal rings and the processes are much more firm and
dense.
In the foetus and infant each vertebra consists of three
portions, a thick, loose mass, corresponding to the body,
and two lateral arches corresponding to the spinal rings,
without spinous process, and scarcely meeting. In the
foetus, indeed, the posterior wall of the vertebral canal
may be said to be incomplete. Soon after birth, however,
the spinal plates enlarging, mutually coalesce on the me¬
dian line ; and from this point of union, by successive accre¬
tion, the spinous processes are gradually formed. These
facts may serve in some degree to explain the facility
with which tumblers and rope-dancers may be habituated
in infancy to the most extraordinary inflexions of the trunk.
The vertebrae, agreeing in the characters now enume¬
rated, differ from each other according to the regions
which they occupy, and the parts with which they are
connected. On this principle the twenty-four true ver¬
tebrae are arranged in three classes; the cervical {y. cer-
vicis), the dorsal (y. dorsi), and the lumbar (v. lumborum).
The cervical vertebrae are in number generally seven,
rarely six or eight; the dorsal are twelve ; and the lum¬
bar are five. (Plate XXIV. and XXV. fig. 1.)
The cervi- The cervical vertebrae are distinguished by their bodies
brLVerte* keing small, with flat anterior surfaces; by the articular
processes being short and flat, as well as less oblique than
those of the others; by their transverse processes being
short, of a triangular shape, hollowed above, and perfo¬
rated at the base by a hole for the transit of the vertebral
artery; by the spinous processes being short, nearly hori¬
zontal, and generally bifid; and by the vertebral hole be-
ing large and of an oval shape.
ITn? atlas. The first and second of these vertebras are still further
distinguished by peculiarities of configuration. The first,
which is named atlas, consists of a large bony ring, inclos-
5
ing an irregular hole, approaching to the shape of the Special
ancient tyre. Instead of the body, which is wanting, is Anatomy,
a mere arch of dense bone, with an obtuse tubercle before
for the longus colli muscle, and behind an articular facette Thf verte'
which applies to a corresponding one of the tooth-like
process of the second vertebra. From the extremities of
this arch the vertebral hoop acquires considerable thick¬
ness, for the formation of the oblique and transverse pro¬
cesses. The superior oblique process is seen above on
each side in the form of an elliptical cartilaginous surface,
slightly concave, consisting of two parts, the anterior
large, the posterior small, and terminating in a point
which overhangs the sinuosity of the vertebral artery.
The cavity of this superior oblique process receives the
condyloid process of the occipital bone, with which it is
connected by a capsular ligament, lined by synovial mem¬
brane. Below is seen the articular facette of the inferior
oblique process, rounder, shorter, less concave, but cover¬
ed also by cartilage and synovial membrane, and articu¬
lated with the superior processes of the second vertebra.
Between these two, on the lateral regions of the vertebral
ring, is the transverse process, in the shape of a triangle,
the base of which is formed by the bone of the oblique
processes, and the sides by the production of the anterior
and posterior arch. The latter, being the segment of a
smaller circle, is more distinctly circular than the former,
and may be described as a strong, dense, semiannular
piece of bone, with a tubercle on its posterior margin at
the median line, to which the rectus capitis posticus minor is
attached. On the inside of the atlas, at the lower margin
of the superior oblique process, is a rough surface with a
depressed cavity, which marks the insertion of the trans¬
verse ligament. The space anterior to this is occupied
by the tooth-like process of the second vertebra; that pos¬
terior to it, which is the proper vertebral hole, by the be¬
ginning of the spinal chord.
The atlas is connected above to the occipital bone by
the capsular ligament, which surrounds the margins of the
superior oblique processes; below, to the vertebra dentata
in the same manner; and behind its anterior arch to the
tooth-like process. To its anterior tubercle are attached
the longus colli and rectus capitis internus minor ; to the
transverse process the rectus lateralis, the superior and
inferior oblique muscles, the levator angidi scapulce, the
transversi, the scalenus anticus, and the transversus colli.
To its posterior arch the rectus posticus is attached.
By the condyloid processes of the occipital bone moving
on the superior oblique processes, the head is bent and
extended, or moved backwards and forwards on the atlas.
The atlas ossifies by two points.
The second vertebra, named axis and epistropheus, from The axis,
its motions, is distinguished by a large prominent body
like a tooth (processus odontoides) issuing vertically from
its body, a circumstance from which it is also named ver¬
tebra dentata. This process, which is a four-sided prism,
with the top obliquely acuminated, presents on its ante¬
rior surface an articular facette, corresponding to that of
the atlas. The posterior surface is rough, and corresponds
to the transverse ligament. From the odontoid process
the body descends somewhat below the level of the ver¬
tebral hoop, and presents at its lower margin, on the me¬
dian line, a tubercle, with excavations on each side.
Above, on each side of the odontoid process, are the su¬
perior oblique processes, in the shape of oval facettes,
covered by cartilage and synovial membrane, and articu¬
lated with the inferior oblique processes of the atlas.
Below, and a little behind, is the inferior articular process,
more oblique in direction, and articulating with that of the
third vertebra. Between the two is the transverse pro-
6
ANATOMY.
Special cess, with the vertebral hole in its base; and from the
Anatomy. same point the spinal plates converge backwards so as to
form the spinous process, which is distinct and bifid in
braT^ thi8 vertebra. Between the superior oblique process is
the upper notch, which is rather a rounding of the spinal
plates than a distinct depression ; and between the inferior
oblique process and the transverse process is the lower
notch, which, with the upper one of the third vertebra,
forms a complete hole for the exit of the fifth pair of
spinal nerves.
The vertebral hole in this vertebra is heart-shaped, the
basis before and the apex behind.
By the odontoid process it is articulated with the occipital
bone and the atlas ; by the upper oblique process with the
atlas; and by the lower oblique process with the third
cervical vertebra.
To the transverse process are attached the splenius ca¬
pitis, levator anguli scapulae, scalenus, transversus cervicis,
longus colli, intertransversalis secundus anterior et posterior.
To the spinous process are attached the rectus capitis pos¬
ticus major, obliquus inferior, spinalis cervicis, interspinalis
cervicis, and multifidus spince.
The axis ossifies from four points, one for each side,
one for the body, and one for the odontoid process.
The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth cervical vertebrae are
very similar. The bodies gradually increase in size to the
seventh, which is generally the largest. The articular
processes are also more oblique in the lower ones than in
those above. The spinous processes also increase in size
in the lower cervical vertebrae, and in the sixth and
seventh are particularly large and prominent; and in the
last are not bifid, but merely tubercular. The vertebral
holes in the second and third are heart-shaped, and the
lower ones triangular, with the apex towards the spinous
processes. The body of the seventh also presents at its
lower margin a depression, which, with a corresponding
one in the first dorsal, receives the head of the first rib.
The seventh, in short, may be regarded as indicating the
transition from the cervical to the dorsal vertebrae.
Besides the muscles already mentioned as attached to
the axis, to the cervical vertebrae are attached the lumbo-
costalis, the serratus posticus superior, the rhomboideus
minor, the cucullaris, the splenius capitis, the upper part
of the large complexus, and part of the rhomboideus major.
The dorsal The dorsal or thoracic vertebrae (y. dorsi vel thoracis),
vertebrae, which are twelve in number, are distinguished by articu¬
lar notches on their superior and inferior margins, which,
with the intervertebral cartilage and the contiguous ver¬
tebrae, form depressions for lodging the heads of the ribs,
and cartilaginous facettes on their transverse processes for
articulating with similar facettes on the tubercles of the
ribs. The tenth dorsal vertebra has often only one fa-
cette above, and the eleventh and twelfth have only a
single facette for each of the two last ribs.
The bodies of the dorsal vertebrae are more convex and
somewhat rounder before than those of the cervical and
lumbar. The hole, which is smaller, is also rounder, ap¬
proaching to the oval shape.
The spinal plates are broad and strong, and meet be¬
hind in long prismatic spinous processes, which are direct¬
ed obliquely downwards, so that they are imbricated over
each other, especially in the middle of the back. The
three last are less oblique. The oblique direction and
imbricated arrangement of the spinous processes are con¬
nected with the peculiar flexuous bend which the column
undergoes from the lower part of the cervical to the upper
end of the lumbar region.
The twelfth dorsal vertebra approaches the first lum¬
bar in the large size of its body, in the shortness of its
transverse processes, in the straight direction and smaller Specia
extent of the spinous process, and in the articular processes Anatom;
becoming almost vertical.
To the dorsal vertebrae the following muscles are
tached: the splenius capitis et colli, trachelo-mastoideus,
the part of the complexus called biventer cervicis, the com¬
plexus, longus colli, transversus colli, spinalis colli, semispi-
nalis dorsi, multifidus spince, the inner part of the lumbo-
costalis, the levatores costarum, the inner layer of the ten¬
don of the internal oblique and transverse muscles of the
belly, the latissimus dorsi, rhomboideus major, cucullaris,
and serratus posticus superior et inferior.
The five lumbar vertebrae are distinguished by the size The turn
of their bodies and their processes, and by the directionbar vert£
of the spinous and articular processes. Each body is both h016,
broader and thicker, but less convex, than those of the
dorsal vertebrae. The vertebral hole also is larger, and it
resumes the triangular shape as in the neck. The trans¬
verse processes are broad, flat, and large, without articu¬
lar facette like the dorsal, or arterial hole like the cervical,
and are rough by the attachment of the sacro-lumbalis.
Of the articular processes, which are large and have a
vertical direction, the upper is concave, oval, and turned
towards the median plane; the lower is convex, oval, and
directed towards the lateral regions. The spinous pro¬
cesses are large, flattened, almost square, with thick obtuse
margins, and directed straight backwards. The vertebral
notches are large, and form holes much larger than at any
other part of the spine.
The attached muscles are the spinalis dorsi, multifidus
spince, quadratus lumborum, the inner layer of the internal
oblique and transverse, and the outer layer of the latter,
the external and internal parts of the lumbo-costalis, the
latissimus dorsi, serratus posticus inferior, the diaphragm,
and the psoce.
The sacrum, composed in early life of five pieces, which The sa-
are afterwards consolidated into one, may be regarded ascrnin.
a series of imperfect vertebrae conjoined into a single
mass. It is a symmetrical bone, of a triangular shape,
with the base attached to the last lumbar vertebra, the
apex, which is obtuse, adhering to the os coccygis, and the
sides wedged between the bones of the pelvis.
The anterior or pelvic surface is concave, with the base,
sometimes named the promontory,^rovoment and overhang¬
ing, the apex and the lateral margins incurvated forwards,
and corresponds to the rectum. It presents in general four,
sometimes five pairs of oval holes, which communicate with
the spinal cavity, and between each of which may be seen
a transverse ridge marking the lines of junction of the se¬
veral bones; and in some instances the inner is so imper¬
fect that a deep line is left. These holes, therefore,
through which the nerves pass from the spinal chord, are
quite analogous to those formed by the union of the ver¬
tebral notches. The posterior surface of the sacrum is
much more irregular. At the top are two articular pro¬
cesses, concave and cartilaginous, for receiving the convex
surface of the inferior articular processes of the last lum¬
bar vertebra. Outside of these is a deep notch, which,
with that of the same vertebra, forms the posterior ver¬
tebral hole; and outside of this is a tubercle, which cor¬
responds to the transverse processes of the true vertebrae.
Below the notch on each side is a series of four holes,
which, like those of the anterior surface, communicate
with the cavity of the bone, and allow the posterior nerves
to issue from the chord. On the median line, between,
there is an irregular bony ridge, or rather a series of
three spinous processes, short, obtuse, and separated by
shallow depressions. The third of these diminishes gra¬
dually in the longitudinal direction till it is entirely lost
A N A 1
Special opposite the fourth pair of sacral holes, leaving between
Anatomy. ridges a triangular opening, which often communi-
cates with the interior of the spinal cavity, and, when it
The verte-{joeg not} marks the lower termination of that cavity. In
brse' the former case it is closed by the posterior sacro-coccy-
geal ligament.
The sides of the sacrum, which are rough, and of an ir¬
regular cuneiform shape, present two surfaces,—one ante¬
rior, something cartilaginous, for articulating with the
iliac bones,—the other posterior, marked by two deep sinu¬
osities, in which are lodged the sacro-iliac ligaments. The
inferior termination of the sides tapers towards the apex
or coccygeal end. The surface is rough for the insertion
of the sacro-ischiadic ligament, and it is terminated by a
notch for the exit of the fifth pair of posterior sacral nerves.
The structure of the sacrum, like that of the vertebrae,
is cancellated, and most loose in the site of the spinal plates
and processes. Its mode of ossification is analogous to
that of the vertebrae generally. On the middle plane ap¬
pear five points, which correspond to the bodies of the
false vertebrae, or the individual bodies of the sacrum ;
and on each side of these are formed two others, which
become eventually the ridges of bone between the ante¬
rior and posterior sacral holes and the spinal plates. As
these enlarge, they coalesce; and consolidating, leave
only on the pelvic and dorsal surfaces the rows of holes
through which issue the sacral nerves. It hence results
that the sacrum is ossified from fifteen separate portions
of bone.
Besides the muscles connected with the lumbar verte¬
brae, the sacrum gives attachment to part of the gluttzus
maximus and the pyriformis.
The sacrum is attached above to the last lumbar ver¬
tebra by the intervertebral fibro-cartilage, the capsule of
the two articular processes, and the yellow ligament of
the spinous processes; to the iliac bones by the sacro¬
iliac synchondrosis, and to the coccyx by a similar fibro-
cartilage. (Plate XXIV. fig. 1, S.)
The os The coccyx is a symmetrical bone, triangular, occupying
coceygid. the posterior and inferior parts of the pelvis, attached by
its base to the sacrum, and with the apex free and slightly
incurvated forwards, so as to terminate in a hooked point,
which has been supposed to resemble the bill of the
cuckoo, (xoxjoiI;, cuculus.)
The anterior or pelvic surface is concave, marked with
transverse grooves covered by periosteum, and supporting
the lower extremity of the rectum. The posterior or
outer surface is convex, gibbous, and unequal, for the in¬
sertion of the sacro-coccygeal ligament and some fibres
of the large glutceus, and, like the anterior, is also marked
by transverse grooves.
The base or upper end of the coccyx is concave be¬
fore for articulation with the sacrum, and presents behind
two tubercles continuous with those of the spinal region,
and on the sides two notches, which, with those of the
sacrum, form holes for the fifth pair of sacral nerves.
The margins of the bone are rough, for the attachment of
the small sciatic ligament, and meet below at an angle,
which is sometimes bifid, sometimes obtuse, and to which
the levator ani is attached.
The coccyx is generally cellular, with little density.
The transverse grooves by which it is marked indicate its
original separation into five portions, two of which be¬
coming united, leave four and occasionally three portions,
an upper, a middle, and a lower. These portions, indeed,
are so long in consolidating, that they are often separate
in the adult. The first is the largest, and resembles a di¬
minutive vertebra without hole, and with truncated or un¬
developed processes. A lateral portion on each side pro-
' O M Y. 7
jects like a wing, the rudiments of the transverse pro- Special
cesses; and the two tubercles above noticed, rising like Anatomy,
horns, are imperfect articular processes, meeting those °f The s ine
the os sacrum. The bony ridge which descends from e sPlne•
these are imperfect spinal plates; and as these do not
meet, they leave between them a groove corresponding
to the anterior half of the vertebral hole; and the spinous
processes are wanting. In the second coccygeal bone,
which is rounder than the first, the aliform portions cor¬
responding to the transverse processes are also smaller
than in the first; and in the third and fourth they are
diminished so much that they are scarcely cognizable.
The series of bones now described form by their union The spine
what is called the backbone, chine, spine {spina dorsi), or generally,
vertebral column. Viewed in connection, it may be dis¬
tinguished into an anterior and a posterior region, two late¬
ral surfaces, a base, and an apex.
The anterior region is large in the neck, narrow in the
back, and broad in the loins and pelvis. A series of trans¬
verse grooves of variable depth marks the bodies of the
vertebrae ; and a series of transverse elevated ridges dis¬
tinguishes in like manner their upper and lower margins.
These grooves, which in the cervical vertebrae are confined
to the front, extend in the dorsal and lumbar to the sides.
This anterior region is covered by the anterior vertebral
ligament. On the sides it answers in the neck to the ante¬
rior or great recti, and the longi colli muscles ; in the
chest to the latter, to the vena azygos on the right, and the
thoracic aorta on the left; in the abdomen to the abdo¬
minal aorta and the inferior cava; and in the pelvis to
the rectum.
In the posterior region are seen, on the mesial plane, the
row of spinous processes, horizontal above and below, and
imbricated in the middle. The intervals, which are con¬
siderable in the neck and loins, are much contracted in
the back, in which extension brings the processes in con¬
tact. The apices of all are in general in the same
straight line; but this may be disturbed, either from the
wrong direction of a process, or an unnatural position of a
vertebra.
On each side are seen the intervertebral grooves {fissures
interspinales'), which commence at the occipital bone, and
are continued with those of the sacrum. Broad and hori¬
zontal above, smaller and more oblique in the middle, very
narrow below, these grooves are formed by the series of
spinal plates, between which are left spaces varying in
size according to the obliquity of the plates. These
spaces are occupied within by the yellow ligaments, which
being inserted at their inner surface, are something broader
than the spaces, and without by the transversus spines
muscle.
On each side also is recognised a longitudinal hollow,
extending from the atlas to the lower end of the sacrum.
This hollow, which is formed by the spinous processes and
the transverse processes with the spinal plates below, is
superficial at the neck, narrow and deep in the back, and
narrow and superficial at the loins and sacrum. In this
longitudinal groove is lodged the muscle named multifidus
spines. (Plate XXV. fig. 1.)
The lateral regions present first the row of transverse
processes, which vary in direction in different regions,
chiefly in consequence of the spinal curvatures. Thus, if
a vertical plane pass down along the sides of the column,
the transverse processes of the neck and loins will be an¬
terior to it, while those of the back will be behind it. In
the first region these processes are distinguished for form¬
ing, by the series of holes in the base of each, a bony
canal traversed by the vertebral artery, and which is com-
ANATOMY.
8
Special pleted in the intertransverse spaces by the intertransver-
Anatcmy. colli. To these transverse processes numerous
muscles are attached. Between them in the neck, and
e sime. anterjor t0 them in the back and loins, is a series of holes
formed by the union of the vertebral notches. Through
these, which are the intervertebral holes (foramina inter-
vertebralia), and which increase in size from the neck to
the loins, where they are considerable, the anterior
branches of the spinal nerves pass. Their shape is ellip¬
tical and their transit short. Anterior to these processes
in the dorsal vertebrae are the depressed facettes, in which,
with those of the fibro-cartilages, the heads of the ribs are
lodged.
The base of this column, which is supposed to be the
last lumbar vertebra, is articulated with the sacrum in
such a manner as to form an anterior convexity and a cavity
behind. The base, however, may with greater justice
be placed in the upper half of the sacrum, which, being
firmly wedged between the thick posterior margins of the
iliac bones, transmits to them, and thereby to the bones
of the pelvic extremities, the weight of the trunk. The
mechanism of this is similar to that of the keystone of an
arch, which the sacrum truly represents. The perpen¬
dicular pressure on this bone is counteracted and balanced
by the lateral pressure of the iliac bones ; and this lateral
pressure is sustained, partly by their mutual pressure on
each other before at the pubis, but chiefly by the oblique
pressure of the neck of the thigh-bone, and the perpen¬
dicular pressure of the cylinder of the latter and those of
the leg-bones.
The upper extremity of the column, which is formed
by the atlas and axis, receives the weight of the scull and
its contents, which are exactly balanced on the articular
cavities of the former bone. On this also the head is
bent or extended by its proper muscles. Rotation is per¬
formed by the motion of the atlas with the head on the
articular cavities of the second vertebra, and round its
odontoid process.
The holes of each vertebra form, by union, the verte¬
bral canal, in which are lodged the spinal chord, the origins
of its nerves, and its membranous coverings. This canal,
which is continuous with the cavity of the scull by means
of the occipital hole above, and is completed by the sacral
canal below, is not in the centre of the spine, nor is every¬
where of the same dimensions. Situate behind the
vertebral bodies, and before the spinal plates, it is nearer
the posterior than the anterior region of the column.
Large at the neck and upper part of the back, it di¬
minishes below, and again enlarges in the loins. Its area
is triangular in the cervical region, oval in the dorsal, and
triangular again in the lumbar and sacral regions. It fol¬
lows the different curvatures of the spinal column. In the
recent state, it is formed not by the bones only, but be¬
fore by the intervertebral cartilages, and behind by the
yellow ligaments and the interspinales and intertransver-
sales muscles. Lined by periosteum, by the posterior
vertebral ligament, and by a quantity of loose cellular tis¬
sue, it is further covered by a cylindrical fibrous mem¬
brane, similar to the dura mater, the outer investment of
the spinal chord; and within this are contained the liga-
mentum denticulatum, the spinal arachnoid, and the spinal
chord itself, with its anterior and posterior nervous roots
on each side, and its appropriate blood-vessels. In early
life the soft parts predominate; and the canal and its
component bones are then susceptible of much freer and
more extensive motion than afterwards, when ossification
is complete, and the fibro-cartilages acquire firmness.
In the human subject it may be viewed as a firm but
flexible bony cylinder, which performs several functions
at once. Resting on the sacrum, which is wedged im- Special
movably between the iliac bones, it supports the trunk in Anatomy,
the erect position, and transfers to the sacrum, on which
it rests, the weight of the head, the chest, and great part e s^in&
of the abdomen. In the vertebrated animals in general
it incloses the spinal chord, one of the most essential and
constant parts of the nervous system. In the several re¬
gions it forms a sort of posterior protecting wall to seve¬
ral important vital organs. Thus, in the neck it forms a
posterior barrier to the oesophagus, the windpipe, and the
great sympathetic. In the back it constitutes the poste¬
rior wall of the chest; and in the loins and pelvis it is
the posterior wall of the abdominal viscera and the large
vessels.
In answering these ends, it is important to remark, that
the firmness and mechanical arrangement of the spinous
processes are of essential service. Their imbricated ar¬
rangement renders it impossible for any foreign body to
enter the vertebral cavity and injure the spinal chord,
unless between the occipital bone and atlas, or between
the atlas and axis; and even at these points much preci¬
sion is requisite to enter the cavity. Between the axis
and the third vertebra it is more difficult, and below this
next to impossible, without breaking the spinous processes.
With this character of security and support, the verte¬
bral column unites a high degree of flexibility. Though
the degree of motion between each vertebra is trifling, yet
between several it is considerable, and between the whole
twenty-four it is multiplied to a great amount. The motions
of which the vertebral articulations admit are those of
flexion and extension, rotation, and lateral flexion. Of
these, flexion is that which is most extensive ; for in the
anterior direction there is less impediment to the motion
of the vertebrae than behind, where the spinous processes
allow no great extent of motion, unless where the habit has
been acquired in early life, before ossification is completed.
The rotatory motion of one vertebra on another is small;
but by combining the motion of several or of the whole
column, it becomes so extensive that some individuals
can turn the head and neck more than half round. That
these motions are the passive result chiefly of the inter¬
vertebral cartilages and the articulations of the oblique
processes, may be inferred from the fact, that when the
former are ossified, or the latter ankylosed, the motions
are much impaired generally, and wholly destroyed in the
vertebrae affected.
The motions of the head on the atlas have been already
shortly noticed. Those of the atlas and occipital bone
on the axis are, though simple in effect, complex in me¬
chanism. The motion, indeed, is limited to that of rota¬
tion ; but this rotation is extensive. This is favoured by
the horizontal position, and the large extent of the infe¬
rior articular processes of the atlas, and the superior ones
of the axis, the looseness of the articular capsule, and the
absence of spinous process in the atlas. The axis and its
odontoid process becoming the fixed point, the atlas, and
with it the occipital bone and scull, turn on the ellipti¬
cal flat articular surfaces, and on the odontoid process.
On the first they glide extensively, and in opposite direc¬
tions, while the capsular ligaments are stretched. On the
odontoid process the motion is more limited, and from
right to left, and conversely; and in the latter variety of
motion, the arch of the atlas before, and the transverse
ligament behind, move on the anterior and posterior fa¬
cettes of the odontoid process.
The anatomical construction of this articulation, how¬
ever, which is so favourable to extensive motion, is at¬
tended with the disadvantage of facilitating the luxation
of the atlas on the axis. Luxation, indeed, may be re-
ANATOMY. 9
Special garded as produced by too extensive motion of these
Anatomy, bones, in which the articular processes of the former yer-
tebra abandon those of the latter, and instead of resting
The spine. on t}iemj are placed on the same plane, while the spinous
processes are separated at least half an inch. It may be
further observed, that the want of fibro-cartilages between
these bones before, and of yellow ligaments behind, is
favourable to displacement. The effect of this change of
position on the spinal chord is obvious. While the one
side of the atlas is thrust off the axis, the other is forced
so near its body and articular process, that it compresses
the spinal chord, and may occasion palsy or immediate
death, by injuring the chord above the origins of the
phrenic and intercostal nerves. The vertebral arteries at
the same time undergo so much stretching, that the blood
cannot move through them with the natural facility. '
It is nevertheless probable that displacement rarely oc¬
curs without such injury to the ligaments as to allow more
extensive luxation than that now noticed. The odon¬
toid ligaments, or the transverse, may be ruptured; and
in either case the odontoid process is allowed to slip
backwards, and plunges into the chord, and destroys its
texture almost instantly. These ligaments may be rup¬
tured either immediately by sudden violence, or in conse¬
quence of previous disease. In such circumstances, the
injury done to the spinal chord is followed by almost im¬
mediate death, in consequence of the influence of the
phrenic and intercostal nerves being suddenly suspended.
In the same manner, the insertion of a cutting instrument
between the occipital bone and atlas, or between the lat¬
ter and the axis, so as to divide partially or completely
the spinal chord above the origin of these nerves, an ope¬
ration known by the name of ‘pithing, is followed by im¬
mediate death.
§ 2. The Chest. (Pectus, H-rftoz, Thorax.)
The chest may be defined as an osteo-cartilaginous in¬
closure, of an irregular conoidal shape, flattened before,
concave behind, and convex on the sides. Its upper ex¬
tremity is truncated. Its basis is irregularly oblique. It
consists of the sternum before, the twelve dorsal vertebra
behind, twelve ribs on each side, and twelve cartilages
connecting the ribs and sternum.
Tlie ster Tlie sternum {sternum, tfregm, os pectoris) is a symmetri-
nuin or cal, oblong, flattened bone, broad above, narrow in the
breast- middle, broad below, and terminating in a point placed
bone. perpendicularly on the anterior of the chest. It presents
two surfaces, an anterior and posterior, two extremities,
an upper and lower, and two margins. (Plate XXIV. fig. 1.)
The anterior or cutaneous surface, covered by skin,
the aponeurosis of the sterno-mastoid and large pectoral
muscles, and periosteum, is marked by fourtransverseridges
at intervals of an inch, indicating the lines at which the
separate portions of the bone were united. The posterior,
internal, or mediastinal surface, is a little concave, occa¬
sionally marked by a longitudinal depression in its mid¬
dle; also presents transverse lines, but rather indistinct;
is covered in the middle by the mediastinal cellular tis¬
sue, above by the sterno-hyoid and sterno-thyroid mus¬
cles, and on the sides by the triangulares sterni.
The superior or clavicular extremity of the sternum
presents three crescentic sinuosities; one on the middle,
bounded on each side by an elevated peak, hollowed be¬
fore and behind, and one on each side, incrusted with
cartilage and synovial membrane. The first of these cor¬
responds with the trachea on the inside, and has the
sterno-mastoid muscle inserted on each outside. With
the two lateral cartilaginous surfaces the sternal extremi¬
ties of the clavicles are articulated. Between the two is
VOL. in.
the interclavicular ligament, and all round are the liga- Special
mentous fibres of the sterno-clavicular articulation. This Anatomy,
upper extremity is about double the breadth of the b°ne
at its middle. Below, the bone becomes narrow, and be- 16 slnIie‘
low the fourth ridge it seldom exceeds half an inch in
breadth. Here it terminates in an appendage, which is
generally named the pointed or ensiform cartilage (carti-
lago mucronata, c. ensiformis). The shape of this is by no
means always the same. In some subjects it is a flat, thin,
and pointed process, not always very firm, but more solid
than cartilage ; in others it is a flat thin bone, terminat¬
ing in two thin hooked points. In some it is obtuse and
perforated. In some it is thrust forwards, in others it is
bent inwards, or towards the one side. To this process
the aponeuroses of the recti abdominis are attached.
The margins of the sternum, which are generally about
half an inch thick, present seven articular depressions crust¬
ed by cartilage. The first of these, in which the sternal
extremity of the first rib is lodged, is, immediately below
the clavicular depression, superficial and rounded. The
others, which are situate at the ends of the transverse
ridges, and receive the cartilages of the next six ribs, are
deeper, angular, and surrounded by elevated margins, to
which, in the recent state, the circumference of a capsular
ligament is attached. In general, the seventh depression
is formed partly on the sternum, partly on the ensiform
cartilage; and the intervals between the depressions are
smaller below than above.
The sternum is chiefly cancellated, light, and loose, with
little density, and a thin crust of compact bone. In the
foetus and infant it consists of eight or nine square pieces,
separated by transverse furrows, which, by the union of
two, are easily reduced to seven, and afterwards to five.
By the further union of two of these portions they are
afterwards reduced to three; and in this state they re¬
main so long in some subjects that Soemmering describes
the sternum not as one bone, but as three. I he first of
these portions, which is uppermost, is irregularly heart-
shaped, or rather octagonal, with the tracheal depression
and the clavicular articulations above, the depression for
the cartilage of the first rib on the side, and half of that for
the second at its lower margin, where it unites with the
second. The latter is merely the middle and longest portion
of the bone, and is occasionally in three portions, sepa¬
rated at the costal depressions. The third or lower por¬
tion is the ensiform cartilage, the ossification of which
renders the bone complete.
The ribs may be defined to be long, flat, irregular'Ilie nl,s*
bones, with an irregular semicircular curvature, placed on
each side of the chest, at intervals of an inch or less, be¬
tween the dorsal vertebrm and the sternum. In general
their number is twelve on each side, rarely eleven or
thirteen. Of these, seven are connected with the sternum
before by individual cartilages, and five are connected in¬
directly to the cartilage of the seventh, without attach¬
ment to the sternum. The former are denominated true
or sterno-vertebral ribs (costae verce) ; the latter are styled
false or vertebral (costae spurice, vel nothce).
Each rib varies in length, breadth, and the direction of
its curvature. The upper ribs are the shortest, and most
incurvated in proportion to their length. The middle
ribs, or the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh, are the longest,
and form curves of the largest circle. The false ribs,
which diminish in length from the eighth to the twelfth,
are the least incurvated, or form curves of the largest
circle. It is chiefly from the middle set that the common
characters of these bones should be derived.
Proceeding on this principle, we find that each rib may
be defined as a broad, flat, longitudinal bone, not only in-
B
10 ANATOMY
Special curvated, but twisted from the direction of its original
Anatomy, curvature. Each rib has a vertebral extremity, a cartila-
'^P^^'ginous extremity, and a body. The vertebral extremity
e nbs- consists of a tuberculated angular head (caput), with two
cartilaginous facettes united at an angular line for inser¬
tion in the intervertebral depressions with which they are
articulated. In the first and twelfth, and sometimes in the
eleventh, there is one facette only corresponding to the
single vertebra with which these bones are connected.
Immediately before the head the rib is contracted and
rounded, so as to form a neck (collum), which varies from
five to six or seven lines in length; and before the neck
is a tubercle or process (tuberculum) divided into two por¬
tions, one internal, smooth, cartilaginous, and uneven, ar¬
ticulated with the transverse processes of the dorsal ver¬
tebrae ; the other external, rough, giving attachment to
the middle costo-transverse ligament. Anterior to the
tubercle the rib is straight for about one inch, and rough
by the insertion of the sacrolumbalis and longissimus dorsi
muscles. Beyond this point, which is therefore named
the angle (angulus), the rib begins to be incurvated cir¬
cularly, and bent downwards, so that the surfaces, which
were external and internal, become obliquely superior
and inferior. To prevent confusion, however, they must
still be distinguished in the same manner.
The outer surface of the rib, therefore, is convex, and
forms the outer bend of the circle. Behind, it is covered
by the latissimus dorsi muscle. The internal, which
forms the inner bend of the circle, is convex above, and
forms a concave hollow below, bounded by two sharp
margins ; one proceeding straight from the head forwards,
till it is lost about three inches from the cartilaginous ex¬
tremity ; the other, more acute, from the tubercle, and
following the curvature of the rib to about two inches
from the same point. In this groove are lodged the in¬
tercostal artery, vein, and nerve. The internal intercos-
tals are attached to the inner lip of the margin ; the exter¬
nal to the outer. The upper margin of the rib is obtuse
behind, where the external intercostals are inserted; but
becomes acute and rough before, where the internal in¬
tercostals are inserted. The anterior or sternal extremi¬
ty of the rib is broad and large, and terminates in an oval
hollow, in which the cartilage is inserted. In advanced
life, when the union between the rib and cartilage is in¬
timate, this hollow becomes less distinct.
Besides these common characters of the ribs, several pre¬
sent peculiarities deserving notice.
The first rib is short, almost semicircular, and its direc¬
tion is such that its broad surfaces are superior and inferior,
not external and internal, as in the others. The head of
this rib possesses only one large articular facette, corre¬
sponding with the first dorsal vertebra, sometimes one
large one, and a minute one corresponding with a small
space of the last cervical vertebra. Its neck is short and
round, and its tubercle is identified with the angle which
is wanting. The superior surface of this rib is highly im¬
portant. From the head and tubercle extends a rough
surface, in which are inserted part of the scalenus posticus,
part of the serratus magnus, and the scalenus medius. Next
to this is a smooth, deep depression, over which the sub¬
clavian artery passes; then is an eminence, to which the
scalenus anticus is attached; afterwards a superficial
hollow, in which the subclavian vein is lodged ; and, lastly,
a rough surface at the sternal or anterior end, for the sub¬
clavian muscle. The lower surface of the first rib is un¬
even and slightly rough, but without groove at its outer
margin.
The second rib resembles the first in direction, hav¬
ing rather an upper and lower, than an external and in¬
ternal surface. The head is angular and acuminated, and Special
the neck contracted; and the upper surface is rough by the Anatomy.
serratus magnus ; but the lower surface, from the tubercle,
begins to present an angle in the shape of an oblique sur-
face, bounded below by a rough ridge, within which is
the groove for the intercostal vessels and nerves. Ante¬
rior to this flat oblique surface the rib is twisted, and
undergoes a change in direction. In the third the angle
is not more distinct, and it is only in the fourth that
this part is well marked. This character continues to the
eleventh, when it becomes indistinct, and in which the
tuberosity disappears, or at least is identified with the
head, which has only one facette. The groove also is so
short as scarcely to be observed. Lastly, the twelfth rib,
which is often unconnected with the others by cartilage,
is without tuberosity, groove, or angle, and has, like the
first, only one facette at the head.
The true ribs are connected to the sternum by means The costal
of broad rounded pieces of cartilage, variable in length cartilages,
and direction in different ribs. That of the first rib is very
short, rather broad, and its direction, though oblique from
above downwards, is more horizontal than that of the in¬
ferior ones. The angle at which it unites with the ster¬
num is acute above, and obtuse below. It is often ossi¬
fied in the adult. The second is nearly horizontal, and
follows the direction of the rib to wdiich it is attached.
Ihe next five are more oblique from above downwards,
as the lower end of the sternum inclines forwards, and the
corresponding ribs bulge towards the base of the chest.
Each of these cartilages, invested by perichondrium,
is attached by a rough surface to the anterior end of the
rib; while the other extremity, which is rounded and
covered by synovial membrane, is lodged in one of the
articular depressions of the lateral margin of the sternum,
and secured in this situation by a capsular ligament,
strengthened by anterior and posterior fibrous bands.
The anterior or outer surface of the thoracic cartilages
is slightly convex, the internal or posterior surface flat,
inclining to concave, lined by pleura and covered by the
triangularis sterni muscle. The upper margin is concave,
the lower convex, giving attachment to the internal inter¬
costal muscles, which in this region fill the intercartilagi-
nous spaces.
The cartilages of the five false ribs differ from those of
the true, in not being articulated directly with the sternum.
The cartilage of the eighth rib, after bending forwards and
upwards, is attached to the seventh by a tapering point
with a minute articular surface. The ninth cartilage is
attached in a similar manner to the eighth, the tenth to
the ninth, the eleventh to the tenth, and the twelfth is
either attached in the same manner to the eleventh, or
hangs free, though attached to muscles connected with
the others. Hence the twelfth, and not unfrequently the
eleventh, are denominated floating ribs. The whole of
them are mutually connected by ligamentous fibres inserted
into their perichondrial covering. The outer surface of
these cartilages is covered by the recti and external ob¬
lique, the inner surface by the diaphragm and transversus.
Connected with the ribs in the same manner in which
those of the true ribs are, these cartilages differ, however,
in taking a direction, first of descent, then of ascent or of
curvature. The spaces which they leave between them,
instead of being rhomboidal, as those of the true ribs, are
irregularly triangular.
In structure the costal cartilages belong to those of
the cavities. Analogous to those of the larynx, they are
dense, firm, elastic, whitish substances, without distinct
traces of organization, and seem to consist chiefly of modi¬
fied gelatine, to which they are with difficulty reduced by
ANATOMY. 11
Special long boiling. Their tendency to ossification is eonsider-
Anatomy. able. In few persons above 45 or 50 are they quite free
from bony points; and in many they are at this period
converted into firm bone. The cartilage of the first rib,
especially, is often firmly ossified before 35. When they
undergo this change, certain points in their substance are
observed to assume an orange or tawny colour, and to ex¬
hibit a porous arrangement, with great hardness, turning
the edge of the knife.
By long maceration the costal cartilages become soft
and gelatinous, and are finally resolved into oval patches,
separated by circular or spiral lines, with numerous per¬
forations. It was perhaps on this account that Herissant
described them as consisting of spiral fibres.
The chest The bones and cartilages now described, with the twelve
in general, dorsal vertebrae behind, constitute the bony skeleton of
the chest, bearing a remote resemblance to a cone, with
truncated apex and oblique base, or, more accurately, to
the frustum of a cone. To form a just idea of this assem¬
blage of parts, it is necessary to consider its surface ex¬
ternal and internal, its circumference above and below,
its transverse diameter, and its longitudinal extent.
The anterior region of the external surface, consisting
of the sternum in the middle, and the cartilages on each
side, is flattened, contracted above, wider and more promi¬
nent below. The intercostal spaces are filled between the
sternum and the ribs by the internal intercostals, behind
this by the external and internal, and covered by the
anterior part of the large pectoral muscle. Behind, the
chest presents the vertebrae with their processes, the
transverse processes articulated with the tubercles, the
angles forming a line obliquely receding from the spine,
the transverse grooves, the longitudinal groove on each
side filled by the multifidus spince, and the space be¬
tween the processes and the angles of the ribs occupied
by the spinalis dor si, the longissimus dor si, and the sacro-
lumbalis. The intercostal spaces, from the spine to the
angles, are filled by the external intercostals ; and anterior
to this are the two layers of muscles.
The lateral regions of the chest are convex, making a
larger sweep below than above. They present on each side
eleven intercostal spaces, the superior of which are shorter
and broader than the inferior. These spaces, which fol¬
low the curved direction of the ribs, cannot be accurately
defined in shape. Between the angles and the cartilages,
where the curvature is greatest, they are occupied by the
double layer of the external and internal intercostal
muscles, which, lying inclined in opposite directions, mu¬
tually decussate in this tract. The lateral region of the
chest is covered above by the serratus magnus behind,
and the two pectorals before; below by the external ob¬
lique on the side, and the recti before. The inferior lateral
region, which is formed by the cartilages of the ribs, is
therefore named the hypochondres (hypochondria).
The inner surface of the chest is, before, correspond¬
ent to the outer surface, unless below, where the anterior
inclination of the sternum makes the antero-posterior dia¬
meter greater. The posterior region is marked by the
row of vertebral bodies, the prominence of which forms an
imperfect partition, which separates the right and left
halves of the thorax ; and which, notwithstanding the
posterior bend which the spine undergoes between the
second and eighth vertebrae, diminishes the antero-poste¬
rior diameter of the chest. On each side is a large con¬
cave hollow, narrow above, wide below, and swelling most
capaciously in the middle, the walls of which, formed by
the ribs and intercostal muscles, are lined by the pleura,
and the cavity of which contains the lungs.
The upper circumference of the chest, or its apex, is Snecial
small, oval, transversely oblique from above downwards, Anatomy,
and from behind forwards. Bounded before by the ster-1^^^^
num, behind by the first dorsal vertebra, and on the side
by the first rib, it is diminished by the clavicles ; and vrhile
its antero-posterior diameter is occupied by the wind¬
pipe, oesophagus, and the large vessels connected with
the heart, its lateral portions are so much contracted, that
each thoracic half (demithorax) has here almost a coni¬
cal termination. Its dimensions in the male skeleton of
average size are about 16 inches. As the first rib has
little or no motion, the upper circumference remains un¬
changed.
The lower circumference of the chest, which is much
more extensive, is said to be nearly four times larger
than the upper. This, however, is exaggerated; and I
find its greatest dimensions in the male to be 32 inches,
exactly double the small circumference. It is suscep¬
tible of enlargement from the revolving motion of the
ribs. The first rib remains fixed, while the lower ones
are capable of being rolled outwards on their heads,
tubercles and cartilages, so that the transverse diameter
of the chest is enlarged. The lower circumference of the
chest presents anteriorly a large triangular notch (ma-
sura trigona), with the apex at the ensiform cartilage, the
sides at the margins of the cartilage, and the base repre¬
sented by a transverse line uniting the tips of the twelfth
rib on each side. This notch, which, in the recent state,
is occupied by the heads of the recti muscles, with their
fasciae in the middle, and the anterior margins of the ex¬
ternal oblique at the sides, constitutes what is called the
pit of the stomach (scrobiculus cordis), or the epigastric
region (epigastrium).
The transverse diameter of the chest is small above,
but gradually enlarges to the ninth or tenth rib. The
average diameter measured between the inner margins of
the first ribs on each side in the male skeleton is four and
a half inches; the average diameter measured between
the tips of the eleventh rib on each side is nine inches,
which is also nearly the diameter between the inner mar¬
gins of the fifth ribs; and the average diameter measur¬
ed across the upper margin of the ninth rib, which is
about the widest part, amounts to eleven inches. These
diameters, it has been already said, are susceptible of
slight enlargement, by reason of the lateral revolution of
the ribs ; and this motion is most extensive between the
sixth and tenth ribs. Above the sixth and below the tenth
it is trifling.
The longitudinal extent or altitude of the chest varies ;
but in the same male skeleton it amounts to twelve inches
measured between the lower margin of the first rib and the
upper margin of the eleventh, which may be regarded
as the inferior limit of the osseous part of the chest.
From the top of the sternum to the plane of the ensiform
cartilage the distance is five inches and a half. If from the
lower margin of a mesial plane representing the medias¬
tinum, another plane be drawn on each side to the margins
of the false ribs, the space inclosed on each side above
this oblique plane will give some idea of the capacity of
the thoracic cavities.
The dimensions above stated apply chiefly to the adult
male, from about thirty to thirty-five years, and of average
size. In the female the chest is generally smaller in every
direction, rounder, and more taper towards its inferior
region. Above, as far as to the fourth rib, it is said to
be larger and more uneven before, so that it has less
of the conoidal shape than the male chest. It is also
shorter.
The pectoral cavity is in general symmetrical, that is,
12
ANATOMY.
bones-
Special of similar shape and dimensions on each side of the me-
Anatomy. sial plane. Sometimes, however, without the interven-
tion of disease, the greater convexity of two or three ribs
on one side gives it a more ample appearance than on the
other.
§ 3. The Pelvis.
This is the name given to the irregular-shaped bony
cincture which terminates the lower extremity of the
trunk, and which is connected to the spinal column by
means of the sacrum. It consists in the adult of four
bones, two lateral portions (ossa coxarum), and two on the
mesial plane, the sacrum and os coccygis. I he latter two
have been already described. The lateral and anterior
divisions now come under examination.
These consist of two bones, one on each side, united
with each other before by means of fibro-cartilage, and
receiving between them behind, the sacrum, to which they
are in like manner united by fibro-cartilage. Ihese
bones, which are denominated ossa innominata, coxal or
haunch-bones (ossa coxarum), are of a very irregular
shape, and may be divided into three regions,^ the supe¬
rior or iliac, the anterior or pubal, and the inferior or
ischial. These regions it is not easy to define accurately;
but they will appear in the course of description, and
they correspond to the original divisions of the bone in
the foetal state.
The coxal The coxal bone presents two surfaces, an external or
femoral, and an internal or pelvic; and a circumference,
divided into superior margin, anterior margin, inferior
margin, and posterior margin.
The external or femoral surface (dorsum), which is alter¬
nately concave and convex, presents behind a rough sur¬
face, to which the glutceus maximus is attached ; between
this and a semi circular rough linealunated hollow, in which
the origin of the glutceus medius is lodged ; and between the
upper semicircular line and the lower a convex and con¬
cave area, for the attachment of the glutceus minimus, and
one or two inequalities, to which one of the tendons of the
rectusfemoris is attached. About an inch below is alarge
hemi-spherical cavity, with elevated circular margins, inter¬
rupted at the anterior and inferior corner, named the aceta¬
bulum,or cotyloid cavity, forreceiving theheadof the thigh¬
bone. Its inner surface is covered by cartilage, unless at
the centre, where is a depression for the attachment of
the triangular ligament of the thigh-bone. The lower
part of the margin is marked by a deep notch, over which,
in the recent state, is stretched a ligament, thus forming
a hole for the transit of the vessels and nerves of the
articular cavity. The surface behind the acetabulum is
slightly convex, indicating its union with the upper edge of
a part of the coxal bone, distinguished by the name ot hip¬
bone (os ischii), and may be denominated the post-acetabu¬
lar or ilio-ischial eminence ; below, it is concave and sinuous,
for the tendon of the obturator externus, and terminating in
a sharp spine (spina ischii), to which the small sacro-sciatic
ligament is attached. Anterior to the acetabulum is a large
opening, named the thyroid or obturator hole, oval in the
male, and triangular in the female, closed by a ligament at¬
tached to its circumference, unless at the upper part, where
there is an obliquegroove forthe otorafor vessels and nerve.
The outer surface of the thyroid ligament supports the obtu¬
rator externus muscle, the inner surface the obturator inter-
nus. The upper margin of the thyroid hole is overhung by a
convex ridge of bone, which is named the pubal or the hori¬
zontal branch of the pubal bone (ospubis, pecten, ospectinis)
from supporting the parts of generation, and which termi¬
nates at its inner or mesial margin in a spine or tubercle,
to which the outer portion of the tendon of the external
oblique muscle is attached. The inner or anterior margin Special
of the thyroid hole is bounded by a broad flat bone, irre-^nat«n|y^
gularly rough on the surface, broad above, where it is con*The coxa[
nected with the os pubis, narrow at the middle and lower bones_
part, where it joins the ischial bone. To the upper part
of this, which is named the descending branch (ramus) ot
the pubis are fixed the gracilis, the head of the adductores
longus et brevis, part of the adductor magnus, and part of
the obturator externus. The lower part, which is named
the ascending branch (ramus) of the ischium, gives origin
to the adductor magnus.
The inner or pelvic surface (venter) of the coxal bone
may be divided into three parts. The first is posterior,
rough, and irregular, for articulation by fibro-cartilage with
the lateral margin of the sacrum. The second, which is ab¬
dominal, concave, and is named the iliac pit (fossa iliaca),
contains the belly of the iliacus interims, bounded above by
the circumference or crest of the bone ; behind by a rough
line which separates it from the sacral surface ; before by
a concave irregular bend formed above by the iliac, below
by the pubal bone ; and below by a sharp line (linea iho-
pectinea), which is insensibly lost on the spine of the pubis,
and to the inner end of which is attached a reflected por¬
tion of Poupart’s ligament, named the ligament of Gim-
bernat. The third or pelvic surface, which is below, pre¬
sents behind a flat, irregular-shaped, concave space, occu¬
pied by the levator ani and part of the obturator internus,
the inner opening of the thyroid hole, the inner surface of
the rami of the pubal and ischial bones, with inequalities
for the origin of the obturator internus, and a sinuosity
below the ischial spine for the motion of its tendon.
The circumference of the coxal bone is very irregular.
The upper or iliac portion, which is semicircular, and is
named the crest (crista ilium ossis), is rough for muscular
and tendinous attachments, varying in breadth from half
an inch to a whole one, and is distinguished into an exter¬
nal and internal lip, and an intermediate space. To the
former are attached the external oblique, the latissimus
dorsi, and the tensor vagince femoris; to the latter are
attached the transversus and the quadratus lumborum ;
and in the middle space between the two is the internal
oblique. The posterior end of the crest terminates in the
posterior superior spinous process, to which part ot the
glutccus maximus and the ilio-lumbar ligament are at¬
tached, and below the posterior inferior spinous process
forming the upper extremity of the ischiatic notch. 1 he
crest terminates before in the anterior superior spinous
process, to which are attached the fascia lata, the sartorius,
and the upper end of the tendon ot the external oblique,
or ligament of Poupart, or what is named the crural arch.
The anterior portion presents, first a small sinuosity, which
separates the superior from the inferior spinous process, to
which is attached the upper tendon of the rectus cruris.
Between this and an eminence in the upper or horizontal
portion of the os pubis, marking its junction with the iliac
bone, and which may be denominated the ilio-pubal, is a
large sinuosity, in which are lodged the tapering ends of
the iliacus internus and psoas magnus. Io the ilio-pubal
eminence th e psoas parvus is attached; and within thepubal
eminence, and anterior to the linea ilio-pectinea, is a trian¬
gular space, to which the origin of the pectineus is fixed.
This part of the circumference is terminated by the spine
of thepubal bone, to which the first insertion of Poupart’s
ligament, or the outer pillar of the inguinal ring, is fixed.
On the mesial side of this is a rough tubercular surface,
which by means of fibro-cartilage is united with a similar
surface on the opposite side. To this, which is named
the symphysis pubis, the second insertion of the ligament
of Poupart, the pyramidales and the recti, are fixed.
ANATOMY.
13
Special
Anatomy.
The coxal
bones.
The posterior-inferior margin is most irregular. Com- By the cotyloid cavity it is articulated with the head of Special
mencing with the posterior spinous processes, which are the thigh-bone. Anatomy.
parted by a small notch, the margin is, immediately anterior tI^T^
to the lower process, formed into a large hollow, named The coxal bones on each side, with the sacrum wedged
the ischiadic notch (incisura ischii), bounded before by between them behind, and the os coccygis attached to itsfn(j jts (jj_
the spine of the ischium, to which is attached the ante- extremity, constitute an irregular-shapqd osseous cine-mensions.
rior sacro-ischiadic ligament, with the superior head of ture, something conical, with the base above, and the
the gemellus without, and the coccygeus within. A pretty truncated apex below. This shape, with the manner in
large hollow, in which play the belly and tendon of the which it supports the abdominal viscera and several of the
obturator externus, separates the spine from the tuberosity urinary and genital organs, has given it the name of basin
of the ischium, a large broad rough surface, the external (le bassin, das bccken, pelvis) or pelvis. In this it is requi-
surface of which gives support to the quadratus and ad- site to consider the external and internal surface, the up-
ductor magnus, the inner surface to the lower head of the per and lower circumference, the transverse diameters,
’ ’ ’ ' ^ 1" the direction, the outlets and their dimensions.
The external surface comprehends four regions, the an¬
terior or pubal, the posterior or sacral, and two lateral.
The anterior region presents the pubal articulation
(symphysis) on the median line, and on each side the
pubo-ischial rami, the thyroid hole and its margins, and
gemellus and the external or inferior sacro-ischiadic ligi
ment, while in the middle are fixed the long head of the
biceps flexor, the semitendinosus, and the semimembranosus.
From the tuberosity the margin of the bone along the
ascending branch of the ischium, and the descending
branch of the pubis, becomes narrow till it reaches the
Structure.
Deve lope-
men t.
symphysis, when it again becomes broad and more irregu- the acetabulum or articular cavity. The posterior region
lar. To the former margin are attached the gracilis, presents on the median line the sacral spinous processes
the transversus permcei, the erector, and the corpus ca- or spinous ridge, the triangular depression which termi-
vernosum. The latter pniting with the opposite bone by nates the spinal canal, the suture uniting the sacrum to
means of the interpubal fibro-cartilage, constitutes the the coccyx and the posterior convex surface of the latter;
symphysis pubis. and on each side are the sacral grooves and posterior
The iliac or coxal bones consist of cancellated matter, holes ; the processes by which they are bounded without;
covered by a thin layer of compact bone. In early life, a deep depression corresponding to the sacro-iliac syn-
and in delicate subjects, this cellular matter is loose, abun- chondrosis, and which is filled by a thick bundle of liga-
dant, and rather thick. At a more advanced period, when mentous fibres ; and lastly, the posterior tuberosity of
ossification is completed, and in strong muscular sub- the ilium, which projects much behind. The lateral re¬
jects, the proportion of this cancellated matter diminishes gions are formed by the dorsa or external fossa of the
and sometimes disappears, so that the bone consists of two iliac bones, bounded below by the ischiadic notches,
layers of dense, compact bone; and in some, even this, The internal surface of the pelvis consists of two por-
in the iliac fossa, is destroyed entirely, so that the bone tions,—the one above, wide, capacious, and tapering
perforated. downwards, forming the laige pelvis ; the other narrower.
The coxal bone is formed originally of three pieces, one with walls nearly cylindrical, and forming a canal named
for the large upper portion (os ilium), a second for the an- the small pelvis.
terior or pubal (os pubis), and a third for the inferior or The large pelvis presents, behind, the sacro-vertebral
ischial (os ischium). In the foetus, infant, and young sub- articulation and the sacral promontory, and on the sides
ject, these three bones are seen quite distinctly separate, the internal iliac fossa. Before, where osseous parietes
but adhering, by means of fibrous or fibro-cartilaginous are wanting, the space is occupied by the abdominal
tissue, along a line drawn by the ilio-pubal eminence muscles. This constitutes the abdominal division of the
through the acetabulum, and over its posterior convexity pelvis, and supports in the erect position part of the ileum
into the ischial notch. At the same time the crest and and colon. Its transverse diameter, measured between
margins of the ilium are covered by a cartilaginous epi- the crests of each iliac bone, amounts to nine inches in the
physis ; the pubal bones are mutually attached by the male, and eleven in the female.
same substance; the branches (rami) of the pubal and The large or abdominal division of the pelvis is bound-
ischial bones are soft and membranous; the thyroid hole ed below by the ilio-pubal line on the sides and front,
is merely a ligamentous notch; and the acetabulum is a and behind by a line drawn between the posterior extre-
broad, irregular, superficial depression, with fibro-cartila- mities of each side, but following the surface of the sa-
ginous margin. The connections of these three bones crum. The outline of this, which is elliptical, with the
continue soft and cartilaginous for several years after birth, transverse diameter longest, and its plane inclined oblique-
generally to the tenth, twelfth, or fourteenth, sometimes ly forwards, is named the superior outlet or aperture (am-
later; and this is the reason why the os innominatum has bitus superior) of the pelvis, and it constitutes at once the
been described as consisting of three bones, the os ilium, lower termination of the great and the upper boundary of
os pubis, and ischium. After the last-mentioned period, the small pelvis. Its importance in the practice of mid-
however, these bones are firmly consolidated into one wifery renders it necessary to distinguish its calibre, which
piece, in which, nevertheless, the original marks of se- is larger in the female than in the male, into four dia-
paration may be recognised in the ilio-pubal and post- meters. The first, antero-posterior, from the pubal sym-
acetabular eminences above, and the meeting of the pubal physis to the sacral promontory, is from four to five
and ischial rami below. The coxal bone, therefore, which inches in the male, and four inches nine lines in the fe-
thus becomes a single solid piece in the adult, ought tc male. The second, transverse, measured between the
be always described as such ; and the distinction into three iliac bones, is four inches six lines, sometimes five inches, in
component parts, which is confined to the foetal and early the male, and five inches six lines in the female. Iwo
period of life, belongs to the history of its ossification. others, drawn obliquely from the sacro-iliac synchondrosis
The coxal bone is united to its fellow of the opposite to the ileo-pubal eminence, are about four and a half
side by the symphysis pubis, and behind to the sacrum by inches in the male, and five inches in the female,
the sacro-iliac fibro-cartilage (synchondrosis). Both of The small or proper pelvis, which is below this aperture,
these junctions are occasionally ossified in advanced life, forms a sort of cylindrical osseous canal, more capacious,
14
ANATOMY.
Special however, at its middle than at the extremities, the lower t\\epyriformis, the sciatic nerve and artery, the gluteal ar- Special
outlet of which is diminished by the anterior incurvation of tery, and the internal pudic artery. The second is an ir- Anatomy.
The nel ' ^ .sacr.um an^ coccyx, while the sides are bounded by regular triangular hole, smaller than the upper one, bound-
generally,8 t^le isc^>0_Pubal branches. Before are the inner surfaces of ed above by the anterior ligament, below by the posterior The P^vis
and its di- th? pubal symphysis and branches, corresponding to the one, and laterally by the sinuous hollow between the is-fndTts d’
mansions, urinary bladder ; behind, the pelvic surface of the sacrum, chial spine and tuberosity. Through this aperture the mensionV.'
corresponding to the rectum ; laterally, the thyroid holes, tendon of the obturator internus passes out of the pelvis ;
the inner surface of the ischial-bone and ilio-ischial June- and the external pudic artery and nerve, after bending
tion, and the ischiatic notch, completed by the anterior round the upper ligament, re-enter the pelvis. The third
and posterior sacro-ischiatic ligaments. space is a superficial notch, bounded on the outer or
The upper circumference is very irregular, with its lateral side by the posterior ligament, and on the mesial
plane slightly inclined forwards; larger in the female than side by the sacro-coccygeal bone. It is chiefly occupied
in the male. It presents, behind, the sacro-vertebral ar- by celfular tissue.
ticulation, bounded by a depression indicating the upper The dimensions of this inferior aperture are nearly the
edge of the sacro-iliac synchondrosis; laterally, the two following. The antero-posterior diameter, from the coc-
iliac crests terminating before in the anterior superior cygeal apex to the lower margin of the pubal symphy-
spinous processes; before, the hollow of the iliacus inter- sis, is 3 inches in the male, and 4 inches 6 lines in the
nus and psoas magnus, the ilio-pubal eminence, the hori- female. The transverse diameter between the ischial tu-
zontal branch of the pubal bone, its spine, and lastly its berosities of each side is 3 inches 2 lines in the male, and
symphysis. 4 inches in the female. The oblique diameter, measured
The lower circumference, which corresponds with the from the middle of one of the great sacro-sciatic ligaments
inferior aperture or ano-perineal outlet of the pelvis (am- to the opposite ischial tuberosity, is about 4 inches in the
bitus inferior)^ is directed downwards and backwards, male, and from 41 to 5 in the female. Of these diame-
Bounded behind by the coccygeal bone, and on the sides ters the antero-posterior is most liable to vary, by reason
by the ischial tuberosities, this outlet is thus distinguished of the mobility of the os coccygis; but independent of this,
for three eminences, separated by an equal number of it is always larger in the female than in the male, in con-
notches. The situation of these eminences indicates the sequence of the sacrum being less incurvated, and.de-
limits of the lower pelvic aperture. I he size and dispo- scending more in a straight line. It further appears, that
sition of the notches is inversely to that of the eminences ; in females who have born children the incurvation of the
and their arrangement is such that an eminence is oppo- sacrum is much less than in those who have not.
site to a notch, and conversely. Thus the anterior notch, The direction of the pelvis is not horizontal, nor does it
which is formed by the pubal arch, is opposite to the correspond with that of the trunk. Articulated behind with
sacro-coccygeal eminence behind; and though the ischial the lumbar portion of the spinal column, the axis of which
tuberosities appear opposite to each other in one sense, is inclined considerably forward from the vertical plane,
strictly speaking their plane is each accurately opposed to the pelvis partakes of the same inclination. A horizontal
the opposite sacro-ischial notch. The anterior notch is line drawn from the pubis towards the sacrum passes in
terminated above by an acute angle in the male, in con- general an inch below the tip of the coccyx; and with
sequence of the proximity of the pubo-ischial branches this a line drawn from the pelvis to the upper margin of
which form its sides, but by a rounded arch in the female, the sacrum, representing the plane of the pelvis, makes
by reason of the separation of these branches on each an angle of between 80° and 85°. The sacrum inclines
side. In this notch are situate the generative organs of from the vertical plane about 35°; but the inclination of
both sexes. The lateral notches, which are bounded be- the superior and inferior pelvic apertures varies. An
hind by the sacrum and coccyx, before by the spine and imaginary line drawn from the tip of the coccyx to the
tuberosity of the ischium, are irregular in shape, and are centre of the small pelvis, to represent the axis, cuts the
each subdivided into three portions by the sacro-sciatic line of inclination at an angle of 75°. The most accurate
ligaments, which secure the articulation of the sacrum axis of the pelvis is a line drawn at right angles to the
and coxal bones. The first of these ligaments, the poste- plane of the pelvis as above found.
rior or external, arising from the posterior extremity of The dimensions given above are sufficient to show that
the iliac crest, from the sides and transverse processes of the female pelvis is much more capacious and ample la¬
the sacrum and coccyx by a broad, firm web of fibres, terally than the male. In the female, indeed, it is im-
becoming small and thick at the middle, again expands, portant to remark that the upper region of the coxal
and is inserted into the ischial tuberosity. This ligament bones is more prominent laterally, and hence renders the
corresponds behind to the glutceus maximus, which is part- haunches prominent and rounded, and the outline of the
ly attached to it, before and mesially to the small or an- abdominal aperture more extensive; the sacro-vertebral
terior ligament to which it is united. The small or ante- angle is less prominent, and the sacrum is broader and
rior sacro- sciatic ligament rises, in common with the large less incurvated; the arch of the pubis is wider and less an-
one, from the transverse processes of the sacrum and coc- gular; the ischial tuberosities are more apart, and the
cyx, and adhering to it for half an inch, passes more ho- cotyloid cavities even are at more distance from each
rizontally outwards to the ischial spine, in which it is im- other,—a circumstance which determines the peculiar gait
planted by a broad, thick, fibrous web. Behind, it corre- of the female. The male pelvis, on the contrary, is
sponds at its sacral end, and for an inch from this to the deeper than the female.
posterior ligament, and laterally to the pudic vessels and In the infant the pelvis is small compared with the size
nerve; before, it serves with the posterior to complete of other bones, and of the parts which it is to contain,
the lower circumference of the pelvis. The dimensions of this part, in early life, are indeed so
By these two ligaments the ischiadic notch is in this limited, that not even the urinary bladder can be said to
manner converted into two apertures and a notch. The be contained within it. As puberty approaches, the dis-
first of these is superior, and is bounded above by the ilio- tinctive characters of the male and female pelvis begin to
ischial arch, and below by the small ligament and part of appear. While in both sexes the bones become larger
the posterior or large ligament. Through this hole pass and the cavity more capacious, in the female the addi-
ANATOMY.
Special tional amplitude appears in the width of the haunches,
Anatomy. anj their remarkable projection beyond the flanks.
The head. The Head.
The upper or atlantal extremity of the vertebral column
supports the head, a complicated assemblage of bones, the
general shape of which is spheroidal above and behind,
and irregularly cubical before and below. It is naturally
divided into two parts, which are distinguished by their
mechanism, their use, and the mode of their develope-
ment. The first of these, the scull or cranium (xgav/ov,
calvaria), fbrms a spheroidal bony case, occupying the
superior and posterior region chiefly of the head. The
second, which is the face, is formed above by an irregular
pile of bones, articulated immovably to the anterior infe¬
rior part of the scull, and below by a single symmetrical
bone, articulated movably to the middle of the lower part
of the scull.
§ 4. The Scull. (Cranium, Calvaria.')
The scull. The scull consists of eight bones, four of which are
symmetrical and arranged on the mesial plane, and four
arranged in pairs on gach side. The four symmetrical
bones are the frontal, the ethmoid, the sphenoid, and the
occipital; the four lateral are the two parietal and two
temporal bones.
1 n me1" ^ie ^ronta^ bone (ps fronds, os coronce, synciput) is a
ui >one. Symmetrical bone occupying the anterior part of the
scull, and forming the anterior part of the scalp and the
part of the face distinguished as the brow (from). It
may be divided into three surfaces, the external or fron¬
tal, the inferior or orbito-ethmoidal, and the internal or
the cerebral, and a circumference. The external surface
is frontal and temporal.
The frontal surface, which is convex and regularly
arched, presents on the median line a ridge, indicating
the original separation of the bone in two halves, the na¬
sal protuberance, more convex in age than in youth, and
corresponding to the smooth interval between the eye¬
brows (glabella), a serrated margin articulated in the
middle with the nasal bones, on the sides with the ascend¬
ing processes of the superior maxillary bones, and, lastly,
the nasal spine, which supports the nasal bones. (Plate
XXV. fig. 2. n.)
On each side of the median line are the large smooth
surface of the upper part of the frontal bone, the frontal
protuberances (tubera fronds), large in youth, small in
advanced age; the superciliary arch (supercilium), an
irregular convexity extending transversely about an inch
on each side of the mesial line, most prominent v/ithin,
where the corrugator supercilii is fixed; and, lastly, the
orbitar arch, large and prominent at its temporal angle,
smaller and more rounded at its nasal, and presenting
either a hole, or a notch covered by a ligament (c. c.),
and through which pass the frontal artery and nerve. The
nasal end of the orbitar arch, sometimes named the
internal angular process, is insensibly lost in the serrat¬
ed surface, where it joins the superior maxillary bone.
The temporal process, which is prominent, terminates
in a serrated surface, which is articulated with the ma¬
lar bone. Exterior to the frontal protuberance is a curvi¬
linear ridge (d.), which gives attachment to the fascia of
the temporal muscle, denotes the anterior boundary of
the space in which that muscle is lodged, and separates
the proper frontal from the temporal surface of the frontal
bone. This ridge, descending in a circular direction,
terminates in the temporal process at the opposite side to
that of the orbital arch (a. a.) The triangular segment
cut off by it is convex above and concave below.
The orbito-ethmoid surface is irregular. It presents Special
first on the median line a quadrilateral notch with serrated Anatomy,
margins, in which the ethmoid bone is articulated. These
margins consist in adult subjects of two plates, between fron*
which are seen segments of the frontal and ethmoidal
sinuses. In the outer of these tables are generally one or
two holes, or notches, which, with the ethmoid bone, form
holes (foramen orbitarium internum anterius et posterius).
Through the former pass the ethmoidal twig of the nasal
branch of the ophthalmic nerve ; through the latter the
posterior ethmoidal artery and vein. On each side of the
ethmoidal groove is a triangular concave surface, which
forms the vault of the orbit, near the outer margin of
which, and within the external angular process, is a super¬
ficial pit for the lacrymal gland, and towards the nasal
side a depression for the reflected tendon of the superior
oblique muscle.
The internal or cerebral surface, which is concave,
covered by the dura mater, presents on the median line a
groove, the beginning of the sagittal, in which the supe¬
rior longitudinal sinus is lodged, and the margins of which,
converging below, form a crest corresponding to the up¬
per margin of the falx. Below this is the foramen ccecum,
which in the bone communicates with the two canals be¬
longing to the nasal bones, but in the recent state allows
some veins to pass from the nose to the longitudinal
sinus. It is sometimes common to the frontal and eth¬
moid bones. (Plate XXV. fig. 3. c.)
On each side the frontal bone presents the large cavities,
in which are contained the anterior extremities of the
hemispheres of the brain; and above these the bones rise
in the manner of a vaulted arch. The whole inner sur¬
face is moulded into alternate pits and eminences, called
digital and mammillary respectively, and which corre¬
spond to the eminences and depressions of the cerebral
convolutions. These are most conspicuous at the lower
part, where the surface is traversed by minute vascular
grooves.
The circumference of the bone is serrated all round, for
articulation with the contiguous bones. The posterior
margin is nearly of an elliptical outline, straight, and in¬
terrupted below by the quadrilateral notch. Above, where
the frontal is articulated with the parietal bones, the ser¬
rated processes proceeding from the outer table are
largest and longest. Below, where the frontal is articu¬
lated with the lower angle of the parietal and wing of the
sphenoid bone, the internal table is most prominent, so
that the spheno-parietal suture is imbricated. Between
the temporal and orbitar fossae this separation of the tables
forms a triangular rough surface, which is articulated with
a similar one, the triarcual surface of the sphenoid bone;
and between this and the quadrilateral notch the margin
is articulated in the same manner with the anterior mar¬
gin of the sphenoid bone. Lastly, the serrated and cel¬
lular margins of the quadrilateral notch are connected
with the ethmoid bone.
Besides these cranial bones, the frontal is articulated
with the following bones of the face,—the nasal bones by
the middle of the nasal suture, the superior maxillary
bones by its sides, the lacrymal bones by the anterior
end of the ethmoidal groove, and with the malar bones
by the external angular processes.
The frontal bone, which is thick at the nasal protube¬
rance and the external processes, and thin at the orbitay
regions, is ossified by two points, which, appearing at the
frontal protuberances, proceed by radiation as from a cen¬
tre towards the circumference of the bone. In the foetus
and early infancy the bone thus consists of two lateral
portions placed between the pericranium and dura mater%
J<> ANATOM Y.
Special with a longitudinal interval on the mesial plane, a trans-
^Anatomy^ verse one on the sit;e of the corona] suture) an(j a trian.
The fron- gVlar cha.s™ at the ang]e between the two. This chasm,
tal hone. witb a similar one between the frontal bones, forms a
quadrilateral lozenge-shaped space, at which the motion
of the brain is distinctly felt both at birth and for months
after, and which is therefore named the fontanelle, or the
'dwter'xov fontanelle (fans pulsatilis ; bregma), or the open of
the head. As the ossific process aclvances, the lateral
margins of the bone extend, and the mesial margins ex¬
tending mutually, at length coalesce, first at the nasal
protuberance and along the forehead, afterwards above, un¬
til the fontanelle is progressively diminished and at length
obliterated. This junction is effected by the formation
of serrated processes, which are mutually dove-tailed into
each other; and for some years after birth the frontal
bone consists of two similar halves articulated by a middle
suture. In some few instances, especially in the female,
this continues for many years; and the individual is
found after death to have the frontal bone in two halves,
with a middle suture. More frequently, however, the
suture is obliterated by the consolidation of its serrated
margins, and the frontal bone consists of one piece. The
points of ossification remain long distinct in the form of
the frontal protuberances. But eventually, from the uni¬
form elevation of the margins of the bone, they become
less conspicuous ; and in old age they disappear more or
less completely, leaving a surface uniformly uneven.
The eth- The ethmoid or sieve-like bone (ps cribriforme), which
mold bone. js symmetrical, and occupies the quadrilateral notch
of the frontal bone, consists of several bony plates ar¬
ranged at right angles, and parallel with each other, so
as to give the whole a cubical shape. It consists of four
parts, a horizontal plate, occupying both sides of the
mesial plane; a vertical plate at right angles to it, and
corresponding with the mesial plane; and a lateral plate
on each side, also vertical and parallel to the middle plate.
In the bone thus formed the following circumstances de¬
serve attention. (Fig. 5.)
The superior surface, cerebral, covered by dura mater,
is formed by the horizontal plate, perforated by numerous
holes {lamina cribrosa), through which pass the fibrils of
the olfacient or first pair of nerves depressed longitu¬
dinally on each side, but surmounted in the middle to¬
wards its anterior half by a strong process of a triangular
shape, named the cock’s comb (crista galli), and to which
is attached the anterior inferior extremity of the falx, or
dichotomous membrane. The anterior margin of this
process is generally marked by a groove which, with that
of the frontal bone, forms a passage for the nasal vein into
the longitudinal sinus. The posterior margin of the per¬
forated plate is marked by an angular notch between two
horns, for articulation with a salient angle of the sphenoid
bone. The crista galli may be regarded as the upper di¬
vision of the vertical plate, which occupies the mesial
plane, and which is thick and sometimes bifid before, but
thin and rough behind, where it acts as a partition to the
lateral halves of the ethmoidal cavities. The sides of this
middle vertical plate are furrowed by minute canals (ca-
nalicult), traced from the foramina, above, in which the
nervous fibres are lodged. This plate, and indeed the
lower surface of the perforated plate, are covered by a
fibro-mucous membrane, which has been named the pitui¬
tary or the Schneiderian. The vertical ethmoid plate is
articulated at its lower margin with the vomer and the tri¬
angular cartilage of the nose, before with the nasal spine
of the frontal bone, and behind with the median crest
(processus azygos) of the sphenoid bone.
The lateral portions of the ethmoid bone consist exter¬
nally of a smooth flat bone (os planum of the ancients), Special
which forms the inner or nasal wall of the orbit, internal- Anatomy,
ly of two bones convoluted on themselves, and which are
distinguished as the superior and middle turbinated bones Th® e(th-
(conclue, ossa turbinata superiora et media, ossa spongi-ni0Ul bime'
osa). These bones are seen most distinctly behind; but
to form a correct notion of their figure, it is requisite to
detach the lateral portions and examine them separately,
when the following peculiarities may be recognised. The
ossa plana on each side terminate in concave oblong
quadrilateral plates, diverging outwards from the vertical
plane. At the internal edge of these quadrilateral plates
is seen above a convex bone, with numerous minute per¬
forations, the orifices of short canals. This is the su¬
perior turbinated or spongy bone. Below, and a little to
the external side, is a small groove, separated by a thin
plate from a larger cavity, which is the superior meatus,
leading into the posterior ethmoid cells. Below this,
again, is the osseous plate, with perforated edges turned
on itself from within outwards, so that its convex side is
towards its fellow, and its concavity is below and laterally,
and separated by another thin plate from the lower mar¬
gin of the ossa plana. This is the middle turbinated
bone, the longitudinal cavity of which communicates with
the lower or nasal surface of the bone, and is bounded on
its outer margin by the lower margins of the ossa plana,
where they are articulated with the inner margin of the
orbitar plate of the maxillary bone. The anterior defi¬
ciency of the ossa plana is occupied by the lacrymal
bones.
The internal surface of these bones generally is cover¬
ed by a thin fibro-mucous membrane, partaking of the
characters of periosteum at its attached, and of mucous
membrane at its free surface.
The ethmoid is articulated with the frontal bone, the
sphenoid, the superior maxillary bones, the nasal, the
lacrymal, the palate bones, the inferior turbinated bones,
and the vomer, at the parts already indicated.
In structure the component plates are compact, unless
at the crista galli, which contains some cancellated tissue,
and the middle and superior turbinated bones, which seem
less dense than the horizontal plate.
The ethmoid bone consists in the foetus of loose, soft,
brown-coloured substance, contained in a thick vascular
membrane, and disposed in the cubical shape, but with¬
out the complicated arrangement of convoluted plates by
which it is afterwards distinguished. Into this the ner¬
vous fibrils penetrate, and are observed to be ramified.
This continues at least four or five months after birth,
when these fibrils become surrounded with compact bone
deposited in their interstices, and in this manner the per¬
forated plate is formed by deposition round the nerves.
About the same time, on the mesial plane is observed a
vertical plate, which gradually becomes condensed into
solid bone, in the shape of the crista galli and middle par¬
tition. Soon after, as the bone increases in size, excava¬
tions are formed, and the soft uniform substance is remov¬
ed, while plates of thin but solid bone interposed between
thick vascular membranes are observed to be formed.
The plates, which are slightly convoluted, become thinner
and more solid, and are at length moulded into the supe¬
rior and middle turbinated bones. The ethmoid is gene¬
rally complete about eighteen months after birth; and
about the second year its different component parts may be
recognised. The holes of the perforated plate are, how¬
ever, larger and more numerous at this age than after¬
wards. The minute grooves (canaliculi,) described by Scar¬
pa, in the lateral portions, are also more distinct and larger
than subsequently. It ossifies therefore in four points;
ANATOMY.
Special one for the horizontal plate, one for the vertical, and one
Anatomy.for each lateral mass.
The sphenoid, wedge-like or cuneiform bone (os cunei-
n In forme, os sphenoides, Kprjvoubn;)—a symmetrical bone, of a
111)11 )0rie' very irregular and complicated shape, wedged as it were
between the bones of the scull, may be distinguished into
cerebral or superior, and anterior-inferior or external sur¬
faces. By the ancient anatomists it was compared to a
bat with the wings expanded, and is by them distinguish¬
ed into a body and wings, great and small. (Fig. 4.)
The cerebral surface, covered by the dura mater, is su¬
perior, and forms part of the internal base of the scull.
It may be distinguished into four parts; the middle, the
upper anterior, and two lateral. The middle consists of
a smooth surface, on which lie the olfacient or first pair;
a transverse groove for the commissure of the optic nerves ;
a transverse eminence named the olivary (processus oliva-
ris); a deep quadrilateral pit in which is contained the
pituitary gland, named the Turkish saddle (sella Tur¬
cica, ephippium, fossa pituitaria), with a slight groove on
each side for the transit of the sixth pair of nerves, and
bounded behind by an elevated eminence, with two pro¬
cesses, named the posterior clinoid or couch-like process¬
es. The sides of the sella Turcica, especially before and
behind, present generally a pit, in which is lodged part of
the carotid artery. The anterior serrated margin of this
surface is articulated with the ethmoid bone; the poste¬
rior with the cuneiform process of the occipital bone.
The upper anterior portions consist of two triangular
spaces, united to the middle by their base. This surface,
which corresponds to the anterior lobes, is bounded before
by a serrated margin articulated with the frontal bone,
behind by a smooth curved margin, which corresponds to
the Sylvian fissure, and marks the separation of the ante¬
rior and posterior cerebral lobes. This arch, which may
be named the sphenoidal, terminates before in a sharp
process, named the ensiform, articulated with the frontal
bone, and behind in a similar though smooth process
named the anterior clinoid. Anterior to this, and between
it and the olivary process, is the optic hole (foramen op-
ticum), for the transmission of the optic nerves on each
side. Behind this hole, and on each side of the olivary
process, is the groove in which the internal carotid is lodg¬
ed. The triangular surfaces now described are commonly
named the small wings (alee minores sive superiores), or
the wings of Ingrassias. (Fig. 4, a, a.)
The lateral surfaces are concave, marked with cerebral
depressions and vascular grooves, four-sided, low behind,
but rising to an angular peak before, and are commonly
named the large wings (alee majores, alee medice, Soemm.)
(A, A.) From the small wing of Ingrassias it is separated
by a longitudinal fissure, extending obliquely from the sides
of the sella Turcica upwards and laterally. Through this
opening, which is large below and narrow above, and is va¬
riously named the superior orbitar fissure, the sphenoidal
fissure (foramen lacerum superius et anterius, 1,1), pass the
third pair or oculo-muscular nerves, the fourth or pathetic,
the first or ophthalmic branch of the fifth, and the sixth
or abductor nerves, the optic vein, and a branch of the
lacrymal artery. Behind, and a little to the outside of the
sphenoidal fissure, is the round or superior maxillary hole
(foramen rotundum, r, r), for the transmission of the second
or superior maxillary branch of the fifth pair ; and still more
posterior and laterally the elliptical hole (foramen ovale),
for the transmission of the third or interior maxillary
branch of the fifth pair. This part of the large wing ter¬
minates behind in an angular process named the spinous,
articulated with the petrous portion of the temporal bone,
and in which is seen the spinous hole (foranmi spinosum),
YOL. in.
17
through which a branch of the external carotid, the middle Special
meningeal artery (arteria durce matris media, maxima), Anatomy,
enters the cranium to be distributed on the dura mater,
The lateral surfaces terminate before in an elevated re- ^ ^ sphe-
cm ved peak, surmounted by a triangular surface mostly n°U >oru ‘
seriated, but smooth behind, articulated with a similar
surface of the fiontal bone \ laterally in a concave serrated
margin articulated with the convex serrated margin of
the temporal bone; and behind in a smooth margin, which,
with a similar one of the pyramidal portion of the tempo¬
ral bone, forms the anterior fissure of the base of the
cranium (foramen lacerum anterius in hasi cranii.)
The anterior inferior surface presents several distinct
regions. On the mesial plane, at right angles to the ser¬
rated margin, is a vertical crest or spine, which terminates
below in a process denominated therefore the azygos or
rostrum, (of) The upper crest is articulated with the ver¬
tical plate of the ethmoid bone, the lower with the fissure
of the vomer. On each side the bone is convex, from the
swelling of the sphenoidal sinuses, into which may be seen
a small opening, which, however, is nearly closed by an
osseous plate, variable in shape, named by Bertin the
sphenoidal turbinated bone. The interior of the sinuses
is parted into two halves by a middle plate, corresponding
to the external crest. On each side of this middle portion
is the outer surface of the small wings, forming part of
the orbit penetrated by the optic hole, to the circum¬
ference of which are attached the levator palpehrce superi-
oris and levator oculi above, the depressor oculi below, the
adductor within, the abductor without, and the superiorobli-
que (trochlearis) between the two last. Between the mar¬
gins of the small and great wings is the outer orifice of
the sphenoidal fissure ; and on the other side of this is the
orbitar surface, hollow, bounded above by the serrated
margin of the triangular area, without by that of the
malar process, and below by a smooth ridge, which, with
the posterior one of the superior maxillary bone, forms the
spheno-maxillary fissure. Immediately between this is
the external orifice of the superior maxillary hole. Ex¬
ternal to the malar serrated edge is the zygomato-tempo-
ral surface, hollow, inclosed within three curvilinear serrat¬
ed margins and two rounded ones, and parted into two por¬
tions, the temporal and zygomatic, by an elevated ridge,
to which are attached aponeurotic slips of the temporal
muscle. Below this transverse crest is a concave surface,
lost in the external pterygoid process, and forming part
of the zygomatic fossa, terminating, like the similar part
of the large wing, in the spinous process, and presenting
first the elliptical, and then the spinous hole.
The rest of the outer surface of the sphenoid bone
terminates in two prominent bony plates, the one exter¬
nal, thin, and flat, the other internal, thicker, and more
pointed, named the pterygoid or wing-like. These pro¬
cesses rise almost at right angles to the plane of the
posterior part of the lateral wings by a thick prismatic
piece of bone, common at first to both. Soon, however, they
become distinct, especially behind. The external plate,
which is thin, broad, and sharp, rises from the lateral por¬
tion between the round and oval hole, and, with its plane
turned obliquely outwards, terminates in an end round
below and before, sharp behind, (b, b.) To the outside of
this plate, which is irregularly rough, with part of the zygo¬
matic fossa, is attached the external pterygoid muscle. The
inside of the external plate is concave, and forms, with the
internal, part of the pterygoid fossa, in which are lodged
the internal pterygoid muscle and the external peristaphy-
linus. The internal pterygoid process, rising on the inside,
narrower and more curved, terminates in a bent point nam¬
ed the unciform or hook-like process (c, c), over which in a
18
ANATOMY.
Special peculiar groove moves the tendon of the external peristaphy-
Anatomy. Unus. The base of the external process generally presents
longitudinal superficial depression named the navicular,
noid bone" ®etween external and internal is left a triangular space,
which is completed by the pyramidal portion of the palate
bone. The base of the internal pterygoid process is pene¬
trated by the Vidian canal (canalis Vidianus), larger be¬
fore than behind, through which is reflected the posterior
twig of the spheno-palatine ganglion, sometimes named
the Vidian nerve (Plate X. fig. 2), to join the sixth at its
connection with the great sympathetic, with some blood¬
vessels.
The posterior part of the body of the sphenoid bone
presents a quadrilateral surface of some extent, rough,
cartilaginous, and sometimes excavated into small cells,
for articulations with the cuneiform or basilar process of
the occipital bone. In the young subject this surface is
soft and cartilaginous ; but as age advances it becomes
more solid, and is at length inseparably ossified with the
occipital bone. From this circumstance Soemmering de¬
scribes the sphenoid and occipital as one bone, under the
name of spheno-occipital ; a method in which he has been
followed by Meckel. The bone, however, is so compli¬
cated in shape and the arrangement of its parts, that it is
perhaps more intelligible to describe it separately.
The sphenoid bone is articulated with all the bones of
the scull at the points already indicated, and with the
following bones of the face—the malar, the palate bones,
and the vomer, sometimes with the superior maxillary.
It consists, when fully formed, chiefly of compact bone;
for the plates even of its cells, though thin, are compact
and firm bone, and its general density is considerable.
In the foetus the sphenoid bone, after remaining carti¬
laginous till the third month, begins to ossify in the lateral
portion, near the roots of the pterygoid processes. Two
other points of ossification appear on the large wings, and,
coalescing with those already formed, constitute a single
mass on each side for each lateral portion. About the
same time the body in the sella Turcica begins to be
formed; and shortly after the small wings are formed se¬
parately, and coalesce, first with each other, and then with
the body. In the fifth month the bone has the same
figure which it retains thi’ough life, but the extremities
of the wings are soft and cartilaginous; the body of the
bone is uniform, loose, bony matter ; the holes are large and
imperfect; the optic hole is triangular; the inferior maxil¬
lary hole and the spinous are incomplete behind—some¬
times the latter is not formed; and the Vidian canal is a
mere fissure between the base of the external and internal
pterygoid processes. The bone at this time consists of
five portions, one for each small wing, one for each large
wing, and one for the body of the bone. At the period of
birth, though these parts are still separable, in general the
small wings become united with the body, and the bone
thus consists of three pieces. Eventually, by the union
of the two large wings with the sides of the body, the
bone is consolidated into one portion, the optic foramen is
rounded, the oval hole completed, and the Vidian fissure
is at the same time converted into a canal. In this state
the sphenoid continues for several years, growing in every
direction, and diminishing the size of its several apertures ;
till, about the age of puberty, the body becomes excavat¬
ed into two lateral cavities with compact walls, separated
by middle partitions. These are the sphenoidal sinuses,
the formation of which is generally simultaneous with the
completion of the bone in all its parts.
The occipi- The occipital bone (os occipitis, os prorce), symmetri-
tal bone, cal, of a rhomboidal or trapezoidal shape, placed on the
median line, occupying the posterior inferior region of the
scull, may be distinguished into three parts, the occipital Special
bone proper, the condyloid processes, and its cuneiform or Anatomy,
basilar process. It presents two surfaces, an external or
occipital, and an internal or cerebral. -taj
The external surface is convex and smooth above the
middle, where it is covered by pericranium and the tendi¬
nous fascia of the occipito-frontal muscle. Nearly in the
middle the bone is elevated into an irregularly triangular
eminence named the occipital protuberance (tuber occipi¬
tis), the size and shape of which vary according to the
energy of the muscles connected with the strong fibrous
fascia named the cervical ligament. When most strongly
marked, the apex of the protuberance to which the trape¬
zius, by means of the ligament now mentioned, is fixed, is
prominent downwards, and occasionally incurvated or
unciform. From this prominence a line may be traced,
obscurely at first, distinctly below, descending to the great
aperture (foramen magnum), for the transmission of the
spinal chord. To this ridge or crest (crista occipitis),
which is not always exactly in the middle, a fibrous fascia
of great strength is attached, from the protuberance to the
aperture, giving support and attachment to the muscles
on each side, and named the posterior cervical ligament
(ligamentum cervicis, ligamentum nuchce). On each side
of this ridge the surface is marked by various irregulari¬
ties, the effect of muscular impressions.
A semicircular ridge, extending from the protuberance
on each side to the margins, where it joins a similar
ridge on the temporal bone, and named the superior semi¬
circular, gives attachment above to the occipital part of
the epicranius, the lateral parts of the trapezius below,
and at its marginal end to that of the sterno-mastoid.
When the crest begins to be distinct, a similar ridge pro¬
ceeds in a semicircular direction to the margins of the
bone, where it becomes more elevated, and occasionally
changes its direction by a slight bend dowmvards and for¬
wards. To the space between these two lines, which is
rough and irregular, the complexus, and part of the rectus
capitis posticus major, are attached within, and the sple-
nius capitis without; while the rectus capitis posticus ma¬
jor and minor, and the obliquus capitis superior, are in¬
serted by a strong fascia into the superior semicircular
line. (Plate XXIV. fig. 6.)
The lower region of the bone presents the verte¬
bral aperture, generally oval, with the large diameter an-
tero-posterior, sometimes circular, occasionally rhomboidal
or lozenge-shaped. At its anterior half are the condyloid
processes, tipped with cartilage and synovial membrane,
elliptical in shape, converging forwards, and parted by a
sinuosity in the posterior part of the cuneiform process.
By this opening the spinal chord with its membranes, and
the spinal nerves, pass outwards, and the vertebral arteries
enter the cranium. The posterior extremity of the condy¬
loid processes is bounded by a depression, containing
generally a small hole, sometimes two, for the transit of
vessels not constant; externally is a rough surface, for the
attachment of the rectus capitis lateralis; and above is
the anterior condyloid hole, for the transmission of the
twelfth cerebral or hypoglossal nerve.
The portion of bone anterior to the great aperture is
the cuneiform process, the outer surface of which is de¬
pressed behind for the insertion of the recti capitis interni
majores and minores ; but smooth before, where it is co¬
vered by the mucous membrane of the pharynx.
The internal or cerebral surface, which is concave, is
divided more or less regularly into four compartments, in
the following manner. From the apex descends a groove
nearly in the median line, though generally inclining a
little to the right, to near the middle between the apex
ANATOMY.
19
Special and upper margin of the great aperture, where it makes a
Anatomy, rectangular turn to the right, leaving in the middle an
' elevated eminence, on the other side of which a simi-
Tlie occi- ]ar groove> though always smaller, proceeds to the op-
pital bone. p0Sjte margin 0f the bone, while from the same point
descends an elevated ridge, more or less acuminated, to
within half an inch of the great aperture. This arrange¬
ment produces in the inner surface of the occipital bone
a cruciform appearance, which is occasionally named the
spina cruciata, while the compartments are distinguished
as superior and inferior right and left occipital fossce.
The rectangular groove, which is the continuation of the
sagittal, formed in the inner surface of the parietal bones,
contains first the lower part of the superior longitudinal
sinus, then the lateral sinus, the plates of the dura mater
being fixed to the lateral ridges on each side. The groove
on the left side contains the left lateral sinus; and to the
central tubercle and ridge thv falx of the cerebellum is at¬
tached. In the two upper compartments, which are much
marked by cerebral eminences and depressions, the pos¬
terior cerebral lobes are lodged, while the cerebellic lobes
are contained in the rnferior compartments. (Fig. 7.)
On each side of the large aperture is seen a short seg¬
ment of a broad circular furrow, which terminates on the
margin of the bone in a smooth sinuous depression. The
first part is the termination of the lateral groove, contain¬
ing the end of the lateral sinus; the second, the sigmoid
notch, forms, with a similar one on the temporal bone, the
jugular hole (foramen lacerum posterius in basi cranii, fora¬
men jugulare, incisura jugularis'), for the commencement of
the jugular vein, the glosso-pharyngeal nerve, the nervus
vagus, and the accessory nerve. Occasionally there is a
proper notch for the nervus vagus in the anterior part, and
occasionally one for the glosso-pharyngeal.
Anterior to the large aperture is the inner surface of
the cuneiform process, concave transversely for lodging
the medulla oblongata, before it quits the cavity of the cra¬
nium (fossa basilaris), marked by a groove at the sides
for the inferior petrous sinuses, and terminating abruptly
in a broad quadrilateral surface incrusted with cartilage,
for articulation with the posterior part of the sphenoid
bone.
The margins of the occipital bone posterior to the in¬
ferior lateral groove are serrated for articulation by su¬
ture with the parietal and temporal bones. The upper
margins form a salient angle, nearly rectangular, for articu¬
lation with the re-entrant angle formed by the two pa¬
rietal bones. The sides of this angle, however, vary in
direction from the presence or absence of Wormian bones
(ossa Wormiana, triquetra). Another salient angle, but al¬
ways obtuse, is formed opposite the superior lateral grooves,
for articulation with the re-entrant angle formed by the
parietal and temporal bones of each side. A third angle
is formed by the jugular eminence, an elevated process
placed between the inferior lateral groove and the jugular
notch, and which is tipped with cartilage for articulation
with a corresponding surface of the pyramidal portion of
the temporal bone. Anterior to the jugular notch the
margin of the bone is smooth, but articulates by fibro-
cartilage with the posterior surface of the temporal pyra¬
mid, leaving a small space unarticulated between the an¬
terior extremities of both bones, which form a common
aperture.
The occipital bone is thick along the crucial spine, the
tubercles, and at the condyloid process; but thin in the
centre of the four occipital fossas, at which the external
and internal tables are united with little or no diploe, and
are not unfrequently translucent. The cuneiform process
is cancellated.
In the foetus it consists of four pieces, one for the occi- Special
pital bone proper, one for each condyloid portion, and one Anatomy,
for the basilar process. The ossification of the occipital
portion commences near its middle, corresponding to a bone
point above the occipital protuberance, and extends by
radiating fibres all round to the margins of the bone. At
this time the occipital portion has the shape ofacardium;
and the apex not being formed, a space is left through
which the brain is felt pulsating, named the posterior fon-
tanelle. About the same time ossification appears in two
quadrilateral portions on each side of the large aperture,
and in an oblong parallelogram anterior to it. Though
these enlarge and approach each other, at the period of
birth the apex is still incomplete, and the posterior fonta-
nelle is open; and even at the inferior angles of the oc¬
cipital portion, where it joins the condyloid portions, a
space of the same kind is left on each side. After birth,
as ossification advances rapidly, the apex of the occipital
portion is gradually enlarged, the Wormian bones on each
side are formed, and the condjdoid and basilar portions
uniting with the occipital, the bone is consolidated about
the third or fourth year. The traces of the lines of union
may sometimes be recognised so late as the seventh year.
The occipital bone is articulated immovably by its mar¬
gins with the sphenoid bone, the two parietal, and the two
temporal bones ; movably by its condyles with the atlas.
It is also connected with the second vertebra by means
of a ligament, which passes from the odontoid process to
the inner margins of the condyloid processes.
The parietal bones (ossa verticis, ossa bregmatis, ossa The parie-
parietalia), two bones united with each other on the tal bones,
mesial line, are quadrilateral, quadrangular, convex exter¬
nally, concave internally, occupying the upper, middle,
and lateral parts of the cranium. (Plate XXVI. fig. 4
and 5.)
The external convex surface, which is covered by
the epicranius above and temporal muscle below, pre¬
sents above and behind a hole for an artery and vein, va¬
riable however in position and existence; in the middle
the parietal eminence, prominent in youth, indistinct in
advanced age ; and somewhere between its middle and
lower margin a curvilinear ridge, the continuation of that
on the frontal bone, and terminating near the lower angle
of the parietal for the attachment of the temporal fascia,
below which the bone is covered by the temporal muscle.
The internal concave surface, lined by the dura mater,
is marked by digital eminences and depressions corre¬
sponding to those of the cerebral convolutions. The su¬
perior edge is marked by a half-groove, which, with that of
the opposite bone, constitutes the sagittal for lodging the
superior longitudinal sinus ; within this, depressions more
or less deep, corresponding to the granules of Pacchioni;
towards the centre the parietal pit, corresponding to the
eminence of the external surface ; and ascending from the
inferior anterior angle arborescent grooves, in which the
large meningeal artery is lodged, (m, m.) Parts of these
grooves are occasionally converted into canals by the
growth of bone over their margins.
The parietal bone is bounded by four margins. By the
superior, which is serrated, it unites on the mesial plane
with the opposite bone, forming the sagittal suture; by
the anterior or coronal, also serrated, it is articulated firm¬
ly with the frontal bone, forming the coronal suture ; and
the posterior, also serrated, forms with the posterior mar¬
gin of the corresponding bone a re-entrant angle, in which
the occipital, occasionally with Wormian bones, is articu¬
lated. The lower margin alone, which is a concave cur¬
vature, is obliquely acuminated before, acuminated and
serrated in the middle for imbrication with the temporal
20 A N A T
Special bone, and serrated behind for articulation with the upper
Anatomy, margin of the mastoid process.
These margins form by union four angles, an anterior
t-'l bones6" and Poster>or superior, and an anterior and posterior infe¬
rior, of which the most important is the anterior inferior,
by reason of its presenting the origin of the meningeal
groove on its internal surface. The parietal bone, consist¬
ing of an external and internal table, with interposed di-
ploe, is thin, especially below its middle ; and the diploe is
small, and in some points obliterated. It is ossified from
one point, commencing at the protuberance, and radiating
all round to the margins. Previous, and some time subse¬
quent to birth, its mesial margin and anterior and supe¬
rior angle are not formed; and the brain is here covered by
dura mater, pericranium, and integuments only, forming,
as already mentioned, the bregma, or anterior fontanelle.
By the completion of the bones, however, the margins
and angles meet, and the fontanelle is closed. This is
generally effected in the course of the second year.
The tem- The temporal bones {ossa temporum), rather irregular
poral bones, in shape, are placed on each side at the lateral and infe¬
rior parts of the cranium.
Each bone presents an external or auricular surface,
an internal or cerebral, and a circumference.
The external or auricular surface presents, above and
before, a large convex surface, part of the temporal fossa
lodging part of the temporal muscle ; before, the zygomatic
process, long, pointed, and terminating in a serrated ex¬
tremity, where it is united with the malar bone to form
the zrjgoma (fig. 2, z), to the upper surface of which the
temporal fascia is attached, to the lower the masseter mus¬
cle ; behind, a flat surface of an irregularly rounded shape,
terminating before in the mastoid process (processus mam-
millaris, mastoideus, m), and behind in a serrated margin,
which unites with the occipital bone. Between the mas¬
toid process and the serrated margin behind is a rough
surface for the splenius, small complexus, and sterno-mas-
toid ; and below is a pit, in which the origin of the digas¬
tric muscle (biventer maxillae) is lodged.
The zygomatic process is connected to the temporal
bone by two roots, one of which, anterior, inferior, and
transverse (processus transversus), forms the anterior brim
of the glenoid or articular cavity, in which the condyle of
the inferior jaw is lodged; the other, superior and poste¬
rior, forms first the external and then the posterior brim of
the same cavity. Behind this posterior brim is an irregu¬
lar fissure termed the glenoid (Jissura Glasseri), which in¬
dicates the original line of separation between the superior
or squamous and the inferior or pyramidal portion of the
bone, and through which pass the tendon of the anterior
muscle of the malleus, some vessels, and a nervous twig
named chorda tympani.
In the angle between the mastoid and zygomatic process
is an elliptical opening from five to six lines in diameter,
leading into a cylindrical cavity, the direction of which is
obliquely forwards. This orifice, which is the external ear-
hole (^meatus externus, o), leads into the tympanal cavity,
from which it is separated, in the recent subject, by a thin
membrane only (membrana tympani). The three lower
thirds of this orifice are formed by a distinct bony ring,
which is rough, and perforated by holes for the insertion
of the cartilages of the external ear. On the outside of
the lower part of this bony ring is a strong process, vary¬
ing from half an inch to 12 lines in length, nearly round,
but terminating in a sharp point, and therefore, from its
resemblance to the style of the ancients, named the sty¬
loid process. (<f.) Behind its base, and between it and the
mastoid process, is a small hole, the stylo-mastoid, for the
exit of the facial nerve. (Plate XXVI. fig. 2.)
O M Y.
The inner or cerebral surface, marked by cerebral im- Special
pressions and arterial furrows, is distinguished particu- Anatomy-
larly by a pyramidal eminence of bone rising obliquely
from it, and a deep sinuous groove, making part of the bon'es
lateral, in which is lodged part of the lateral sinus.
The pyramidal portion (pyramis, fig. 3, p), named also
the petrous (pars petrosa), from its hardness in several of
the lower animals, may be distinguished as a truncated py¬
ramid, bounded by four planes, one of which, the external,
has been already described. Of the other three, one su¬
perior, marked by cerebral impressions, presents a semi¬
lunar depression for the Gasserian or trigeminal ganglion,
the upper orifice of the carotic canal, a slight furrow, the
extremity of the opening through which a branch of the
Vidian nerve passes, and an eminence which indicates the
situation of the superior semicircular canal. Another poste¬
rior, separated from the last by a sharp margin, traversed
anteriorly by the groove of the superior petrous sinus,
presents, first, an eminence indicating the posterior semi¬
circular canal; and, secondly, an orifice, the internal audi¬
tory hole (meatus internus), parted by a septum into an up¬
per orifice communicating with the Fallopian aqueduct for
the facial nerve, and a lower pit containing minute holes
communicating with the labyrinth, and transmitting the
filaments of the eighth or auditory nerve.
The lower or third plane surface of the pyramidal process,
which is external and connected with the occipital bone,
presents, first, at the lower end of the external depression
a cartilaginous, rough surface, where it adheres to that
bone; then a large sinuous cavity, the jugular notch, form¬
ing, with that on the occipital bone, the hole for the exit
of the jugular vein, often separated by a bony process into
two, the first of which is for the nervus vagus, the second
for the jugular vein ; a sharp ridge (processus vaginalis) at
the base of the styloid process, separating the jugular
notch from the glenoid cavity; a circular hole, the exter¬
nal orifice of the carotic canal (canalis caroticus), for the
entrance of the internal carotid and the exit of the sixth
nerve; a small hole terminating the aqueduct of the coch¬
lea ; and, lastly, a rough surface for the attachment of the
internal peristaphylinus, and the external muscle of the
malleus. At the line of junction between this plane and
the posterior is generally seen part of the groove for the
inferior petrous sinus. (Plate XXVI. fig. 3.)
The circumference is united behind by a serrated mar¬
gin with the occipital bone; above by a margin, partly ser¬
rated, partly imbricated, with the parietal bone and poste¬
rior part of the large wing of the sphenoid; and before
and below by a serrated margin with the lower part of
the same wing. This part, named generally the squamous,
forms with the pyramid a re-entrant angle, in which is
received the spinous process of the sphenoid bone; and
close beside which is the orifice of the Eustachian tube
(iter a palato ad aurem), the canal which leads from the
throat to the tympanal cavity. The truncated extremity
of the pyramid, which is received by the re-entrant
angle formed by the sphenoid and occipital bones, pre¬
sents the upper opening of the carotic canal, which is im¬
perfect above, and in the recent body is completed by the
dura mater.
The temporal bone is thin before and above, where it
consists of two tables with intermediate diploe. The
mastoid process in the adult consists of numerous com¬
municating cells, lined by very delicate periosteal mucous
membrane, continued from the tympanal cavity, with which
they communicate. The pyramidal portion is compact
and' hard, and contains with other parts the labyrinth or
internal ear.
Nothing is more interesting than the developement of
ANATOMY.
21
Special the temporal bone. It is ossified in three portions, . the
Anatomy, large, flat, or squamous ; the tympanal ring; the pyramidal,
with the mastoid, and the styloid process.
The tern- &n ear]y peri0(] the pyramidal portion is perfectly
poral bones. formed roun(i the several soft parts, and though porous
and spongy, dense bone is seen in the site of the semi¬
circular canals. The different orifices are large and dis¬
tinct. The tympanal cavity, however, is quite incom¬
plete ; and though the carotic canal is formed, the Eusta¬
chian tube is in the shape of a mere groove. The size of
the pyramid is greater than subsequently in proportion;
and the part behind the open tympanal cavity, which is
bulky, is to constitute the mastoid process, which however
is still a shapeless mass. The squamous portion is thin
and almost scaly at birth, with the zygomatic process
well marked, and a ring of bone, incomplete at the upper
margin, attached to its inferior and posterior part. By
this, which afterwards constitutes the ring of the external
ear-hole, it is fixed to the pyramidal portion in such man¬
ner that the part behind the ring is rather larger and
longer than the part before ; and the pyramid, instead of
projecting, as afterwards, is short and thick. At this
period also the flat portion uniting with the occipital
bone is not formed, and there is therefore an opening or
fontanelle at this point of the cranium. Soon, however,
the squamous becomes united with the pyramidal portion ;
the tympanal ring is fixed to both ; the Eustachian tube is
completed; and, at the posterior end of the pyramid, bone
is deposited and extended in a tabular layer of some
thickness. The mastoid process, however, cannot be re¬
cognised; and it is only some years after birth (about
seven) that a small oblong elevation begins to be visible
behind the posterior limb of the auditory ring. If at this
time the process is divided, cells of the kind afterwards seen
in this part are not distinct; but as its enlargement pro¬
ceeds, cells begin to be formed about the same time, and
at the same rate, as the frontal, ethmoidal, and sphenoidal
cells are formed. The figure of the bone also is altered,
in consequence of the change which the component parts
undergo in relation to each other. The squamous portion
expands, the anterior part of the pyramidal portion is
elongated and tapers, the posterior and the mastoid parts
enlarge, and at a later period the styloid process begins to
appear amidst the muscles attached to it.
The temporal bone is united immovably with the sphe¬
noid, parietal, occipital, and malar bones ; and the inferior
maxillary is connected to it by articulation. In the tym¬
panal cavity, also, are contained the four tympanal bones,
to be considered afterwards.
Besides these uniform bones of the cranium, there are
occasionally found one or more supernumerary bones, which
vary much in number, size, and situation. Most usually
they are found in the line between the occipital and pa¬
rietal bones, causing the lambdoidal suture to vary much
in regularity; and occasionally, instead of the apex of
the occipital bone, is found a single supernumerary bone.
They are observed less frequently at the inferior ante¬
rior angle of these bones, and at the temporo-parietal su¬
tures, and still more rarely at the base of the cranium.
These bones, to which attention was originally drawn by
Wormius, by whose name they are still distinguished
(ossa Wormiana), may be regarded as effects of the aberra¬
tion of the ossific process. Though they have been also
named triangular (ossa triquetrd), their shape is extremely
variable. They are similar in structure and mode of union
to the parietal and occipital bones; and though they are
not entitled to the epithet of cranial keys (claves cranii),
often given them, they may be viewed as appendages
to the cranial bones, which are then to be regarded as in¬
Wormian
bones.
complete. The most important fact in their history is, Special
that they are most frequent in young subjects, and in Anatomy
those in whom ossification is imperfect. As they are
rarely found in advanced age, it may be inferred that
they eventually become consolidated with one or other of
the bones to which they adhere.
§ 5. The Face. (Ossa Faciei.)
The face, situate before and below the cranium, is The foie,
bounded above by that cavity, on the sides by the zygo¬
matic arches, and behind by a space corresponding to the
upper region of the pharynx. Symmetrical in disposition,
its anterior surface is trapezoidal, the largest side being
above, its vertical section triangular, and each side irre¬
gular. The bones of which it consists are those of
the upper jaw, comprehending thirteen separate pieces,
two superior maxillary bones, two malar bones, two nasal
bones, two lacrymal bones, two inferior turbinated bones,
two palate bones, and one vomer; and the single lower jaw.
(Plate XXVI. fig. 8.)
The superior maxillary bone (osmalce, maxilla superior) The upper
is the basis of those of the upper jaw, and forms a centre,jaw-b°ne*
with which the others are connected. Though in shape
irregular, it may be distinguished into zygomato-facial,
orbitar, and naso-palatine surfaces. (Fig- 6-)
The zygomato-facial surface, irregularly convex and
concave, consists of two divisions, the facial and zygo¬
matic. The first presents the nasal or ascending process,
terminating above in a serrated margin, articulated with
the frontal bone; behind in a groove concurring with a
similar one in the lacrymal bone to form the lacrymal
canal; before by a similar margin joining with the nasal
bone ; and below, a pit for the insertion of the levator of
the upper lip and nose (levator labii superioris aleeque
nasi). The facial surface below this, bounded on the
mesial side by a sinuous hollow, the nasal, and a spine
forming with that of the opposite side the nasal spine, pre¬
sents above, the superior maxillary hole for the exit of
the second branch of the trigeminal nerve, the canine
fossa for lodging the levator anguli oris, separated by an
elevation from the incisive fossa for lodging the myrtiform
muscle (depressor alee nasi). The facial region is sepa¬
rated from the zygomatic by a rounded margin, the upper
extremity of which is rough and hollowed for articula¬
tion with the malar bone (os gence, os jugale) ; while the
posterior forms part of the temporal fossa before, and a
distinct protuberance behind corresponding to the pos¬
terior part of a large cavity denominated the maxillary
(antrum maxillare, sinus maxillaris). This cavity, indeed,
corresponds also to the canine fossa and the external pro¬
tuberance.
The orbitar surface, which is flat, and slightly oblique
in direction, forming the inner half of the lower wall of
the orbit, is bounded within by a sharp line for articula¬
tion with the ethmoid bone, without by the rough malar
surface, and traversed through its posterior half by a
groove for the maxillary vessels and nerve, terminating
partly in the sinus, partly in the superior maxillary hole.
The posterior margin of this surface, which is obtusely
rounded, forms with the sphenoid bone the spheno-maxil-
lary fissure; and its internal or mesial angle is articulat¬
ed with the ascending process of the palate bone.
The naso-palatine or mesial surface of the bone is com¬
plicated. Before and above is seen the inner surface of
the nasal or ascending process, traversed by vascular
and nervous grooves, and covered by the pituitary mem¬
brane. Behind this is the lacrymal groove, terminating
in the nasal, which is converted into a canal by the infe¬
rior turbinated bone, below which it opens; and the open-
22
ANATOM Y.
Special ing into the maxillary sinus, large in the detached bone,
Anatomy, but contracted below by the inferior turbinated,and behind
by the palate-bone. This sinus, which is of an irregular
rior max-" tetra^e^ra^ shape, corresponds before to the canine fossa,
illary behind to the zygomatic tuberosity, above to the orbi-
bone. tar plate, and below to the alveolar arch. Below this
is the palatine plate (apophysis palatina), quadrilateral
and horizontal, concave and smooth above, where it
forms the lower wall of the nostrils, concave and marked by
vascular orifices below, where it forms the anterior part of
the hard palate. (Fig. 7.) The anterior part of the process
is elevated into the nasal spine ; its mesial margin, which
is thick and marked by numerous grooves, one unusually
large for the naso-palatine nerves and vessels (canalis in-
cisivus vel Stenonianus), is joined to that of the opposite
side, forming a groove in which the lower margin of the
vomer is received; and the posterior, which is thin, is
attached to the square plate of the palate-bone, which
thus completes the palatine vault.
The palatine is separated from the zygomato-facial
region by a semiparabolic arch, perforated in the adult by
eight honeycomb-like pits (alveoli), in which the roots of
the teeth are implanted, and therefore named the alveolar
arch. Of these pits the first two are the smallest, the
next three larger, and the last three very large,—an
arrangement which renders the alveolar arch narrow be¬
fore, and broad on the sides and behind.
The superior maxillary bone is united, at the points
indicated, to that of the opposite side, to the frontal bone, to
the ethmoid, to the nasal, to the lacrymal, to the palatine,
to the malar, to the inferior turbinated bone, and to the
vomer.
It is ossified in one piece. In the foetus its divisions
are completely formed, except the orbitar plate, the sinus,
and the alveoli. In the former, the superior maxillary
canal is a slit; and the latter is a mere depression on the
nasal surface of the bone. This, however, becomes larger
and more capacious, not by excavation, but by the exten¬
sion of its walls by bony deposition. The alveolar arch
in general consists of two parabolic plates united by trans¬
verse septa, so imperfect, that the whole intermediate groove
communicates freely. These osseous plates are not uni¬
form in number. In some maxillary bones there are four,
and a fifth like a mere line at the bottom of the groove;
in others six alveoli, viz. four temporary, and two perma¬
nent alveoli. These plates are formed by deposition
round the dentiferous sacs.
The malar The malar bone (os jugale, os gence) is a quadrilateral
bone6^" k°ne’ aPProaching the rhomboidal shape, but bounded by
curved lines. It presents three surfaces, a facial, an or¬
bitar, and a zygomatic; and four angles, a frontal, a tem¬
poral, a zygomatic, a superior maxillary, and an inferior
maxillary. (Fig. 7 and 8, g.)
The facial surface is convex and smooth, marked by
one or two holes ( foramen jugale) for vessels and nerves,
and, with the zygomatic process gives attachment below
to the zygomatic muscles.
The orbitar surface, which is concave, directed oblique¬
ly upwards, projects backwards from the facial plate, and
forms the outer wall of the orbit between the frontal and
sphenoid bone above, and the superior maxillary below.
It presents the internal malar hole, or the inner orifice of
that seen in the facial surface. The posterior edge is rough
and serrated for conjunction with the sphenoid bone.
The zygomatic surface is a sort of angular concave re¬
cess between the orbitar plate above and the facial be¬
fore, and is chiefly important in forming the anterior part
of the temporal fossa. In the angle between the orbitar
and facial plates is seen a small hole, which communicates
with the internal malar above, and the external malar be- Special
fore. The anterior part of this surface is rough, and Anatomy,
unites with the external or malar process of the superior
maxdlary bone. bone
The superior or frontal angle is serrated for uniting
with the external angular process of the frontal bone.
The temporal is long and pointed, and rough above, where
it joins the temporal bone to form the zygoma, to which
the temporal fascia above and the masseter below are at¬
tached. The superior maxillary or orbitar is also point¬
ed, and joins the rounded ridge at the base of the ascend¬
ing process of the superior maxillary bone. The inferior
maxillary is obtuse-angled, and joins the lower angle of
the malar process.
Wedged between the bones of the scull and face, the
malar bone is connected to the frontal, the temporal, the
sphenoid, and the superior maxillary. It is ossified from
a single point.
Each nasal bone (os nasi) is quadrilateral and trape-The nasal
zoidal. Of its two surfaces, the external, smooth and bone,
slightly convex, is covered by the periosteum and the
pyramidal muscle (compressor narium) and part of the
frontal (epicranius). The inner, rather concave and
somewhat irregular, with grooves for vessels and nerves,
is covered with the pituitary membrane. (Fig. 8, n.)
The upper margin of the nasal bone, which is some¬
what thick, is serrated for union with the frontal bone, on
the nasal spine of which it is firmly supported. By the
mesial margin, which also is thick, plain, and prolonged
backwards, it is joined to that of the opposite side ; while
its thin external margin being imbricated beneath the
mesial one of the maxillary, the central pressure is thus
opposed on each side. In this manner the two nasal
bones, supported above by the frontal spine, are firmly
wedged between the superior maxillary, much on the
same principle as the key-stone is wedged between the
lateral parts of the arch. (Plate XXIV. 2 and 3, n.) To
the lower margin the nasal cartilages are attached. Each
nasal bone is formed from a single centre of ossification.
Each lacrymal bone (os lacrymale, os unguis) is about The lacry.
the size of a nail, situate at the inner wall of the orbit, mal bone,
occupying the space between the frontal bone above, the
ethmoid behind, and the superior maxillary before. Its
shape is irregularly quadrilateral, and it presents two sur¬
faces, an orbitar and nasal, and four margins.
The orbitar surface consists of two regions, one orbitar
proper, flat, and smooth, situate behind, and connected
with the lateral smooth bone (os planum) of the ethmoid,
with which it completes the inner wall of the orbit; the
other, which is anterior, is at right angles to this, and is
moulded into a cylindrical groove, which, with that of the
superior maxillary bone, constitutes the lacrymal canal,
in which is lodged the membranous tube which conveys
the tears and mucus from the eye to the nose. These
two surfaces are parted by a sharp longitudinal crest, to
which is attached the aponeurosis of the orbicular muscle
of the eyelids (orbicularis palpebrarum).
The nasal surface is irregular, covered by tbe fibro-
mucous membrane of the ethmoid cells, and of which it
makes part. It presents distinctly the angle of union be¬
tween the orbitar and lacrymal portion of the bone.
This bone, which is compact, is developed from a single
point, and is early formed in the foetus.
The inferior turbinated bones, which are irregular inTheinferi-
shape, are attached to the nasal surface of the superioror tul'buia-
maxillary by an oblique line near the lower margin of thete<* l,ones'
antrum, with the convex surfaces turned to each other.
Each turbinated bone presents a nasal surface, uneven
and marked by rough lines, with intermediate cellular
ANATOMY.
23
Special grooves; and a maxillary one, concave, and constituting
Anatomy, part of the inferior nasal passage. Both are invested by
v-‘^v^-'fibro-mucous membrane continued from the pituitary.
The turbi- £ach turbinated bone is bounded by two margins,—a
riated superior, which is fixed,—an inferior, free. Of the for-
bones* mer the anterior part is a thin border, joining with the
superior maxillary bone at the base of the ascending pro¬
cess, and with the lacrymal bone by an angular slip. The
middle is a short spinous part, uniting with the lateral
mass of the ethmoid, and diminishing the opening of the
maxillary sinus; and the posterior part, which is rounded
and inclining, is attached to the crest of the palate-bone.
The lower margin, which is free, is slightly convoluted
on itself, so as to separate the middle from the inferior
nasal passage.
The inferior spongy bone, which is formed m one piece,
though perforated by vascular and nervous holes, and
moulded into cells at its lower convoluted margin, con¬
sists, however, chiefly of compact bone. It is covered
through its whole extent by the fibro-mucous membrane
of the nasal passages.
The palate Each palate-bone (cfssapalati), attached to the posterior
bones. part of the superior maxillary bones, to which they may
be regarded as appendages, consists of three parts, a base
or palatine portion, a nasal ascending or vertical portion,
and an orbitar part.
The base consists of a quadrangular and quadrila¬
teral plate of bone, placed horizontally, and attached
before to the posterior margin of the horizontal or pala¬
tine plate of the superior maxillary bone, and on the in¬
ner or mesial side to the corresponding margin of the
opposite bone (Plate XXVI. fig. 7, p, p), with which it
forms a groove, in which is lodged the posterior part of rately fitted,
the lower margin of the vomer. The upper surface is rior margins
nerve, with some veins, and the internal branch of the Special
spheno-palatine ganglion. Anatomy.
The posterior margin of this vertical portion is acute
above, where it is simply conjoined with the base of theTb® P^atC!
pterygoid processes; but below it is moulded into a thick,
strong, triangular process, projecting backwards, and
marked by three grooves, one in the middle, and one on
each side. In the two latter the external and internal
pterygoid processes are adapted; and the middle space,
being prominent, and firmly wedged between the ptery¬
goid processes, completes the pterygoid fossa.
Each palate-bone is connected with six bones, two of
the cranium and four of the face; the ethmoid and sphe¬
noid, the superior maxillary, the inferior turbinated bone,
the palate-bone of the opposite side, and the vomer.
The palate-bone, so far as is hitherto observed, is form¬
ed in one portion. In the foetus, at the seventh month,
it is completely formed; but the square or horizontal part
is larger in proportion than the vertical, and remains so
till the face begins to alter its shape.
The vomer or plough-share bone is symmetrical, placed The vo-
on the mesial plane between the sphenoid and ethmoidmer-
bones above, and the palate and superior maxillary bones
below, and forming the posterior part of the nasal partition.
In shape it is irregular, though it alfects the rhomboi-
dal. It consists of two thin plates of compact bone unit¬
ed at an angular line below, but separated above so as to
form a deep longitudinal groove, in which the cartilaginous
partition before, and the vertical plate of the ethmoid be¬
hind, are inserted. At the posterior end these plates
spread out into lateral wings with intermediate grooves, in
which the azygos process of the sphenoid bone is accu-
These two parts form the upper and poste-
The lower consists of a single thin plate,
concave, and, with that of the superior maxillary bone, which is received into the linear groove formed by the
completes the lower wall of the nasal passages. The middle crest of the palate and superior maxillary bones,
lower is almost straight, but presents a slight concavity, The anterior part of this margin rises more directly, to fit
bounded behind by a transverse crest of bone, to which the nasal spine of the latter bones.
the uvula or soft and movable palate is attached. Behind The surfaces of the vomer are smooth, occasionally
this is a surface bounded by the posterior margin, which concave and convex in opposite directions, and, being
is sinuous and lunated, and terminates within in a pointed covered by the fibro-mucous pituitary membrane, consti-
eminence, which, with that of the opposite side, forms on tute the bony partition between the right and left nasal
the mesial plane the palatine spine. The external margin, passages. The bone, is formed in a single piece, and is
which rises into the nasal or ascending portion, is rounded generally completed in the seventh and eighth month,
without into a sinuous depression, which forms, with the The lower jaw-bone (mandibula, maxilla inferior), Phe lower
pterygoid process of the sphenoid bone, the pterygo-pala- symmetrical, placed at the base of the face, is of a shapeJaw-
tine canal, and which occasionally, at least at its lower nearly parabolic, with an elevated branch at each extre-
extremity, is entirely formed in the palate-bone. mity. It consists of two parts, a maxillary aich, an a
The nasal portion, which is irregular in shape, presents ramus at each end, each of which has two surfaces, an
on the nasal surface a hollow, rising from the square plate, external or facial, and an internal or oral, an alveolar or
and forming the posterior part of the lower nasal passage ; upper margin, and a mental or lower margin. (Fig. 8 and .)
a transverse ridge \linea aspera) continuous with that of The external surface of the parabolic or arched portion
the superior maxillary bone, and to which the inferior turbi- of the lower jaw presents first on the mesial plane the
nated bone is attached; and then another hollow, forming symphysis or chin (mentum), indicating the original separa-
the posterior end of the middle nasal passage, and with tion of the bone into two parts,—a vertical line diverging
the former contracting the orifice of the maxillary sinus, into two, so as to form a triangular eminence (tuber max-
Immediately above this the vertical portion is parted by a Mare of Soemmering). (Fig. 8 and 9, x.) On each side of
notch into two unequal parts, a posterior articulated with this is a depression for the tuft or levator of the chin, the
the base of the external pterygoid process, and an ante- anterior mental XvAq (foramen menti anterius, f), or inferior
rior articulated before with the superior maxillary bone, maxillary for the exit of the third branch of the fifth pair,
and within presenting cells, which unite with those of the and the external maxillary line (m) for the insertion of t ie
ethmoid bone. The outer part of this cellular portion is platysma, depressor anguli oris, and depressor labn injerw-
bounded by three surfaces, one external, forming part of ris. Behind this the ascending ramus presents a quadri a-
the zygomaticybssa ; another anterior, resting on a corre- teral surface, corresponding to the masseter (x), ounc e
spending surface of the superior maxillary bone ; a third before by a sharp line terminating in the coronoitl process
superior, forming part of the inner wall of the orbit. The (b, b), behind by an obtuse one, the postenor margin
notch between the anterior and posterior divisions forms terminating in the condyloid or articular process (c, e),
with the sphenoid bone the spheno-palatine, for transmit- and above by the sigmoid notch (incisura semi unans ve
ting the spheno-palatine twig of the superior maxillary sigmoidea) between them.
ANATOMY.
24
Special The internal or oral surface of the lower jaw presents
Anatomy. {n the middle a spine or crest {spina menti interna), con-
sisting in general of three eminences, the two superior of
The lower ^ich give attachment to the genio-glossi, and the lower
to the genio-hyoidei. On each side of this is a superficial
hollow for the sublingual gland, and a pit for the digastric
muscle; and extending outward on each side is the in¬
ternal oblique line, to which the mylo-hyoideus and the
superior constrictor of the pharynx are attached. Below
this is a depression for the submaxillary gland ; behind, at
the margin of the ramus, the surface is rough for the
insertion of the external pterygoid ; between this and the
top of the oblique line is the internal mental hole, or the
inner orifice of the maxillary canal; and above and round
the orifice the surface is rough for the insertion of the in¬
ternal ligament of the lower jaw. By this orifice the in¬
ferior maxillary nerve, or third branch of the fifth pair,
with its concomitant vessels, enters the canal; and after
sending branches to the alveolar arch and membranes, re¬
appears at the external mental hole.
The upper margin of the parabolic part of the bone is
moulded into a series of alveolar ov honeycomb-like cavities,
bounded by external and internal plates, and separated by
septa more or less complete. These cavities are in the adult
16 in number, but are sometimes imperfect, sometimes
obliterated by the removal of the teeth. This margin,
which, like the corresponding one of the superior jaw, is
named the alveolar arch, is, like it, narrow anteriorly, and
wide on the sides and behind. At the posterior end
of each alveolar arch the external and internal oblique
lines form between them a superficial depression, in which
part of the buccinator is lodged ; and then converging as
they ascend, terminate in the pointed coronoid process, to
which the tendon of the temporal muscle is fixed, unless
at its outer surface, which is covered by the masseter. The
condyloid process, separated from this by the sigmoid
notch, is broad transversely, and is contracted below so as
to form a neck, which is concave within for the insertion of
the external pterygoid muscle.
The inferior margin, which is obtusely rounded, and
forms a more pointed curve than the upper, gives attach¬
ment only to the cutaneous muscle (platysma myoides). The
posterior margin, also obtuse, is free, but corresponds to the
parotid gland, and is therefore occasionally named the paro¬
tid margin. To this the stylo-maxillary ligament is attached.
The posterior part of the bone, named the ramus, forms
with its body an obtuse angle of about 100°, which di¬
minishes as life advances. (Fig. 8, a, r.)
The inferior maxillary bone is connected movably with
the temporal bone by its condyloid process being lodged
in the glenoid cavity of the latter. In this situation it is
retained by means of three ligaments, while its motions
are facilitated by an interarticular fibro-cartilage.
The ligament, composed of parallel fibres attach¬
ed to the tubercle at the bifurcation of the zygomatic
process, descends obliquely backwards, and is fixed to the
outside of the neck of the condyle of the lower jaw. It is
covered by skin and the parotid gland, and is lined by
synovial membrane, to part of which the interarticular
cartilage is attached. The internal ligament, attached to
the spinous process of the sphenoid bone and its vicinity,
proceeds obliquely downwards and forwards, between the
two pterygoid muscles, expanding, to the orifice of the
internal maxillary hole, round which it is attached.
The stylo-maxillary ligament is an aponeurotic chord,
belonging rather to the stylo-glossus muscle, stretching
between the styloid process and the tip of the angle of the
lower jaw, where it is inserted between the masseter
muscle without, and the internal pterygoid within.
This articulation is so constructed that it possesses two Special
synovial membranes, or at least a double one, the parts 0f Anatomy,
which are separated by the interarticular cartilage. The jower
latter body, which is of an oval shape, convex and con- jaw
cave above, to fit at once the glenoid cavity and the trans¬
verse process, but concave below for the maxillary con¬
dyle, adheres externally to the external ligament, while
its inner margin is free. The upper division of the syno¬
vial membrane, therefore, adhering all round to the mar¬
gins of the glenoid cavity and transverse process, after
covering these parts, is reflected from the external late¬
ral ligament over the upper surface of the interarticular
fibro-cartilage. A minute slip may be then traced over
the free margin of this fibro-cartilage, covering its lower
surface, and thence continued over the inside of the ex¬
ternal lateral ligament, and from it over the condyle of
the lower jaw. In this manner the temporo-maxillary
synovial membrane is rather composed of two parts, a su¬
perior and inferior, than absolutely double.
The inferior maxillary bone is formed in two pieces;
and perhaps no bone in the human body undergoes from
first to last greater changes in shape and extent than it
does. In the fcetus, when first formed, it consists of two
slightly incurvated portions, united on the mesial plane by
cartilage, with the coronoid and condyloid process, and
the intermediate sigmoid notch, rising from the posterior
extremity of each. The ramus, however, cannot be said
to be formed; and it is only some time after birth that the
quadrilateral surface by which it is defined can be recog¬
nised. At birth, also, the alveolar arch consists only of
two thin plates of bone, with scarcely perceptible traces
of septa ; and the periosteal coverings of the dentiferous
sacs are in immediate contact with each other. After
birth, bone is deposited between them, so as to form the
transverse partitions of the alveoli, which afterwards in¬
crease in size and thickness with the bone itself, which en¬
larges in all its dimensions chiefly by extending backwards.
Coalescing by the progress of ossification on the mesial
plane, it is afew weeks afterbirth consolidated into one bone;
and after the process of primary dentition commences, it
loses the angular and acquires the parabolic shape. About
the age of seven, sometimes previously, the body becomes
more incurvated, and the posterior extremities enlarge
backwards still more rapidly. As the process of second¬
ary dentition advances, these extremities enlarge still
more rapidly; and the angle of the jaw acquires a more
prominent situation by becoming more depressed. At the
time at which the facial and maxillary sinuses are formed,
and the superior maxillary bone extends backwards to
form its tuberosity, the posterior extremity gradually
rises in the form of the ramus, till this part a year or two
after puberty is fully an inch above the plane of the alveo¬
lar arch. During adolescence and middle life this is
the condition of the jaw-bone. Towards the decline,
however, the teeth drop out, and the alveolar processes are
absorbed ; and in old age the lower jaw consists often of a
single cylindrical arch of bone placed between its two rami,
which, retaining their original breadth and height, neces¬
sarily throw the body of the bone forwards beyond the
upper alveolar arch.
The lower jaw-bone consists of two plates of compact
bone, with cancellated tissue interposed, and traversed
by the inferior dental canal, the walls of which, like the
surface of the bone, are compact. This canal is subdi¬
vided into two parts,—one inferior, which terminates in
the anterior mental hole, transmitting the mental branch
of the inferior maxillary nerve ; the other superior, which
is parted into numerous minute passages into the cancelli
of the bone and alveolar processes. These, it must also
ANATOMY.
25
Special be observed, consist of a peculiar form of cancellated
Anatomy, structure. Externally their bony walls are perforated by
numerous minute well-defined holes, into which, in the
The lower recent state, the vessels and filaments of the alveolar pe-
^aW' riosteum penetrate. These orifices are so numerous in
both maxillary bones, that a portion of alveolar process
held between the eye and the light seems entirely per¬
forated, and, if injected, becomes completely red. This
character applies chiefly to the period of youth and ado¬
lescence. After this the alveolar processes become more
solid, and eventually present much fewer orifices. This
structure is the result of the manner in which the bony
matter is deposited round the vessels and filaments of the
periosteum, which may in this and similar bones be said
to communicate in this manner with those of the medul¬
lary membrane.
The Teeth. (Dentes.)
The teeth. The teeth, which are implanted in the alveolar cavi¬
ties, though belonging properly to the digestive apparatus
as organs of mastication, are nevertheless more conve¬
niently considered in this place. (Plate XXVI. fig. 7, 8,
and 9.)
In every tooth are recognised three parts,—the crown
(corona), the neck or collar (collum), and the root (radix).
The first is the portion which appears above the gum and
alveolar process, and consists of a layer of enamel, thick
above and round the top, but gradually extenuated below,
inclosing a small portion of compact bone. The crown
may be distinguished into the crown proper, or the sum¬
mit or apex of the tooth, and the fillet or annular portion
of enamel (annulus) by which the sides are surrounded.
The root, which consists of compact bone, is the part
which is implanted in the alveolar cavity, and the outer
surface of which adheres to the inner or dental surface of
the alveolar periosteum, and above that to the soft part
of the gum. The neck is the narrow ring where the ena¬
mel ceases and the bone begins, and to which the gum
adheres all round. This part, in short, belongs neither
to the crown nor to the root, and perhaps is not justly
entitled to any separate consideration, unless as the por¬
tion to which the gum adheres. The crown and root, on
the contrary, are important, as furnishing the characters
by which the teeth are distinguished into classes.
Theincisor These are three,—the incisor or cutting teeth (dentes
tomici, incisores, primores, risorii, acuti, adversi); the ca¬
nine or tearing teeth (dentes canini, laniarii, cuspidati);
and the molar or grinding teeth (dentes molares).
The incisors are in number eight, four in each jaw, and
two on each side of the mesial plane. All of them agree
in having the crown or apex wedge-shaped, or like a car¬
penter’s adze, convex before, and slightly concave be¬
hind, with the cutting edge crenated or notched. From
the edge, also, which is broad, the fillet, which is quadri¬
lateral, contracts much to the neck, and the root is be¬
velled in the opposite direction to that of the crown, so
as to form a quadrilateral prism, and slightly acuminated.
It is always simple and elongated. Its extremity presents
an orifice communicating with the interior of the tooth,
and admitting the vessels by which it is nourished. The
crown is separated from the root by a narrow line, vary¬
ing in position in the different kinds of incisors.
The incisors of the upper jaw are broader, thicker,
longer, and in general more powerful, than those of the
lower, and their axes are directed downwards and for¬
wards so as to overlap in the motions of the lower jaw
those of the inferior row, and leave a triangular interval
with the base upwards. Their cutting edge also is ob¬
lique, so that its mesial angle is longer than its external;
vol. m.
teeth.
and their roots are larger and rounder. The central or Special
middle incisors are larger, broader, and stronger, than the Anatomy,
lateral ones.
The incisors of the lower jaw are smaller than those of caA
the upper, and their axes are directed upwards and back- 1 6 *
wards, so that they are within the superior incisors. The
central incisors also are larger than the lateral ones.
The canine or pointed teeth (dentes cuspidati) are four
in number, one in each half of each alveolar arch, imme¬
diately next to the lateral incisors. These teeth are
distinguished by prominent, thick crowns, with rounded
convex fillets and pointed apices. The root also, which,
like that of the incisors, is simple, is larger and thicker
than in the latter. The upper canine teeth, which occa¬
sionally are named eye-teeth (ocularii dentes), are the
longest and most prominent of all. During the elevation
of the lower jaw, each inferior canine tooth is interior to
the superior one, and is interposed between it and the
lateral incisor.
Of the molar or grinders there are 20 altogether, being
five in each half of each alveolar arch. They are sub¬
divided into two orders, small molar or bicuspid teeth
(dentes bicuspidati), and large molar or multicuspid teeth
(dentes multicuspidati).
The molar teeth agree in having large, broad crowns, The molar
with tubercular summits, and roots, which, though occa-or grinding
sionally single, are much more frequently two-fold, three-teet^‘
fold, or four-fold. The coronal tubercles are generally
parted by a deep furrow, which gradually becomes shallow
as the summits wear in the progress of years. When the
roots are single, which is most frequent in the bicuspid
order, each lateral surface is marked by a longitudinal
furrow. When two-fold or manifold, they are parted by a
fissure of variable width; and sometimes they diverge
considerably. The annular furrow between the crown
and root is very distinct.
The axes of the upper molar teeth are directed out¬
wards, while those of the lower order, especially the most
posterior, are directed inwards. More anteriorly they
are occasionally vertical.
The two molar teeth next to the canine, which have The small
smaller crowns and roots, and are less in all their di-™^ar.or
mensions than the three posterior ones, are therefore dis-^”^1
tinguished as small molars. From the circumstance of
their crowns being provided with two conical apices, one
anterior, large, and the other posterior, parted by a trans¬
verse furrow, not dissimilar to the summits of two canine
teeth conjoined in one, they were denominated by John
Hunter bicuspid teeth (bicuspidati). These teeth are
smaller than the canine, especially when their roots are
single. The roots, however, are often bifid, and some¬
times trifid. In the first case they are bevelled on the
sides, and terminate in a point. In the second and third
case they are conical. The internal surface of the bicus¬
pid teeth is very generally narrower than the external, so
that a transverse section would be trapezoidal, with the
narrow margin posterior.
The third molar tooth, or the first large molar, is gene- The larger
rally very large and strong, with the crown broad and qua- ™ ”gr
drilateral, surmounted by four, five, or more tubercles, and proper.
the root trifid or quadrifid and divergent in the upper
tooth, more frequently bifid only and divergent in the
lower. The second large molar tooth, though rarely so
large as the first, has the same general shape; the crown
rhomboidal in the upper jaw, with four apices, and the
root bifid or trifid and divergent.
The third large molar, named also wisdom-tooth (dens
sapientice), from its late appearance, is smaller than the
second, generally has a narrower crown, rounded, oblong,
D
26
ANATOMY.
Special quadrilateral, or rhomboidal, with two or three apices,
Anatomy. anci a narrow root generally single and conical, often in-
complete. Its axis is strongly directed inwards, especially
I he teeth. jn ^ Upper jaw.
The den- The orders of teeth now enumerated constitute arches
tal arches. 0f a parabolic or semielliptical shape, larger in general
in the upper jaw than in the lower. In the upper arch
especially, the curvature is more rounded or elliptical;
in the lower it is more angular and parabolic,—a cir¬
cumstance which, with the different directions of the
axes of the incisor and molar teeth respectively, causes
the upper incisors to overlap, and thereby cut upon the
lower ones, while the molars are fitted to each other so
as to move on mutual surfaces in the lateral motion of
the jaw.
Varieties. teeth vary in number, shape, and position.
Though the general number of the adult or perma¬
nent teeth is 16 in each jaw, or 32 in all, it may happen
that, in consequence of all the wisdom-teeth not coming
through the gum, there are only 28 or 30. Occasionally
also the lateral incisors are wanting. In some rare in¬
stances there is a supernumerary incisor or molar tooth ;
and Soemmering mentions an instance in which, by the
addition of four molar teeth, the total number was aug¬
mented to 36. The union of two or more teeth into one
is occasionally observed.
The most usual variations in shape are observed in the
incisors being excessively large and broad, in the canine
being very thick and long, ascending into the antrum, and
in some rare instances extremely small. In females the
canine teeth are occasionally so small and rounded, that
they have the appearance rather of rudiments than of
perfect teeth. The cleft roots of the molar teeth are
liable to very great varieties in shape.
The most usual variety in position is when the inci¬
sors are placed obliquely, with their margins not lateral
but antero-posterior. This is in general the result of the
teeth being too much crowded in a small alveolar arch;
and the malposition is always greatest as the jaw is nar¬
row, or imperfectly formed. One or two incisors even in
such circumstances may be entirely behind or before the
rest, so as to give the appearance of a double row. The
canine teeth are liable to the same change of position;
but one greatly more frequent with them is, to be placed
so much before the line of the arch as to project consi¬
derably forwards, like the tusks of some animals. Ano¬
ther form of this variety is, when teeth appear in unusual
situations, for instance the palate or pharynx, or even in
the orbit.
Dentition The teeth are not at all periods of life the same in num-
yrimary. ber. Generally speaking, at birth, when the teeth have not
appeared above the gum, the rudiments of five teeth are
found in each half alveolar arch. These, which are to con¬
stitute the milk-teeth, the deciduous or temporary, appear
above the gum nearly in the following order: the central
incisors of the lower jaw about the end of the sixth or
beginning of the seventh month; a few weeks after, the
central incisors of the upper jaw; after these, the lateral
incisors above or below, without determinate order; and
between the 12th and 18th months the first pair of molars,
either above or below. These are followed by the lower
canine teeth, and about the second year by the upper
canine teeth. About the end of the second year, or in the
course of the third, the second pair of molar teeth cut the
gum; and about the fourth or fifth year in general, the
third pair of molar teeth appear. The following table of
the periods at which the different classes of temporary
teeth appear, given by Mr Thomas Bell, may communi¬
cate a general idea of the succession.
From 5 to 8 months,
From 7 to 10
From 12 to 16
From 14 to 20
From 18 to 36
Special
Anatoniv
The teeth.
-12
the 4 central incisors,
the 4 lateral incisors,
the 4 anterior molars,
the 4 canine,
the 4 posterior molars.
From these periods, however, there are extensive ex¬
ceptions ; and in no two individuals even of the same fa¬
mily does the same tooth appear at the same period.
About the seventh month the milk-teeth begin to ap- Dentition
pear above the gum; and about the seventh year they permanent,
begin to be shed and succeeded by the permanent set.
This process begins also in the lower jaw, and advances
nearly in the same order: the lower central incisors;
the upper, and the lateral above and below; the first
pair of molar upper and lower; the second pair of molar
above and below ; the canine above and below ; the third
pair of molar ; the fourth pair of molar in the eighteenth
year; and the fifth pair, or wisdom-teeth, in the eighteenth,
twentieth, or thirtieth years.
The average periods of eruption in the lower jaw are
given in the tabular form by Mr Thomas Bell, in the fol¬
lowing order.
The anterior larger molars  6J years.
The central incisors  7
The lateral incisors  8
The anterior bicuspids  9
The posterior bicuspids 10
The canine or cuspidati 11-
The second large molars 12—13
The third large molars, or wisdom-teeth 17—19
Those of the upper jaw are understood to follow these at
an interval of two or three months.
In structure the teeth of the human subject belong to
the order of simple teeth, that is, consist of bone, invest¬
ed at the crown by enamel.
The hyoid bone (os hyoides, 6, ossa lingualia'), though The hyoid
entirely unconnected with the skeleton, yet as a bone to ”^n8ual
which are attached various muscles of the throat, must
be noticed in this place. It is a bone, or rather a bony
apparatus, consisting of five separate pieces, arranged in
the parabolic form, and articulated movably with each
other. These five pieces are, one middle, two lateral, ami
two pisiform bones.
The middle (os medium linguae), named also the body, is
large, broad, and square, with the anterior surface in ge¬
neral convex and rough, divided by a middle ridge into
right and left halves, and by a horizontal line into upper
and lower parts, and giving attachment on each side of
the middle crest to the digastric, the stylo-hyoid, the
mylo-hyoid, the genio-hyoid, and the hyoglossal muscles.
The posterior surface is concave and smooth, and covered
by cellular tissue, connecting it to the epiglottis. To its
inferior margin, which is more extensive and irregular
than the superior, are attached externally the sterno¬
hyoid, the omo-hyoid, and the thyro-hyoid muscles; and
in the middle the thyro-hyoid membrane. To its upper
margin the fibres of the hyoglossus are attached. Each
of the lateral margins is moulded into a convex cartilagi¬
nous surface, articulated with the lateral bones.
The lateral bones (ossa lateralia, cornua), though longer,
are less thick than the body. Broad and thick before,
with the upper surface concave and the lower convex,
narrow behind, they terminate in a round head, tipped
with cartilage, to which the thyro-hyoid ligament is at¬
tached. At the anterior junction nearly of these with the
middle portion, there is attached to the latter on each
side a small elongated bone, somewhat hooked. These
bones, which seldom exceed the size of a grain of wheat,
or rye rather, and which they somewhat resemble in
ANATOMY.
Special shape, are articulated to the other two by a true capsu-
Anatomv. lar ligament. To their outer surface are attached some
fibres 0f the genio-glossus, and to their upper is fixed the
stylo-hyoid ligament.
The hyoid bone consists externally of compact, and in¬
ternally of cancellated tissue, the latter being most abun¬
dant in the middle piece. Though composed in the in¬
fant and young subject of five portions, the articulations
are invariably obliterated by ankylosis in adult life, and
they are converted into a single bone. The junction of
the middle and lateral portions is effected first, and that
of the pisiform bones afterwards.
The era- The bones now described, excepting the lower jaw and
nium in hyoid, are united immovably, or by synarthrosis. The
general, external shape of the cranium is that of an oblong sphe¬
roid, or an ovoid, with the small diameter before. Con¬
vex in general, it is flattened laterally in the temporal
regions, and below in the base. The external surface,
smooth and regular above, is marked below by muscular
impressions, and penetrated by numerous holes.
The su- The first objects deserving attention are the serrated
tures. iines 0f junction, or what are named the sutures (suturce),
which are in general more conspicuous externally than in¬
ternally, where indeed they are effaced at an earlier period
of life than on the outer surface of the scull. The sutures
may be most easily understood by tracing them from the
sphenoid bone, which may be regarded as the central
point of the cranium.
The first line is that which passes transversely across
at the junction of the sphenoid with the ethmoid and su¬
perior turbinated bones in the middle, and the frontal
hone on each side. Concave in the middle, this line bends
backward at each extremity, where it follows the outline
of the small wings of Ingrassias. It constitutes the trans¬
verse or sphenoidal suture.
The posterior margin of the body of the sphenoid bone
is marked by another transverse suture, extremely short,
and uniting it with the cuneiform process of the occipital
bone. This, which is early obliterated by the indissoluble
union of the sphenoid and occipital bones, is a cartilagi¬
nous junction, afterwards ossified, and, though scarcely en¬
titled to the epithet, is named nevertheless the basilar
suture.
A more distinct one is found in the line between the
exterior concave margin of the large wing of Ingrassias
and the squamous portion of the temporal bone in the
spheno-temporal suture. It terminates below at the gle¬
noid fissure, forming an acute angle with a short line
between the pyramid and the posterior margin of the
spinous process of the sphenoid, named the petro-sphe-
noidal. Above, where it terminates on the parietal bone,
a short line, between the outer margin of the large wing
of Ingrassias and short spaces of the parietal and frontal
bones, is distinguished as the lateral sphenoidal or the
spheno-parietal suture.
This line, produced backwards between the upper
margin of the temporal and the lower margin of the pa¬
rietal bone, constitutes a peculiar form of junction, named
the squamous suture (sutura squamosa), the temporal, or
the temporo-parietal, in which the edge of the former bone
is imbricated over that of the latter. In this mode of junc¬
tion, which is confined to the superior part of the tem¬
poral bone, and in which the union of the bones is not se¬
cured by dove-tail ossification, but simple imposition, the
lateral pressure is effected chiefly by the force propagat¬
ed from the zygoma and the malar bone.
I he posterior part, which is united to the posterior-
inferior angle of the parietal, and the anterior-inferior
margin of the occipital, presents a serrated line, with al- Special
ternate indentations, which are well marked, but irregu- Anatomy,
lar in size. This, which occasionally presents Wormian
bones, may be named the posterior-temporal suture. The. raniuni
descending portion has been distinguished by the name ofm ^ene
mastoid suture. Anteriorly, in the base of the cranium,
where it passes the jugular notch, the line of junction,
which is cartilaginous, is termed the petro-occipital suture.
The sutures now enumerated agree in being found
chiefly at the lower region of the cranium, and in secur¬
ing the junctions of its base. The others to be yet enu¬
merated belong to its superior region, and agree in con¬
solidating and securing the several arches which consti¬
tute what may be named the vault of the cranium.
From the point at which the posterior, temporal, and
mastoid sutures unite, a serrated line of junction ascends
on each side to the common point at which the occipital
and parietal bones meet. From the angular junction
formed by the two limbs of this suture, it is known under
the name of lambdoidal (A, sutura lambdoidalis) ; and from
its situation it is termed the occipital and occipito-pa-
rietal suture. By mutual indentations, which are always
distinct, it joins firmly the parietal and occipital bones; and
it is the most frequent seat of Wormian bones.
From the angle of the lambdoidal suture a similar ser¬
rated line proceeds, uniting the two parietal bones on the
mesial plane, with equally distinct indentations. The
mode in which this stretches between the lambdoidal and
coronal sutures, bearing some remote resemblance to
an arrow on the drawn bow-string, has procured it the
name of the sagittal {sutura sagittalis). In youth and in
early life these two sutures are distinct; but in advanced
age they are more or less, sometimes entirely, obliterated.
In some craniums the sagittal suture is continued along
the frontal bone to the nasal spine, thus parting the bone
in two lateral halves. This, which constitutes the proper
frontal or median suture, is the remains of the original se¬
paration of the bone.
Lastly, Between the frontal bone before, and the parie¬
tal bones behind, is seen a serrated line crossing the cra¬
nium transversely, the whole breadth between the two
sphenoid bones. This, which is named the coronal suture,
presents large indentations on each side and small ones
in the middle, on the external table, and a converse ar¬
rangement on the internal.
By these sutures the bones forming the vault of the
cranium are firmly secured; and each bone is made to
press against the other so as to augment rather than di¬
minish strength.
The external surface of the cranium may be distin-The exter- *
guished into four regions, a superior, an inferior, and two nal surface,
lateral ones.
The superior region, or the vault, is bounded before and
behind by the nasal and occipital protuberances, and on
each side by the temporal arches. It presents, besides
the coronal, sagittal, and lambdoidal sutures, the superci¬
liary arches, the frontal, parietal, and occipital protube¬
rances, and the parietal holes. It is covered by the epi¬
cranial muscle and its aponeurosis.
The inferior region or base, which may be defined from
the occipital protuberance behind to the nasal spine be¬
fore, is free as far as the pterygoid processes of the sphe¬
noid bone, anterior to which it is joined to the bones of
the face.
In the posterior portion are seen the occipital spine and
muscular impressions, the occipital hole {foramen mag¬
num), the condyloid processes, the anterior and posterior
condyloid holes, and the basilar process. Laterally are the
digastric groove, the mastoid, styloid, and vaginal pro-
28 ANATOMY.
Special cesses, and the stylo-mastoid hole, the glenoid cavity and
Anatomy, fissure; the jugular hole {foramen lacerum in basi cranii),
separated by a bony process into an internal part for the
ramumin nervus vaqus and the accessory nerve, and an external for
H the jugular vein; the pyramid, with the carotic canal, and
the anterior lacerated hole between its extremity, the
basilar process, and the sphenoid bone, closed by fibro-
cartilage in the recent subject. Before these objects,
and nearly in the same transverse line, are seen the ante¬
rior half of the glenoid cavity of the temporal bone, the
guttural orifice of the Eustachian tube,^ the spinous and
elliptical holes of the sphenoid (Plate XXIV. fig. 5), and
the pterygoid processes.
The anterior portion presents the crest or azygos pro¬
cess united with the vomer and ethmoidal plate, the
sphenoidal sinuses, the ethmoidal bone itself, and the
nasal spine of the frontal bone; laterally, the anterior sur¬
face of the pterygoid processes, the Vidian canal, the
round or superior maxillary hole, the temporal and orbitar
surfaces of the large wings of the sphenoid bone, the sphe¬
noidal fissure {foramen lacerum), the optic holes, and the
small wings of Ingrassias; and, lastly, the vault and inter¬
nal wall of the orbit, the former by the frontal bone, the
latter by the os planum and lacrymal bone.
The lateral regions of the cranium are nearly of an el¬
liptical shape. Each region may be circumscribed by a
line drawn from the mastoid process backwards to the
union of the temporal and mastoid sutures, then following
the semicircular arch of the parietal bone, and the angu¬
lar arch of the frontal to the zygoma, ear-hole, and mastoid
process. The objects inclosed in this region are the pos¬
terior mastoid hole, the mastoid process, the ear-hole,
and the zygoma, with a large space, defined by the ele¬
vated line extending from the posterior extremity of
the zygoma upwards to the semicircular arch of the pa¬
rietal bone, where it is obtuse, and the external angu¬
lar ridge of the frontal bone, where it becomes acute.
To this line, the zygoma, and the malar bone, the fascia
of the temporal muscle is firmly attached; the muscular
fibres adhere to the bone below as far as the line of the
sphenoid bone, and pass downwards under the zygoma.
The whole region, though convex in early life, becomes
less so in adolescence, and in manhood and advanced age
it is flattened and even hollowed.
The inter- The internal surface of the cranium, lined by the dura
nalsurface. and marked by cerebral and vascular impressions,
is distinguished into the superior region or vault, and the
inferior or base.
In the former, which is a regular spheroidal concave,
the chief peculiarities are, on the mesial plane, the frontal
crest, the sagittal groove for the superior longitudinal
sinus, pits for the granules of Pacchioni, and the inside
of the sagittal suture, more distinct than the outside;
laterally, the upper cerebral regions of the frontal and
parietal bones, with their fossae, the coronal suture, and
the superior occipital fossae.
The base is more complicated, and is generally distin¬
guished not only into lateral halves, but into anterior,
middle, and posterior regions.
On the median line from before backwards, the objects
are,—the blind hole {foramen caecum), for the naso-frontal
vessels; the ethmoidal crest {crista galli), and vertical
plate, with the perforated plate (e); the spheno-ethmoi-
dal suture; the transverse groove and olivary process,
and optic holes (1 1); the pituitary fossa {ephippium)
(3) ; the posterior clinoid processes (4 4) ; the spheno-oc-
cipital junction ; the basilar groove for the medulla ob¬
longata (6); the occipital hole; and the internal occi¬
pital spine and protuberance. (Plate XXIV. fig. 6.)
Of the lateral halves, the anterior or frontal region is Special
bounded before by an indistinct curved line, formed by Anatomy,
the vertical with the horizontal table of the frontal bone,
and behind by the sphenoidal arch. In this, which is
named X\\e frontal fossa, the anterior lobe of the brain ®
is lodged; while the sphenoidal arch enters the fissure of
Sylvius.
Between the sphenoidal arch before, and the posterior
margin of the temporal pyramid behind, is contained a
cavity shaped like a spherical segment. In this, which
may be named the spheno-temporal hollow {fossa spheno-
temporalis), the anterior part of the posterior lobe of the
brain is lodged. In this cavity also are seen the sphe¬
noidal fissure ; the round or superior maxillary hole ; the
oval or inferior maxillary hole ; the spinous or meningeal
hole, with the meningeal groove; the anterior or spheno-
temporal fissure { foramen lacerum anterius basis cranii) ;
the inner end of the carotic canal; the pyramidal groove ;
and the semilunar fossa for the Gasserian ganglion. (Plate
XXIV. fig. 6.)
Between the temporal pyramid and the internal occipi¬
tal spine is contained the posterior or temporo-occipital
hollow {fossa temporo-occipitalis), which is further subdi¬
vided into two cavities, the cerebral above, and the cere-
bellic below. From the posterior margin of the pyramid
to the transverse occipital ridge, a fold of the dura mater,
stretched horizontally, separates the temporo-occipital ca¬
vity into a superior for lodging the posterior lobe of the
brain, and an inferior or cerebellic for lodging the lobes of
the cerebellum. In the anterior or cerebellic division is
seen the posterior surface of the pyramid, with the inter¬
nal auditory hole, the orifice of the cochlear aqueduct,
the groove for the lateral sinus terminating in the jugular
opening, the groove of the inferior petrous sinus, and the
mastoid hole and suture. The only object behind is the
posterior cerebralybssa, traversed by the lambdoidal suture.
In the foetus the cranial bones inclosed between the Develope-
pericranium and dura mater, which are thick, soft, and merit and
vascular, are incomplete shells not in contact with each (Innensrens
other, with prominent and rather thick ossific centres,) ®ren’’
from which the osseous radii diverge, and terminate in thin, ^
ciliated margins. At birth, and for some weeks after, though
ossification is far advanced, the margins of the bones are
incomplete, so as to form the open spaces denominated fon-
tanelles. Of these there are six at the period of birth ; the
anterior or rhomboidal between the frontal and parietal
bones; the posterior or triangular between the occipi¬
tal and parietal bones; two lateral anterior between the
parietal, sphenoidal, and temporal bones; and two pos¬
terior lateral between the parietal, temporal, and occipital
bones, both of irregular shape. At these points the mo¬
tions of the brain are distinctly felt.
At the same time the bones have not yet acquired
their serrated margins, so that the places of the sutures,
which are not yet formed, are occupied by narrow grooves
between the cranial bones. As ossification advances, how¬
ever, their fimbriated margins extend, and mutually meet¬
ing, are prolonged so as to be indented into each other
by alternate notches and processes. At the same time
the bones acquire thickness, so that a distinct space is
perceived between the external and internal surface of
each. The alternate processes and notches thus acquire
firmness, and are immovably dovetailed into each other.
In this manner the anterior angles of the parietal bones
unite with the frontal, and between the posterior ones
the apex of the occipital bone is gradually mortised.
In some instances, however, where the ossific centre of
the original bone appears deficient in energy, or tardy in
progress, a new centre may be developed in the line of
ANATOMY.
29
Special junction, while the bones are still much apart. Thus, be-
Anatomy. tween the occipital and parietal bones, or between the oc-
cipital and temporal bones, may be developed new cen-
Cramum from wjjich ossification advances, as from the prin-
in general. cj , p0ints, towards the circumference; and by the suc¬
cessive deposition of bony matter, the margins begin to
meet those of the primary bones. The process of mutual
indentation takes place exactly in the same manner as
with the primary bones; and by this means secondary
bones are formed in the lines of the sutures.
The period at which the cranium is entirely ossified
varies in different individuals. In general the anterior or
fronto-parietal fontanelle, which is the largest, is ossified
at the end of the 18th or 20th month, while the anterior
and posterior lateral are closed at an earlier period. In
some instances, however, between the parietal and frontal
bones a small space is left till the 6th or 7th year; and
in many persons the part continues depressed and tender
for the greater part of life. The sutures are completed
at the same time, and are always distinctly formed by the
10th or 11th year. A few years after, they become more
consolidated, and, as the bones acquire thickness and den¬
sity by the compactness of the external and internal
tables, are firmly wedged into each other. The spheno-
basilar junction generally remains soft and separable till
adult age, when by its union the sphenoid and occipital
bones are converted into a single piece. Some time after¬
wards the sphenoid is united with the ethmoid, the two
parietals are converted into one, and occasionally one or
both are united to the frontal bone. In advanced age many
of the sutures disappear entirely, at least in one surface
of the cranium, generally the internal first; and the cra¬
nium would be converted into a single bone if life were
continued sufficiently long.
In shape and dimensions the cranium varies at different
periods of life. After ossification is completed in the
child, the prominence of the ossific points, which continue
more or less conspicuous till manhood and the formation
of the frontal sinuses, gives it a cubo-spheroidal shape. Its
section is an oval or two hemispheroidal segments, the
anterior being the smallest. At this period the parietal
tuberosities and the occipital eminence are prominent,
the frontal bone is vaulted, and the high open fore¬
head communicates to the countenance an expression of
beauty and simplicity which are always associated with
the early and middle periods of life. In the progress of
years, however, these prominences become less distinct,
partly by the operation of muscular action, partly by the
uniform rising and swelling of the margins of all the bones ;
and the anterior upper and posterior part acquires a uni¬
form spheroidal or vaulted appearance, while the lateral
regions are flattened by the action of the temporal muscle.
The occipital region also below the spine is flattened, and
occasionally excavated; so that while the spine is prominent
and unciform, the base is excavated, and overhung by the
mastoid processes and the semilunar ridges. The aged
scull is thus distinguished by a general rotundity or ovoi-
dal character, unless in the temples, which are flat and hol¬
low ; and the convex but occasionally depressed forehead
indicates in some degree the transition from youth to age.
The dimensions of the cranium are estimated from its
diameters, longitudinal, transverse, and vertical. The first,
which extends from the foramen ccecum of the frontal
bone, is about five inches at an average. The largest
transverse diameter, which extends between the bases of
the temporal pyramids, is about 4^ inches; and a smaller
one between the extremities of the two small sphenoidal
wings is about 3 inches and 9 lines. The longest vertical
diameter, which is between the anterior margin of the
occipital hole and the middle of the sagittal suture, varies Special
from 4 inches to 4 inches and 3 lines. From these mea- Anatomy,
surements it- results, that the most capacious part of the
scull is nearly at the union of the two anterior thirds with. r^munl
the posterior, viz. the level of the occipital hole and basi-m genera '
lar groove; and that the ovoidal or oblong-spheroidal is
the most general shape. The variations from this shape are
found chiefly in the vault, which may be flattened, ob¬
long, cuboidal, or conical.
The Asio-European may be regarded as the best and Varieties,
most symmetrical shape, and to this most of the European
crania belong. According to Soemmering, the Belgic scull
is the most oblong-globular, the German and Italian sphe¬
rical, and the Turkish the most spherical of the Euro¬
pean. In this country the most usual shape is the oblong-
spheroidal, especially among the inhabitants of England.
Among an extensive collection of sculls preserved in the
Museum of the University of Edinburgh, and believed to
be chiefly Parisian, the prevalent shape is the oblong-sphe¬
roidal, and the globular, or the general spherical shape, with
large transverse diameter approaching to the longitudinal.
From the delineations given by Sandifort {Museum Ana-
tomicum, tom. ii.), the English appears most prominent in
the occipital region, the French the most vertical forehead,
and the Italian most elevated in the vertical region, and
most prominent between the parietal tuberosities. The
scull of the Swede approaches the cubo-spheroidal, and
that of the Russ is distinguished chiefly for the verti¬
cal front, considerable transverse width, and large cheek¬
bones. The latter appear not to be peculiar to the Scotish
cranium.
Of the Asiatic craniums, the Tartar has the forehead
large, not much arched, the occipital region large, the
nasal bones descending straight from the frontal, the upper
maxillary bone slightly overhanging the lower, and the
chin prominent. That of the Calmuc has the vertical,
occipital, and parietal regions prominent, the frontal bone
and face flattened, the cheek-bones large, and the alveolar
arches and jaws broad and prominent. The Mongolian is
distinguished by the narrow forehead, flattened and ra¬
ther depressed glabellar and nasal regions, great facial
width between the cheek-bones, and prominent upper jaw.
From the observations of Blumenbach and Soemmering
it results, that the ancient Egyptian or Coptic head, as ex¬
emplified in mummies, belongs to the European class of cra¬
niums. The negro head, on the contrary, is distinguished
for its oblique forehead, compressed sides, prominent jaws,
general wedged shape, and large size compared with the
rest of the skeleton. For more minute information on
these varieties, the reader will consult with advantage the
work of Soemmering (tom. i.), and the Decades Craniorum
of Blumenbach.
In shape the face forms an irregular hexahedron, with The face
a large excavation at its lower region for the mouth and generally,
pharynx. Its anterior surface is trapezoidal, with the
short side below; its sides trapezoidal, with the short side
formed by the posterior margin of the maxillary ramus ;
and its upper surface is an oblique parallelogram.
The greatest transverse diameter is between the zygo¬
matic angles of the cheek-bones, varying from 4^- to 5
inches; its smallest at the symphysis of the lower jaw,
from 1^ to 2 or 2A inches; and on the extent and promi¬
nence of which depends the general oval shape of the
countenance. The height, measured from the glabella to
the triangular process of the lower jaw, varies from 4^-
to 4 inches 9 lines.
The direction of the face varies according to the posi¬
tion of the lower jaw. When this is horizontal, the facial
plane forms with it an angle of 60°, or deviates 30° from
ANATOMY.
30
Special the vertical plane; and in some tribes, as the negro, this
Anatomy, deviation is still greater. A more important character,
Cranium however, is believed to be found by determining the direc-
in general. ^on ^ace *n re^ali°n to that of the cranium, or ascer¬
taining what Camper denominates t\\e facial angle. This
he proposes to fix by drawing one line from the fronto¬
nasal protuberance to the spine of the upper maxillary
bone,—the facial (linea facialis) ; another transversely be¬
tween the external ear-holes; and from the latter a third
line (linea horizontalis), drawn at right angles to meet the
first. The angle thus forrmed by the facial and horizontal
lines, which is termed the facial, indicates the compara¬
tive prominence of the cranium and face. In European
heads generally it is about 80°; in the negro it is not
above 70°; and in the Mongolian, which is intermediate,
it is about 75°. The effect of this angle in giving the
countenance intellectual expression, the nearer it ap¬
proaches to the rectangle, was known to the ancients. In
many of the busts of heroes it is almost 90°, and in those
of divinities 100° ; and as we know that this is much more
rectangular than any specimen of the human scull fur¬
nishes, it may be inferred that it is imaginary.
It may be further observed, that in the infant the fa¬
cial angle approaches to 90°, in consequence of the small
relative developement of the face. Towards boyhood and
puberty, when the face acquires greater size and promi¬
nence, it diminishes to 85° and 80° successively. (Cu¬
vier, Bichat.)
The face is subdivided into cranial, facial, zygomatic,
and palato-maxillary regions. It is unnecessary to enu¬
merate again the objects found in these several regions;
but it is requisite to consider shortly the cavities which
are formed by the cranio-facial bones. They consist of
the nasal cavities, the orbits, the tympanal cavity, and
the palato-maxillary region. These cavities are distin¬
guished by the following circumstances. All of them com¬
municate mutually, and are covered by fibro-mucous mem¬
brane, also continuous. In each of them is lodged one
of the organs of special sensation; and each communicates
with the cranial cavity by openings, through which nerves
always, and sometimes vessels, are transmitted. Lastly,
these cavities may be regarded as the points by which
the cutaneous surface communicates directly with the
mucous membrane of the gastro-pulmonary organs.
The nasal cavities (cavum nasale, naves), of an irregular
quadrilateral shape, consist of four regions; the upper,
the lower, and two lateral. The first is bounded before
by the nasal bones, behind by the sphenoidal cells, with
which it communicates, and above by the cribriform plate ;
while its lower limit is a line uniting the inferior margins
of the lateral portions of the ethmoid bone. This is
parted by the vertical plate of the ethmoid bone into
two halves, which are the two superior passages (meatus
superior). The lower region is bounded below by the pa¬
lato-maxillary plate; on the sides by the maxillary, palate,
and inferior turbinated bones; above by a plane uniting
the lower margins of these bones, and is parted into two
by the vomer, which opens before at the nasal notch of
■ the maxillary bones, and behind at the posterior margin
of the palate bones. This constitutes the lower passage
(meatus inferior), at the anterior extremity of which the
nasal canal opens. The anterior part of the region pre¬
sents on the mesial plane a vertical triangular notch be¬
tween the middle ethmoid plate above and the vomer below,
occupied in the recent subject by the cartilaginous septum
of the nose. The middle and lateral regions, which com¬
municate before by this notch, are separated behind by the
ethmoid plate and vomer, and are bounded above by the
ethmoidal turbinated bone, and below by the maxillary
turbinated bone. This constitutes the middle canal (men- Special
tus medius), in which the frontal and maxillary sinuses open. Anatomy.
These cavities communicate freely with each other;
and their parietes are covered by continuations of thePramum.
same general fibro-mucous membrane. Their use appears ”
to be to increase the extent without adding to the weight
of the facial bones, to afford great superficial extent to the
nasal membrane as an organ of smell, and to afford a so¬
norous vault to the organ of voice.
These cavities, and their appendages, do not exist in
the foetus, nor for some time after birth. The ethmoidal
and sphenoidal are early formed; and the maxillary sinus
begins to be manifest some months after birth. After the
primary dentition they enlarge, and rapidly after the se¬
cond ; and towards the approach of puberty, when the
maxillary tuberosity is formed, they increase, and speedily
attain their natural capacity.
The orbits are two cavities, one on each side of the me¬
sial plane, of the shape of a quadrilateral pyramid, with
the apex towards the cranial cavity, and the base ante¬
riorly. Each orbit presents a vault formed by the fron¬
tal bone, a floor formed by the superior maxillary, an
internal wall formed by the palate bone, ethmoid, and
lacrymal, and an external wall formed by the malar and
sphenoid bones. The two internal walls are nearly pa¬
rallel,—an arrangement which renders the axes of the or¬
bits convergent backwards, and indefinitely divergent be¬
fore. The vault of the orbit is so thin, that a pointed
instrument easily penetrates; and a thrust in the eye
is invariably attended with severe, generally fatal, in¬
jury to the base of the brain. The base of the orbits is
oblique, with the temporal margin behind the plane of the
nasal, making the eye more exposed without than on the
mesial side. The inner or nasal margin presents the up¬
per orifice of the nasal canal. At the posterior extremity
of the inner wall is the optic hole; at the apex is the
sphenoidal fissure, which forms nearly a right angle with
the spheno-maxillary fissure below; and the floor is tra¬
versed by the superior maxillary fissure and canal. The
apex of the orbit is occupied by the optic nerve, the third
and fourth pair, the ophthalmic branch of the fifth, and the
sixth; and the origins of the six muscles of the eyeball,
with interposed fat. The base is occupied by the eyeball,
surrounded with the tendinous extremities of the muscles,
the lacrymal gland at the external region of the vault, and
the lacrymal sac in the anterior depression of the nasal
margin. To its margins are attached the palpebral and
the orbicular muscle. Each orbit communicates with the
nasal cavities by means of the nasal duct.
The tympanal cavity, formed in the temporal bone, com¬
municates by the Eustachian tube with the posterior part
of the nasal and palato-maxillary cavities. Its further
examination belongs to a subsequent head.
The palato-maxillary cavity is formed by the palatine
vault above, the alveolar arches and teeth before, by the
lower jaw before and laterally, and behind by the basilar
process of the occipital bone and the pterygoid processes.
It is very irregular in shape, and consists of two regions,
the palato-maxillary proper and the pharyngeal. The
principal objects deserving notice are the incisive duct in
the palatine vault, for the naso-palatine nerves ; the pteyy-
go-palatine canal at its posterior angles, for the pterygo¬
palatine branches; and the posterior opening of the nasal
cavities. The vault is covered by periosteum and mucous
membrane, with the uvula or soft palate suspended at its
posterior margin ; and the space inclosed by the lower jaw
contains the tongue, attached to the hyoid bone, sublin¬
gual and submaxillary glands, and is completed by mem¬
brane, muscles, and integuments.
ANATOMY.
Speckl § 6. The Thoracic Extremities.
Anatomy.
The superior or thoracic extremities consist of the
Thoracic sj10U](ier, the arm, the fore-arm, the wrist, and the hand.
ties'"61111" The shoulder consists of two bones,—the scapula or
shoulder-blade, and the clavicle or collar-bone.
The sea. The scapula is a triangular bone occupying the posterior
pula. part of the chest, having a dorsal and a costal surface,
and a superior, a vertebral, and an axillary margin.
The dorsal or posterior surface (dorsum) is divided by
a transverse elevated spine into two parts, the fossa supra-
spinata for the supraspinatus muscle, and the fossa infra-
spinata for the infraspinatus muscle. The latter is con¬
cave above, convex in the middle, and concave towards
the axillary or external margin (costa), from which it is se¬
parated by a round line or crest for the attachment of
the fascia which separates the infraspinatus from the teres
major and minor. Between this crest and the axillary
margin above is a convex surface, of a triangular shape,
with the apex above, for the attachment of the teres mi¬
nor, and below a flat quadrilateral surface for the teres
major.
The spine is a triangular-shaped eminence, rising
obliquely from the upper fourth of the dorsal surface; low
at the vertebral, elevated at the axillary margin, where it
terminates in a broad, flat surface, also triangular, named
the acromion or shoulder-top. In the posterior margin of
the spine may generally be distinguished two surfaces
separated by a ridge. Above the ridge the cucullaris
is fixed; below, part of the deltoid is attached; and be¬
tween is a common aponeurosis. The ridge is biparted
towards the acromion, leaving an interval covered by pe¬
riosteum and integuments only. The anterior part of the
acromion presents a cartilaginous facette, for articulation
with the acromial end of the clavicle. To its posterior
and external margin the deltoid is attached, and to its tip
the acromio-coracoid ligament is fixed.
The costal or anterior surface is of a triangular shape,
with the apex below, generally concave, but subdivided
into smaller spaces by two or more oblique ridges, to
which intermuscular fascice are attached. This surface,
which is the subscapular fossa (venter), lodges the belly of
the subscapular muscle, the fasciculi of which are inter¬
posed between the aponeurotic ridges. Near the verte¬
bral margin is an irregular surface, to which, and also to
the margin, the serratus magnus is attached.
The superior margin (costa superior) is thin and point¬
ed behind, where the levator and omohyoid muscles are
attached, and becomes sinuous externally, with a notch
converted by a ligament into a hole for the transit of the
suprascapular vessels and nerves. The inner or axillary
extremity terminates in an elevated hooked process, the
coracoid, to the tip of which are fixed the cora»o-clavicu-
lar ligament, and the united origin of the short head of
the biceps flexor and the coraco-brachialis, to the anterior
margin the small pectoral, and to the posterior the acro¬
mio-coracoid ligament.
The vertebral or posterior margin (costa posterior, basis
of some authors) is thin, and ascends straight to the
spine, giving attachment to the rhomboideus ; then bends
forward, and forms with the superior an angle, to which,
as also to the edge now mentioned, the levator is fixed.
The axillary margin (costa axillaris, sometimes inferior)
is round and broad above, and narrow below. It presents
above, first the glenoid cavity, round at its lower margin,
angular above, hollow, covered by cartilage and synovial
membrane for receiving the head of the humerus. At
the angular point above is a surface for the attachment
ol the long head of the biceps flexor, and the lower
margin presents two tubercular eminences for that of the Special
long head of the triceps extensor. Below this are fixed the Anatomy.
teres minor, the subscapidaris, and the teres major. The la-)ff^r>^J
tissimus dorsi, passing over its lower angle, binds it down.™°™£
The scapula consists chiefly of compact bone, with ^
little cancellated matter interposed. In the subscapular
fossa this becomes completely absorbed, rendering the
bone thin and translucent, sometimes perforated. The
spine, processes, and angles contain cancellated matter.
It is formed from one part for the body of the bone,
with epiphyses for the coracoid process and the margins.
Nutritious holes are generally found in the angle formed
by the spine with the body, and in the axillary margin.
The collar bone or clavicle is a cylindrical bone, alter-Clavicle or
nately incurvated like an f placed at the upper part of the collar bone,
chest, between the sternum and acromion of the scapula.
It has therefore two extremities, a sternal and acromial,
with intermediate body.
The sternal end is triangular, cartilaginous, concave and
convex in opposite directions, surrounded by ligamentous
insertions. The acromial end is flattened and recurved,
presenting a lunated surface for articulation with the
acromion.
The body, with the shape of a triangular prism at the
sternal end, is rounded above for the attachment of the cla¬
vicular portion of the sterno-mastoid muscle, and presents
below a rough surface for the costo-clavicular ligament,
and a sinuated line for the subclavian muscle. Towards
the acromial end, where it is flattened above and below,
it presents before, a surface for the attachment of the
large pectoral and deltoid muscles; behind, another for
the cucullaris; and below, a prominent oblique crest for
the coraco-clavicular ligaments.
Compact in the middle, and cancellated at its extremi¬
ties, the clavicle is developed from a single point.
The arm-bone or humerus (os brachii) is a long cylin-Thc arm-
drical bone, divided into head or scapular end, cubital orbone'
lower end, and shaft or body.
The head presents three eminences, the articular head,
the anterior tuberosity, and the external tuberosity. The
first, which is hemispherical, incrusted by cartilage and sy¬
novial membrane, with the axis oblique to that of the
bone, and articulating with the glenoid cavity of the sca¬
pula, is separated from the bone by a narrow depressed line
named the x\ec\t(collum), in which is fixed the margin of the
scapulo-humeral capsular ligament. The second is a small,
pointed, sometimes bifid eminence, to which the tendon
of the subscapularis is attached. In the external tuberosity
are distinguished three facettes, to the upper of which the
tendon of the supraspinatus, to the middle that of the infra¬
spinatus, and to the posterior the tendon of the teres minor,
are inserted. Between the anterior and the external tube¬
rosity is a longitudinal groove named the bicipital, for the
transit of the long head of the biceps flexor.
The cubital or lower extremity is flattened transversely,
and moulded into different eminences and depressions.
Internally is the inner or ulnar condyle, large and pro¬
minent, for the attachment of the internal lateral liga¬
ment, and a tendon common to the pronator teres, palmaris
longus, flexor sublimis, radialis internus, and ulnaris inter-
nus. Externally is the outer or radial condyle, to which
are attached the external lateral ligament, and the ten¬
don common to the supinators and extensors, viz. supina¬
tor longus and brevis, anconeus, radialis externus, ulnaris
externus, and extensor communis. Between these is an
articular surface covered by cartilage, moulded into the
small head which moves in the cavity of the radius, a
groove corresponding to the margin of the latter; the
semicircular crest interposed between theratfmsand w/wcz,
32 ANATOMY.
Special another groove rather larger, in which the prominence of
Anatomy, the sigmoid cavity is lodged ; and the trochlear or pulley-
)!|^~v''V/like eminence, which is received in the internal part of the
extrerniC s‘gmo‘d cavity, and the size of which renders the inner side
ties. °f the humerus larger than the outer, and gives it the ob¬
lique direction when placed on the horizontal plane. Be¬
fore is a superficial pit for the coronoid process of the
ulna during flexion of the fore-arm, and behind is a deep
one for receiving the olecranon during extension.
The shaft is not cylindrical, but prismatic, consisting of
three surfaces, bounded by an equal number of lines. The
first line, which descends from the anterior tuberosity,
and, winding to the side, terminates on the ulnar condyle,
is anterior above, where the tendons of the latissimus dorsi
and teres major, and the short head of the triceps, are at¬
tached, but becomes internal-latei'al below, where an in¬
termuscular aponeurosis is fixed. The second, which de¬
scends from the fore-part of the large tuberosity to the
anterior articular pit, is anterior throughout, and gives at¬
tachment above to the large pectoral muscle, at the mid¬
dle to the deltoid, and below to the brachialis externus.
The third line, which descends from the back of the great
tuberosity to the external or radial condyle, is posterior
above, where the triceps is fixed, but external below, where
the intermuscular aponeurosis and the supinator longus are
attached.
Of the three surfaces, the first, which is anterior and in¬
ternal, presents above, the bicipital groove, covered by pe¬
riosteum and synovial membrane for the long head of the
biceps ; in the middle, the medullary hole and insertion of
the coraco-brachialis ; and below, a surface covered by part
of the brachialis internus. The second, which is external,
is covered above by the deltoid, below by the rest of the
brachialis, and in the middle presents the deltoid tube¬
rosity for the insertion of its tendon, and below this an
oblique sinuosity traversed by the radial nerve. The third,
which is posterior, gives attachment above to the triceps,
and below is merely covered by that muscle.
The humerus, cancellated at its extremities, and com¬
pact in the shaft, is ossified in three parts; one for the
latter, and one for each of the former.
The ulna. The ulna or cubit (cubitus) is a long bone placed at the
inside of the fore-arm, articulated above with the humerus,
below with the carpus or wrist, and laterally with the
radius. Its superior or humeral extremity consists of two
eminences, and an intermediate semilunar or crescentic
cavity. The first is a large head named the olecranon
(ojXsvtjs jcsavov, ulnae caput, or elbow; processus anconeus,
ancon) ; irregular above, with a small space behind, where
the tendon of the triceps extensor is fixed; concave and
cartilaginous before, where it forms part of the sigmoid
cavity. The second is a broad, thin-edged process,
prominent before, about half an inch below the olecra¬
non, the upper surface of which is cartilaginous, and
completes the sigmoid cavity; the lower surface is rough
for the brachialis internus, some fibres of t\\cpronator teres,
the flexor sublimis, and the internal ligament of the hu-
mero-cubital articulation. At the outside, and continuous
with the sigmoid cavity, is a small semicircular cartila¬
ginous surface—the small semilunar—for articulating with
the head of the radius.
The lower or carpal extremity presents a cartilaginous
surface, shaped like a circular sector, the circular margin
being bent upwards, so as to form a circular surface for
the inner articular surface of the radius, while from the
centre of its radii arises a pointed process named the sty¬
loid, to the tip of which the external ligament of the ra¬
dio-carpal articulation is fixed. Between the styloid pro¬
cess and sectorial surface is a depression, to which is fixed
the fibro-cartilage of the joint; and behind and without Sppoia)
the styloid process is a longitudinal groove for the motion Anatomy,
of the tendon of the ulnaris externus.
The shaft has the shape of a trilateral prism, except
at the lower extremity, where it becomes cylindrical. Oft;es
the three lines by which the surfaces are bounded, the
external or radial, which is strongly marked, and sharp at
the middle, extends from the posterior tip of the small
sigmoid cavity to about two inches above the lower end,
and gives attachment to the interosseous ligament. The
second, internal or ulnar, which is obtuse, descends from
the inner edge of the coronoid process to the inside of the
styloid, and gives attachment above and in the middle to
the flexor profundus, and below to the pronator quadratus.
The third, posterior, obtuse above and below, sharp in the
middle, extends from the olecranon to the outside of the
styloid process, and gives attachment to an aponeurosis.
Of the surfaces inclosed by these lines, to the anterior,
which is concave, and contains the medullary hole, the
flexor sublimis is attached above, and the pronator quadra¬
tus below. The inner is covered above, where it is broad,
by the flexor profundus, and below by the integuments.
The posterior or radial is parted by a line into two
spaces, to the larger of which are fixed the anconeus and
ulnaris externus, and to the smaller the supinator brevis,
extensores pollicis longus et brevis, the abductor pollicis, and
extensor indicis.
The radius is a long bone, rather shorter than the ulna, The ra-
forming the outer bone of the fore-arm, articulated above dius.
with the humerus, below with the carpus, and at the in¬
side with the ulna.
The upper extremity consists of a circular cartilaginous
head, concave for receiving the small head of the humerus,
with a cartilaginous surface on its inner or ulnar side for
articulating with the small sigmoid cavity of the ulna, and
a rough one for the annular ligament on the outside. Be¬
low this the bone is contracted and forms the neck of the
radius, and again swells before into a large rough promi¬
nent tubercle, to which the tendon of the biceps flexor is
fixed, and which is therefore named the bicipital tube¬
rosity.
The lower extremity, which is double the size, forms
an extensive surface for articulation with the scaphoid and
semilunar bones of the carpus, continuous on the ulnar
side with a small cartilaginous surface for articulation with
that of the ulna, bounded without by the styloid process,
a rough triangular eminence, to which is fixed the exter¬
nal ligament, and bounded elsewhere by a rough margin
for ligamentous insertions. The posterior part of this end
presents two eminences inclosing a wide hollow, separat¬
ed by a small eminence into two grooves,—an inner or
ulnar, large for the tendons of the extensor communis and
the extensor proprius indicis, and an outer or radial for the
extensor longus pollicis. Between the middle eminence
and the styloid process are two other grooves,—the an¬
terior for the abductor magnus and the extensor brevis of
the thumb, and the posterior for those of the radiates
externi.
The shaft or body, which is thin and round above,
prismatic in the middle and below, presents three surfaces
inclosed by an equal number of lines. Of the latter, the
inner or ulnar descends from the inner margin of the
bicipital tuberosity, sharp and prominent, to the small
inner articular surface, and gives attachment to the inter¬
osseous ligament. To the outer, which descends from
the outer margin of the tuberosity, obtuse, to the base
of the styloid process, the flexor sublimis, pronator quad¬
ratus, and supinator longus are attached. The third, also
obtuse, is indistinct to the second third of the bone,
ANATOMY.
Thoracic
extremi-
Speeial whence it proceeds to the middle tubercle of the carpal
Anatomy, extremity.
J The anterior surface, which is hollow above, presents
the medullary hole and the attachment of the flexor
longus pollicis below that of the pronator quadratus. The
posterior, hollowed in the middle, corresponds to the
supinator brevis, the extensors, and abductor pollicis, which
are attached to it; and the common extensors, extensor
proprius indicis, and extensor pollicis, by which it is sim¬
ply covered. The external surface, which is rounded, is
covered above by the supinator brevis, in the middle by
the pronator teres, which are attached to it; and below by
the radial extensors (radiales externi), which merely glide
over it.
The ulna and radius consist of cancellated structure
in the epiphyses, and compact inclosing cancelli in the
diaphyses, and are each ossified in three points.
These two bones are mutually connected by a broad
web of periosteum continued from that of the bones, and
named the interosseous ligament, the principal use of
which is to enable the radius to roll laterally in the mo¬
tions of pronation and supination on the ulna, and to give
attachment to muscles without adding to the weight of
the fore-arm by intermediate bone.
33
The bones of the hand consist of those of the carpus,
the metacarpus, and the phalanges.
The carpal The carpus consists of eight short and irregular-shaped
bones, arranged in two rows. Those of the first are the
scaphoid or navicular (ps scaphoides, os naviculare), the
semilunar {os lunatum), the cuneiform or trilateral {os
triquetrum), and the pisiform or lenticular {os orbiculare,
os pisiforme). Those of the second row are the trapezal
{trapezium), the trapezoidal {os trapezoides), the large
bone {os magnum, os capitatum), and the unciform bone
{os unciforme, os hamatum).
Of these bones, which it would be tedious to describe
minutely, it is enough to say, that their names are intend¬
ed to indicate their shape; that they are connected mu-
tually by cartilaginous surfaces, so as to allow the gliding
motion only; and that, besides periosteum, they are in¬
vested by ligaments which maintain them in their posi¬
tion, and tend to strengthen and consolidate the wrist, as
the basis of support for the hand and fingers.
By the upper articular surface of the scaphoid and
semilunar bones, the carpus is connected to the lower
extremity of the radius; while the upper surface of the
trilateral bone is contiguous to the fibro-cartilage of the
radio-carpal articulation, and the upper surface of which
is in contact with the lower articular surface of the ulna.
The pisiform bone, which is attached to the anterior sur¬
face of the latter, and thus projects before the plane of
the other bones into the hand, may be regarded as a
sesamoid bone, which serves as a point of insertion to the
tendons of the flexor carpi ulnaris above, the fibres of
the adductor of the little finger below, and those of the
anterior carpal ligament before.
The inferior surface of the navicular bone is articulat¬
ed at once to the superior surfaces of the trapezium and
trapezoides. The palmar or anterior surface of the for¬
mer presents a small groove, in which moves the tendon
ot the flexor carpi radialis, bounded on the outside by the
pyramidal process, to which the annular ligament is at¬
tached. The os magnum, which is articulated above with
the semilunar bone, on the radial side with the scaphoid
and trapezoidal, below with two metacarpal bones, and on
the ulnar side with the unciform bone, is thus wedged
firmly like a central base between the others, and contri¬
butes much to the solidity of the carpal articulations. The
VOL. in.
unciform, which is placed at the inside of the range, and Special
is articulated above with the lunar and cuneiform, later- Anatom',
ally with the scaphoid, and below with the two inner me-
tacarpal bones, is distinguished by the unciform process Th»radc
rising from its palmar surface, to which part of the renn'
tor and flexor brevis minimi digiti and the annular liga¬
ment are attached, and which, stretched between this and
the pyramidal process of the trapezium, form a species of
arch over the flexor tendons.
The carpal bones consist of cancellated tissue, invested
by a thin pellicle of compact bone. In the fcetus and in¬
fant they are composed chiefly of brown-coloured, callous
substance, homogeneous, but without the smallest trace
of bone. Their penetration with this substance takes
place about eighteen months or two years after birth.
The metacarpus is usually said to consist of five bones. The meta-
This is correct so far as situation goes; but one of these carpal
bears little resemblance either in shape, connection, 0rbones-
purpose with the other four. It appears, therefore, more
natural to restrict the name of metacarpal to the four
bones which support the digital phalanges, than to extend
it to the thumb, the first bone of which is to be regarded
as & phalanx only.
The four metacarpal bones agree in having trapezoidal
heads, cylindrical bodies with an elevated longitudinal
line before, and rounded convex lower ends for moving on
the concave articular surfaces of the phalanges.
Besides the upper trapezoidal surfaces for articulating
with the trapezoidal, large, and unciform bones, the lateral
margins are provided with facettes, the first and fourth on
one side only, the mutual, the second and third, on both,
for articulation with each other. In this manner the me¬
tacarpal bone of the index finger is articulated above to
the trapezoidal and large bone, and on the inside to the
metacarpal bone of the middle finger; the latter is arti¬
culated above to the large bone, and on the one side to
the index metacarpal bone, on the other to that of the
ring finger; while the latter and the metacarpal bone of
the little finger are articulated above to the unciform
bone and to each other.
The bodies of the metacarpal bones are slightly incur-
vated before, and form a hollow which corresponds with
the palm. In their intervals are contained the interossei
muscles, the internal at the volar, the external at the
dorsal surface. The anterior surface is covered by the
flexor tendons, the lumbricales, and the palmar fascia.
1 he dorsal surface, which is convex in general, is covered
by the extensor tendons.
The index metacarpal bone has attached to its radial
margin the first dorsal interosseus, to its ulnar, before, the
first palmar interosseus, and behind the second dorsal in¬
terosseus; while to its upper anterior extremity the radialis
internus is inserted, and to the same extremity behind the
extensor radialis longior.
To the second or middle metacarpal bone, besides the
palmar fascia and the second and third interossei, the ad¬
ductor pollicis and flexor brevis are attached to the palmar
surface; and the extenson' radialis brevior is inserted into
its dorsal surface.
The fourth or small metacarpal bone, besides the pal¬
mar fascia and the third palmar and fourth dorsal interos¬
seus, gives insertion by its dorsal surface to the extensor
carpi ulnaris.
I he phalanges or bones of the fingers are fifteen small
longitudinal bones placed vertically on each other, three
to each finger; or forming ranges distinguished into meta¬
carpal, middle, and unguinal, the first row being the long¬
est, the second shorter, and the third or unguinal the
shortest.
E
34
Special
Anatomy.
The pha¬
langes.
ANATOMY.
The metacarpal ■phalanges agree in having the upper
extremities shaped like rounded cubes, with concave car¬
tilaginous surfaces for receiving the lower extremities of
the metacarpal bones, and tubercular sides for the attach¬
ment of the lateral ligaments. The upper ends of the
middle and unguinal are moulded into two cartilaginous
cavities with an intermediate ridge, with lateral tubercles
for the lateral ligaments. The lower extremities of the me¬
tacarpal and middle phalanges, which are smaller than t le
upper, are rounded and separated by a sma.ll groove into
two condyles, which are received into the cavities of the up¬
per ends." The lower extremities of the unguinal phalanges,
which terminate the fingers, are flattened antero-posterior-
ly, and moulded into crescentic tips (JunulcB) transversely.
The bodies of the metacarpal and middle phalanges are
convex behind, and have a surface flat before, bounded on
each side by a sharp marginal line, and taper gradually from
above downwards. Those of the unguinal phalanges, except¬
ing that of the thumb, are convex before as well as behind.
The palmar surface of the metacarpal phalanges is covered
by the flexor tendons, which in the superficial muscle are
inserted into the anterior and upper part of the middle
phalanx, while those of the deep-seated flexor are inserted
into the upper anterior part of the unguinal phalanx. Ihe
first phalanx of the thumb, which is generally considere
as a metacarpal bone, has the abductor magnus inserted
into its upper extremity, and the opponens and flexor brevis
into its body. The dorsal surfaces are covered by the ex¬
tensor tendons, which, with those of the lumbricales and
interossei, are inserted into the middle phalanges.
The metacarpal and phalangeal bones are compact, with
cancellated extremities, and are ossified in three points.
The bones now enumerated are connected so as to ad¬
mit of motion to various extents. The humerus, articulat¬
ed with the glenoid cavity of the scapula by a capsular
ligament, while the long head ot the biceps^ selves the
purpose of a round ligament, admits of motion in every
direction,—flexion, extension, abduction, adduction, cir¬
cumduction, and rotation. The humero-cubital articulation,
which is secured by two lateral ligaments, admits ot ex¬
tension and flexion only; but in any position of the ulna in
relation to the humerus, the radius rolls on the former, so
as to produce those motions of the wrist and hand which
are denominated pronation or internal rotation, and supi¬
nation or external rotation.
The carpal bones are articulated chiefly with the radius,
so as to admit of flexion and extension, adduction and ab¬
duction, and even some degree of circumduction and ro¬
tation. The metacarpal bones are limited in motion. The
metacarpal phalanges admit of flexion and extension, ab¬
duction and adduction, circumduction and rotation ; while
those of the middle and unguinal range are confined to
flexion and extension. The precision, nevertheless, ot
which these motions are susceptible, with the numerous
modifications which they undergo in combination with the
opposable powers of the thumb, and the nicety and deli¬
cacy of tact inherent in the skin of the fingers, are the
means from which the human hand derives its remarkable
aptitude for all the mechanical arts, and all operations
requiring manual dexterity. By the combination almost
endless of a number of simple motions, so many complex
motions are produced, that it is difficult to set limits to the
degree of perfection which the hand and fingers, as an
organ of prehension, may attain.
The bones § 7- ^ Bones °fthe Pelvic Extremities.
The bones proper to the lower or pelvic extremities
mities. are, the thigh-bone (Jemur), the shin-bone {tibia), and
Connec¬
tions.
Shoulder-
joint.
Elbow-
joint.
Wrist and
finger
joints.
leg-bone {Jibula); with the knee-pan {rotula,patella), seven Special
tarsal bones, four metatarsal bones, and 15 phalanges..
The thigh-bone {femur, os femoris) is the largest, thick-The ^
est, strongest, and heaviest bone of the skeleton. bone.
The upper or iliac extremity consists of a head, neck,
and two tuberosities named trochanters. The head is
globular, incrusted by cartilage and synovial membrane,
unless at its internal point, where there is an irregular de¬
pression for the insertion of the round ligament, and is
lodged in the cotyloid cavity {acetabulum). It is situate
internally in relation to the shaft; and its axis, which forms
with that of the latter an obtuse angle, variable in extent
according to age and sex, is represented by that of the
neck, a contracted cylinder of bone, varying in length ac¬
cording to the same circumstances, flattened before and
behind, presenting numerous vascular holes, and covered
by fibrous slips and synovial membrane. The junction of
the neck with the bone is marked by a large prominent
body named the trochanter major {t), in which four surfaces
may be recognised ; an external lateral, for the insertion
of the glutceus medius, and the motion of the tendon, of
the glutceus maximus; an internal with a pit, for the in¬
sertion of the tendon of the pyriformis, of the gemelli, and
of the obturators; an anterior for the insertion of the ten¬
don of the glutceus minimus ; and a posterior for that of
the quadratus femoris. At the union of the neck with
the diaphysis below, and externally, is a conical eminence
named the small trochanter (t), to which the united tendon
of the psoas magnus and iliacus interims is fixed. The spaces
between the trochanters before and behind are united by
oblique rough lines, to which the femoral margin of the
capsular ligament is attached, and the entire space within
which is continuous with the articular cavity.
The lower or tibial extremity, which is large, is moulded
into two rounded eminences named condyles (xovtluXo/)
(1, 2; a, b); the one internal, deeper, and larger than
the external, separated by an antero-posterior depres¬
sion {fossa intercondylaris), and prominent and convex
behind. Each condyle has an external and internal sur¬
face, while the articular one, which is incrusted by carti¬
lage and synovial membrane, is shaped something like a
horse-shoe, incurvated upwards in the middle before, and
behind on each side, with elevated irregular margins for
the attachment of the articular capsule. The intercondylar
depression before receives tbe upper part of the knee-pan
(patella), while in the intercondylar cavity behind are
lodged the fimbriated margins of the synovial membrane,
with the femoral ends of the cross ligaments, the anterior
of which is inserted into the inner surface of the external
condyle, and the posterior into that of the internal con¬
dyle. The outer or fibular surface of the external condyle
presents an eminence for the attachment of the external
lateral ligament, and a depression below for that of the
poplitceus. The outer or tibial surface of the internal
condyle has a prominent tubercle, to which are fixed the
internal lateral ligament and the tendon of the adductor
magnus. In a pit above each condyle the heads ot the
gemellus (gastrocnemius externus) are fixed. .
The shaft or body, which approaches the cylindrical
shape, is incurvated, with the convexity before, and the
concavity behind (F, f). The anterior surface is uni¬
formly round, and covered by the crurceus, which is fixed
above to the interval between the trochanters. The pos¬
terior surface presents a rough elevated line, descend¬
ing from the base of the large trochanter, meeting a simi-
lar line descending from the small trochanter, and in¬
closing a triangular rough space, forming about the middle
third of the bone a rough elevated Yme (linea aspera) (1),
which again is parted into two, less distinct; one termi-
ANATOMY.
Special nating on the external, the other very faint on the inter-
Anatoniy. nal condyle. To the upper part of the external line,
where it is most prominent, the tendon of the glutceus
maximus is inserted; next is the short head of the biceps ;
and to the rest are fixed the fibres of the vastus externus.
To the inner line the pectinams and adductor brevis are
inserted above, and the vastus internus is attached below;
while the adductor longus and magnus are fixed to its
whole length, unless at one point, where it is interrupted
about three inches above the condyle by a smooth sur¬
face, on which the femoral artery passes under the tendon
of the adductor magnus, to continue its course between
the condyles, where it becomes the popliteal artery.
The femur, which is one of the most perfect examples
of a long cylindrical bone, is compact in the diaphysis,
with distinct medullary canal, and cancellated in the epi¬
physes. It is ossified in four portions; one for the dia¬
physis and neck, one for the two condyles, one for the
head, and in general one for the trochanter major. The
neck, which is short in early life, becomes long in adult
age, and the body acquires its peculiar incurvation appa¬
rently from muscular action. In the female this incurva¬
tion is greater than in the male, and the neck forms a
greater angle with the body.
The knee- The knee-pan (rotula, patella) (p) is a short bone, shaped
paa- like a heart, with the apex downward, convex and fibrous
before, where it is covered by tendinous matter; flat
above, where the rectus, the two vasti, and the crurceus, are
inserted ; plane and concave behind, where it is covered
by cartilage and synovial membrane, and separated into
two unequal divisions by a middle ridge, forming the an¬
terior wall of the knee-joint, and applied by its superior
half over the anterior intercondylar fossa. The lower
apex is rough for the attachment of the inferior ligament;
and to the margins are fixed those of the fibro-tendinous
capsular, by which it is connected to the femur and tibia.
The knee-pan, which has a peculiar cancellated struc¬
ture, invested by a thin plate of compact bone, is to be
regarded partly as a sesamoid bone for the insertion of
the common tendon of the four extensors of the leg, partly
as an appendage or epiphysis to the superior part of the
tibia, performing to that bone the same function which
the olecranon does to the ulna.
The shin- The tibia is a prismatic-shaped long bone, situate at the
bone. inner and anterior region of the leg, with the femoral
condyles above, the astragalus below, and the fibula on
the external side.
The head, upper or femoral end, is large., and of an ir¬
regular oval shape. It presents two slightly concave
elliptical cartilaginous surfaces, with the long diameter
antero-posterior, separated by a rough vascular space,
large before and narrow behind. Of these elliptical sur¬
faces the external margin is most regular, and presents a
crescentic or lunated mark for the attachment of the semi¬
lunar fibro-cartilages, which thus increase the concavity of
the articular surfaces for the reception of the condyles.
The inner or mesial margin of each is elevated into a
curved peak, mutually separated by a depression. These
eminences, which are jointly named the spine of the tibia,
correspond in flexion and extension to the intercondylar
fossa. Before is a triarcual surface, rough for the insertion
of the anterior crucial ligament, and behind a notch for
that of the posterior. The lateral circumference of the
head, which is rough, and marked by vascular holes, pre¬
sents before a triangular surface, the upper half of which
corresponds to the inner surface of the knee-pan, and is
contained within the cavity of the joint; while the lower
angular portion is convex for the insertion of the inferior
patellar ligament, or the last insertion of the tendon of the
rectus and vastus externus. The sides, which are rounded Special
and prominent, are named respectively the external and in- Anatomy.
ternal tuberosities, and give attachment to the external and
internal lateral ligaments. To the back part of the inter¬
nal also the tendon of the semimembranosus is fixed (d),
while that of the external presents a cartilaginous facette
for the articulation of the head of the fibula (c).
The lower or tarsal extremity, which is much smaller,
is nearly quadrilateral, with a cartilaginous surface con¬
cave transversely, with elevated anterior and posterioi
borders, and the internal raised into a vertical eminence
named the inner ankle {malleolus internus) (f), to the apex
of which the internal lateral ligament is fixed. This carti¬
laginous surface, which receives the head of the astragalus,
is surrounded by a furrow, very distinct before, in which
ligamentous fibres are inserted; while the external margin,
which is broader than the internal, presents between two
prominences a trilateral hollow, in which the tarsal end
of the fibula is lodged. The anterior surface is covered
by the tendons of the tibialis anticus and extensor pro-
prius halhicis; and the posterior, behind the internal ankle,
is marked by a groove for the tibialis posticus and flexor
longus digitorum, and another for the flexor longus hallucis.
The body or diaphysis, which is thick above, is prisma¬
tic, and presents three surfaces, bounded by the same
number of lines. The first, which is anterior (crista),
descends sharp and prominent from the anterior margin
of the external tuberosity to the fore part of the internal
ankle, and, though subcutaneous, gives attachment to the
tibial aponeurosis and the tibialis anticus. To the ex¬
ternal, which is sharp, and descends from the posterior
margin of the same tuberosity to the anterior tubercle of
the lower end, the interosseous ligament is fixed. To
the internal, which is obtuse, and rather rounded, and
descends from the posterior part of the internal tuberosity
to that of the inner ankle, the poplitceus above, and the
second or inner head of the solceus, with the flexor longus
digitorum, are attached.
The surfaces bounded by these lines are internal, ex¬
ternal, and posterior. The first, which is convex, gives
insertion above to the sartorius, gracilis, and semitendi-
nosus, and is elsewhere covered by integuments only.
The external is concave above, where the tibialis anticus
is fixed; convex below, where it is covered by the tendons
of this muscle, and of the extensor communis and proprius.
The posterior is crossed by an oblique line (T, 1, Plate
XXV.) descending from the fibular articular surface to
the internal line, and forming two spaces, the superior of
which, triangular, is covered by the poplitceus inserted
into the oblique line, while the lower, occupied by the
tibialis posticus and flexor longus, presents also the medul¬
lary holes.
The tibia, compact in the diaphysis, with medullary
canal, cancellated in the epiphyses, is ossified in three por¬
tions, one for the former part, and one for each of the
latter.
The fibula, which is the most slender bone of the skele- The leg-
ton of equal length, is situate at the outer side of the hone.
tibia, with its lower extremity anterior to the plane of
the upper, articulated above with the latter bone only,
below with the tibia and astragalus at once.
The head or tibial end, which is of an irregular cuboi-
dal shape, presents above an oblique, trilateral, cartilagi¬
nous surface, articulated with that behind the external
tibial tuberosity, by which also it is overhung. Before is
a triangular surface; slightly convex, for part of the femo-
ro-tibial ligament; behind, a tubercular surface for liga¬
mentous insertions; and externally, between the two, is
an extensive pentagonal surface lor the insertion of the
36 ANATOMY.
Special bicipital tendon, terminating above in an angular point, to internal lateral sinuosity for the passage of the flexor Special
Anatomy, which is fixed the peroneo-tibial ligament. tendons, that of the tibialis posticus, and the posterior Anatomy.
The lower or tarsal end consists of a pointed trilateral tibial artery and nerves; and, lastly, an external lateral
pyramid, the external surface of which, somewhat convex, surface, covered by integuments and the tendons of the
is subcutaneous, and forms the external or fibular ankle lateral jjeroncci.
(malleolus externus) (e). Within is a trapezoidal cartilagi- The scaphoid bone is connected by its posterior con-
nous surface, which is articulated with the and cave surface with the anterior convex one of the astra-
behind and below is a rough triangular surface, with a cavi- gains, and presents before a cartilaginous surface with
ty for the insertion of the fibulo-tarsal ligament, while the three facettes for the three cuneiform bones, and on the
external ligament is fixed to its angular tip. The poste- outside a small facette for the cuboid. On the inside is
rior surface presents a groove, sometimes two, incrusted a prominent tuberosity for the attachment of the tibialis
by fibro-cartilage for the motion of the peroncd longus posticus. The cuboid bone, which constitutes the outer
et brevis. margin of the tarsus, and is articulated with the trilateral
The body is marked by several lines inclosing sur- surface of the calcaneum, and by a minute facette with the
faces rather irregular in shape and extent. Among the scaphoid bone, is chiefly distinguished by an oblique or
former the following may be recognised:—An anterior, diagonal groove, for the tendon of the peronceus longus.
commencing about 2^ inches below the head, distinct in The third and fourth metatarsal bones are articulated to
the middle, where the aponeurosis common to the exlen- its anterior surface.
sor longus digitorum and peronceus tertius before, and the The three cuneiform bones agree in having posterior car-
peronceus longus et brevis behind, is attached, and bifur- tilaginous surfaces for articulation with the scaphoid
eating about 2^ inches above the lower end into an ante- bone, and anterior ones for that with the first phalanx of
rior and posterior, terminating on the anterior and posterior the great toe, and the metatarsal bones of the second and
margins respectively of the malleolus externus, inclosing a third toes. The internal surface of the large cuneiform
triangular space, which is covered by integuments only, bone is convex, covered by integuments; the external or
The internal, descending from about an inch below the fibular cartilaginous, with two facettes for articulation with
head to the anterior edge of the internal malleolus, coin- the second cuboid bone and the first metatarsal. Its
cides there with the anterior part of the anterior line. To lower surface is irregular for the insertion of the tibialis
this, above and in the middle, the tibialis posticus andflexor anticus, and part of the tibialis posticus. The second cunei-
proprius pollicis, and below the interosseous ligament, are form bone, which is the smallest of the three, and the most
attached. The external or posterior descends from the pos- like its name, is wedged between the scaphoid behind, the
terior part of the head, obtuse, and winds round below to first and third on each side, and supports the first metatar-
the posterior part of the tarsal end, giving attachment to sal bone before. The third, which also is not unlike its
an aponeurosis intermediate between the lateral peroncei denomination, is wedged between the scaphoid behind, and
without, and the flexor proprius and solceus behind. Be- the second cuneiform and the cuboid bone, and sustains
tween the external and the anterior is an oblique line, to the second metatarsal bone; while the third and fourth
which the interosseous ligament is fixed. are articulated with the anterior surface of the cuboid.
The external surface between the anterior and posterior Of the metatarsal bones there are four; the first three The meta-
ines, narrow above, convex and broad in the middle, and similar to each other; the fourth, which sustains the pha-tarsal
binding spirally round the axis of the bone, is covered by langes of the small toe, distinguished by a large oblique b01168,
the peronceus longus and brevis. An anterior, plane, is angular head for the insertion of the tendon of the pe-
covered by the extensor longus and peronceus tertius. The rorueus brevis, while that of the peronceus tertius is fixed
internal or tibial is divided by the oblique line into two; above. Of the other three the heads are trilateral or
an anterior for the extensor proprius, and a posterior for wedge-shaped with the base upwards, with cartilaginous
the tibialis posticus. To the posterior surface above, which facettes on the sides for mutual articulation. The bodies
is convex, the solceus is attached; and in the middle and are cylindrical, and, tapering, terminate in round heads
below the flexor longus pollicis ; while, by the rough trian- flattened laterally. The dorsal or upper surface is covered
gular surface below, the bone is articulated with the tri- by the extensor tendons, the extensor brevis digitorum, and
lateral cavity of the tibia. the dorsal vessels and nerves derived from the anterior tibial
Theflbula, which is ossified in three portions, partakes artery and nerve. The surface of these bones is so con-
of the general characters of structure common to the long structed that it forms an arched or convex inclined plane,
bones. descending from the tibial to the fibular side of the foot.
The tarsus. The tarsus consists of seven short irregular-shaped In the anterior or plantar surface, which is concave, are
bones, the astragalus, the heel-bone (calcaneum, os colds'), lodged the abductor hallucis, abductor minimi digiti, flexor
the scaphoid, cuboid, and three cuneiform bones. brevis, the flexor tendons, the accessory flexor, the lumbri-
The first (talus, astragalus) has a convex cartilaginous cales pedis, flexor brevis hallucis, abductor hallucis, flexor
surface above for articulation with the lower end of the brevis minimi digiti, transversalis, and the external and
tibia, continuous with a similar trilateral concave surface internal ranges of the interossei.
on the inside for articulating with the malleolar process, The phalanges of the toes, in number 15, bear a gene-The pha-
and with a smaller triarcual surface on the outside for the ral resemblance to those of the fingers; but are consider-langes.
fibula; two cartilaginous surfaces, separated by a deep ably shorter, unless in the instance of the great toe. Like
pit below, for articulating with the calcaneum; and an these also, they are disposed in three ranges,—metatarsal,
anterior eminence, with a convex cartilaginous surface, for middle, and unguinal.
articulating with the scaphoid bone before. The calca- The bones now described are united so as to admit ofThe pelvic
neum, which is the largest, consists of the posterior tube- different degrees and forms of motion. The head of the e.xtr.emi-
rosity (talus) (c), for the insertion of the united tendons of femur, lodged in the acetabulum, is retained in that cavity
the gastrocnemius and solceus, and that of the plantaris; not only by the capsular and round ligaments, but by The hip-
two upper cartilaginous surfaces, separated by a ligament- the numerous strong muscles with which the hip-joint j0int.
ous pit, for articulating with the astragalus ; an anterior is surrounded. The length of the neck, which is peculiar
cartilaginous trilateral surface for the cuboid bone; an to the human subject, throws the supporting column of
ANATOMY.
37
Special the bone to a greater distance, not only from the pelvis,
Anatomy, but from the mesial plane and centre of gravity; and this
character, with the great proportional length of the bone,
and the extent and direction of the pelvis, constitutes the
most decisive argument in favour of the doctrine, that man
must support himself in the erect position on the two pel¬
vic extremities. In most quadrupeds the neck of the
femur is short; the cylinder is shorter than the tibia, and
not arched ; and the pelvis, both by its vertical direction
and peculiar dimensions, is calculated for the quadruped
motion only. The femur admits of motion in every direc¬
tion,—flexion, extension, adduction, abduction, circum¬
duction, and rotation.
The knee- The tibia, with its appendage the knee-pan, is articu-
joint. lated to the condyles of the femur by means of an exter¬
nal and internal lateral ligament, strengthened by an an¬
terior or patellar ligament, posterior fibres, and an anterior
and posterior cross ligament, contained within the synovial
membrane. The effect of this arrangement, with the ana¬
tomical configuration of the articular ends, is to allow car¬
dinal opposition, or flexion and extension only. A small
degree of rotation, nevertheless, may be effected.
The fibula, is articulated to the tibia above by a genu¬
ine capsular joint, and below by fibrous matter, and con¬
nected at its internal side by a duplicature of periosteum
forming the interosseous ligament. These connections ad¬
mit of little motion, and the chief use of the fibula is to
give attachment to several muscles which bend or evert
the foot. The chief weight of the person, divided as it
is between each lower extremity, is communicated from
The ankle-the pelvis to the femur, thence to the tibia, and finally to
joint. the astragalus and calcaneum behind, and the metatarsal
bones before. The motion of opposition is confined to
the former, which rolls backwards and forwards in the ca¬
vity formed by the lower extremity of the tibia and the
fibula in the flexion and extension of the foot. In this,
therefore, which forms the ankle-joint, all the motions of
the foot as a whole are executed. It appears further to be
susceptible of a slight degree of lateral rotation, so as to
contribute to the eversion and inversion of the foot.
The tarsal bones are mutually connected by cartilagi¬
nous surfaces, and secured by numerous fibrous bands, so
as to admit of the gliding motion only. This motion is
further between each individual articulation very limited,
and its general amount is inconsiderable. The great use
of the tarsal articulations is evidently stability and solidity
as a base of support, not mobility.
The arches The bones of the foot form two distinct and separate
ot the foot. arc]leg5—an antero-posterior and a transverse. The first
is constituted by the posterior part of the heel-bone be¬
hind and the metatarso-phalangeal articulations before;
and its chief use is to distribute the weight of the extre¬
mity from the astragalus, which may be regarded as the
centre, to the os calcis and extremities of the metatarsal
bones on each side. In standing, for example, either on
one foot or both, the weight of each extremity is distri¬
buted before to the metatarso-phalangeal joints, and be¬
hind to the tuberosity of the os calcis, while the anterior
part of the latter bone and the whole second range of tar¬
sal bones do not touch the ground. The second arch re¬
sults first from the arrangement of the cuneiform bones
with the scaphoid, and that of the cuboid with the os calcis;
and next from the arrangement of the metatarsal bones.
These arches, which are indistinct in early life, become
conspicuous as the bones are completed, and acquire their
complete developement in adult age. These arches are of
great use in the alternate elevation of each half of the
person in progression, in ascending an inclined plane or a
series of steps, and especially in springing and leaping.
The phalanges are articulated with the metatarsal bones Special
and with each other, so as to admit of flexion and exten- Anatomy,
sion chiefly, with a very limited extent of abduction and^'^'^^^
adduction. The articulation of the great toe, also des¬
titute of the power of opposition, abridges much its ex¬
tent of motion. While these circumstances, with the
great brevity of the phalanges, render the foot much less
perfect than the hand as an organ of prehension, they
extend its sphere of support, and enlarge its powers as a
locomotive agent.
The pelvic and thoracic extremities present several Parallel
points of resemblance which have been well traced bybetween
Soemmering. The head, neck, and tuberosities of the ^ thora*
humerus resemble the head, neck, and trochanters of tile C1.C an(l pel-
femur; and if the lower end of the former bone is arti- mities re*
culated both with the ulna and radius, while that of the
latter is connected to the tibia only, there is still sufficient
analogy between the lower ends of both bones. The
tibia resembles the ulna above, with the knee-pan corre¬
sponding to the olecranon ; but the lower extremity of the
tibia is represented by that of the radius, in consequence
of the extensive connection of the latter bone with the
carpus for the purpose of pronation and supination. The
navicular and lunar bones of the carpus are represented
by the single astragalus,—an arrangement which appears
to be allied in the latter case to the purpose of stability
and solidity. The calcaneum may be regarded as an en¬
larged os magnum, fitted for the same purpose ; and even
in the shape and position of the scaphoid bone the same
object may be recognised. This comparison, however, it
is superfluous to pursue farther. The general conclusion
is, that the thoracic extremities are intended to combine
with strength great extent and precision of motion, while
the purpose of the pelvic is stability, solidity, and strength.
SECT. II. MYOLOGY ; THE ANATOMY OF THE MUSCLES.
The muscles, with their appendages the fasciae, tendons, The mua-
and synovial sheaths, constitute the second division of the ck‘s-
locomotive organs. By the term muscle, indeed, in Spe¬
cial Anatomy, is meant not only a mass of flesh adequate
to effect motion, but an organ consisting of fascia, muscu¬
lar flesh, and tendon, connected by the first and last sub¬
stances to the parts, fixed or movable, to be approximated.
While the middle portion is denominated belly (venter),
the two extremities are most properly named attachments ;
though by others they have been termed respectively head
or origin (caput, origo), and insertion (insitio) or termi¬
nation (finis), according as the one or the other end has
been imagined to be most fixed.
By the contraction of the middle portion or belly the
two extremities are approximated; and according as the
one is connected with a bone or soft part more movable
than the other, that movable portion is approximated to
the fixed. This, which is the general effect of muscular
action, is well exemplified in the primary bones of the
extremities, the muscles of which have their fixed end
in general in the trunk, and their movable end attached to
the bones of the extremities. Thus in the case of thepecto-
ralis major (p), Plate XXVIL, and latissimus dorsi (l, l),
Plate XXVIII., the fixed ends are in the trunk, and the
movable or insertions are in the humerus; and the effect of
the contraction of the belly is to carry the humerus for¬
ward over the chest in the one case, and backward on the
trunk in the other. This is easily applied to other muscles,
as to those of the face.
The converse of this arrangement nevertheless m ay
take place. The extremity, which in ordinary circum¬
stances is the most movable, may be converted into the
38
ANATOMY.
Special fixed; while that which is fixed becomes movable. Thus,
Anatomy. jn the case 0f the two muscles already mentioned, the
humerus may become the fixed point; and the effect will
be to elevate and approximate the trunk to the part to
muse es. ^ extremity is fixed.
Though all the muscles are agents of motion, all are
not of locomotion; and it is chiefly the muscles connected
by both ends with the skeleton, and especially those of
the extremities, which are entitled to this distinction.
The muscles of the face are connected always by one end,
often by both, with the skin, and hence are cutaneous
muscles. Those of the lower jaw and pharynx are organs
of motion simply to move the parts with which they are
connected in the acts of mastication and deglutition.
Those of the larynx are of two orders, the common or ex¬
trinsic, connected to some of the bones of the head and
chest; and the proper or intrinsic, pertaining to the laryn¬
geal cartilages only. Those of the eye and ear, external
and internal, are equally unconnected with the locomotive
faculty.
These circumstances have induced several authors,
especially the ancient anatomists, and among the moderns
Winslow, to arrange the muscles according to the parts
which they move. By others, however, especially Dou¬
glas and Albinus, they have been classified according to
the regions which they occupy; and this method, which
is certainly more strictly anatomical, has been more or
less adopted by Innes, Sabatier, Bichat, and Boyer. To
the first method the principal objection is, that the same
muscle may pertain to different classes of organs, and
may effect different purposes in each; while of the se¬
cond it must be admitted, that it communicates no in¬
formation regarding the remarkable part which the muscles
perform in the complicated processes of the animal ma¬
chine. This consideration it was which induced Albi¬
nus, after a minute description of the situation, connec¬
tions, and separate actions of each muscle of the human
body, to construct a table representing the various classes
into which they may be divided, according to the parts on
which they act; for the same reason, doubtless, Soem¬
mering arranged them according to the organs to which
they belong; and for the same reason Portal, after a de¬
scription equally minute with that of Albinus, gives a se¬
cond account of the muscles as they are observed to act
in the living body.
In the following tabular view, modified from that given
by Albinus in the fourth book of his Historia Musculorum,
the muscles are arranged according to their regions.
Muscles of the Head, Neck, and Vertebral Column.
Latissimus colli. (II.)
Sterno-mastoideus. (<rr.)
Splenius capitis, (s.)
Splenius cervicis.
Biventer cervicis.
Complexus. (c. c.)
Trachelo-mastoid eus.
Transversus cervicis.
Cervicis descendens.
fLongissimus dorsi. (no.)
< Sacro-lumbalis, and
( Spinalis dorsi. (s.)
Spinalis cervicis.
Semi-spinalis dorsi.
Multifidus spinae.
Tlnterspinales cervicis.
J dorsi.
y lumborum.
Rectus capitis posticus ma-
j°r-
Rectus capitis posticus mi¬
nor.
Obliquus capitis superior.
Obliquus capitis inferior.
Rectus lateralis.
Rectus capitis anticus major.
Rectus capitis anticus minor.
Longus colli. (1.)
Scalenus anticus.
  medius. (sc.)
  posticus.
Intertransversi colli priores.
Intertransversi colli posteri-
ores.
Intertransversi dorsi.
Intertransversi lumborum.
Muscles of the Chest.
Sterno-costalis. Levatores costarum brevi-
Serratus posticus superior. ores.
Serratus posticus inferior. Intercostales extern!
Levatores costarum longiores. Intercostales interni.
Common to the Chest and Abdomen.
Septum transversum, sive Diaphragma.
Muscles of the Abdomen and Loins.
Obliquus externus. (o.) Quadratus lumborum.
Obliquus internus. Psoas parvus.
Rectus, (r. r.) Psoas magnus.
Pyramidalis. Uiacus internus.
Transversus. (t.)
Muscles of the Thoracic Extremities.
The Shoulder.
Order.
Subclavius.
2d Order.
Serratus magnus. (s.)
Cucullaris. (c. c.)
Rhomboideus major, (p.)
Rhomboideus minor.
Levator scapulae, (l. s.)
3c? Order.
Deltoides. A.
Supraspinatus. (s. s.)
Infraspinatus, (i. s.)
Teres minor, (t.)
Teres major, (t.)
Subscapularis.
A>th Order.
Latissimus dorsi. (l.)
Pectoralis major, (p.)
Pectoralis minor, (p.)
Muscles of the Arm.
Coraco-brachialis. Triceps brachii. (Tr.)
Biceps brachii. (b. b.) Anconeus.
Brachialis internus. (Br.)
Muscles of the Fore-Arm and Wrist.
Supinator longus. (s.) Ulnaris internus.
Radialis externus longior. Radialis internus.
(f.) Pronator teres. (Pr.)
 brevior. Pronator quadratus.
Ulnaris externus. Supinator brevis.
Muscles of the Hand and Fingers.
Extensor communis. Abductor brevis pollicis.
Extensor proprius auricularis.Opponens pollicis.
Abductor longus pollicis. Flexor brevis pollicis.
Extensor minor pollicis.
Extensor major pollicis
Indicator.
Palmaris longus. (p.)
Sublimis. (f. s.)
Profundus, (f.)
Flexor longus pollicis.
Extensor brevis indicis.
Liimhrirales.
Adductor pollicis.
Palmaris brevis.
Abductor digiti minimi.
Flexor parvus digiti minimi.
Adductor ossis metacarpi
digiti minimi.
Interossei interni.
Interossei externi.
AhdncT.nr indicis.
Muscles of the Pelvic Extremities.
The Hip.
Glutaeus magnus. (gl.)
Glutaeus medius. (g. i.)
Glutseus minor.
Pyriformis.
Gemini, (g. g.)
Obturator internus. (ob.)
Obturator externus.
Quadratus femoris. (q.)
Psoas magnus.
Iliacus internus.
Muscles of the Thigh.
Biceps cruris, (b.) Vastus externus. (v.)
Semitendinosus. (s. t.) Vastus internus. {y.)
Semimembranosus, (s. m.) Cruralis.
Tensor vaginae femoris. (t.) Pectinaeus.
Sartorius. (s.) Adductor longus. a.
Gracilis, (g.) Adductor brevis.
Rectus. Adductor magnus. a.
Special
Anatomy.
The
muscles.
ANATOMY.
39
Muscles of the Leg and Tarsus.
Special
Gemellus.
The Plantaris.
muscles. Solauis.
Poplitaeus.
Flexor longus digitorum
pedis.
Flexor longus hallucis.
Tibialis posticus.
Peronaeus longus. (p.) Its ten¬
don in the groove of the
cuboid bone.
Peronaeus brevis.
Extensor 1. digitorum pedis.
Peronaeus tertius.
Tibialis anticus.
Extensor proprius hallucis.
Muscles of the Foot and Toes.
Extensor brevis digitorum Abductor digiti minimi pedis.
pedis. Flexor brevis digiti minimi
Flexor brevis digitorum pedis, (f.)
pedis. Transversus pedis, (tr.)
Abductor hallucis. Lumbricales pedis.
Flexor brevis hallucis. (f. 4.) Interossei interni pedis.
Adductor hallucis. (a. d.) Interossei extern! pedis.
Muscles of the Lower Jaw.
Biventer maxillae. Pterygoideus externus.
Masseter. Pterygoideus internus.
Temporalis.
Proper Muscles of the Eye.
Attollens. (a.) Plate Adductor. Ad.
XXXIII. fig. 6. Obliquus superior. Tr.
Depressor, (d.) Obliquus inferior.
Abductor. (Ab.)
Proper Muscles of the Ear.
Laxator tympani major. Tensor tympani.
Laxator tympani minor. Stapedius.
Muscles of the Anus and Perinceum.
Transversus perinaei. Levator ani.
Transversus perinaei alter. Coccygeus.
Sphincter ani externus. Cm /ator coccygis.
Sphincter ani internus.
Muscles proper to the Male Generative Organs.
Cremaster. Bulbo-cavernosus.
Ischio-cavernosus. Compressor prostatae.
Muscles proper to the Female Generative Organs.
Ischio-clitoridaeus. Depressor urethrae.
Constrictor vulvae.
Special
Anatomy.
'^The^
muscles.
Muscles common to the Hyoid Bone, Tongue, and Larynx.
Omohyoideus. Styloglossus.
Stcrnohyoideus. Mylohyoideus.
Sternothyroideus. Geniohyoideus.
Hyothyroideus. Hyoglossus.
Thyroideus. Genioglossus.
Stylohyoideus. Lingualis.
Muscles of the Palate and Pharynx.
Levator palati. Palato-pharyngeus.
Azygos uvulae. Stylo-pharyngeus.
Circumflexus palati. Salpingo-pharyngeus.
Constrictor isthmi faucium. Constrictores pharyngis.
Proper Muscles of the Larynx.
Crico-thyroideus. Arytaenoideus transversus.
Crico-arytaenoideus posticus. Thyro-arytaenoidei.
Crico-arytaenoideus lateralis. Thyro-epiglottici.
Arytaenoideus obliquus.
Muscle of the Scalp.
Epicranius. (e, bE, bE, e.)
Muscles common to the Face and Eye.
Orbicularis palpebrarum, (o.o.) Levatorpalpebrae superior is.
Corrugator supercilii.
Muscles
Compressor narium. (c.)
Levator labii superioris alae-
que nasi, (l.)
Muscles
Levator labii superioris.
Zygomaticus minor, (z.)
Zygomaticus major. (Z.)
Levator anguli oris.
Depressor anguli oris.
Muscles common
Attollens auriculam.
Prior auriculae.
Retrahens auriculam.
Major helicis.
of the Nose.
Nasalis labii superioris. (N.)
Depressor alae nasi, (d.)
of the Lips.
Depressor labii inferioris.
Buccinator, (t.)
Orbicularis oris. (o. o.)
Anomalus maxillae superioris.
Levator menti.
9 the Ear and Scalp.
Minor helicis.
Tragicus.
Antitragicus.
Transversus auriculae.
The limits assigned to the present treatise preclude
particular details on the situation and relations of this nu¬
merous list of muscular organs. Any description suffi¬
ciently minute for the purpose of explaining the situa¬
tion, attachments, relations, and actions of the muscles
of the different regions, would be tedious in the ex¬
treme, and would not be intelligible without dissection;
and no description according to their actions only would
be intelligible, without a previous account of their anato¬
mical relations. For these reasons it seems most expe¬
dient to direct the attention of the reader to a few gene¬
ral circumstances only. For descriptive details the reader
will study with advantage the third book of the elaborate
and accurate Historia Musculorum of Albinus, or the
more recent treatise of Sandifort. The descriptions of
Innes are clear, short, and sufficiently minute ; and a good
account of the muscles, as they appear on exposition, is
given in the London Dissector. Of systematic treatises,
the second volumes of those of Soemmering, Portal, and
Bichat are the best.
This section, therefore, we shall conclude with such a
general view of the muscles as agents in the attitudes
and motions of the trunk and extremities, as, with the
occasional remarks on their situation and connections
in describing the bones, may be easily intelligible. It is
further proper to advert briefly to those of the flexor
muscles of the fingers, partly with the view of illustrating
the general effects of muscular action, partly to show
the mechanism by which the hand and fingers are en¬
abled to execute such a variety of nice and delicate motions.
The muscles of the trunk are employed not only as Muscles of
agents of motion and sustentation, but as the protecting the trunk,
walls of the large cavities. Thus the external and inter¬
nal ranges of intercostals, the two pectorals, and the ser-
ratus magnus, operate not only in moving the ribs and
shoulder respectively, but in contributing to complete the
walls of the thorax, and to protect the internal organs.
The diaphragm is not only an agent in enlarging the chest
downwards, but constitutes an essential partition between
the thoracic and abdominal viscera, prevents the lungs and
heart from descending into the abdomen, and the stomach
and bowels from being thrust upwards into the chest.
These characters are still more conspicuously displayed
in the recti abdominis, obliqui externi et interni, and tram-
40
ANATOMY.
Special versi abdominis, which operate a little in drawing the chest
Anatomy^ downwards and compressing it before and on the sides, but
The aCt muc^ morf powerfully as retaining and supporting walls
muscles. abdominal viscera, counteracting by the inward and
upward action the downward impulse of the diaphragm.
In this manner the abdominal viscera, placed between two
opposing but equally balanced powers, are retained in the
cavity, and prevented from being protruded upwards or
downwards, while they are subjected to the alternate mo¬
tions of inspiration and expiration.
The muscles of the trunk are employed in retaining that
part of the skeleton in the erect attitude, in balancing it
properly on the pelvic extremities, in occasionally inflect¬
ing and extending it, in bending it to one side, or in pro¬
ducing rotation. Those of the spine and back are parti¬
cularly the agents of the erect attitude, and of extension ;
and those of the anterior region are employed in inflect¬
ing the person.
Muscles of The muscles of the superior extremities taken together
the thora- are the agents of numerous varied motions. Though the
uuties^" Pr*ncTal object of the thoracic extremities is prehension,
or embracing any object or objects firmly either by one
or both hands, this may be modified in various ways, so as
to give rise to prepulsion, traction, and constriction;
while diduction and circumduction are the result of the
combinations of the simple movements,—abduction, ad¬
duction, flexion, and extension.
Prepul- Prepulsion may be either instantaneous or continued.
Sion. The first takes place in the act of inflicting a blow or re¬
pelling an object. All the flexors are previously put in
action to shorten the member, which is then at once for¬
cibly extended, and communicates a violent shock to the
part of the object to which its extremity is applied. Of
this motion, in which the extension takes place in the
scapulo-humeral and humero-cubital articulations, the
deltoid and brachialis externus, or third head of the
triceps, are the chief agents. The wrist and fingers
are almost passive. But an analogous motion is exe¬
cuted by the latter in giving a fillip. In continuous
prepulsion, for instance, or the act of impelling an
object, the mechanism is of two kinds. In the first case,
the member being previously extended and supported on
the object, the individual inclines the trunk, and avails
himself of its weight; while the member, remaining pas¬
sive, becomes a lever moved by gravity. In the second
case, the continued action of the extensors retaining the
member forcibly extended, impels the object without in¬
terruption. When, for example, a man pushes a wheel-
carriage before him, the superior extremities are extend¬
ed and communicate motion to the carriage, while the
trunk approaching it immediately, the extremities are
again inflected, and so forth successively. In most in¬
stances this twofold mechanism is combined. When in
prepulsion the body impelled is fixed, the impulse is
thrown back on the person of the prepelling agent. Ex¬
amples of this effect of prepulsion are observed in the act
of rising from a seat by the occasional use of the thoracic
extremities, and in pushing a vessel from the shore by
means of an oar or pole.
Traction. Traction, which consists in a general action of the
flexors of the thoracic extremities, is directly the reverse
of prepulsion. Its effect is to diminish the space between
the agent and the object drawn, which takes place by
shortening the member; while in prepulsion this space is
enlarged by elongating or extending the member. In the
case of a very great effort, for instance that of detach¬
ing a piece of wood strongly fixed in a wall, the action of
the flexors is aided by the weight of the trunk, which is
instinctively inclined in the opposite direction ; and if the
body drawn yields at once, a fall is often the result, be- Special
cause in this inclination the centre of gravity is subverted. Anatomy.
In another form of traction, in which the body grasped
does not yield, and when the action takes place upwards,
the effect is to elevate the person of the agent by the
flexors of the superior, and even occasionally of the inferior
extremities. Familiar examples of this are afforded in the
act of climbing walls, trees, and occasionally rocks, in as¬
cending the rigging of a ship, and still more forcibly in the
manner in which the active seaman ascends a single rope.
Constriction consists in the forcible and continued in-Constric-
flection either of a single hand or of the whole of bothtion.
members. In the first case the agents are the superficial
and deep flexors, and the flexors of the thumb and little
finger; and in the second, with the action of these muscles,
that of the biceps, brachialis internus, and coraco-brachialis
is combined. This motion can neither be so sudden as
that of prepulsion, nor, like it, can it be aided by the weight
of the person.
Diduction, which consists in the forcible separation of Diduction.
the upper extremities from each other, as in swimming,
is effected partly by the latissimus dorsi and teres major,
partly by the posterior fasciculi of the deltoid moving the
whole extremity in the scapulo-humeral articulation.
Circumduction, which also is exclusively confined toCircum.
the scapulo-humeral articulation, is effected principally duction.
by the deltoid, large pectoral, latissimus dorsi, teres major,
&c.; while rotation is performed by the supraspinatus,
infraspinatus, teres minor, subscapular is, &c.
Besides these general classes of motion executed by Gesture,
the thoracic extremities, to them also belongs the power
of assuming many of those attitudes and all the varieties
of gesture which man employs for the purpose either of
expressing his feelings or giving significance and ani¬
mation to the language which he adopts for that purpose.
How much these gestures, when well chosen and properly
introduced, aid both the expression of the countenance
and the language of the lips, is w^ell known to the public
speaker and the dramatic performer.
Besides the ordinary flexors of the wrist (radialis ra-Motions of
ternus et internus, ulnaris internus), there are two common band and
flexors of the fingers, one superficial {sublimis), the other ^nger&
deep-seated (profundus); the thumb has a long and short
flexor, and the little finger has a short flexor. The flexor
muscles, therefore, may be distinguished into four orders ;
those common to the wrist and hand, those common to
the hand and fingers, those proper to the fingers, and
those proper only to some of the fingers. Though the
radialis internus and ulnaris internus chiefly bend the wrist
and hand, yet both the superficial and deep flexors, by
passing beneath the annular ligament, co-operate in the
same motion, and necessarily bend the hand previous to
their final action on the digital phalanges. In this they
are considerably aided by the action of the palmaris lon-
gus and the palmaris brevis, which render the palmar apo¬
neurosis tense, and enable it to afford the necessary resist¬
ance to the subjacent flexor tendons.
The superficial flexor, the tendons of which are insert¬
ed into the anterior and citerior part of the second row of
phalanges, has the effect of bending that part of the fingers;
and further, by being bound down by a ligamentous sheath
to the first phalanx, inflects them at the same time into
the palm. The slits in each tendon allow those of the deep
flexor to pass forward on the median line of each phalanx,
to be inserted in the unguinal phalanges, and thereby to
operate most directly and perfectly in inflecting them on
the palm ; and, by being confined also in the same sheath
by strong ligamentous bands, aid in inflecting the second
and first range of phalanges. (Plate XXVIII. fig. 2 and 3.)
ANATOMY.
41
and fin¬
gers.
Special These actions are further facilitated and modified by
Anatomy, another class of muscles. The lumbricales, which, situate in
the palm, are attached above to the tendons of the flexor
Minute ■profundus, and inserted sometimes into the extensor ten-
exteivion^ ^ons’ sometimes into the lateral regions of the phalanges,
cx ension. ejther concur with the profundus in bending the first
phalanges, or they may adduct or abduct the fingers, ac¬
cording to the separate or conjunct motion ; and hence are
of the utmost importance in all nice and minute motions of
the fingers. Without the lumbricales, which are peculiar
to man, it would be impossible for the human fingers to
execute those minute and rapid movements which are
necessary in performing on musical instruments; and the
great advantage which one individual possesses over an¬
other in what is denominated execution, consists chiefly in
the perfect use of these little muscles. In playing on the
piano-forte especially, the lumbricales are of the most es¬
sential service; and though the superficial flexor enables
a lady to strike the keys, the former must be employed
in the more minute and delicate motions requisite in the
transition through numerous chords.
In this action the internodii at the same time appear to
be auxiliary; and their connections are calculated to mo¬
dify the action of the flexors.
Opposition Another peculiarity in the human hand consists in the
of thumb four muscles with which the thumb is provided, and the
two connected with the little finger. By means of its
short abductor, short flexor, and adductor, the thumb may
be separated, inflected, and approximated to the hand
quite independently of the fingers, and with the utmost
precision. But from the opponens it derives the remark¬
able property of being accurately and precisely applied to
the tip of any one of the fingers, and thus made to grasp
minute objects, which could not Avithout this be effected.
From this muscle, in short, the human hand derives its
power of appliance to all the arts requiring nice manual
operation. Without the opponens there is no penmanship,
no painting, no drawing, no tracing, no needlework, no
engraving ; in short, none of those operations requiring the
obedience of the hand to the conceptions of the mind and
the guidance of the eye.
The movements of the lower extremities are less dis¬
tinguished for precision and delicacy than those of the
. superior; and though the foot has both lumbricales and inter-
extremi-C osse^ ^le brevity of the phalanges compared with the length
of the metatarsal bones, and the close connection of the
toes, form insurmountable impediments to the rapidity and
nicety of motion which is observed in the inflections of the
fingers. The circumstance, however, which places the foot
at an immeasurable distance behind the hand as an organ
of prehension, is the Avant of the opponens. Void of this,
the human foot is little more than the foot of the quad¬
ruped, constituting chiefly a base of support, and suscep¬
tible of such motions only as are requisite to progression.
It is expedient, therefore, to consider shortly the agents
by which these functions are performed.
Station, or that attitude in which man supports himself
both legs, in the erect position on a horizontal plane, is effected by
the foot being planted firmly on the ground by means of
the gemellus, solceus, tibialis anticus, peronceus longus et
brevis, flexor longus communis digitorum pedis, flexor
hallucis proprius, flexor hallucis brevis, flexor brevis digiti
minimi et digiti medii, the lumbricales, and interossei. At
the same time the leg is fixed to the ground by numerous
muscles,—before by the extensors of the great toe and
toes generally, by the peronceus tertius, partly by the
tibialis anticus ; externally by the peroncei longus et brevis ;
Avithin by the tibialis anticus and posticus; and behind
by the gemellus, solceus, semitendinosus, and long flexors of
VOL. in.
General
move¬
ments of
extremi
ties.
Station on
the toes. The knee is at the same time stretched by the Special
four extensors, aided by the tensor vagince femoris. Anatomy.
The equilibrium of the trunk and pelvis on the heads
of the thigh-bones is maintained by several powerful mus-^11'!10'^*
cles, connecting the former to the latter. Before, for in¬
stance, this action is performed by the sartorius, rectus, the
two psoce, and the iliacus internus ; behind by the biceps,
semitendinosus, and semimembranosus ; without by the glu-
tceus and tensor vagince femoris; and within by the pec-
tinceus, the adductors, and the gracilis. By these muscles
the pelvis is impelled on the axis of the two femora only,
and is prevented from inclining in any other direction. To
maintain the trunk above the pelvis in the same steady
position, numerous other muscles concur. Behind are
the various extensors of the vertebral column and trunk ;
the longissimus dorsi and sacro-lumbalis on each side, the
cervicis descendens, splenius and biventer cervicis ; the trans-
versi cervicis, and spinalis cervicis et dorsi ; the semispinalis,
multifidus, and interspinales on each side. Before are the
sterno-mastoid, the great and small anterior recti, the
longi colli, and anterior scaleni; and on each side are the
trachelo-mastoid, the lateral scaleni, the intertransversi,
and the lateral recti. In this enumeration it is manifest
that the muscles of the posterior surface of the trunk and
spine are at once more numerous and more powerful than
those on the anterior,—an arrangement which is rendered
necessary to counteract the effect of the weight of the
thoracic and abdominal viscera on the anterior side of
the vertebral column, which is thus rendered liable to
anterior incurvation, and which becomes so in old age,
notwithstanding the agents now mentioned.
This circumstance is further illustrated in the number
and size of the muscles by which the head is retained in
the erect position, and prevented from inclining forwards.
These are the cucullares, the splenii capitis, biventres cer¬
vicis, and posterior recti on each side—all powerful, and
several of them large.
Station on both pelvic extremities, therefore, requires
the co-operation of a very considerable number of power¬
ful muscles ; and it is a mistake to imagine, as some authors
appear to do, that a small degree of muscular energy is
requisite for this purpose, and that the skeleton is the
chief means of maintaining the erect position. Without
the skeleton, as points of support, the muscles cannot
act; but without the muscles the bones are passive brute
matter.
In station on one extremity only, a different and cer-Station on
tainly a less degree of muscular action is requisite. Allone lefer-
the external muscles of the fixed member are at first
strongly contracted, to prevent it from gliding inwards, in
which direction the trunk, not supported by the opposite
limb, tends to impel it. Proceeding from below upwards,
we find the lateral peroncei, the vastus externus, and even
the rectus, draw the limb outwards ; Avhile the tensor vagince
femoris, the glutceus medius and minor, carry the pelvis,
and with it the trunk, in the same lateral direction. In
this case the weight of the person is employed in an¬
tagonizing the muscles of the side throAvn into action;
and the person is balanced between these two forces.
Elevation on the tip of the foot is effected chiefly by
the action of the muscles, which extend the phalanges on
the metatarsal bones, viz. the tibialis anticus, extensor hal¬
lucis, extensor longus digitorum, and even the extensor
brevis ; all of which must fix the leg before, and the tarsal
and metatarsal part of the foot on its phalangeal region,
before the latter can be employed to elevate the person.
These extensors, therefore, perform in the tip-toe atti¬
tude the duty which the gastrocnemius and solceus exe¬
cute behind in ordinary station; and the smaller power
#
42 ANATOMY.
Special of the former readily explains the difficulty of maintaining
Anatomy, attitude for a long time.
Progression or gait (incessus) consists in the anterior
sion^68" propulsion of the person by the alternate propulsion of
each pelvic extremity. In this, therefore, not only are
the muscles necessary to maintain the erect position put
in action, but those which bend the lower extremity on
the trunk operate on one side, while the extensors of the
other maintain that extremity for the instant fixed. Pro¬
gression consists of a series of steps (passus); and each
step consists in the antero-posterior separation of the pel¬
vic extremities by the propulsion of one, while the other
remains fixed. Supposing the left foot to be the fixed
one, the right foot is elevated, and the leg is propelled by
the contraction of the gemellus, solceus, semitendinosus,
tibialis anticus et posticus ; while at the same time the ex¬
tensors of the knee raise the leg, and the psoas, iliacus,
pectinceus, triceps adductor, sartorius and gracilis, with
the tensor vaginae femoris, raise and stretch the whole
limb. When this is accomplished, the right foot, with the
knee extended, the elevating muscles being relaxed, and
the trunk, are inclined forwards, and the foot is planted at
some distance before the left.
In this motion, however, in which the trunk is carried
forward by the recti and obliqui abdominis, and downward
by the psoae and iliaci interni, and the leg by the long
flexor and the anterior peronceus, a fall would be the im¬
mediate result, unless the knee, to preserve equilibrium,
were somewhat bent, and the other foot at the same time
began to assume the same action. While the toes, there¬
fore, are forcibly impelled by their flexors to the ground,
the two gastrocnemii, the anterior and posterior tibiales,
and the peroncei, elevate the foot with the sole backward,
and bend the knee, and the psoas and iliacus raise and
extend the whole member.
Running. Running differs from progression, not only in velocity,
but in the mode of its accomplishment. Not only are the
pelvic extremities more inflected and moved than in
mere walking, but they remain inflected. Thus, while
the trunk is inclined forward on the pelvic extremities
by the recti cruris, the psoae and iliaci, the two latter
with the pectinceus longus, the adductor longus and brevis,
and the tensor, are employed to inflect the thigh, the semi¬
tendinosus, semimembranosus, and biceps to inflect the leg,
and the anterior tibialis, great and small extensors of the
toes, and extensor of the great toe, are employed to bend
the foot and the phalanges on the metatarsal bones. The
last action is essential to running, which is always most
perfect on the tip of the foot. In this movement also the
centre of gravity is constantly undergoing change, and is
not only carried forward, but makes a sort of undulating
motion on each side, and above and below the plane of
motion. This is the effect of the pectoral extremities
being employed to balance the person.
Leaping. In leaping, the pelvic extremities are much inflected,
and the sole of the foot rendered tense, by the gastrocne¬
mius, solceus, tibiales, and. peroncei, while the extensors are
employed to raise the phalangeal part of the foot; when
the person is forcibly impelled forward by the gastrocne¬
mius, solaeus, the leg suddenly contracting on the crurceus
in the thigh, and the glutceus, semitendinosus, semimem¬
branosus, and biceps in the pelvis.
Dancing. In dancing, the muscles are made to co-operate in pro¬
ducing a number of complicated motions. In most of the
motions composing the dances practised in ordinary socie¬
ty, while the muscles of the pectoral extremities are em¬
ployed in balancing the person, and those of the trunk in
maintaining it in the erect attitude, the flexors and ex¬
tensors are employed to diduct, inflect, or extend; to
cross the extremities with more or less rapidity ; and, Special
while the extensors and tibialis anticus elevate the person Anatomy,
on tip-toe, the lateral peroncei are employed to evert the
foot and point the toes.
CHAP. II.—THE ORGANS OF SENSATION.
The organs of sensation may be distinguished into two
orders, according as their province is to recognise general or
peculiar affections and qualities in external objects. Thus,
while it is the purpose of touch to recognise the consis¬
tency, shape, and resistance of bodies, it communicates
no information regarding their colour, smell, or taste, or
the effects which their collision produces in the vibra¬
tions of the atmosphere. With these affections of the ma¬
terial world man becomes acquainted by means of organs
of a peculiar construction, and adapted to receive the
impressions occasioned by these qualities. These organs
are, for smell, the nostrils and their appendages; for colour
and the general purposes of sight, the eye; for taste, the
palate and mouth; and for sound, the ear. For the pur¬
poses of common sensation the skin is the agent; but on
the structure of this membrane it is unnecessary to add any
thing to what has been already said in the General Ana¬
tomy, unless that in certain regions, for instance the tips
of the fingers, the erectile arrangement of the capillaries,
with a minute distribution of nerves, and great thinness
of cuticle, communicates the delicacy necessary to the re¬
fined purposes of tact.
SECT. I. THE ORGAN OF SMELL ; THE NASAL CAVITIES.
The organ of smell consists of an external part for re¬
ceiving and transmitting substances capable ot producing
the sensation of smell; and an internal part, in which this
sensation takes place.
The nose (nasus), which constitutes the external part, The nose,
is a pyramidal eminence, bounded above by the forehead,
below by the upper lip, and on the sides by the orbits and
cheeks. It has two anterior-inferior oval-shaped lateral
openings named the nostrils (nares), separated by a par¬
tition. ^ It consists above of the nasal bones and the nasal
processes of the superior maxillary bones, covered by
periosteum, cellular tissue, part of the compressor narium,
and skin. Below, it consists of membranous fibro-carti-
lages, attached to the nasal bone and superior maxillary
above and behind, and supported by a middle cartilage
{septum narium), which rests on the fissure of the vomer
below, and is fixed to the vertical plate of the ethmoid
bone above, and to which is attached a slip of fibro-
cartilage before, named columna nasi. The lateral fibro-
cartilages, which are occasionally named wings {alee nasi,
pinnae nasi), covered by cellular tissue, muscles, and
skin, liberally supplied by blood-vessels and sebaceous
follicles, are moved by the levator, compressor, and two de¬
pressors. These parts, with the middle septum and co¬
lumna, are lined by a form of mucous membrane named
the pituitary or Schneiderian.
To what was already said of the nasal cavities under
the head of Osteology it is superfluous to add any thing,
unless what relates to the lining membrane, the distribu¬
tion of which is exactly according to the extent of the
bony walls of these cavities and their subdivisions.
This membrane consists of two layers; a fibrous, which is Narine
the periosteum or perichondrium of the nasal cavities; and membrane,
a mucous, resembling the other forms of this tissue. It
is soft, spongy, red, and more or less vascular, with an at¬
tached and a free surface, the latter secreting the thin
mucus necessary to preserve the membrane in a proper
state for receiving odorous impressions. In this mem-
*
ANATOMY.
43
Special brane mucous glands are indistinct; but we recognise mi-
Anatonw. nute orifices or pores, which may be the follicular cavities
on a small scale, or the orifices into which the mucous
fluid is poured after secretion by the arteries.
This mucous membrane is supplied from the internal
maxillary artery with blood-vessels, which are at once
abundant and superficial. These anastomose with the in¬
fra-orbital and ethmoidal branches of the ophthalmic ar¬
tery and some others of the internal carotid. On these
circumstances depends the frequency of hemorrhages
from this membrane in early life, while the capillary sys¬
tem is energetically employed in the enlargement of the
cranio-facial region; and in advanced life, when venous
plethora is most conspicuously evident in the vessels of
the head.
The nerves which supply the nasal cavities are the first
or olfacient nerves principally, the internal nasal of the
ophthalmic, and several branches derived from the spheno¬
palatine ganglion, the frontal, the great palatine, and the
vidian. The distribution of these nerves has been beau¬
tifully represented by Scarpa (Annot. Acad.), from whom
fig. 1 and 2 of Plate XXXIII. are imitated.
SECT. II. THE ORGAN OF VISION ; THE EYES.
The eyes, placed in the orbits, are distinguished into the
globes of the eyes, and their appendages.
The globe or ball of the eye, situate at the base of the
orbit, has a spheroidal shape, with the antero-posterior
diameter longest, and varying in the adult from 10 to 11
lines. The direction of the eye differs from that of the
orbit, the axis of which is oblique and convergent behind,
while that of the two eyes is parallel.
The eye-ball (bulbus oculi) consists of several mem¬
branes, containing fluid or semifluid substances, denomi¬
nated humours. The external and strongest is the sclerotic,
with the cornea enchased in its anterior aperture ; next is
the choroid and retina; and the iris, a circular membrane,
with an annular aperture, is placed transversely across,
dividing the cavity into anterior and posterior chambers.
The humours are the vitreous, the crystalline lens, and the
aqueous humour.
The sole- The sclerotic, sometimes named cornea opaca, in contra-
rotic. distinction to the clear cornea, is shaped like a spherical
shell, truncated before, and is estimated to occupy about
four fifths of the globe. Its exterior surface is covered by
the adipose matter of the orbit behind, and by the tendons
of the muscles of the eye and the ophthalmic conjunctiva
before. Its inner concave surface is lined by the choroid
coat. In its anterior opening, which is about six or seven
lines diameter, the cornea is enchased by imbrication of
the sclerotic; and in a posterior opening about one and
a half line in diameter, the ophthalmic end of the optic
nerve is fixed. It is fibrous in structure, becoming trans¬
lucent when immersed in oil of turpentine. Its vessels are
generally colourless, and it appears void of nerves.
I he cor- The cornea, often named the clear or transparent cornea
(cornea lucida), to distinguish it from the opaque cornea or
sclerotic, which was supposed by the old anatomists to be
of the same nature, is a segment of a smaller sphere than
that of the sclerotic, attached to its anterior aperture, and
occupying the anterior fifth of the eyeball. Before it is
covered by a thin pellicle continued from the conjunctiva,
behind by the anterior part of the membrane of the aque¬
ous humour; and its circumference is inseparably enchas¬
ed within that of the anterior aperture of the sclerotic.
I he cornea consists of several concentric layers of transpa¬
rent homogeneous matter, void of vessels or nerves, closely
united, but separating and becoming opaque after death.
The choroid coat (tunica choroides) lines the inner sur- Special
face of the sclerotic, to which it adheres loosely, except at Anatomy,
the insertion of the optic nerve, where it has a posterior
opening, yet may be easily detached. The margin of its -f
antenoi opening, which is large, adheres to the ciliary cir¬
cle and processes, and appears to be continuous with the
ins.. The outei suiface is covered by a brownish-black
viscid matter, which partly adheres to the inner surface
of the sclerotic. The inner surface, over which the retina
is extended without adhesion, is covered by the same
brownish-black matter; but of this the retina receives none,
as the sclerotic. The choroid is a thin membrane, of a
grayish colour when deprived of its brown pigment, trans¬
lucent, homogeneous, and, so far as observation goes,
void of fibres, but liberally supplied by minute blood-ves¬
sels, partly from the long, chiefly from the posterior cilia-
ries, which, dividing on its outer surface into numerous
ramifications, mutually approximate, and anastomosing,
form a network of quadrilateral and trapezoidal meshes.
The tunica Ruyschiana is imaginary, unless this arrange¬
ment of capillary vessels be such.
From these vessels is derived the brownish-black mat- Pigm»n-
ter (pigmentum nigrum) with which the retinal surface of turn m-
the choroid is covered. Its appearance on the convex orSrum*
sclerotic surface is the effect of cadaveric transudation.
The nature of this colouring matter is imperfectly known.
When first secreted it is brown, but becomes black succes¬
sively as it continues. It is not affected by the action of
light or caloric, and undergoes no change from the opera¬
tion of the mineral acids, aqua potassce, ammonia, and al¬
cohol. It appears to consist chiefly of carbonaceous mat¬
ter. Menghini asserts that he has obtained from it minute
particles of iron attracted by the magnet.
The anterior orifice of the choroid is firmly connected Ciliary cir-
to a thick ring of grayish pulpy substance, and forming cle.
the point at which the sclerotic and cornea without, and
the iris within, are united. This ring, named the ciliary
circle (ligamentum ciliare), is readily detached from the
sclerotic. Its structure is unknown.
Posterior to this is a range of prominent minute bodies, Ciliary
with free extremities, lying over the crystalline lens, va-P1-0^856*5*
rying in number from seventy to eighty. These are the
ciliary processes (processus ciliares). They are trilateral-
prismatic in shape, about a line and a half long, more dis¬
tinct and longer in the human eye than in those of most
brute animals. Their intimate structure is not very well
known ; but they are highly vascular, and their vessels ap¬
pear to be capable of occasional erection. (Plate XXX.
fig- 4.)
Anterior to the ciliary circle is the iris, a circular mem-The iris,
brane, placed in the transverse vertical position, with an¬
terior and posterior surfaces, and a circular opening in
the centre. The exterior ciliary margin (annulus major)
is attached, as already stated, to the ciliary circle. The
inner or pupillar (anmdus minor) is free, and forms what
is named the pupil of the eye. The anterior surface is
marked by a variety of colours, blue, gray, or black,
brown, or that peculiar brownish-black named hazel, and
which are not unfrequently allied with the tints of the
skin and hair. The same surface presents radiating lines,
which pass from the small to the large circle diverging.
Both appearances are produced by vascular arrangement.
The posterior surface of the iris, which has been distin¬
guished as a separate membrane under the name of uvea,
is covered by the same dark-coloured matter secreted by
the choroid, generally more abundant, and of a deeper
tint, than the pigment of that membrane. When this is
removed by washing, the observer recognises the radiated
streaks impressed by the ciliary processes. (Fig. 4.)
44 A N A 1
Special The different characters of these two surfaces have in-
Anatomy. duced some anatomists to distinguish the iris into anterior
and posterior membranes. Though it has some thickness,
uf the iris ’s Per^iaPs a fanciful refinement. The anterior sur¬
face, which is continuous with the membrane of the
aqueous humour, is different from the posterior, which is
continuous with the ciliary circle and choroid. The struc¬
ture of the iris is chiefly vascular, and its vessels have an
Its erectile erectile arrangement. The long ciliaries, from which
b\ stem. these vessels are derived, divide each at the ciliary body
into two branches, which divaricating at obtuse angles,
unite with several of the anterior ciliaries, and form with
them, beyond the ciliary ligament at the large circum¬
ference of the iris, an arterial circle. From this arise
smaller branches, which, crossing, unite and form within
this a second smaller arterial circle, midway between the
ciliary and central margin ; and from the concavity of this
proceed very minute vessels, which radiate in a flexuous
manner, and converge towards the pupil, where, anasto¬
mosing most minutely, they form a third circle—the mar¬
ginal ring of that aperture.
Pupillary It is chiefly in the middle and inner anastomosing cir-
contrac- cles that the vessels assume the erectile arrangement; and
tions, and on circumstance, and not on that of muscular fibres,
their true go 0ften) g0 positively, so inconsistently, and so erroneous¬
ly maintained to exist in the iris, does the mobility of that
singular membrane depend. On exposure to direct or
bright light, on the application of vinegar, alcohol, or any
stimulating substance to the eye, and during the presence
of inflammation, the erectile capillaries, distended with
blood, are elongated, and necessarily contract the pupillary
aperture. In the dark, under the influence of henbane
(hi/oscyamus niger), deadly night-shade (atropa belladon¬
na), and some other narcotics, and when the retina is in¬
sensible, these vessels seem to lose their faculty of dis¬
tension, and, perfectly empty and shrunk, allow the pu-
pillar margin to approach the ciliary.
The retina. The retina, which is the third and internal tunic, is of
the same shape as the choroid, thin, like cobweb, whit¬
ish, translucent, inclining to transparent, and very deli¬
cate. Its extreme tenuity and looseness from the choroid
causes it to collapse unless inspected under water, when
it may be unfolded and expanded for examination. Its
outer surface is covered by a very delicate membrane,
visible only in a very recent eye, discovered by Mr Ja¬
cob of Dublin. It is almost void of red vessels, unless at
the part where the optic nerve enters, where one or two
from the central artery may be seen. The others are
colourless. The assertion that this membrane is an ex¬
pansion or production from the optic nerve, seems to be
gratuitous; for it bears no resemblance to nervous mat¬
ter, or to the appearance of the optic nerve. It appears to
be simply a peculiarly delicate transparent web, fitted to
receive the impressions of luminous rays, and to communi¬
cate them to the optic nerve, with which it is continuous.
Spot of So- On this membrane, about two lines on the temporal side
emmering. 0f the optic nerve, and in the axis of the ball, is a circular
yellow spot {macula lutea), from about a line to a line and
a half in diameter, with a minute point or hole in its centre
{foramen centrale). At this part the retina is much
thinner than at any other; and even in the most recent
eyes it presents loose folds, which Bichat regards as ca¬
daveric. The yellow spot and its central hole are seen
in none of the mammalia except man and the monkeys.
Vitreous The vitreous humour, occupying about three posterior
humour, fourths of the eye, is spherical and convex behind and on
its lateral circumference, but concave before for receiving
the posterior part of the crystalline lens. Contiguous only
to the retina, it is attached to the coats by the branch sent
O M Y.
from the central artery to the lens. It is transparent, and Special
consists of two parts, an investing membrane, the hyaloid
{membrana hyaloidea), and inclosed fluid. This membrane ...
is not single, but, sending numerous partitions from its in-niembrane.
ner surface, forms an assemblage of cells in which the fluid
is contained. These facts may be demonstrated by inci¬
sion, bruising the humour, bv congelation, or by boiling
it. Before, at the outline of the lens, this membrane di¬
vides into two folds, one of which is stretched before the
capsule, and the other behind. The trilateral-prismatic
space resulting from this separation is completed by the
capsule, and forms the circular canal of Petit, which is
without fluid, and which is demonstrated by inflation. On
the anterior fold the ciliary processes are stretched. The
structure of the hyaloid membrane is little known ; but
it is believed to consist of exhalant arteries and coloui'-
less veins.
The hyaloid fluid may be separated from the mem-Hyaloid
brane either by incisions or compressing it between two fluid,
folds of linen. It then has the appearance of a clear but
somewhat viscid fluid, like gum diluted with water. Though
rendered slightly turbid by boiling water, acids, and al¬
cohol, it does not coagulate,—a phenomenon which is to
be ascribed to the small proportion of albumen which it
contains. According to the analysis of Berzelius, 100
parts contain 98*4 of water, ’16 of albumen, 1*42 of mu¬
riates and lactates, and only j^th of a part of soda.
The crystalline lens, which is transparent and shaped Crystalline
like an oblate spheroid, is situate in the posterior chamber, lens,
and in the anterior depression of the vitreous humour, to
which the convexity of its posterior surface corresponds.
Before also it is prominent and convex ; and it is partial¬
ly covered by the free extremities of the ciliary processes.
It consists of two parts, an inclosing capsule and a lens
proper.
The capsule is usually distinguished into anterior and Capsule,
posterior walls, both covered by hyaloid membrane, both
transparent, and both firm and resisting. By boiling wa¬
ter, alcohol, or the acids, it is rendered opaque, whitish,
and horny ; and it becomes yellow by contact with the air.
The lens, which is perfectly transparent, consists of two
portions; an exterior, peripheral, thick, soft, adhesive, and
easily removed; an interior, central, solid, and consisting
of concentric plates. Both are indurated and rendered
opaque by boiling water, alcohol, and dilute acids; but
the central nucleus is the firmest. When dried in the
air it becomes yellowish, but retains its transparency, and
may be preserved for years. These phenomena are to be
ascribed to the presence of a peculiar form of albumen.
According to the analysis of Berzelius, 100 parts of the
substance of the lens consist of 58’ of water SS’O of pe¬
culiar matter, chiefly albuminous, 2*4 of muriates, lactates,
and animal matter soluble in alcohol, 1*3 of animal matter
soluble in water, and 2*4 of membrane.
The lens possesses a high refracting power; and its
chief use is to concentrate the luminous rays within the
eye, so as to represent distinctly the image of visible ob¬
jects on the retina. Spherical and transparent in early
life, it is flattened and acquires a yellowish tint in old age.
Between the capsule and lens is found occasionally a
fluid which has been named liquor Morgagni. It appears
to be the effect of transudation.
On the structure of the lens, whether organic or not,
anatomists vary. Vessels have not been recognised in it;
and the most rational view is, that it is the product of an
organic action probably in the capsule.
The aqueous humour is contained in the anterior cham-Aqueous
ber, and in that part of the posterior which surrounds thehumour*
anterior surface of the lens and vitreous humour. It con-
ANATOMY.
45
Ocular
muscles.
Special sists of 98*10 parts in the 100 of water, a trace of albumen,
Anatomy, and about 2 parts of muriates and lactates of soda. It is
contained in a membrane, which lines the posterior sur¬
face of the cornea, and is supposed to cover the anterior
surface of the iris. This, however, is questionable. In
1768 a membrane of this kind was described by Demours
and Descemet, both of whom claimed the discovery with
great eagerness and some animosity. These rival anato¬
mists appear to have forgotten that the aqueous humour
may be secreted as well by the cornea and iris as by a
proper membrane.
The relation of the coats and humours of the eye to
each other may be understood by the diagram (fig. 3,
Plate XXX.), where A is the anterior chamber, P the pos¬
terior, L the lens, and c, c the ciliary processes. The
other parts are easily understood from the foregoing de¬
scription.
The eye is supplied with blood chiefly by the ophthalmic
artery.
The eyeball, thus constituted, is moved in different
directions by six muscles, is moistened externally by fluid
secreted from a particular gland, and is protected from ex¬
ternal bodies by the eyelids and their appendages.
Of the muscles, four are straight and two oblique. The
former (attollens, depressor, adductor, abductor'), attached to
the margin of the optic hole, and terminating in tendons
inserted into the superior, inferior, nasal, and temporal
parts of the eyeball, raise, depress, adduct and abduct
the organ. Of the two latter, the superior oblique (troch-
ledris), which is attached to the margin of the same hole,
passes through a pulley-like cartilage at the inner margin of
the vault of the orbit,and is inserted into the internal region
of the ball, rolls the eye forward and inward, and turns the
pupil outwards and downwards ; while the inferior oblique,
attached to the orbitar process of the superior maxillary
bone, and inserted between the adductor and the optic
nerve, rolls it forwards and turns the pupil upwards. These
muscles, which occupy the apex of the orbit, are sur¬
rounded by a thick cushion of fat, on which the eyeball
rolls in its movements. (Plate XXXIII. fig. 6.)
In the hollow, at the outer temporal region of the or¬
bitar vault, is placed the lacrymal gland, a granular gray¬
ish body, about the size of a bean, consisting of lobules,
with arteries in the intermediate furrows, derived from a
branch of the ophthalmic, and accompanying veins. (Plate
XXXIII. fig. 5 and 7, G, g.) These constituent lobules
have been represented, on the authority of Steno in the
ox, and the elder Monro in the human subject, to ter¬
minate in 7 or 8 minute excretory ducts, opening on the
conjunctiva. In man, however, they were sought in vain
by Duverney, Morgagni, Haller, and Zinn; and neither
Portal nor Bichat have been able to satisfy themselves of
the existence of these ducts. It is nevertheless certain
that the lacrymal gland secretes the tears, and that the
latter issue from its lobules.
The eyes are covered anteriorly by two musculo-mem-
branous folds named the eyelids (palpebrce), attached to
the margins of the orbit, and forming by their free mar¬
gin the palpebral opening, with commissures at each angle
(canthus nasalis, et canthus temporalis').
The upper eyelid, which is large, is bounded above by
the eyebrow {supercilivm), a cutaneous eminence, arched
transversely, covered with hairs, and with the corrugator
supercilii attached to its nasal end. Between each eye¬
brow is a smooth space, named the glabella or mesophryon.
Into the upper eyelid the levator (fig. 5, L) is inserted.
Each eyelid consists of skin externally, mucous mem¬
brane within {conjunctiva), intermediate cellular tissue,
muscle, and a fibrous membrane, attached by one margin
to the base of the orbit, and terminating by the other in
Lacrymal
gland.
Eyelids.
the tarsal fibro-cartilages. These are crescentic bodies Special
placed in the free margin of the eyelids, and by their Anatomy,
firmness and elasticity giving the requisite tension to the
eyelids when the orbicular muscle acts, or the levator is'1'^8! and
relaxed. The cutaneous border of the tarsi is occupied^ an
by a range of short, firm hairs, named the eyelashes {ci¬
lia). In the mucous borders are the orifices of the tarsal
or Meibomian follicles, of the same character as the mu¬
ciparous follicles generally. These are placed in the sub¬
stance of the eyelid, beneath the conjunctiva, and behind
the tarsal fibro-cartilages. From the inner surface of the
eyelids the palpebral conjunctiva is continued over the
anterior part of the sclerotic and cornea, forming the oph¬
thalmic conjunctiva.
In the nasal angle is lodged a minute red body, named Caruncle,
the caruncle {caruncula lacrymalis), chiefly consisting of
filamentous tissue and vessels covered by mucous mem¬
brane ; and behind this is a fold of the membrane, which
has been named membrana nictitans, large in the lower
animals, but often so imperfect in man as to be merely
rudimentary.
At the nasal end of each eyelid is a minute capillary Lacrymal
orifice which leads into a horizontal canal, terminating in orifices,
a membranous sac lodged in the depression of the lacrymal
bone. These orifices, which are named the puncta lacry-
malia {p,p, fig. 5), are the superior or palpebral openings of
the lacrymal sac and passages, the lower aperture of which
is found in the inferior nasal meatus. The tears effused
from the lacrymal gland at the temporal region of the orbit
are carried, by the frequent action of the orbicular muscle,
over the ball, till they reach the nasal angle, where they are
gradually absorbed by the capillary orifices of the. puncta,
and conveyed into the sac, and eventually to the nose.
The eye derives nerves from six different sources, all Ocular
of which, however, maybe distinguished into three classes,nerves*
the sensitive, motive, and entrophic nerves. The first
consists of the second, optic or the proper visual nerves.
The second class comprehends the third, fourth, and sixth
nerves, of which the third or oculo-muscular are distributed
to the levator palpebrce superioris, the attollens, the adduc¬
tor, the depressor, and the obliquus inferior; the fourth
is entirely distributed to the obliquus superior; while the
sixth pair are confined to the abductor. The third class
of nerves is derived from the ophthalmic or quadrilateral
ganglion, which is formed chiefly from the junction of a
sub-branch of the naso-ocular branch of the first or oph¬
thalmic division of the fifth pair, with a small branch of
the third nerve. From this arise a small superior cluster
of three nerves adhering to the optic, and a large inferior
cluster of eight or ten nerves, which quickly join the
ciliary arteries, and are with them distributed in the
ciliary circle and posterior part of the iris. (Plate XXXHI.
fig. 7.) From the other branch of the naso-ocular nerve,
the caruncle and lacrymal canal, with the orbicular muscle
and epicranius on the one hand, and the lacrymal gland
on the other, receive nervous filaments.
SECT. III.—THE ORGAN OF HEARING; THE EAR.
The organ of hearing consists of the auricle or external
ear, with the ear-hole; the middle ear, including the tym¬
panal cavity and its appendages; and the internal ear or
labyrinth.
The auricle is a fibre-cartilaginous substance, moulded Auricle,
into a conchoidal shape, covered by skin, attached to the
cranium by ligaments, and susceptible of motion by
muscles. It is common to distinguish in it the following
parts. The helix, a semicircular eminence above the ear-
hole ; the groove of the helix below it; the antihelix, an
eminence commencing in the groove by a superior, broad,
46
ANATOMY.
Special oblique portion, and an inferior, narrow, horizontal one;
Anatomy, the fossa navicularis; the tragus, an anterior eminence
below; the antitragus, a smaller eminence behind; the
lobule, a pendulous body at the base behind; and, lastly,
the concha, a deep conoidal cavity leading to the ear-hole.
The latter is a canal about 10 or 12 lines long in the
adult. Twisted at first obliquely forward and upward,
it bends slightly backwards and downwards, forming a
convexity of incurvation above, and a concavity below.
Though the extremities are large, the middle is contract¬
ed ; and it cannot be termed cylindrical, for its section is
elliptical or oval. The structure of this tube is fibro-car-
tilaginous externally where it adheres to the bone, lined
by skin passing into mucous membrane, and occupied by
minute follicles (glandulce ceruminoscc), which secrete the
wax (cerumeri) formed in this canal. The nature of this
secretion is imperfectly known. Though, like oil, it stains
paper, it is partly soluble in tepid water, and forms with
it a yellow emulsion. It is secreted at first fluid, and
acquires consistence by exposure to air and admixture
with dust. Alcohol has little influence on it. The in¬
ternal extremity of the auditory canal is bounded by the
vertical membrane of the tympanum.
Tympanal Within this is the tympanal cavity, a space of an irre-
cavity. gular cylindrical shape, directed obliquely, nearly in the
axis of the pyramidal portion, in the base of which it is
contained. This cavity is shut up externally by the ver¬
tical tympanal membrane (membrana tympani), and is
bounded within by the bony partition which separates it
from the labyrinth. The membrana, which is oval-shaped,
or nearly round, and attached to the margin of the mea¬
tus externus, is directed obliquely downwards and inwards,
and is so delicate that it is difficult to determine its struc¬
ture in the human subject. In the elephant, however, and
other large animals, it presents radiating fibres, which are
believed to be muscular (Plate XXXVII. fig. 14) ; and Sir
E. Home represents it as such not only in the elephant
and whale, but in the human subject. The outer part is
evidently a sort of epidermis, continuous with that of the
canal; the inner is a mucous epidermis, continuous with
that of the tympanal cavity; and between these the mus¬
cular fibres are interposed.
Eustachian The tympanal cavity communicates behind with the
tube. mastoid cells, and before and internally by the Eus¬
tachian tube, with the pharynx. This tube is estimated
to be two inches in length, of which one and a half
is in the bone of the pyramid, and about half an inch at
its extremity, with the upper side completed by carti¬
lage. Narrow at the tympanal end, it becomes wide and
capacious towards the pharyngeal, and presents at length
a free open extremity, forming a fissure at the upper and
lateral part of the pharynx. The cartilaginous end is
covered by mucous membrane continuous with the pha¬
ryngeal, and is surrounded by the peristaphylini, the action
of which is believed to separate the walls of the aperture.
Within the tube, and towards the tympanal end, this mem¬
brane parts with its pharyngeal spongy character, and be¬
comes thin and semitransparent where it lines the bone.
The same kind of membrane, partaking of the characters
of periosteum and mucous, is continued over the tympanal
cavity, and into the mastoid cells.
Muscle of Above the Eustachian tube is a thin osseous plate, which
the malleus separates it from a small canal, convex below, concave
and groove, above, and which, commencing in the fissure between the
squamous and pyramidal portions, terminates in the tym¬
panal cavity. In this canal is lodged the internal muscle
of the malleus, one of the tympanal bones.
Tympanal These are four in number, very minute, and denomi-
oones. nated, from their mechanical figures, the hammer (mal¬
leus), the anvil (incus), the lenticular or round bone (os Special
orbiculare), and the stirrup (stapes). Of these the ma//ews is Anatomy
attached to the vertical membrane by its handle, while its
head is articulated with the body of the incus. The latter
presents two limbs or branches, to the larger of which the
stapes is articulated by the interposition of the lenticular
bone; while the base of the former rests on the membrane of
the foramen ovale. These articulations are secured by cap¬
sules, which allow the bones to move freely on each other ;
and for this purpose the stapes is provided with one muscle,
and the malleus with two, an internal already mentioned,
and an external passing from the spinous process of the
sphenoid bone to the slender process of the malleus. On
the motions of these, however, and their part in the pro¬
cess of hearing, we have only conjectural statements.
The internal bony wall of the tympanal cavity presents Foramen
two apertures and a convex intermediate eminence. Of ovale,
the apertures, the first, which is named the oval or vesti-fe™jftra
bular aperture (foramen ovale, fenestra ovalis), is situate °'a 1S'
above, oval transversely, with its great diameter horizontal
antero-posterior. It communicates with the vestibule, but
is closed bv a fine membrane, to which the base of the
stapes is fixed, and for the insertion of which its margin is
grooved. The oval aperture is bounded above by a round Promon-
prominence, corresponding within to the Fallopian aque-tory.
duct, and below by a large convex eminence named the
promontory (promontorium), which indicates the situa¬
tion of the cavity named the vestibule. Before and above
the promontory is the extremity of the thin osseous plate
which separates the Eustachian tube from the canal of the
internal muscle of the malleus; and behind is an oblique
cavity, which is placed between the lower entrance of the
mastoid cells and the pyramid. Below the promontory is
the round or cochlear aperture (foramen rotundum, fenestra
rotunda), trilateral in early life rather than round, and
still preserving in the adult the tendency to this shape ;
smaller than the oval, and directed backwards and out¬
wards. The round aperture is shut by a membrane, the
direction of which is oblique to that of the tympanum, and
one side of which is towards that cavity, while the other
forms part of the cochlea.
At the upper part of the tympanum is a triangular-Mastoid
shaped opening, which leads into a rough short canal, cells. j
terminating in the mastoid cells. These are analogous
to the cells of the ethmoid, sphenoid, and occipital bones.
They are lined by fibro-mucous membrane, and their use
is to afford a posterior sonorous apartment for the vibra¬
tions produced in the tympanal cavity.
Near this triangular opening is a small bony process
named the pyramidal, in which is a canal for the fleshy
part of the stapedius, while the tendon issues from its
orifice. Near the base of the pyramidal process is the hole
by which the nerve of the tympanum (chorda tympani)
passes through the glenoid fissure.
The labyrinth consists of the vestibule, three semicircu-Labyrinth,
lar canals, and the cochlea.
By removing the stapes and stapedial membrane the Vestibule,
oval aperture is opened, and communicates with the vesti¬
bule. This cavity, which is irregular in shape, about the
size of a grain of barley, is bounded without by the tym¬
panum, within by the internal auditory canal, before by
the cochlea, behind by the semicircular canals, and above
and below by the solid bone of the pyramid. It is lined
by a membrane common to the whole labyrinth. Besides
the oval aperture by which it is separated from the tympa¬
num, it has, above, the two anterior openings (ampullulce)
of the superior vertical and horizontal canals ; behind, the
two openings (ampullulce) proper to the posterior verti¬
cal and horizontal canals, and the common opening of the
ANATOMY.
Special two vertical canals; and before and below, the orifice of the
Anatomy, external scala cochlea.
There is still another aperture, which leads into a canal
Aqueduct discovered by Cotugno, named the aqueduct of the ves-
tibule ami" tibulc- This, which, though distinct in some subjects, is
aperture, almost imperceptible in others, is near the common orifice
of the vertical canals; and from it the aqueduct proceeds
first upwards, where it is narrow, then backwards and
downwards, widening, and terminates in the fissure on
the posterior surface of the pyramidal portion.
Semicircu- The semicircular canals, situate behind the vestibule,
lar canals. are three in number, two vertical and one horizontal. Of
the former, one is superior, inclosing by its curvature the
substance of the pyramid, and forming a convexity in the
adult, very distinct in the foetus ; while the other, which is
posterior but inferior, is placed with its plane correspond¬
ing to that of the posterior surface of the pyramid. The
third is placed horizontally between the other two, form¬
ing a curvature with the convexity towards the base of the
pyramid. (Plate XXXIII. fig. 8, 9, and 10.)
Though denominated semicircular, these canals are
larger than semicircular, and may be compared to hollow
cylinders, incurvated so as to form large circular segments.
Each canal has an enlarged extremity named ampullula ;
and as these two vertical canals have one in common, there
are five ampulluloe. They are lined by the common la¬
byrinthine membrane, and contain a pellucid fluid.
Cochlea. The cochlea, which forms the third part of the labyrinth,
is a conical canal turned spirally within itself, so that its
base is at the lower part of the vestibule, and its apex at
the anterior side of the pyramid, with the orifices for the
auditory nerve inclosed in the centre of its turns, while
the convexity is directed towards the lower margin of the
pyramid. The cochlear canal is divided longitudinally by
a thin sharp-edged plate, half bony half membranous, into
two independent cavities, the superior of which communi¬
cates with the vestibule, while the inferior is bounded by
the membrane of the round aperture. These cavities are
distinguished as the vestibular and tympanal {scala vestibuli
and scala tympani) respectively. At the top they termi¬
nate in a common cavity named the funnel {infundibulum).
Both are lined by a delicate membrane, in which are con¬
tained the ramified filaments of the eighth or auditory
nerve. fPlate XXXIII. fig. 10.)
;Aqueduct In the tympanal scala, near the round hole, is a minute
of the aperture leading to a narrow canal, which gradually en-
cochlea. larges as it ascends, till it terminates by a slit on the pos¬
terior surface of the pyramidal portion, as formerly men¬
tioned. This is the aqueduct of the cochlea, first describ¬
ed, like that of the vestibule, by Cotugno.
Blood-ves- These different cavities are supplied with blood chiefly
sels ot the from minute branches of the auditory, a vessel generally
derived from the basilar trunk or the vertebral arteries.
From the meningeal artery also minute branches enter the
auditory canal, and anastomose with those of the auditory
artery; and the internal carotid sends to the membrane
of the tympanal cavity a branch, the capillary ramifica¬
tions of which anastomose with those derived from the
pharyngeal, transmitted by the walls of the Eustachian
tube.
uditory The eighth or the proper auditory nerve enters the coch-
erve- lea by several minute apertures in the internal meatus,
and is divided into two fasciculi, of which the posterior and
largest is expanded in the form of soft pulpy brush-like
filaments, like a hair-pencil, in a pellucid fluid, in the coch¬
lea ; while the smallest, which is anterior, is distributed
partly to the bottom of the hemispherical cavity of the
vestibule, partly to the beginning of the spiral lamina.
(Fig. 10.)
The tympanal cavity is chiefly for the purpose of con- Special
veying and augmenting the intensity of sonorous vibra- Anatomy,
tions, while the shape of the auricle is supposed to collect
them. But of the mechanism of its operation we know
nothing satisfactory. The essential part of the organ of
hearing is the labyrinth.
SECT. IV.—THE ORGAN OF TASTE.
It is impossible to define the exact limits of the sense
of taste. More or less diffused over the cavity of the
mouth, it is particularly confined to the tongue and palate.
The former, nevertheless, is remarkable for being a mus¬
cular organ, which combines with the faculty of taste
the power of prehension and transmission of the alimen¬
tary articles both during and after mastication, and is
further an essential agent in the faculty of articulation.
It is requisite, therefore, to give a short account of the
mouth, the palate, and the tongue.
a. The mouth is the cavity formed by the lips before, the The
pharynx and isthmus faucium beMvad., the palatine vault mouth-
above, the intramaxillary membrane and muscles below,
and on the sides by the cheeks. Its horizontal direction
may be regarded as one among other proofs of the neces¬
sity of the erect biped attitude.
The mouth is lined by a mucous membrane, soft, spongy,
red, and vascular. It may be traced from the inner or
alveolar surface of the lips to the inner surface of the
cheeks on each side over the gums, where it is continuous
with that of the alveolar folliculi, over the inner surface of
each maxillary ramus, and the attached muscles and glands
below, until it is identified with that of the tongue, and
above over the palatine vault back to the uvula. In these
several points, though its organization is the same, its
mechanical arrangement varies considerably as the parts
are fixed or movable. Thus, on the palatine vault and at
the gums it is tense, and adheres pretty firmly to the fibrous
layers forming the periosteum of these parts. In the
angular space between the lips and gums, however, in
that between the inner surface of the alveolar arch, and
all over the lower part of the mouth, where it is connect¬
ed to the inferior surface of the tongue, it is extensive,
loose, moves easily over an abundant layer of filamentous
tissue, and is generally disposed in irregular folds. Ad¬
hering to the internal spine of the lower jaw, a fold or du-
plicature containing condensedfilamentous tissue is reflect¬
ed, to be attached to the median line of the tongue, and
forms the frenum of that organ. In all points it abounds
with muciparous follicles. It also presents on each side
of the tongue the orifices of the sublingual glands.
The mouth has two outlets, an anterior or facial formed Outlets of
by the lips (labia), and a posterior or pharyngeal formed
by the velum palatinum and its appendages.
The lips are musculo-membranous folds, attached all The lips,
round to the superior and inferior jaw-bones, above and
below the alveolar arches, and parted by a transverse
opening or fissure into upper and lower, with right and
left commissures or angles (canthi). In the Negro race
they are particularly bulky and flaccid, with their free
margins (prolabia) much everted; but in the Asio-Euro-
pean they are thinner, and more constricted.
Each lip consists externally of skin continuous with
that of the face, internally of mucous membrane continu¬
ous with that of the mouth, with interposed filamentous
tissue and muscles, well supplied by blood-vessels and
nerves.
The point of union between the skin and oral mucous
membrane is marked by a rounded edge, covered by a thin,
vermilion-red, soft and delicate pellicle, extending between
ANATOMY.
48
Special each canihus. This, which is sometimes named the lips
Anatomy, proper (labiola), is the prolabium. The blood-vessels dis-
'^~v~s^/tributed to this part of the lips have an erectile arrange¬
ment. The marginal region of the lips between the skin
and mucous membrane is occupied by the orbicular muscle.
Above are the labial ends of the common levators {levator
labii superioris alceque nasi), the proper levators {levator
labii superioris), the small zygomatics {zygomaticus minor),
and the naso-labial {nasalis labii superioris). Below are
the two depressors of the lower lip. At the angles are
placed the buccinators, the depressors of the angles, the
canine muscle {levator anguli oris), and the large zygo¬
matics.
The lips are supplied with blood from the branches of
the external carotid. The external maxillary sends a
large branch over the angle of the inferior jaw, upwards
and forwards to the labial commissures on each side.
This vessel, which is generally named the labial, sends of!
two, a superior and inferior labial, which are subdivided
into numerous minute branches, anastomosing freely with
each other, and with the submental and inferior dental
branches. They open freely into the capillary veins, con¬
stituting a species of erectile tissue.
The lips derive their nerves partly from the superior
maxillary, partly from the anterior or mental division of
the inferior maxillary, with anastomotic communications
from the 8th or facial nerve.
Soft palate, b. The posterior or pharyngeal outlet of the mouth {isth¬
mus faucium) is formed by the movable or soft palate {velum
palatinum), a membranous fold attached to the posterior
margin of the palatine quadrilateral bones, and hanging with
its free margin downwards. This curtain, which has two
surfaces, an anterior or oral and a posterior or pharygneal,
is shaped like a double arch, meeting on the mesial plane,
where it terminates in an elongated conical prominence, sup¬
posed to resemble a grape suspended by its stalk, and de¬
nominated therefore uvula {arucpuXri), but which, with the
lateral arches,bears a closer resemblance to the descending
cusp of a Gothic window. From this central process the
arch rises on each side; and when it passes to the outer
edge of the palate-bone on each side, it is supported by
two musculo-membranous vertical columns, united at the
top, but separating and forming an intermediate cavity, in
which the tonsil on each side {amygdala) is contained.
The palatine curtain consists of two folds of mucous
membrane, with interposed filamentous tissue and muscu¬
lar fibres. The anterior mucous membrane is of the same
character with that of the mouth, with which it is con¬
tinuous. The posterior, which is continuous with the
nasal mucous membrane, partakes of the charactersiiof that
tissue, and is redder and more vascular. These two meet
in the lower margin of the velum, and pass into each other.
Both are well supplied with mucous follicles, but the
anterior or oral division most copiously.
These mucous membranes rest on filamentous tissue;
and beneath this we find, in the middle, the levator or azy¬
gos uvulce, and on the sides the levator of the soft palate
{peristaphylinus internus), which are expanded in the ve¬
lum. The anterior pillar consists of mucous membrane
enveloping the fibres of the constrictor isthmi faucium;
the posterior incloses those of the pharyngo-staphylinus ;
and both expanding into the velum, augment its thickness
and regulate its motions.
Between the internal peristaphylini, which are imme¬
diately below the pituitary or posterior mucous membrane
of the velum and the anterior, is an aponeurotic web,
connected with the circumjlexi, which, fixed to the margin
of the palatine vault, tends to consolidate the velum.
The free margin of the velum forms the upper boundary
of the posterior or pharyngeal opening of the mouth, Special
while the upper surface of the base of the tongue forms Anatomy,
the lower boundary. The size of this opening, which is'v^~v^N^
usually named the isthmus of the throat {isthmus faucium),
varies according to the state of the velum and its uvula.
In the act of deglutition the velum and uvula are raised
by the peristaphylinus internus and azygos uvulce, and the
whole curtain is constricted by the constrictor isthmi fau¬
cium and pharyngo-staphylinus. In the act of vomiting it
is forcibly drawn up against the posterior nasal openings
by these muscles ; but notwithstanding this, matters from
the stomach are occasionally projected through the nostrils.
In singing on false notes the uvula is progressively ele¬
vated, as the voice ascends.
In the space between the anterior and posterior pillars
are contained the tonsils {tonsillce, amygdalae), bounded
above by the commissure of the pillars ; below by the la¬
teral part of the base of the tongue, where they are con¬
tinuous with the muciparous glands of that organ ; before
by part of the constrictor isthmi faucium ; and behind by
the pharyngo-staphylinus. The shape varies in different
individuals, though their pendulous attachment gives them
the oblong spheroidal or almond-like shape. They consist
of several lobules, grayish, soft, and of structure similar to
that of the muciparous glands of the tongue. The lobules
present minute cavities, isolated or mutually communi¬
cating, in the recess of which are minute pores, the ori¬
fices of the excretory ducts, and from which a watery but
viscid liquor may be expressed. In short, each tonsil
may be regarded as an assemblage of muciparous glands,
destined to secrete fluid for lubricating the throat during
the process of deglutition, when it is most abundant.
The chops {bucccc) or lateral walls of the mouth con¬
sist externally of skin, internally of mucous membrane
and of an intermediate layer of muscles imbedded in
abundant filamentous and adipose tissue.
The cutaneous covering is in general thin, soft, and pe¬
culiarly smooth, with a minutely distributed and abun¬
dant capillary system, which approaches in its characters
to the erectile.
Beneath the cutaneous covering is the zygomaticus ma¬
jor, the only muscle proper to the cheek, resting on a
thick layer of fat; below this is the buccinator, perforated
by the parotid duct; and to the filamentous tissue inside,
the buccal mucous membrane, furnished with numerous
muciparous follicles, adheres. The orifice of the parotid
duet is seen opposite the second molar tooth of the supe¬
rior jaw.
c. The tongue is a longitudinal muscular organ, invested The
by a mucous membrane provided with numerous papillae, tongue,
attached behind to the hyoid bone, below to the mu¬
cous membrane of the mouth, and free above and before.
It is shaped like a flattened cone, and is distinguished
into a base and tip {apex), an upper and a lower surface,
and two sides.
The base is somewhat thick and broad, but becomes
thin and narrow near the hyoid bone. From about 1 inch
anterior to this, however, to near from the tip, the thick¬
ness and breadth are nearly uniform. The tip {apex) is
flat and rounded or paraboloid in ordinary circumstances,
but may be made by muscular action to taper to an angu¬
lar point. The upper surface, which is free, presents the
lingual mucous membrane divided into right and left halves
by a superficial furrow. On this, near its posterior end,
is a depression, variable in size, named the foramen caecum,
in which are contained the orifices of muciparous follicles.
From this on each side proceeds an oblique line diverging
forward, and forming with that of the opposite side an
acute angle, with the angular point behind. These an-
ANA';
Special gular lines, which are variable in shape and disposition,
Anatomy, depend on the elevation resulting from the mucous glands
s^''~v"'Sta>,at the base of the organ. The rest of the surface pre¬
sents the minute conical eminences named papillae, which
belong to the mucous membrane. The lateral margins,
which are smooth and void of papillae, form the transition
from the upper free papillated surface to the lower, which
is chiefly attached by folds of the oral membrane to the
lower region of the mouth.
The tongue consists of various muscles, connected by
filamentous tissue, some adipose tissue, and invested by
mucous membrane.
Muscles. The muscles are of two orders, those common to the
tongue and contiguous parts, and those proper to the
tongue. The common or extrinsic muscles are, the stylo¬
glossi, between the styloid process and margins of the
tongue; the hyoglossi, between the branches of the hyoid
bone and the margins of the tongue; and the genioglossi,
from the upper internal mental tuberosities to the lower
part of the organ. The proper or intrinsic muscle (lin-
gualis) consists of two parallel layers of muscular fibres
running along the lower surface of the organ, and a mass
of fleshy fibres irregularly arranged and mutually crossing
in all directions, and intermixed with a considerable quan¬
tity of soft but elastic oleo-adipose matter.
Of the lingual mucous membrane the most important
circumstances are, the leathery thickness and distinctness
of its corion and epidermis on the superior surface of
the organ, and the papillary eminences with which it is
marked.
Lingual These papillae may be distinguished into three orders ;
papillae, the irregular or granular at the base, the tubercular or
rounded about the middle third, and the conical or point¬
ed at the apex.
The granular which vary in number from 10 to 15
or 16, are of a spheroidal or ovoidal shape, and are arrang¬
ed on each side of the median furrow, obliquely behind
the sides of the angle already mentioned. These bodies
are evidently muciparous follicles; and it is in general
easy to distinguish the orifice of the excretory duct by
the eye or a moderate lens. They seem to receive fila¬
ments from the glosso-pharyngeal nerves, which enter the
tongue immediately beneath these granular glands.
The tubercular papillae, which are much more nume¬
rous, have rounded truncated summits, and occasionally
pedunculated stalks. They are irregularly distributed
towards the middle, margins, and apex of the tongue,
promiscuously with the conical; and their nature is un¬
known.
The conical or acuminated papillae, though occupying
the two anterior thirds of the lingual surface, are never¬
theless most numerous towards its apex, where they are
also smallest, and somewhat inclined forward. These
papillae are asserted by the older anatomists to be the
terminations of nervous twigs; and Cloquet allows them
to be the expansion of the filaments of the lingual nerve.
This, however, is an evident relic of the fanciful represen¬
tations of the older anatomists, and is not supported by
inspection. I have examined the structure of the lingual
papillae in many instances, and in none have I seen any
ground for the assertion that they consist of nervous fila¬
ments. They do not even receive a larger proportion
than other parts of the lingual membrane. The papillae
consist chiefly of numerous minute blood-vessels, rather
tortuous, and communicating directly with veins envelop¬
ed in fine filamentous tissue; and from this they derive
their property of erection, while their mucous surface se¬
cretes mucus copiously. These papillae are further the
seat of the white fur with which the tongue is liable to
VOL. in.
’ O M Y. 4.
be coated in affections of the stomach. The yellow fur Special
seems to be produced from the mucous surface generally. Anatomy.
The tongue is supplied with blood by the lingual ar-
tenes, branches of the external carotids, and by the pala-Arteries*
tine and tonsillary of the external maxillary. The blood
is returned by the superficial vein, the ranine, the lingual,
and submental.
The nerves of the tongue are derived from three differ-Nerves,
ent sources; the inferior maxillary, or third branch of the
fifth pair; the glosso-pharyngeal ; and the hypoglossal.
From the first it receives the lingual nerve, which, after
sending filaments to the sublingual gland, the styloglossus,
genioglossus, and proper muscle of the tongue, is distri¬
buted chiefly to the upper surface, sides, and apex of the
organ. This is believed to be the proper gustatory nerve.
From the second it receives a lingual branch, which, pass¬
ing between the styloglossus and hyoglossus, gives fila¬
ments to these, the proper muscle, and the posterior part
of the genioglossus, and to the granular papillae. By
means of this nerve the motions of the tongue and pharynx
are made to associate. The third, which is distributed
chiefly to the muscles attached to the hyoid bone, sends
filaments also to the hyoglossus, styloglossus, and chiefly
to the genioglossus. The hypoglossal is believed chiefly
to preside over the motions of the tongue, and probably
those destined for articulation.
The tongue is one of the best examples in the human Uses,
body, of the felicity with which a single organ may be
adapted to a great variety of useful purposes. Endowed
with the common sensation of tact, diffused over the bodv
at large, its mucous investment is so organized that it re*-
cognises readily the peculiar impressions communicated by
sapid bodies. To render it more serviceable in this respect,
its muscles make it an organ of prehension, and elongate,
contract, inflect, incurvate, or extend it, so as to apply
objects placed on its tip to the palate or any part of the
mouth. By the same means it becomes an important agent
in the prehension of food, and in deglutition, by transmitting
the masticated food to the pharynx. Lastly, it is a most
essential and necessary organ of speech, and, by the nice
motions which it undergoes, enables the human race to
pronounce literal sounds and articulate consonants, which
without its aid would be unutterable. Of this the letters
1 and r are examples.
d. Connected with the organs of taste are the salivary Salivary
glands, of which there are three pairs, one on each side ofSlantls.
the mesial plane; the parotid, submaxillary, and sublingual.
The parotid, so named from its situation before the ear, Parotid,
is the largest of all the salivary glands. It consists of two
parts, the parotid proper, a large oblong mass placed in
the deep angular cavity formed by the maxillary ramus
and the mastoid process; and the socia parotidis, a large
flat irregularly oval mass extending beneath the skin of
the face. Partaking of the general characters of glandu¬
lar structure, it is supplied with blood from the external
carotid, by the temporal and transverse facial; its veins
open into the external jugular; and it receives numerous
nervous filaments from the facial and the ascending branches
of the cervical plexus.
It has an excretory duct, named also the duct of Steno
(ductus Stenonianus), which, quitting the surface of the
gland a little above the middle of the upper margin of
the masseter, proceeds horizontally over the tendinous part
of that muscle, and, sinking into the filamentous adipose
tissue of the cheek, perforates the buccinator, and termi¬
nates in the mouth at the level of the second superior
molar tooth.
The submaxillary or intramaxillary is smaller than the Sub-max.
parotid. Oblong in shape, it is placed on the internal pit illary.-
G
50
ANATOMY.
Special of the lower jaw, bounded by the internal pterygoid and
Anatomy, mylo-hyoid above, the lingual nerve, the stylo-glossus and
hyo-glossus, and the external maxillary artery behind, and
below by the latissimus colli and integuments. Blood it
derives from the lingual and external maxillary arteries,
and nerves from the lingual and the myloid branch of the
inferior dental. Its excretory duct, named, from its dis¬
coverer, the duct of Wharton, terminates on the side of the
frenum, in a narrow tuberculated orifice.
The sub- The sublingual gland is the smallest of the three. Pa-
lingual rallel to that of the opposite side, it is separated from it
gland. by the base of the two genio-glossi, and rests on the rnylo-
hyoideus, which separates it from the intramaxillary. Oc¬
casionally, however, these two glands communicate by a
slip from the intramaxillary below the muscle. It is sup¬
plied with blood by the sublingual, ranine, and submental
arteries; and its nerves proceed from the lingual and hy¬
poglossal. Its excretory ducts are manifold, and terminate
either in several orifices on the sides of the frenum, or
unite in a single tube, opening in the same region.
The use of these glands is to separate from the blood a
watery but somewhat saline and sapid fluid, which has
the twofold office of preserving the gustatory membrane
in its necessary moisture, and of mixing with the food
during mastication.
The saliva consists chiefly of water, holding in solution
hydrochlorate of soda, sulpho-cyanic acid, and a minute
portion of animal matter intermediate between albumen
and osmazome. The presence of sulpho-cyanic acid, an
active poison, is remarkable ; nor is the purpose of such an
agent known. From the saline matters in this fluid the
tartar of the teeth is deposited; and occasionally minute
concretions are formed in the glands or their ducts. That
appearing in the ducts of the sublingual forms one variety
of the affection named ranula.
CHAP. III. THE ORGANS OF VOICE.
Voice is of two kinds, according as it consists in the mere
voluntary utterance of sound, or what is named, in refer¬
ence to the animal world, cry, or in the utterance of certain
peculiar modifications of this, denominated therefore arti¬
culate voice, or simply speech. Inarticulate voice is com¬
mon to all the Mammalia and Birds. By the posses¬
sion of articulate speech, however, man (/^sgo^) is parti¬
cularly distinguished from the animal world in general.
These two forms of voice have two distinct organs. For
inarticulate voice the larynx is placed at the superior ex¬
tremity of the windpipe; and for that of speech, to the
larynx are superadded the articulating powers of the teeth,
lips, and tongue.
The The larynx is a tubular organ, consisting of cartilages
larynx. invested by membranes, connected by ligaments, and
moved by muscles.
Thyroid The cartilages are five in number, the thyroid, cricoid,
cartilage. tw0 arytenoid, and the epiglottis.
The thyroid cartilage, which forms the anterior and
lateral region, consists of two lateral halves united on the
mesial plane, where they form an acute salient angle, dis¬
tinct beneath the integuments, and forming what is named
thepomum Adami. The anterior surface is slightly concave,
covered by the thyro-hyoideus, with an oblique line, to which
the muscle now mentioned, the sterno-thyroideus, and infe¬
rior constrictor, are attached, and a posterior space covered
by the two latter muscles. The posterior surface of the
thyroid has in the middle a re-entrant angle, to which are
attached the ligaments of the glottis and the thyro-arytamoi-
dei; on the sides two plane surfaces, corresponding above
to the cellular tissue of the thyro-arytcenoidei, and below
to the lateral crico-arytcenoidei, and some fibres of the Special
crico-thyroidei attached to this part. Anatomy.
Each lateral half is quadrilateral and quadrangular. To'^>^v~s^/
the upper margin, which is obliquely sinuated like an f
the thyro-hyoid membrane is attached. To the lower,
which though shorter is also sinuated, the crico-thyroid
membrane and the crico-thyroidei are attached.
The posterior margins, which are oblique and give at¬
tachment to several fibres of the stylo-pharyngei and pa-
lato-pharyngei, terminate above in an elevated pointed
process incurvated inwards and forwards, connected by a
ligament to the hyoid bone, and below in a similar process,
shorter however and triangular in shape, and articulated
by its tip with the lateral process of the cricoid cartilage.
The cricoid or annular cartilage (xg/xog, annulus), which Cricoid
occupies the lower part of the larynx, is a complete ring cartilage,
of cartilage, narrow before, and broad and elevated be¬
hind, where chiefly it constitutes the laryngeal cavity.
Convex in the middle, where it is subcutaneous, it widens
laterally where the crico-thyroidei are attached ; and far¬
ther back, where it is covered by the thyroid cartilage, it
presents the lateral process covered by synovial mem¬
brane for articulation with the triangular process of the
thyroid. Its posterior region is broad and quadrilateral,
with a ridge on the median line covered by the pharyngeal
membrane only, and two depressions on each side, to
which the posterior crico-arytcenoidei are attached. The
inner surface, which is concave, narrow before and broad
behind, is covered by the laryngeal mucous membrane.
The superior margin presents before a large notch, to
which the crico-thyroid membrane is fixed, laterally the
insertion of the lateral crico-arytcenoidei, and behind two
convex surfaces, oblique in direction, covered by synovial
membrane for articulation with the arytenoid cartilages,
and between which this margin is covered by the aryte¬
noid muscle. The lower margin, less irregular, descend¬
ing before, sinuated on the sides and notched behind, is
united by a fibro-mucous membrane to the first ring of the
windpipe.
The arytenoid cartilages are two small bodies, triangu-Arytenoid
lar and pyramidal in shape, placed at the posterior part cartilages,
of the larynx, in the upper margin of the cricoid cartilage.
In each arytenoid cartilage may be recognised a concave
anterior surface for the arytenoid gland, a concave posterior
surface for the arytenoid muscle, an internal surface covered
by laryngeal mucous membrane, a base concave and oval,
covered by synovial membrane for articulation with the cri¬
coid, and a thin, convex summit, supporting a small carti¬
lage (cornicula laryngis), invested by mucous membrane.
These bodies, which are named the tubercles of Santo- The tu-
rini (capitula arytcenoidum) by whom they were discover- bercles of
ed, are conical in shape, with a concave base for articulat- Santorini,
ing with the summit of each arytenoid cartilage, and a
pointed apex incurvated inwards and backwards. To their
surface, with part of the arytenoid, the thyro-arytenoid
ligament is fixed, and forms the beginning of the glottis.
These bodies partake of the general characters of car¬
tilage, and are invested by perichondrium. The thyroid
and cricoid have a great tendency to ossification; and it
is rare to find them unossified in advanced life.
The epiglottis is a thin slip of fibro-cartilage, of a para- The epi-
boloid shape, covered by mucous membrane, attached at glottis,
its base by cellular tissue to the inner surface of the
hyoid bone and the upper margin of the thyroid carti¬
lage, and by duplicatures of mucous membrane to the
summits of the arytenoid cartilages. In this duplicature, The cunei-
on each side, is suspended a minute wedge-like cartilagi- form carti-
nous tubercle, with the base upward, named the cuneiform. ^aScs'
These cartilages are articulated so as to admit of mo-
ANATOMY.
51
Special tion at the points already indicated. The articu at o
Anatomy. are secured by ligamentous capsules; but the most im-
^^^nortant ligament is the thyro-arytenoid, which passes
from the base of each arytenoid cartilage to the re-entrant
angle of the thyroid, where the fibres are mutually mixed
with that of the opposite side. The thyroid moves on
the cricoid, which may be regarded as the base of the or¬
gan ; and the two arytenoid move on the upper margin of
the cricoid. The epiglottis is depressed oyer the laryngeal
opening by the motion of the tongue in deglutition.
The agents of motion in the larynx are of two kinds;
1^, those which move the whole organ in relation to the
neighbouring parts; and, 2dly, those which move the com¬
ponent parts of the larynx in relation to each other. To
the former class belong the sterno-thyroid, thyro-hyoid,
and inferior constrictor muscles, with those attached to
the hyoid bone, the elevation and depression of which
the larynx follows. The second comprehends the crico¬
thyroid, the posterior crico-arytenoid, the lateral crico¬
arytenoid, the thyro-arytenoid, and the arytenoid. The
connections and relations of these muscles it is super¬
fluous to detail more minutely than may be understood
from the description already given of the cartilages. It is
sufficient to say, that while the crico-thyroid causes the
thyroid cartilage to perform a swinging motion on the cri¬
coid, the posterior crico-arytenoid draws the arytenoid
cartilages back, the thyro-arytenoid draws them forwards,
the lateral crico-arytenoid separates them from each other,
and the arytenoid, sometimes distinguished into trans¬
verse and oblique arytenoid muscles, approximates these
cartilages in different degrees, according to the act in
which they are used.
The several parts now mentioned are invested on the
inside by mucous membrane, continuous above with that
of the pharynx and tongue, and below with that of the
trachea. Proceeding from the former boundary, it may
be traced over the epiglottis and its gland, on the mesial
plane and the thyro-arytcenoidei, and on the sides from the
inner surface of the thyroid cartilage before to the outer
margin and base of the arytenoid cartilages behind. At this
part it rises to form two folds with rounded margins, extend¬
ing from before backwards, and forming on the outsides a
cavity with the arytenoid cartilage. These folds, though
occasionally named the superior ligaments of the glottis,
are truly mucous membrane doubled, with interposed
filamentous tissue. They form an intermediate triangular
space, with the base before and the apex behind. The
inner surface of this membrane, directed to that of the op¬
posite side, is concave, and forms a sort of pouch called
the ventricles of the larynx (sacculi laryngis). The mem¬
brane here covers the thyro-arytenoid ligaments, over
which it is tensely stretched, so as to form inferior folds,
much tenser and firmer than the superior ones. These
lower folds, which form a triangular interval with the base
behind and the apex before, are the proper ligaments of
the larynx, or vocal chords (chordoe vocales); and the in¬
termediate fissure is named the glottis, or rim a glottidis.
Though this opening is triangular in the dead body, its
shape varies much in the living. By the joint action of
the posterior crico-arytcenoidei and the arytcenoidei trans-
versi, the thyro-arytenoid ligaments maybe rendered tense,
the arytenoid cartilages approximated, and the fissure of
the glottis become a mere slit.
Though it is impossible to adopt all the views of Do-
dart regarding the powers of the thyro-arytenoid ligaments,
it is certain that their tension and relaxation, with the
mutual approximation of the arytenoid cartilages, are the
essential agents of voice. Without the air passing through
the glottis there is no voice. The glottis is also the organ
by which the quantity of air admitted into the trachea is Special
regulated. By means of its muscles it may be shut, andA^oiny*
the breath retained, so as to fix the chest during any great
effort. By contracting it, also, during coughing or forcible
expiration, the air is forcibly expelled from the lungs, and
necessarily carries at the same time foreign bodies.
At the base of the epiglottis, in the angle between it
and the thyroid, the laryngeal membrane presents several
orifices, which may be traced to a cluster of follicles im¬
bedded in the submucous tissue at this part. This clus¬
ter has been named the epiglottic gland.
A similar glandular body, in the anterior depression of
each arytenoid cartilage, is named the arytenoid glands.
Of the body named thyroid gland, situate on the sides
of the upper end of the trachea, and generally referred
to the appendages of the larynx, nothing is known. With
the larynx it has certainly no relation.
The blood-vessels of tbe larynx are the superior thy¬
roid or laryngeal, the first branch of the external carotid,
and the inferior laryngeal branch of the inferior thyroid,
the second branch of the subclavian artery.
The nerves are derived from the pneumogastric or ner-
vus vagus, and may be referred to three divisions; the
internal laryngeal, distributed to the proper muscles of the
larynx; the external laryngeal, distributed to the thyro-pha-
ryngeus, the sterno-thyroid, hyothyroid, and crico-thyroid;
and the recurrent, distributed to the laryngeal membrane,
the thyro-arytenoid, and posterior crico-thyroid muscles.
The division of these nerves, or of the pneumogastric, from
which they proceed, is followed by palsy of the muscles,
and inability to open the glottis at will, or retain it open ;
and the result is dyspnoea, terminating in asphyxia
CHAP. IV.—THE NERVOUS SYSTEM.
The nervous system includes two general divisions, a
central and a distributed. The first is collected in a
single and indivisible mass, contained in the cavities of
the cranium and vertebral column, and may be designated
by the general appellation of brain {cerebrum). The
second consists of long chords connected with some part
of the central portion and with each other, and distri¬
buted in every direction through the body in the mode of
ramification. These are distinguished by the name of
nervous chords or nerves (nervi).
SECT. I. THE BRAIN AND ITS MEMBRANES.
§ 1. the brain. Plate XXX.
The brain may be considered as a continuous organ, con¬
sisting of three divisions;—the convoluted, the laminated,
and the smooth or funicular portions. Of these divisions,
which are framed according to the peculiar external con¬
figuration of each, the first part corresponds to what is
called the brain proper {cerebrum); the second to the
small brain {cerebellum) ; and the third to the oblong body
contained in the vertebral column, and known under the
name of spinal chord.
The convoluted portion presents two surfaces, an outer
or convoluted, and an inner or figurate. The laminated
portion in like manner presents two surfaces, an outer or
laminated, and an inner or central. The third has only
one exterior surface.  
The shape of the first two divisions is like that of the
cranial cavity in which they are contained, oblong sphe¬
roidal or ovoidal, with the small extremity of the ovoid be¬
fore, and the large one behind.
The human brain is larger and heavier in proportion
than that of any other animal. The three parts, the brain,
cerebellum, and spinal chord, after being washed and
52 ANATOMY.
Special emptied of blood, weigh in the adult from two pounds
Anatomy, five ounces to three pounds three ounces, and at an ave-
'~'*’~v~N“y,rage about three pounds; and of this the brain alone
weighs two pounds. The statement of Haller, that the
brain weighs five pounds, is incredible, unless it be under¬
stood of Troy weight, in which case even it seems exag¬
gerated, since of more than 200 brains weighed by Soem¬
mering, not one amounted to four pounds. The statement,
that the brain of Cromwell weighed six pounds and one
fourth, seems equally incredible. The specific gravity of
the adult brain is to water as 1031 to 1000. This, how¬
ever, varies with age. The cerebellum weighs about five
or six ounces, and is therefore about the seventh part only
of the weight of the brain.
General The brain (cerebrum) is divided above and before into
d>-ion of tw0 lateral halves, named hemispheres (hemispfucria),
the brain. rjg|it and jept) separated by a deep furrow, in which the
vertical, crescentic, or dichotomous portion (falx) of the
hard membrane is received. Each hemisphere is bounded
by a superior or convex, an inner or plane, and an inferior
convex and concave surface. The lower surface of each
hemisphere, also, anatomists distinguish into three lobes,
an anterior, posterior, and middle.
The cerebellum is also divided into two hemispheres,
separated by a middle furrow of less depth, receiving, as
that of the brain, a crescentic production, smaller in size,
from the hard membrane.
Convolut- The exterior surface of the convoluted division is form-
s^r*ace ed into eminences longitudinal and rounded, but directed
braird vari°us ways> named convolutions or circumvolutions
(gyri, Soemmering, Wenzel), and separated from each
other by deep hollows (sulci). To see this surface, which
is termed the convoluted, the vascular membrane termed
pia mater (meninx tenuis) must be removed.
The convoluted surface of each hemisphere may be
divided into five regions : 1. The commutual or dichoto¬
mous ; 2. the lateral-superior or convex; 3. the antero¬
inferior or frontal; 4. the medio-inferior or spheno-tem-
poral; and 5. the posterior or cerebellic region.
1. The commutual, plane, of a shape nearly semicircular,
forms the mesial boundary of each hemisphere, and cor¬
responds to the falciform or dichotomous portion of the
hard membrane (yr\\iy\ 6%Kr\oa, meninx dura), by which it
is separated from the similar surface of the opposite he¬
misphere. Before and behind it extends from the supe¬
rior to the inferior surface of the brain; but a consider¬
able portion of its middle is terminated by the upper sur¬
face of the middle band (mesolobe, corpus callosum), which
lies between the two hemispheres. It is contained be¬
tween the semicircular and the rectilinear margins.
2. The convex region occupies the anterior, upper,
lateral, and posterior parts of the hemisphere, from their
anterior to their posterior extremity, and from the semi¬
circular margin to a line which extends between these
extremities along the lateral borders of the organ.
3. The antero-inferior ox frontal rests on the horizontal
part of the frontal and ethmoid bones, commencing before
with a curved outline, bounded behind by the curvilinear
hollow named the fissure of Sylvius, and at its inner or
mesial margin by the great fissure which separates the
hemispheres. This inner margin presents one convolution,
consisting of a longitudinal eminence, extending in the
adult brain about inch from the posterior towards the
anterior end of the notch. The outer furrow contains the
cerebral portion of the first pair or olfacient nerves. (1,1.)
4. The medio-inferior or spheno-temporal is situate im¬
mediately behind this region, from which it is separated
by the curvilinear hollow (fossa Sylvii). In the ordi¬
nary descriptions this forms the middle lobe; while the
posterior part, corresponding to the cerebellum, though dis- Special
tinguished by no evident limit, is with equal impropriety Anatomy,
named \he posterior lobe. The whole region, from the cur-''J^~v~v“//
vilinear hollow to the posterior tip of the hemisphere,
may, however, be subdivided into two, the medio-inferior
and postero-inferior regions of the convoluted surface, ac¬
cording as they correspond to different containing parts.
5. The posterior cerebellic region of the convoluted sur¬
face, which is plane, corresponds to the horizontal or ce¬
rebellic part of the hard membrane.
The convoluted surface is formed of cerebral matter, of
a gray or dirty wax colour, the surface of which is smooth
and polished where it has not been rent by the removal
of the membranes and their attachments. In the fur¬
rows are many minute orifices, into which the soft mem¬
brane (XeTry meninx tenuis, pia mater) transmits
filamentous bodies, containing minute blood-vessels.
Neither the eminences nor the hollows are uniform in
number or distribution ; and in no two brains is it possible
to trace any similarity in their figure, presence, or direc¬
tion, in the upper, lateral, and posterior part of the con¬
voluted surface, unless where it approaches the central
or figurate surface, where a number of important objects
are presented.
The convoluted surface communicates with another
interior surface at two parts; ls£, on the middle plane,
under the posterior end of the middle band or mesolobe
(corpus callosum) ; 2ri, on each side of the middle plane,
at the outer margin of the fluted masses termed limbs of
the brain (crura cerebri), between these limbs and the
posterior end of the optic chamber or couch (thalamus
opticus). This surface of the organ may be termed the
central or figurate.
The exterior surface of the cerebellum consists of thin Laminated
portions of cerebral substance named plates (lamince), or surface of
leaves (folia), placed contiguously, either parallel or con- ^ cere‘
centric, and separated by furrows of various depth. Thisbe um*
surface, which may be named the laminar ox foliated sur¬
face of the small brain, communicates also with the figu¬
rate surface,—ls£, above on the middle plane, between
the semilunar notch behind, and the white cerebral plate
termed Vieussenian valve before; 2d, at its inferior sur¬
face, between the almonds or spinal lobules above, and the
upper end (medulla oblongata) of the spinal chord below.
The outline of each hemispherical surface of the cerebel¬
lum describes three fourths of a circle; and as the seg¬
ments mutually meet towards the mesial plane, the mode of
union varies according to the figure of the objects to which
they are adapted. 1st, The hemispherical border, ap¬
proaching the anterior part of the organ, is suddenly in¬
terrupted where the cerebellic peduncles (crura cerebelli)
are connected with the protuberance ; and, pursuing a
retrograde direction on each side towards the mesial plane,
forms a re-entrant curvature or notch—the semilunar—Semilunar
corresponding to the lower pair of the bigeminous bodies. llotch-
2d, The hemispherical borders, approaching the posterior
part of the cerebellum, proceed, near the mesial plane,
by an acute circular turn, almost straight backwards,
and form, at the posterior edge of the organ, a deep rect¬
angular notch, H, not unlike the figure of the ancient Purse-like
lyre, named the perpendicular fissure of Malacarne, or notch.
the purse-like fissure of Reil, and containing the cerebellic
vertical portion of the hard membrane (falx cerebelli).
Between these two boundaries the cerebellic plates, of
which the hemispheres consist, are united in the middle
by an interlacement, named suture (raphe), of the cere¬
bellum. A large hollow between the hemispheres, ex¬
tending backwards from the semilunar to the purse-like
fissure, is the small valley (vallecula) of Haller.
ANATOMY.
Special Each hemispherical surface consists of five lobes; 1.
Anatomy. t]ie anterior-upper or quadrilateral; 2. the posterior-
upper; 3. the posterior-lower; 4. the slender, rarely ex-
obes;1C ceeding three lines in breadth ; 5. the two-bellied or
biventral; and 6. the central lobe. The first two belong
to the upper or flat hemispherical surface ; the next three
to the lower or convex hemispherical surface; and the
sixth, common to the two hemispheres, is situate on the
mesial plane of the upper surface, between the anterior end
of the middle line (raphe) and the middle or apex of the
semilunar fissure.
/’he ton- The biventral lobe is pointed, and its margin concave;
sihs. and between this margin and the parts of which the valley
consists is placed a group of plates, convex and rounded,
named the tonsil or tonsils (tonsillce; amygdala; the spinal
lobule of Gordon).
The flock. In the angular hollow between the biventral lobe and
the peduncle (crus) of the small brain, is the flock, a mi¬
nute body, of irregular shape. Each flock consists of six
or seven plates (laminae), starting directly from the begin¬
ning of the peduncle, and with the concave margins di¬
rected towards the protuberance.
Phepyra- The valley is distinguished into three bodies, (he pyra-
nid, uvu- mid, uvula, and nodulus. The first is a group of 20 parallel
a, and plates, with a triangular apex, bounded behind by the
mdiile. purse-shaped notch, and before by another cluster of plates
called the uvula. The uvula, which is anterior, consists of
twelve laminated leaves, is six lines long and four broad,
and is smaller than the pyramid, and conical, with its base
turned to that body. Lastly, anterior to the uvula, and
separated from it by a furrow, is the laminar tubercle
(tuberculo laminoso) or nodule, consisting of about ten
thin transverse plates, the smallest in the row.
. 'cntral The second surface of the brain, in situation interior or
lurlace. central, may be named the jigurate or symmetrical. In¬
stead of presenting the uniform eminences and hollows
which distinguish the convoluted surface, it is moulded
into definite shapes, which correspond with each other, as
they are situate on opposite sides of the middle plane,—
or the parts of which, when situate on this plane, are ex¬
actly symmetrical. The surface formed by these figured
objects bounds what are termed the ventricles or cavities
of the brain. They cannot justly be termed cavities any
more than the hollows between the convolutions, but
ought to be viewed as continuations of the exterior or
convoluted surface.
The central or figurate surface of the brain presents
the following objects. The central band, beam, or meso-
lobe, a mass of white cerebral matter, uniting both hemi¬
spheres on the mesial plane, with the twainband or vault
below ; the hippocampus major on each side; the anterior
pyriform eminence or striated body on each side; the
posterior pyriform eminence or optic chamber on each
side; the semicircular band on each side; the ergot on
each side; the conarium on the mesial plane; the bige-
minous eminences on the mesial plane; the valve on the
mesial plane; and its pillars on each side,
entral Ihe commutual or dichotomous region of the convo-
iml ; cor-luted surface is terminated below by the upper surface of
u^c.1 o- a white band uniting the two hemispheres. This, which
vyas named by the ancient anatomists the smooth or po¬
lished body (aufia. nWoubn, corpus laeve), to distinguish it
from surfaces formed by a cutting instrument, appears in
the form of white fibrous matter, passing transversely be¬
tween the hemispheres, and marked by three longitudinal
lines, one on the mesial plane, and one on each side. This
is the middle or central band (mesolobe of Chaussier).
Near its middle is a bundle of gray lines, which may be
traced to the central portion of the hippocampus major.
The posterior extremity of this body is rounded, and Special
communicates with the chamber named third or middle Anatomy,
ventricle. This surface is continued forward, and forms
the vault or cieling (fornix, Die Zwillingsbinde, the twain-
band, Reil). The names of callous body and vault are
used, as if they were denominations of different bodies.
If they are still retained, it ought to be stated that they are
names applied to opposite surfaces of the same object.
The relations of the posterior end of the middle band The trian-
are as follow. The handle of a scalpel inserted beneath gular
it is found to be in the middle ventricle, with the vaultvault-
above, the conarium or pineal body, and four eminences
of the upper surface of the protuberance (corpora bige-
mina) below, and a part of each optic chamber on each
side. The vault or inferior surface of the band has the
shape of an isosceles triangle, with the base behind. Be¬
fore it is incurvated downward as it becomes narrow; and
the space between the band and it is occupied by a thin
double plate of cerebral matter, separating the two ven¬
tricles, and named the diaphanous partition (septum luci-
dum). (s, s, s.) The fornix terminates before, in two bodies
named anterior pillars. (Fig. 3, f, f.)
The posterior end of the middle band penetrates into The hippo-
the substance of the hemispheres; but the gray chords campus
already noticed, pursuing their lateral course, are imme-ma.ior-
diately enveloped in white plates derived from the sides
of the vault, and assuming a cylindrical appearance,
form, opposite the cerebral limbs, a body with a free Superior
rounded surface, which bends in a curvilinear direction lateral
laterally and downwards, and is the great hippocampus orco™muni-
cylindroid process. (Chaussier.) In observing this cur-catlon'
vilinear course, it rests on and corresponds, but without
adhesion, to the upper margin of the cerebral limb as it
issues from the optic chamber; and the surfaces of both
parts, though kept in apposition by vascular'membrane,
are free and unadherent. It forms the great cerebral fis¬
sure of Bichat.
The hippocampus, therefore, consists of two parts. The
first, which is the gray indented band (le corps godronnee,
Vicq-d’Azyr), is an inner or central portion, as thick as
a large crow-quill, gray in colour, indented at the free
edge, adhering to the cerebral substance by its opposite
margin, and connected with the upper surface of the cen¬
tral band. The outer or second part, which is a broad
thin plate of white cerebral matter folded over the gray
indented band, as a map is rolled over a cylinder of wood,
known under the name of the tape or fringe of the hippo¬
campus, is connected with the lower surface of the same
central band, or the vault (fornix) of the brain.
At the inferior region the communication is effected Inferior
by the curvilinear hollow. (Fig. 1, s, s.) This presents, ] st, lateral
cerebral substance, penetrated by numerous holes of vari-con?rmmi*
ous size, named the white perforated substance (lamina p>er-catlon-
forata) ; 2dly, the unconvoluted space ; Mly, the long cere¬
bral band termed the optic tract; and, Uhly, the limb of
the brain. This body, with that of the opposite side, is
covered by a portion of the convoluted surface, the in¬
ner and prominent surface of the medio-inferior or sphe-
no-temporal region.
The convoluted surface, which covers the anterior end
and outer margin of the cerebral limb, when everted,
presents the thin white body named the tape or fringe
(tcenia) of the hippocampus; and if the portion of con¬
voluted brain next the curvilinear hollow be raised and
everted in the same manner, the anterior end of this ob¬
ject, termed the foot (pes hippocampi), comes into view.
The fringe of the hippocampus forms, in the natural
position of the organ, the outer and lower border of the
opening; while the limb of the brain, and the outer
54
ANATOMY.
ed emi-
Semicircu-
lar band.
Optic
chamlier
Special and lower surface of the optic chamber, form its inner
Anatomy, border.
When the central surface is exposed by removing the
central band and the vault and cieling of the ventricles,
two pyriform eminences, an anterior and posterior, come
into view. The anterior is ash-coloured or gray, inclin¬
ing to wood-brown, with the round convex extremity be¬
fore, and the small end tapering backwards and outwards,
so as to inclose the round end of the posterior eminence.
The surface is smooth and convex, consisting of a thin co¬
vering of gray cerebral matter. The interior consists of
an admixture of white and gray, so as to form alternate
streaks,—a circumstance from which these eminences on
each side have been named the striated bodies {corpora
striata). At their anterior mesial extremity are two round¬
ed vertical bodies of white cerebral matter, descending
from the anterior end of the vault. These are the ante¬
rior pillars, which are thus interposed between the inte¬
rior front of the striated bodies.
The posterior and internal margin of the striated bo¬
dies is bounded by a gray, hard eminence, about a line
broad, stretching with a sinuous or winding direction
from its mesial and anterior to its external lateral and
posterior margin. This is the semicircular fillet or band
{tainia semicircularis, centrum semicirculare geminum).
Always firmer than the neighbouring parts, it appears to
be the external margin of a gray-coloured stratum or wall
of cerebral matter between the anterior and posterior py¬
riform bodies.
Connected before and on the outside to the striated
body by means of the double semicircular chord {centrum
semicirculare geminum, Vieussens), each optic eminence
presents four free surfaces—the upper, the inner, the pos¬
terior, and the lower. The upper is gently rounded,
convex, and white in colour; its limits are not easily de¬
fined. The outer margin is bounded by the circular band,
which even passes anterior to it, so as to form its bound¬
ary in that direction also. Behind, it is less distinctly
limited, unless by the appearance of a considerable pro¬
minence, named the posterior tubercle of the optic couch.
The inner margin of the upper surface is distinctly mark-
gland and e(il)y a small, sharp, gray line, which, beginning insensibly
pedunc es. at tke anterior part of the body, becomes more distinct as
it extends backwards, and ultimately bends towards the
median plane. There it unites with a similar elevated
line of the opposite optic eminence; and to the point of
union is attached a small conical body with a minute
point, of a gray colour, and of a shape like that of the
pine-apple. This is the pineal gland {glandula pinealis,
conarium); and the minute linear eminences which form
the inner edge of the upper optic surface have been
named peduncles of the pineal gland.
The inner surface of the optic couch or chamber pre¬
sents the small portion of soft cerebral matter {commissura
mollis) which unites it to the similar surface of the oppo¬
site body; and the intermediate space between the inner
surfaces of these bodies on each side constitutes the third
or middle ventricle {ventriculus tertius). Its posterior
edge, however, is terminated by the cerebral limb of that
side; and the lower edge meets that of the opposite one,
and is connected to it by a portion of brain which forms
the lower part of the middle ventricle, and corresponds
on the outside to the bridge of Tarin {pons Tarini).
Geniculate The posterior surface of the optic chamber is convex
tubercles, and continuous with the unconvoluted space. Its most con¬
vex part presents two oblong roundish eminences, sepa¬
rated by a linear depression, which may be traced down¬
wards with an outward curvature, and forwards about five
or six lines, in a broad white band, crossing two fluted
masses mutually converging behind at an angle. These
Pineal
Soft com¬
missure
and third
ventricle.
eminences are the geniculate bodies {corpus geniculatum Special
externum et internum), the outer the largest of the two Anatomy,
(fig. 1, g, g); the white bands are the optic tracts or ori-^^^^
gins of the optic nerve, issuing from the geniculate tu¬
bercles (o, t); and the fluted converging masses are the
limbs of the brain {crura cerebri).
On the inner or mesial side of the geniculate bodies, Bigemi.
and separated only by a linear furrow, are the bigemi- nous emi,
nous eminences, four orbicular elevations, two above and11601'63,
two below; two on each side of the mesial plane, with an
intermediate cruciform furrow. By the ancients, who ex¬
amined chiefly brute animals, the superior and larger pair
were named nates (y'hovroi), the inferior testes {dibu/Mi).
These eminences occupy the upper surface of the protu¬
berance, and partly that of the limbs of the brain; and
while the eminences are situate between the posterior ends
of the optic chambers above, the limbs appear to issue
from the centre of these chambers below, and the linear
furrow marks the point of junction.
These bigeminal eminences, however, though occupy-Cerebral
ing the superior surface of the protuberance, adhere not valve,
everywhere to its substance. (Fig. 3.) The mesial furrow is
formed on the upper surface of a thin plate of white cere¬
bral matter, which extends from the level of the pineal
peduncles above, to the upper margin of the cerebellum
below, like a veil, and is named the cerebral valve {valvula
Vieussenii). The lower surface of this is free for about
two or three lines broad; and, though applied to a similar
surface on the mesial line of the upper region of the protu¬
berance, does not adhere, but forms a canal with the third
ventricle above and the fourth below, named the aque¬
duct of Sylvius {iter a tertio ad quartum ventriculum) (i).
While the outer halves, therefore, of the eminences ad¬
here to the matter of the protuberance, the inner are at¬
tached to that of the valve, (n, t.)
The lower or cerebellic margin of the valve is free, and Pillars of
overhangs as it were the fourth or cerebellic ventricle, the valve.
On each side, however, is a longitudinal rounded body of
white matter, which passes from the lower pair of bigemi-
nous eminences {testes) to the cerebellum. These are
named the pillars of the valve {columnce valvulce Vieus¬
senii, processus a cerebello ad testes). The fourth or pathe¬
tic nerve {trochlearis) rises partly from the valve, partly
from its lateral pillars, and is seen issuing on the sides of
the protuberance not larger than a thread.
The lower surface of the optic chambers presents with¬
in the convoluted space the limbs of the brain {crura
cerebri), two fluted semicylindrical masses, converging
backwards, and inclosing by their junction a triangular
space, with the apex behind—the intercrural hollow. The
inner margin of the limbs presents the origin of the third
or oculo-muscular nerves {ocido-motorii) ; about half an
inch anterior on the intercrural hollow are the lenticular
or pisiform bodies {tubera, v. corpora candicantia), two he¬
mispherical tubercles of white matter; and immediately
anterior is the hypophysis or pituitary gland, a broad quad¬
rilateral reddish-gray prominence, with the anterior mar¬
gin rounded, the posterior concave, inclosed before and on
the sides by the converging optic tracts and commissure.
(p-) . . . .
The limbs are obliquely crossed at their outer anterior
end by the broad part of the optic tracts as they descend
from the geniculate bodies. Their posterior convergent
extremities are lost in the substance of the annular pro¬
tuberance {pons Varolii, nodus cerebri), a convex rounded
white body, with transverse fasciculi separated by linear
furrows, (n.) Connected before with the crura or limbs,
from which it is separated by transverse sinuous furrows,
it is connected on the sides with the cerebellum by short
semicylindrical stalks or peduncles {crura cerebelli), and
ANATOMY.
55
lead of
yramidal
adies.
Special behind with the beginning of the spinal chord (medulla
Anatomy, oblongata). It is marked on the middle by a longitudinal
furrow, in which is placed the basilar artery, the united
trunk of the vertebrals. Its convexity corresponds to the
concavity of the basilar groove of the occipital bone, on
which it rests. This eminence may be regarded as the
general central point of the cerebral nervous system, with
which all the other parts are connected,—with the cere¬
bral hemispheres by the crura cerebri, with the cerebellic
hemispheres by the crura cerebelli, with the upper in¬
ternal part of the optic chambers by the bigeminous emi¬
nences, and with the spinal chord by the medulla oblon¬
gata. From its anterior lateral margin the tergeminal or
fifth nerve arises ; from the posterior furrow the abducent
or sixth nerve ; and from the upper anterior margin of
the cerebellic peduncle the eighth or lateral facial.
Continuous with and behind the protuberance is the be-
ie chord. ginning or bulb of the spinal chord, a part distinguished on
the ground of an obsolete hypothesis by the name of me-
didla oblongata. Thick and prominent, its surface is mould¬
ed into six oblong-ovoidal eminences, three on each side of
the mesial plane ; the pyriform or pyramidal eminences
before, the restiform bodies behind, and the olivary emi¬
nences on each side.
The pyriform eminences (corpora pyramidalia) are two
oblong-oval bodies, broad above, tapering below, sepa¬
rated by a mesial line, and bounded laterally by a furrow
separating them from the olivary bodies, occupying the
anterior-inferior part of the bulb of the chord, and rest¬
ing on the lower third of the basilar groove. The mesial
line terminates above in the foramen caecum of the poste¬
rior furrow of the protuberance, (p.)
The olivary (corpora ovata), placed on the outside of
the pyramidal bodies, occupying partly the front, partly
the side of the bulb, give it a lateral and transverse pro¬
jection. In the intermediate furrow are the initial fila¬
ments of the hypoglossal or middle lingual nerve ; and in
the external furrow and sides those of the glosso-pharyn-
geal and pneurnogastric nerves, (o, o.)
estiform The posterior-upper part of the medulla oblongata con-
. s an(1 sists of two longitudinal cylindrical bodies, stretching
between the cerebellic peduncles above and the spinal
chord below. These are the chordal processes of Ridley,
the restiform or rope-like processes of Morgagni, the py¬
ramidal bodies of Haller, Malacarne, and Red, and the
posterior pyramidal bodies of Ruysch, Prochaska, and
Soemmering. Above, where they are connected with the
cerebellic peduncles, they are separated by a triangular
space with the apex downward, but below by a deep fur¬
row, the calamus scriptorius of the ancients, at the bottom
of which, when separated, may be observed white chords
proceeding from the process of one side, plaited with
those of the other. These decussating fibres, which are
confined entirely to the mesial margin of the restiform
processes, are believed to establish a crossing connection
between the right and left sides of the peduncles and the
protuberance. The intermediate cavity is named the
fourth ventricle. From the inner surface of the restiform
process issue several of the initial filaments of the
seventh or auditory nerve.
The spinal chord or funicular brain is a cylindrical
livary
odies.
eir
oove.
lie spinal
lord.
body occupying the interior of the vertebral canal, from
the margin of the occipital hole to the first lumbar verte¬
bra; large and round on the cervical region, broad on the
dorsal, and terminating in a brush-like expansion, deno¬
minated the cauda equina. On its dorsal surface may be
seen a slightly depressed line continued from the middle
furrow of the restiform bodies, but becoming faint and
indistinct in the region of the back.
I he central or figurate surface is smooth, polished,
and possesses a degree of closeness of texture which pre¬
vents it from being readily abraded. These qualities are
ascribed by Reil to a thin pellicle, which he terms epithe-
lia. Though there is no proof of the existence of the
covering, the term may be used to designate the smooth
surface of the organ.
Special
Anatomy.
Of the central surface not only does every division mu¬
tually communicate, but the central surface of the con¬
voluted communicates with that of the laminated part of
the organ. The lateral divisions, named ventricles, com¬
municate directly with each other below the vault, the
surface of which lies over the thalami; both communicate
with the third ventricle, which by the Sylvian aqueduct
communicates with the fourth; and the posterior part of
the lateral ventricle communicates with the digital cavity
and inferior recess.
The central surface is covered by a vascular membrane
(plexus choroides), continued from the pia mater of the
convoluted surface.
Between the two surfaces now described is placed the
proper matter of the brain, white and brown, which in dif¬
ferent regions of the organ is differently arranged.
The convoluted surface consists of a stratum of gray Structure,
cerebral matter, arranged in the granular form. When
indurated by immersion in alcohol or dilute nitric acid, it
breaks with a small conchoidal fracture, occasionally un¬
even, and with an uneven granular surface, void of lustre*
and without fibrous arrangement. The only part of the
convoluted surface presenting the latter appearance is
the unciform band uniting the anterior and posterior
lobes. (Fig. 5, v.)
Within the convoluted surface is contained a large quan¬
tity of white matter, surrounding the figurate surface and
its divisions. The section of this, usually named the oval
centre of Vieussenius (centrum ovale), shows merely the
extent which this occupies in the upper part of the brain,
but communicates no information on the intimate struc¬
ture of the organ.
In intimate organization the brain may be distinguish¬
ed into four parts; ls£, the brain, containing the striated
nucleus; 2d, the cerebellum, containing the moriform
body; 3c?, the head or bulb of the chord, containing the
moriform body; and, kth, the annular protuberance as a
central point of the whole.
The white fibrous matter of the central band, passing
into the hemispheres on each side, diverges like the rods
of a fan or the rays of a luminous body, and forms an ar¬
rangement denominated by Reil the radiating crown, and
which may be regarded as the exterior investment of the
striated nucleus, which constitutes the internal substance
of the striated bodies and optic chambers. (Fig. 5, c.)
The arrangement of white and gray matter in this part is
so peculiar, that within the limits of this sketch it is im¬
possible to convey a distinct idea of it. It may be stat¬
ed in general that the fibrous matter of the limbs ex¬
tends from the protuberance through the substance of
the thalamus and part of the striated body; and while
in this manner it maintains a connection between the
protuberance and the brain above, by means of the ce¬
rebellic peduncles on the sides, and the head of the
chord below, it communicates with the cerebellum and
spinal chord behind and below. The moriform bodies
(corpora dentata, corpora ciliata, corpora rhomboidea),
which consist of white matter inclosed in a brown capsule,
and the cerebellic and olivary eminences, are analogous to
the striated nucleus of the brain ; and the three may be
regarded as the respective centres of each. The annular
protuberance, consisting internally of transverse fibres
closely interwoven with longitudinal ones, is the general
or common centre of the three.
56 A N A 1
Special The substance of the funicular or vertebral portion con-
Anatomy. sists almost entirely of white fibrous matter, extending
longitudinally from the cranial to the sacral extremity,
but bending off laterally at the origins of the spinal nerves
in the form of arches.
Blood-ves- The brain is supplied with blood by the internal ea¬
sels. rotid arteries and the two vertebral arteries, derived
from the subclavian. The former, entering the cra¬
nium by the carotic canals, sends a posterior commu¬
nicating branch, inosculating with the principal division
of the basilar, and an anterior communicating, which
joins the vessel of the opposite side. By these communi¬
cations, the branches of the basilar artery behind, and the
carotids before, form an arterial hexagon round the sella
Turcica, from which arise two anterior vessels (anteriores
cerebri), distributed to the central band, and two lateral
{mediae) or Sylvian arteries, distributed to the perforated
spot, the Sylvian fissure and striated nucleus. The verte¬
bral, entering by the occipital hole, send branches to the
head of the spinal chord, and uniting to form the basilar,
supply the protuberance and cerebellum ; then divaricating
into posterior cerebral, finally inosculate with the internal
carotid to form the arterial hexagon as mentioned. The
blood is returned by triangular canals named sinuses, of
which there are the superior longitudinal, the inferior
longitudinal, the cerebellic {torcular Herophili), the lateral,
the circular, the superior petrous, the inferior petrous, and
the cavernous. The four latter pairs are small sinuses
opening into the lateral, where it emerges from the
cranium by the temporo-occipital fissure {foramen lace-
rum in base cranii posterius).
§ 2. THE CEREBRAL INVESTMENTS OR MEMBRANES.
The brain is said to be surrounded by three membra¬
nous envelopes, the hard membrane {meninx dura, dura
mater), the web-like membrane {tunica arachnoidea), and
the soft or thin membrane {meninx tenuis, pia mater).
To this arrangement, which has been adopted by almost
all writers, there is perhaps no great objection. But
it simplifies the subject, without misrepresenting, to refer
them to two only ; one of which, the hard membrane
{meninx dura, ffxXjjgjj, dura mater), is common to
the brain with the inner surface of the scull; the other,
the thin membrane {meninx tenuis, priviyi* Xsxrrj, pia ma¬
ter), is proper to the brain only. They may be distin¬
guished, therefore, by the terms common membrane of the
brain and proper membrane of the brain. The arachnoid,
again, is a pellucid web common to the cerebral mem¬
branes.
The dura The first of these, the common or hard cerebral mem-
maier. brane {meninx dura, dura mater), presents two surfaces,
an outer or cranial and an inner or cerebral. The outer
surface is irregular, filamentous, and vascular, and the
substance of which it consists is distinctly fibrous. The
fibres, however, do not follow any uniform direction, but
are interwoven irregularly. Maceration causes this mem¬
brane to swell and become separated into fibrous threads.
It is liberally supplied with blood-vessels, by which it is
connected to the inner surface of the scull. No nerves or
absorbents have been discovered in it. This outer or cra¬
nial surface of the dura mater is of the nature of perios¬
teum. Its vessels may be traced into the inner table; it
contributes to the formation of the cranial bones in the
foetus, and their nutrition during life.
The inner or cerebral surface of this membrane is
smooth, polished, and shining; and, when examined in
water, it appears to be formed by a very thin, transpa¬
rent membrane, through which the cranial or outer sur¬
face and the fibrous structure of the hard membrane may
' O M Y.
be recognised. This pellucid inner membrane,, generally Special
termed the inner lamina, is the exterior division of the
arachnoid membrane.
The dura mater is an extensive membrane, lining Vertebral
not only the interior surface of the scull, but, in a modi-sheath,
fied form, that of the whole vertebral column. The inner
surface of each vertebra has a proper periosteum conti¬
nuous with the periosteum of the outer surface; and
from this issues a quantity of filamentous tissue, which
penetrates directly a membranous canal, evidently of
fibrous structure {theca vertebralis), tough and firm, but
more delicate than the cranial dura mater. The dura
mater in its course forms sundry prolongations; for in¬
stance, the large crescentic one named Xhefalx, the hori¬
zontal one termed tentorium, and the small crescentic one
named jfa/x minor or cerebelli.
The thin, soft, or immediate and proper cerebral mem-The pia
brane {pia mater, meninx tenuis) presents in like manner mater,
two surfaces, a smooth or cranial, which is exterior, and a
filamentous or cerebral, which is interior and central.
The outer or smooth surface of the thin membrane
{pia mater) has a glistening appearance, and is formed
by a very thin transparent membrane, exactly similar to
that which forms the cerebral surface of the dura mater.
This surface, named in the ordinary works the web-like
membrane {tunica arachnoidea), is believed to be a sepa¬
rate membrane from the pia mater ; but that which forms
the inner or cerebral surface of the dura mater has a
claim equally strong to this distinction.
The inner or cerebral surface of the proper membrane
is filamentous, flocculent, and sends out many angular fila¬
mentous processes, which, by numerous minute arteries
and veins, communicate with the convoluted surface of the
brain. These processes {tomenta) correspond to the fur¬
rows of the convoluted surface in which they are lodged.
In detaching the membrane from this part of the brain,
numerous vessels are drawn out of its substance ; and when
the membrane is injected these vessels may be seen dis¬
tinctly filled, and communicating with the gray matter of
the convoluted surface. The veins of this membrane may
be traced to the sinuses. Neither nerves nor absorbents
have yet been recognised in it. Bichat considers it to
contain much cellular tissue, which, however, is denied by
Gordon, who could not recognise it. The difference, how¬
ever, consists merely in name. The pia mater, indeed,
possesses no cellular tissue like the subcutaneous, the
submucous, or the subserous. If, however, a portion of
the arachnoid be peeled from it by careful management
of the forceps and blowpipe, there is found a quantity of
loose filamentous matter uniting this tissue to the fine
web of the former. The existence of this tissue between
the pia mater and arachnoid is further demonstrated by
the phenomena of serous infiltration.
The pia mater, or proper membrane of the brain, consists DistnLu-
of two parts, an outer, covering the convoluted surface of tion and
the brain, and an inner or central, entering the cavities£ura
formed by the inner, central, or figurate surface, and
spread over this surface in the form of what has been
termed the vascular or choroid web {plexus choroides; tela
choroidea).
The continuity of the pia mater or exterior division of
the proper cerebral membrane, with the choroid plexus or
interior division, may be demonstrated in the following
manner First, The pia mater may be traced behind and
below the posterior extremity of the middle band {<su>iia
nXr.ouhtg, corpus callosum, der balken), where it is continu¬
ous with the transverse web called velum interpositum, and
which may be regarded as the first part of the central
division. Secondly, From the situation of the velum in¬
terpositum, it may be traced forwards on both sides of the
ANATOMY.
57
Special mesial plane into the lateral ventricles, spread over the
Anatomy, surface of the optic thalamus and striated eminence in the
form of the vascular web called choroid plexus, the right
half of which communicates with the left by means of a
similar slip of vascular membrane lying beneath the vault
( fornix), and behind the anterior pillars of that body at the
spot termed foramen Monroianum. Thirdly, It may be
traced over the geniculate bodies and thalami into the pos¬
terior-inferior cornu, or sinuosity of the lateral ventricle,
where it covers the great hippocampus. Fourthly, It may be
traced at the angle between the cerebellum and medulla, ob¬
longata, or what is named the bottom of the fourth ven¬
tricle, where it forms a very minute choroid plexus, seldom
noticed by anatomists, but not less distinct, and which may
be traced up the fourth ventricle to be connected with the
velum interpositum in the middle ventricle, and with the
lateral portions of the hippocampus on each side. Each of
the divisions of the choroid plexus now enumerated may
be shown to be mutually connected, and to form parts of
one general membrane, which again constitutes the inner
or central division of the membrane of which \hepia mater
forms the exterior. Each division of the choroid plexus,
in like manner, is connected, by means of minute blood¬
vessels, to the portion of the figurate cerebral surface on
which it rests; and it appears to sustain vessels as the jria
mater does to the convoluted surface.
In clear water the choroid plexus may be spread out,
like the pia mater, in the shape of a thin semitransparent
web, one surface of which is smooth, the other somewhat
flocculent, and the substance of which is traversed by nu¬
merous minute vessels. The transparent web, which forms
the basis of this membrane, is filamento-vascular; and its
smooth free surface, a continuation of the arachnoid mem¬
brane, is smooth, polished, and thin, like silver paper.
The arachnoid membrane is common to the dura mater,
pia, mater, and choroid plexus. It covers the inner surface
of the first membrane, to which it communicates its shin¬
ing polished appearance, though the want of subjacent
filamentous tissue causes it to adhere so firmly, that it
cannot be readily demonstrated. After covering the free
surface of the pia mater, it follows the course of that
membrane into the central surface of the brain, and covers
the upper or unadherent surface of the several divisions
of the choroid plexus. For the demonstration of this fact
we must be permitted to refer to Dr Craigie’s Elements of
General Anatomy (chap, xxiii. sect. 1), where the reader
will find proofs, which the limits of this sketch do not
allow us to adduce here.
From these it results that the arachnoid membrane pos¬
sesses in arrangement and distribution a great resem¬
blance to the serous membranes. It differs, nevertheless,
in its extreme tenuity, in the closeness with which it ad¬
heres to the collateral tissues, and in its slight disposition
to albuminous exudation. It appears to contain in its
structure less filamentous tissue than the pure serous
membranes.
The brain is developed from the branches of the internal
carotid and vertebral arteries ramified through the vascu¬
lar membrane {pia mater). Formation commences in two
orders of vessels mutually directed to each other,—those of
the convoluted surface {pia mater), and those of the cen¬
tral {plexus choroides). The central substance of each part
is first deposited; and from these points deposition and
moulding proceed to the two circumferences of the organ.
Ihe surfaces are therefore formed last; and the vessels
gradually shrink as the process approaches to completion.
SECT. II. the DISTRIBUTED CHORDS ; THE NERVES.
1 he nerves may be distinguished into classes according
to the parts of the brain with which their cerebral ends
VOL. hi.
are connected. On this principle they may be arranged
in the following order.
The brain,
The limbs,
Protuberance
or its parts,
Head of the
chord.
Spinal chord,
i Olfactory, 1st pair.
I Optic, 2d pair.
Oculo-muscular, 3d pair.
'Trochlear {nervuspatheticus), 4th pair.
Trifacial, 5th pair,
■
Abducent,
Auditory,
_ Lateral-facial,
' Glosso-pharyngeal,
Pneumogastric,
Accessory,
Hypoglossal,
1 Sub-occipital.
7 Cervical nerves.
12 Dorsal.
5 Lumbar.
| Ophthalmic branch.
'! Superior maxillary.
(Inferior maxillary,
fith pair.
7th pair (portio moUis).
8th pair (portio dura).
9th pair.
10th pair {nervus vagus).
11th pair.
12th pair.
Special
Anatomy.
The spinal nerves are derived from anterior and poste¬
rior roots separated by the ligamentum denticulatum, a
fibrous notched ligament, covered by arachnoid membrane.
According to the researches of Charles Bell and Magendie,
the anterior roots furnish motive filaments, and the poste¬
rior sensitive. The central connections of most of these
nerves have been already mentioned; and their distribut¬
ed connections have been, and will continue to be, inci¬
dentally noticed under the heads of the several organs. It
is requisite, however, to notice shortly the relations and
general distribution of several nervous chords which per¬
form an important part in the functions of the animal body.
These are the pneumogastric, the phrenic, and the great
sympathetic or intercostal nerves.
The pneumogastric or nervus vagus, the 8th pair of the Pneumo-
old nomenclature, the 10th in correct enumeration of the gastric
cerebral nerves, rising by various filaments from the fur-nerve-
row between the olivary bodies and the restiform, and
from the posterior upper surface of the latter, emerges
from the cranium with the jugular vein by the temporo-
occipital hole. Here, closely united by filamentous tissue
to the hypoglossal, spinal, and glosso-pharyngeal, it de¬
scends before the rectus anticus and longus colli on the out¬
side of the carotid artery, though in the sheath with it,
and before the subclavian artery on the right side, on the
left before the carotid, enters the chest, where it enlarges
in size considerably. (Plate XXXI. v, v.) In the chest
it passes behind the bronchi in the posterior fold of the
pleura, and is closely connected to the oesophagus in the
shape of a thin cord. Both trunks, on reaching the car¬
diac end of this tube, pass with it through the diaphrag¬
matic aperture, and are distributed to the stomach. In
this course the pneumogastric nerve is divided into five
orders of filaments.
1. In the neck it gives branches to the pharynx, and,
communicating with the glosso-pharyngeal, forms the pha¬
ryngeal plexus, and furnishes a superior laryngeal branch,
an external laryngeal, and an internal laryngeal, the latter
chiefly to the intrinsic muscles of the larynx.
2. In the chest it sends off branches, which, communi¬
cating with those of the superior cervical ganglion, are
distributed to the heart.
3. In the chest also it gives off the inferior laryngeal
or recurrent nerve (r), which on the right side winding
round the subclavian, on the left the arch of the aorta, re¬
ascends in the lateral furrow between the windpipe and
oesophagus, and giving off cardiac, pulmonary, oesophageal,
thyroid, and tracheal filaments, is finally distributed to the
intrinsic muscles of the laryngeal cartilages. These multi¬
plied connections tend to associate the motions of the glottis
with the lungs, and to maintain a general consent between
the pharynx, larynx, oesophagus, trachea, lungs, and heart.
H
58
Special
Anatomy.
ANATOMY.
The phre¬
nic nerve.
The great
sympathe¬
tic or
splanchnic
4. The pneumogastric trunk forms with the filaments of
the inferior cervical ganglion the anterior pulmonary plex¬
us, and alone it forms the posterior pulmonary plexus,
which sends filaments to the lower part of the windpipe,
the bronchi, the pulmonary artery and veins, and the oeso¬
phagus.
5. After passing the diaphragmatic aperture, the right
pneumogastric trunk forms at the cardiac orifice of the
stomach a plexus, from which filaments proceed to the
pylorus, the gastro-hepatic artery, the right cceliac gang¬
lion, the duodenum, the pancreas, the gall-bladder, and
the liver, where it communicates freely with the coeliac
ganglions. The pneumogastric of the left side is distri¬
buted chiefly to the pylorus and its arteries, and commu¬
nicates freely with those of the right.
The phrenic or diaphragmatic nerve, connected above
with filaments of the pneumogastric, hypoglossal, second
and third cervical nerves, and some branches of the bra¬
chial plexus, and occasionally with those of the great sym¬
pathetic, descends on the anterior and lateral part of the
neck, between the rectus anticus and scalenus anticus, and
enters the chest between the subclavian artery and vein.
The right passes down on the surface of the right lung,
beneath the pleura (f, <p, Plate XXXI.); the left over the
pericardium; and both are distributed chiefly to the dia¬
phragm.
The great sympathetic is much more complicated than
either of these nerves. It cannot be said to originate
from one part more than from another. Though connected
with the brain by means of a communicating filament of
the sixth pair, it certainly does not arise from that nerve:
nor can it be said to arise from the spinal nerves, though
connected with them on each side of the dorsal vertebrae.
It appears more rational to regard it as a general and ex¬
tensive network of nervous filaments, which establish a
communication between different important organs. Con¬
nected above with three ganglions of the neck, the supe¬
rior, inferior, and middle cervical, and by minute filaments
with the lateral-facial, or eighth cerebral, pneumogas¬
tric, and glosso-pharyngeal, with which it contributes to
form the pharyngeal plexus, it sends off the nervi molles or
superficial cardiac nerve. Below the inferior cervical gang¬
lion, generally regarded as a cardiac, the trunk enlarges,
and furnishes filaments to the pulmonary and cardiac
plexus, the former divided into right or anterior and left
or posterior, and the latter into superior and inferior.
About the seventh dorsal vertebra, after being connected
with all the intercostal nerves and inferior thoracic gang¬
lions, it forms the splanchnic, which, though only the abdo¬
minal part of the great sympathetic, may be regarded as a
separate nerve. The constituent filaments of this nerve, af¬
ter being united into two ganglions, the coeliac or semilunar,
are resolved into plexiform arrangements, which surround
all the principal arteries, and with them are lost in the sub¬
stance of the organs. Thus the coeliac artery is inclosed
by the coeliac plexus; and each of its divisions, the coro¬
nary or proper gastric and the gastro-hepatic and gastro-
splenic, are inclosed in similar plexiform networks. In the
same manner, the superior mesenteric, inferior mesente¬
ric, and renal arteries, have each an appropriate plexus ;
and those of the colon, bladder, and uterus have small
plexiform arrangements, which constitute parts of the
same general system. In short, the great sympathetic or
intercostal forms an independent nervous system of its
own, and though not derived from the dorsal nerves, is
intimately connected with them; and its distribution to
the organs of digestion, of circulation, respiration, and se¬
cretion, is connected chiefly with the associated actions of
these organs.
Our limits do not, however, admit of details; and the
reader who wishes to understand the minute anatomical Special
relations of these chords, will find the most accurate in- Anatomy,
formation in the fourth volume of the treatise of Soem-v^^v^''
mering (De CorporisHumani Fabrica, 1 rajecti ad Mcenum
1798) ; in the third of the Descriptive System of Bichat,
and in the magnificent illustrations of Walter (Tabulce
Nervorum Thoracis et Abdominis, fob Berolini, 1783) and
Scarpa ( Tabulae Neurologicce, fol. Ticini, 1794).
PART II.
ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS PERTAINING TO THE ENTRO-
PHIC OR NUTRITIVE FUNCTIONS.
The growth of the animal body is effected, and its size
and strength maintained, by a class of organs which may
be named the Entrophic or Nutritive. These organs
agree in the possession of certain common characters, by
which they are distinguished from those of the functions
of Relation.
The first common character is the want of symmetry
in arrangement and harmony in action. Instead of being
arranged on the median line, or with similar parts on each
of its sides, the organ, or part of the organ, which is on one
side, bears no resemblance to that which is on the other.
Even in the case of the lungs, though there is a general
resemblance, the left differs from the right not only in
size and shape, but in the number of its lobes.
It must not be understood, nevertheless, that the or¬
gans of this class are altogether void of symmetrical figure.
A plane may be made to divide the stomach even into
similar halves, so as to leave on each side similar parts of
the cardia, of the pylorus, and of the intermediate parts.
This plane, however, corresponds not with the mesial
plane, but passes transversely from left to right. Nearly
the same rule is applicable to other organs.
The second general character of the entrophic organs
is, that in action they are not under the influence of the
will. The contractions of the muscular tissue of the
stomach, and the secretion of its mucous surface, the pe¬
ristaltic motion of the intestinal tube, the beats of the
heart, and the action of the liver, are equally independent
of volition. This character Bichat attempted in every
instance to trace to independence on the influence of the
brain and the cerebral nerves. In one sense this is a
truism, in so far as it merely implies that the organs of
the entrophic functions do not belong to those of relation.
In another sense it is a gratuitous, if not a hypothetical
assumption. Though the brain is evidently very inti¬
mately associated with the organs of the animal functions,
it is not yet determined that it is entirely unconnected
with those of the entrophic order. Serious lesion or in¬
jury of the brain or the protuberance operates as forcibly
on the action of the heart as on that of the muscles of
the extremities. On the whole, the safest mode of de¬
fining this character is merely to state the independence
of the entrophic organs on the will.
Several of the organs of the entrophic function are
nevertheless in some degree under the influence of the
will. The lungs, for example, by being dilated only by
the dilating agents of the chest, are within certain limits
under the voluntary power. To this, however, a limit is
fixed. Though inspiration or expiration may be effected
at the will of the individual, or suspended for a little,
very soon the accomplishment of these actions is no longer
arbitrary. In like manner, though the bladder is evacu¬
ated by the voluntary effort of the individual, the stimu¬
lus by which the action is induced is involuntary alto¬
gether.
A third anatomical character common to the entrophic
organs is, that all of them are situate in the interior of the
ANATOMY.
59
Special trunk, protected by those of the locomotive system; and
Anatomy, that they are lined on one side by mucous membrane,
continuous with the external integuments. By means of
this arrangement, which is necessarily allied with their
property of converting foreign into proper matter, all the
entrophic organs, with the exception of the heart, com¬
municate with the surface of the body.
k fourth anatomical character common to these organs
is, that though continuous by their mucous investment
with the outer surface of the body, their opposite, placed
on the outside of the serous membranes, forms shut cavi¬
ties, not communicating, unless in one instance—the peri¬
toneal end of the oviduct in the female—with the external
surface. Whatever be the intermediate substance, these
organs are placed between the mucous and serous mem¬
branes.
The entrophic organs may be distinguished into two
orders, according to the degree of the process performed
by each. The nutritive function consists of two subor¬
dinate functions, the Umitrophic or alimentary, and the
hcematrophic or circulatory; the first the preparation of the
materials destined to be employed in nutrition ; the second
the distribution of these, after preparation, to the different
regions and organs of the system. The organs by which
the first process is accomplished constitute the first order;
those by which the second is effected constitute the
second order.
CHAP. I. THE LIMITROPHIC ORGANS.
The limitrophic organs consist of two divisions ; those
for digestion of the food, or the chylopoietic, and those
for absorption of its nutritious part. The former is ef¬
fected in successive processes in the divisions of the ali¬
mentary canal, a tubular musculo-membranous apparatus,
extending from the mouth to the anus. The second is
accomplished by an assemblage of minute valvular tubes,
the lacteals, terminating in the thoracic duct.
SECT. I. THE ORGANS OF DIGESTION; THE CHYLOPOIETIC
ORGANS.
The organs of mastication have been described already
in the fourth section of the second chapter of Fart First.
The pha- The pharynx, placed on the median line, symmetrical
rvnx. and regular, occupying the upper part of the neck, makes
a close approach to the organs of relation, and marks the
transition from these to those of the entrophic function.
Attached above to the cuneiform process of the occipital
bone, behind to the cervical vertebrae, and with the nostrils,
mouth, and larynx before, it forms an irregular vaulted
apartment about four inches long and two broad at its
widest part, and contracting below, where it is continuous
with the oesophagus. Besides the opening into this tube,
the pharynx presents six apertures ; the pharyngeal aper¬
tures of the nostrils, the pharyngeal orifice of the mouth,
the upper end of the larynx, and the pharyngeal aper¬
tures of the Eustachian tube.
It consists of a mucous membrane stretched over loose
filamentous tissue inclosed by three muscles, the superior,
inferior, and middle constrictor, and attached to the cunei¬
form process, the cervical vertebrse, and the lateral regions
of the neck, by filamentous tissue.
By the superior laryngeal, the pharyngeal, the thyroid,
the lingual, and palatine arteries, it receives blood, which
is returned by a still greater number of veins to the exter¬
nal and internal jugular trunks. The nerves of the pharynx
come from the glosso-pharyngeal, the hypoglossal, the
pneumogastric, and the great sympathetic.
The ceso- 1 he oesophagus(^gula) is a cylindrical musculo-membran-
phagus. ous tube^ communicating above with the pharynx, and
below with the stomach. Placed above between the Special
cervical vertebrae behind and the windpipe before, at the Anatomy,
lower end of the larynx it inclines to the left, returns tov^~^^'
the median line at the sternum, bends again to the left at
the bifurcation of the trachea, and continues on the left
side of the line, passing the aperture of the diaphragm,
near the ninth dorsal vertebra, to its junction with the
stomach. With the vertebral column behind, at its first
inclination it covers the longus colli in the chest, crosses
the vena azygos above, and covers the thoracic duct in the
middle, and the aorta below. With the jugular veins and
carotids on each side in the neck, below it has the trachea
on the right, and the recurrent nerve and common carotid
on the left; and in the chest it has the aorta on the left
and behind. (Plate XXIX. fig. 2, c.)
Lined on the inside by a follicular mucous membrane
which assumes longitudinal folds (plicae), the oesopha¬
gus consists of two ranges of muscular fibres, the one
transverse, the other longitudinal. The first are most
distinct at the pharyngeal end. The second form a mani¬
fest thick layer through the whole extent of the tube.
Externally is a quantity of filamentous tissue, connecting
the tube to that of the mediastinum and adjoining parts.
The oesophagus is supplied with blood from the inferior
thyroid, thymic, laryngeal, pharyngeal; the aorta by pro¬
per oesophageal arteries, the superior intercostals and
bronchials, the pericardial, mediastinal, diaphragmatics,
and even the coronary of the stomach. The blood is
returned by veins equally numerous. The oesophageal
nerves proceed from three different sources. Above, it
receives filaments from the glosso-pharyngeal and pneu¬
mogastric, in the middle from the latter, and below from
the pneumogastric and the great sympathetic.
The stomach (ventriculus) is a large pyriform musculo- The sto-
membranous sac, incurvated on itself (Plate XXIX. fig. 2, mach.
and Plate XXXVI. fig. 4), situate in the epigastric and left
hypochondriac regions, communicating above with tlie oeso¬
phagus, and below with the duodenum. Bounded above
by the diaphragm, and the liver, which covers it, it has the
spleen attached to its left great extremity, the transverse
arch of the colon to the inferior large arch; and its posterior
surface corresponds to the duodenum, pancreas, mesoco¬
lon, and large abdominal vessels.
The pyriform sac of the stomach is distinguished into
a large end or sac (fundus), and a small extremity named
the pyloric; while a particular incurvation of its direction
gives it a large inferior arch (arcus major), and a small
superior arch (arcus minor). At the left extremity of
the latter is the cardia, the orifice by which the oesopha¬
gus enters the stomach (osteum cesophageum); and from
this round the fundus is the large arch. A vertical plane
drawn from the cardia divides the stomach into two por¬
tions,—the cardiac (fundus, saccus ccecus), and pyloric,
terminating in an annular contracted opening, about an
inch broad (pylorus, ostium duodenale sive pyloricum).
Between the two arches is the superior-anterior surface,
covered partly by the left lobe of the liver, partly by the
left rectus and hypochondre, and the inferior-posterior sur¬
face behind.
The stomach consists of peritoneum externally, mucous Structure,
membrane internally, and an intermediate muscular layer
with filamentous tissue.
The peritoneal covering is arranged in a peculiar man¬
ner. The anterior fold, meeting the posterior at the
small arch, joins it, and forms a membranous production
(omentum gastro-hepaticum), connecting the organ to the
inferior surface of the liver, where they again separate to
invest the upper and lower divisions of that organ. T hese
folds, meeting in like manner along the large arch, where
they form similar duplicatures, are again separated to in-
60 ANATOMY.
Special close the spleen at the large end, and the colon along the
Anatomy. ]0wer division. In the triangular spaces formed by these
V''^v"x“'y duplicatures the gastric blood-vessels are lodged.
The mucous membrane, void of epidermis, is covered
with minute piles {villi) from the cardiac, where they
commence at the fringed termination of the oesophageal
epidermis, to the pyloric, where they are continuous with
those of the duodenum. It is further puckered into
wrinkles (rugce) or folds (plicce), intersecting each other
irregularly, and inclosing irregular quadrilateral spaces,—
an effect produced by the contraction of the muscular
coat, and connected with the great extent of the gastric
villous membrane. In this also are contained follicular
glands, especially at the pyloric end and along the two
curvatures.
The muscular coat consists of two ranges of fibres, one
longitudinal, following the great diameter from the cardia
to the pyloric end; the other circular internal, inclosing
the circumference of the organ, and most distinct when the
organ is empty. On the latter depends the contracted in¬
curvation of the stomach between the cardiac and pyloric
divisions. (Plate XXXVI. fig. 4.) Besides these, there
are on the left side of the cardia muscular slips expanded
on the two surfaces.
Gastric The stomach derives its blood from the cceliac artery,
vascular the branches of which are arranged in a peculiar and
system. beautiful manner. The cceliac divides into three vessels;
one gastric proper, the coronary; one common to it and
the liver, the gastro-hepatic; and one common to it and
the spleen, the gastro-splenic. The first, the coronary,
is distributed to the cardiac end, and, lodged in the peri¬
toneal fold of the small arch, proceeds towards the pylo¬
rus, distributing branches before and behind. The se¬
cond, after sending a large vessel to the liver, the hepatic,
sends a small one (arteria pyloricd), from the pyloric end,
towards the gastric, by the superior peritoneal fold, to meet
the terminal branches of the coronary; and a large one
(gastro-epiploica dextra), by that of the large curvature,
to meet the terminal branches of the left gastro-epiploic.
The third or spleno-gastric artery, after transmitting a
large vessel to the spleen, and various small vessels (yasa
brevia) to the large fundus, sends a large vessel {gastro-
epiploica sinistra), in the peritoneal fold of the large arch,
to inosculate with the terminal branches of the right
gastro-epiploic. The stomach is in this manner em¬
braced, as it were, by arterial canals above and below.
It is further remarkable, that while only one proper gas¬
tric artery, of inconsiderable size and limited distribution,
proceeds from the cceliac trunk, the gastro-hepatic and
gastro-splenic, each not much less than the coeliac itself,
send their largest branches to the stomach, and proceed¬
ing from opposite ends of that organ, inclose it, meeting by
inosculation in the middle of its great and small curvatures.
From the capillaries at the fundus, chiefly the vasa brevia,
the gastric fluid appears to be secreted. The blood, re¬
turned by corresponding veins, is poured into the portal.
The stomach receives nerves from the pneumogastric
and the great sympathetic. In the stomach the aliment¬
ary mass is converted into the pulp named chyme.
The duo- The duodenum {ventriculus succenturiatus), about twelve
deuum. inches long in the human subject, is distinguished by being
the most fixed part of the tube in situation. Placed
on the vertebral column, and on each side in the cavity
of the mesocolon, behind the stomach, and concealed by
that organ, it is bounded above by the liver and gall¬
bladder, below by the pancreas and lower part of the
mesocolon, and maintains the communication with the
pyloric end of the stomach and the ileum. The duodenum
is divided by two curvatures into three portions. The
first, which is covered by peritoneum, extending from the
pylorus to the site of the neck of the gall-bladder, hori- Special
zontally backwards and a little to the right, descends Anatomy,
about two inches almost perpendicularly. With this the'^^v^y
second portion, forming an angle, ascends obliquely to
the left, and terminates opposite the third lumbar vertebra.
The third, forming an angle rather more than right, ex¬
tends about two or three inches, and terminates at the
peritoneal ring, about one inch on the left of the spine,
where the ileum commences. The aperture of the com¬
mon biliary duct, inclosed in a nipple-like process, and the
pancreatic, are in the first portion. These curvatures are
firmly connected by filamentous tissue; and the bowel
retains them even after removal from the body.
The duodenum, void of peritoneal covering, consists
externally of cellular tissue, inclosing a range of circular
muscular fibres, and lined by villo-mucous membrane, ar¬
ranged in numerous folds, or valvulce conniventes. The
duodenal arteries are derived chiefly from the gastro-he¬
patic, and are very generally pyloric twigs. This mem¬
brane is provided with follicles, first well described by
Brunner.
In the duodenum, by admixture of the biliary and pan¬
creatic fluids with the chyme, the latter is prepared for the
separation ofchyle,wrhich, though more proper to the ileum,
is begun nevertheless in this bowel. The comparative im¬
mobility of the bowel is requisite, both in consequence of
the admixture now mentioned, and also of the fixed situa¬
tion of the two glands by which the fluids are supplied.
The ileum {simov) or small intestine {intestinum tenue), The ileum,
the longest part of the intestinal tube, extending generally
from 28 to 30 feet, commences at the annular process
above mentioned, and extends to the head of the colon,
in which it opens in the right iliac region. It consists of
a cylindrical musculo-membranous tube, surrounded by
peritoneum, the two folds of wrhich, meeting behind, at¬
tach it for the space of three or four inches to the ver¬
tebral column, and are again reflected laterally, as de¬
scribed in the first book of this treatise. This attaching
membrane is named the mesentery. The great length of
the tube, with the small extent of the mesentery, causes
it to hang suspended in numerous turns or convolutions.
By the ancients this intestine was distinguished into two
parts, jejunum or the empty, and the ileum proper; and
Winslow idly undertook to fix the limits of this division
by referring the two upper thirds to the former, and the
two lower to the latter. This distinction, however, for
which there is no anatomical foundation, must be rejected
as at once arbitrary and useless.
The muscular tunic consists of circular fibres entirely.
The villo-mucous membrane presents numerous valvulce Structure.
conniventes, which increase its surface to at least double
that of its proper area. These duplicatures are most nu¬
merous in the upper part of the tube, and diminish as they
descend.
The mucous surface of the ileum is peculiar in pre-The villi,
senting the piles or villosities in their most perfect form.
When a portion of ileum is inverted, inflated, and immers¬
ed in pure water, an infinite number of minute processes
are seen waving amidst the fluid; but a powerful glass
does not enable the observer to determine whether they
are round or flat, solid or hollow, obtuse or pointed. Of
their shape and structure various accounts are given.
They were first represented, in 1721, by Helvetius, as
cylindrical prominences in quadrupeds, but conical in the
human subject. According to the microscopical observa¬
tions of Lieberkuhn, each villus receives a minute lac¬
teal tube, arterial branches, a vein, and a nerve; and in
each the lacteal is expanded into a minute sac or blad¬
der {ampullula, vesicula) like an egg, in the apex of
which may be seen by the microscope a minute opening.
ANATOMY.
61
Special
Anatomy
The villi.
On this sac the arterial branches are ramified to great
delicacy, and terminate in minute veins, which then unite
into one trunk; while its inner surface he represents as
spongy and cellular. The space between the villi, which
do not touch each other, he further represents to be oc¬
cupied by the open orifices of follicles, so numerous that
he counted eighty of them where were eighteen villi;
and both, he asserts, are covered by a thin but tenacious
membrane similar to epidermis.
Hewson, while he admits in each villus the ramification
of minute arteries and veins, denies the saccular expan¬
sion, and infers that the lacteals are ramified in the same
manner as the blood-vessels, and that the whole consti¬
tute a broad flat body, the spongy appearance of which
he ascribes to the mutual ramification of the latter. With
this in general Cruikshank agrees; while Sheldon, who
found the villi not only round and cylindrical as Hewson,
but bulbous as Lieberkuhn, and even sabre-shaped, rather
confirms the statements of that anatomist. Mascagni
and Soemmering, agreeing in the general fact of vascular
and lacteal structure, seem to represent the shape of the
villus as that of a mushroom, consisting of a stalk and a
pileus.
Some of these discordant statements Hedwig attempts
with equal ingenuity and industry to reconcile. The dif¬
ferences in shape he refers to differences in the animals
examined; and in one class finds them cylindrical (e. g.
in man and the horse) ; in another conical (the dog) ; in
a third club-shaped (the pheasant); and in a fourth
pointed or pyramidal (e. g. the mouse). The interior
structure he also represents as spongy in all the animals
which he examined; and invariably also he found at the
apex the orifice of the duct, which, after the example of
Lieberkuhn, he conceives constitutes the ampullula.
These conclusions are not exactly confirmed by the re¬
searches of Rudolphi, who examined the villi in man and
a considerable number of animals. This anatomist never
found the orifice seen by Hedwig, notwithstanding every
care taken to distinguish it. He maintains that the villi are
not alike in all parts of the intestinal canal of the same
animal, as represented by Hedwig, but may be cylindri¬
cal in one part, club-shaped in another, and acuminated
in a third. Admitting their vascular structure, which he
thinks may be demonstrated, he regards the ampullular
expansion as doubtful, and denies its cellular arrangement.
About the same time Bleuland, who had previously ex¬
amined the intestinal mucous membrane, after successful
injection of its capillaries, undertook to revive the leading
circumstances of the description of Lieberkuhn. By ex¬
amining microscopically well-injected portions of intes¬
tine, he shows that the villi are composed of a system of
very minute arterial and venous capillaries, inclosing a
lacteal, which constitutes the ampulla, and in the interior
of which a certain order of these capillaries terminates.
He also revives the statement of the absorbing orifice at
the extremity of each villus.
According to the observations of Beclard, the intestinal
villi appear neither conical, nor cylindrical, nor tubular,
nor expanded at top, as described by several authors, but
in the shape of leaflets or minute plates, so closely set
that they form an abundant tufted pile. Their shape va¬
ries according to the manner in which they are examined.,
and according to the part. Those of the pyloric half of
the stomach and duodenum are broader than long, and
form minute plates; those of the jejunum are long and
narrow, constituting piles ; at the end of the ileum they
become laminar, and in the colon are scarcely prominent.
1 hey are semitranslucent; their surface is smooth; and
neither openings at their surface, in their cavity, or in
their interior, nor vascular structure can be recognised.
The villo-mucous membrane of the ileum is provided Special
with mucous follicles of two orders, the glandulce solita- -Anatomy.
rice and the glandulce agminatoe ; the former, like gran-
ules, disseminated over the attached surface of the mu-^’6”311
cous membrane; the latter clustered in bodies at the an-glan<ls‘
terior exterior part. They partake of the general charac¬
ters of follicular structure.
The ileum is liberally supplied with blood by the supe¬
rior mesenteric artery, the arrangement and distribution
of which may be understood from fig. 4, Plate XXIX.
The nerves are derived from the solar plextis.
The colon, or large intestine (intestinum crassum), be-The colon,
ginning in the right iliac region, extends round the folds
of the abdominal cavity, inclosing the ileum, to the left
iliac and pelvic, where it terminates in the rectum. Its
length is from six to seven feet. The beginning {caput
caecum) is a round obtuse bowel, with a minute tubular
process, varying in length, named the vermiform. The
lower end of the ileum is inserted into the beginning
of the colon laterally; and to the part below the inser¬
tion the name of caecum or blind gut is restricted. From
the caecum the colon descends to the right hypochondre
{colon dextrum), where it is connected at the hepatic
flexure to the liver by the hepato-colic ligament, two
folds of peritoneum, with intermediate filamentous tis¬
sue ; between the right or hepatic flexure and the left or
splenic it is distinguished as the transverse arch {colon
transversum), attached to the large arch of the stomach
by the gastro-colic margin of the omentum; an angular
bend in the left hypochondre forms the splenic flexure;
and, finally, after making a long sinuous alternating bend
in the left iliac and pelvic regions, named the sigmoid
flexure, it terminates in a portion comparatively straight
(ro ivQv, rectum), and following only the antero-posterior
incurvation of the inner surface of the sacrum, on which
it is placed.
The colon is about two inches in diameter at an average.
The appearance of this intestine is intimately connected
with its structure. Inclosed in peritoneum, by the poste¬
rior junction of which it is connected to the adjoining or¬
gans, it consists of a layer of circular fibres, intersected
by three bands of longitudinal fibres. Both are asserted
to be muscular; but perhaps the latter are more of the
nature of aponeurosis, to give support and resistance to
the action of the former. Whatever be their nature, how¬
ever, they give the colon the appearance of being divided
into transverse cells, separated by superficial partitions.
The mucous membrane of the colon possesses the villous
character in the caecum and right part, but loses it towards
the lower part of the intestine. It is formed into large
transverse folds or duplicatures, which separate the inter¬
nal cells or compartments of the bowel.
At the insertion of the ileum into the colon the mucous The ileo-
membrane of each is prolonged with the submucous tis-csecal
sue, and they mutually meet in two crescentic processes, valve‘
one superior, small {plica superior, labium superius), the
other inferior, large {plica inferior, labium inferius), and
approaching, by its greater prolongation, the paraboloid
shape. The ileal side of both folds is concave, the caecal
or colic convex; and between their free margins, which
are rounded, is an intermediate fissure, maintaining the
communication between the two intestines. This arrange
ment, which is named the ileo-cascal valve {valvula Bau-
hini, from its supposed discoverer), is supposed to allow
the transit of alimentary and excremental matter from the
ileum to the colon, but not in the converse direction.
The organization of the rectum is the same as that of
the colon generally; but it is uncovered by peritoneum
behind. Its lower extremity is surrounded by two circu¬
lar ranges of muscular fibres, named the internal and ex-
02 ANATOM Y.
Special ternal sphincters. The lower fibres of the levator ani are
Anatomy, inserted into its sides.
' The caecum and right and transverse portions of the co-
V ascular jon are SUpp]ie(i blood from the superior mesenteric,
sj & em. means 0f the colic arteries. The left iliac or sigmoid
flexure receives vessels from the inferior mesenteric.
The splenic part is supplied by vessels derived from the
great anastomotic communication between the superior
and inferior mesenteries. (Plate XXIX. fig. 4.) The rec¬
tum is copiously supplied with blood from three different
sources. The first is the termination of the inferior me¬
senteric, which is contained between the folds of the me-
sorectum, under the name of superior hemorrhoidal. The
second is the middle hemorrhoidal, or proper artery, derived
from the hypogastric or posterior iliac. The third is the
internal pudic, the lower or perineal branch of which sup¬
plies the sphincter with several branches on each side, dis¬
tinguished by the name of inferior hemorrhoidal arteries.
The nerves are derived partly from the hypogastric
plexus, partly from the sacral branches.
The rectum, like the pharynx, placed between the two
classes of organs, entrophic and animal, belongs in some
degree to both. As the termination of the alimentary ca¬
nal, it belongs to the former; but by its sphincters and
levator it pertains to the latter.
The appendages of the alimentary canal are two glands,
the liver and pancreas, and a cellulo-vascular organ, the
spleen
The liver. The liver (Jiepar,jecur) is a large glandular organ, weigh¬
ing from two to three pounds, situate in the right hypo¬
chondriac and epigastric regions, with the diaphragm above,
and the hepatic flexure of the colon and the stomach be¬
low. It has a convex upper surface, a concave lower one,
a posterior obtuse margin attached to the diaphragm by
cellular tissue, and an anterior inferior acute one which
is free. The lower surface is distinguished into right
and left lobes by a middle pit (sulcus umhilicalis, v. hori-
zontalis), in which the round ligament, the residue of the
umbilical vein, is contained, and which is occasionally a
canal by an arch of hepatic substance. The inferior sur¬
face of the left lobe is divided into anterior and posterior
parts by a transverse furrow (sidcus transversus, fossa
transversa), in which the trunk of the hepatic arteries,
and the portal vein, and the hepatic ends of the biliary
ducts, are contained. The margins of this furrow, which
are elevated in the lower animals, were named gates by
the ancients (cruXa/, portce), from an erroneous theory.
The posterior, which is most prominent, is distinguished
by the name of small lobe of Spigelius (Jobulus Spigelii).
The other distinctions of this surface into lobulus qua-
dratus and lobulus caudatus are immaterial. Between
the anterior portal eminence and the umbilical/ossa is an
oval depression (fovea cystica), containing the gall bladder.
The liver is invested by peritoneum, the folds of which
connect it to the neighbouring organs, and retain it in its
place. Of these, the most important are the broad and
coronary above, the lower or falciform below, and the gas-
tro-hepatic duplicature between the liver and stomach.
This forms the investment named capsule of Glisson, in
which the portal veins are inclosed.
Structure The structure of the liver is glandular. Two classes of
and organi-vessels and a system of tubes are distributed in it; one
zation. ramifying into branches and minute tubes, the hepatic
artery and portal vein; another, the hepatic veins, con¬
verging to a trunk, the vena cava hepatica ; the third, the
pori biliarn, converging into ducts terminating in the he¬
patic duct. From the researches of numerous anatomists,
it appears that the hepatic artery, which is derived from
the cceliac, and the portal vein, formed from the veins of
the stomach, intestines, spleen, and pancreas, terminate
in minute vessels mutually communicating. It appears Sjecial
further, that these capillaries communicate with those Anatomy,
of the hepatic veins, and even the origins of the biliary
pores; and Soemmering especially infers, that, every he¬
patic acinus consists of hepatic artery, portal vein, hepatic
vein, bile-pore, and lymphatic. From this, however, it
does not altogether result that bile is secreted from the
hepatic arterial blood. Each acinus may require a minute
artery for nutrition, a portal venule for furnishing the
materials of secretion, a duct for receiving the secreted
product, and a vein for returning the residual blood.
The hepatic duct unites at an angle with the cystic, and
forming the common duct, terminates in the duodenum.
The gall bladder, which is a pyriform bag, with the fundus
below and before, and a neck above and behind, acts as a
receptacle for the bile when it is not required in the
duodenum. rY\\e fundus, placed between the concave sur¬
face of the liver above, and the convex one of the pyloric
division of the stomach below, may be compressed by
that part of the organ when distended, so as to expel the
bile from its cavity.
The pancreas is a flat, oblong, glandular body, measur-The pan-
ing from five to six inches in length, and weighing fromcreas.
three to five ounces, contained in the posterior epiploic
cavity below the duodenum. It consists of lobules similar
to those of the salivary glands. It has a proper artery, from
which the pancreatic fluid, very similar to the salivary, is
secreted, and conveyed into a small duct. The residual
blood is conveyed by a proper vein to the portal.
The spleen (lien) is an oblong hemispheroidal organ, of The spleen,
a deep blue venous blood colour, varying in weight from 6
to 12 or 15 ounces, placed in the left hypochondre, between
the fundus of the stomach and the left side of the dia¬
phragm, with a plane surface applied to the former, and a
convex to the latter part. The spleen is covered by peri¬
toneum, which, doubling before, forms along the middle of
the organ a gastro-splenic omentum, by which it is attach¬
ed to the stomach. It is generally connected to the colon
by a short peritoneal slip.
The intimate structure of the spleen is peculiar. It
consists of a number of minute communicating compart¬
ments, separated by septa, with white granules intermixed.
These cells contain dark-coloured blood; and the organ
is indeed more abundantly filled with this fluid than any
other in the body. These cells appear to be of the na¬
ture of erectile vessels. The splenic artery is very large
in proportion to the organ, and apparently communicates
by minute terminations with veins, in which the blood is
occasionally accumulated.
The principal use of the spleen appears to be, that it
serves as a receptacle for a large quantity of blood, which
accumulates in the splenic vessels, or flows into those of
the stomach, as the latter organ requires. When the
stomach is empty, it shrinks ; and its blood-vessels, folded
on themselves, neither require nor transmit so much of
this fluid as they do when the organ is distended. In
the latter case the vessels are stretched, their canals are
rectified, and the blood flows freely through them. At
this period the additional supply seems chiefly to be de¬
rived from the spleen. The splenic vessels also appear
to contribute chiefly to the secretion of the gastric fluid,
which is most abundant at the fundus of the organ.
SECT. XI. THE CHYLOPHOROUS VESSELS.
On the lacteals or intestinal lymphatics it is superfluous
to add any thing to what is stated in Book I.
These vessels arise from the villous surface of the ileum,
and proceeding between the folds of the mesentery, unite
at the vertebral margin of that membranous duplicature,
somewhere between the third lumbar vertebra and the aor-
A N A T
Special tic opening of the diaphragm. Here they terminate in a
Anatomy, jointed irregular tube situate behind the aorta, and which,
passing through the aortic opening of the diaphragm, pro¬
ceeds through the chest between the artery and vena azy¬
gos, as high as the sixth, fifth, or fourth dorsal vertebra.
Here it inclines to the left, and, passing behind the aortic
arch and the left subclavian artery, winds to the left of the
latter vessel, and, before the longus colli, ascends as high
as the seventh or sixth cervical vertebra, where it termi¬
nates in the angle between the internal jugular and sub¬
clavian veins, in the trunk of these vessels. This is the
thoracic duct. A similar vessel, though smaller, is found on
the right side.
CHAP. II. THE HEMATROPHIC ORGANS.
The organs of the hematrophic or circulating function
consist of the heart as a central propelling agent, and of
arteries and veins as distributing and reducent channels.
The hematrophic organs may be distinguished into three
orders ; first, those of the general or nutritive circulat¬
ing system; secondly, those of the aerating circulating
system; and, thirdly, those of the secreting system. Of
these the heart is the central agent; but in the mammalia
and man it consists of two divisions, one pertaining to the
general arterial, the other to the pulmonary or aerating
system.
SECT. I.—THE ORGANS OF NUTRITIVE CIRCULATION.
§ 1. THE HEART AND HEART-PURSE.
The heart is a conical muscular organ, containing four
communicating chambers, inclosed in a membranous sac,
and situate in the anterior middle region of the thorax.
The pen- The inclosing sac, named heart-purse, or capsule of the
cardium. heart {pericardium), consists of two portions or layers, an
outer or proper capsular, and an inner or lining division.
The outer or proper capsular part of the pericardium pos¬
sesses the characters of a fibrous membrane, of some den¬
sity and considerable strength. When washed, its colour
is gray or grayish-white, and it appears to consist of
minute fibrous threads, arranged without definite order.
These fibres are most distinct at its lower margin, where it
is connected to the circumference of the tendinous part
of the diaphragm. In the young subject it is generally
thin and translucent; in adult age or advanced life it is
thicker and more opaque. This part of the pericardium
is a mere investing membrane, which bounds the region
containing the heart, but which extends no further. It
embraces the origins of the large vessels above, adheres to
the margins of the tendinous centre below, and is on each
side connected with the pleura.
The inner surface of the pericardium has the appearance
of a transparent or serous membrane, through which the
fibres of the outer or capsular part may be seen, and which
has the usual glistening aspect of such membranes. It is
difficult, however, to insulate it from the outer layer, un¬
less by boiling, when it may be peeled off in minute shreds.
Like the transparent membranes, this inner layer has
neither beginning nor end, neither origin nor termination.
After lining the inner surface of the proper capsule, it
may be traced from the angle at which this capsule ad¬
heres to the large arteries and veins, over the auricles,
and finally, over the outer surface of the ventricles to the
apex of the heart.
In this course it preserves the characters of a thin
transparent membrane, with a free surface, smooth, glis¬
tening, and moistened by a watery fluid; and an attached
one, adhering on the one hand to the inner surface of the
capsule, and on the other to the outer surface of the heart
by means of fine filamentous tissue.
O M Y. 63
Injection shows that the pericardium consists chiefly of Special
minute arteries and veins. The former are derived from Anatomy,
the thymic, phrenic, bronchial, ossophageal, and coronaries
of the heart. The substance of the capsular part is pro-
bably a modification of the white fibrous system. Nerves
have not been traced to any part of this membrane; nor
is it ascertained that it contains lymphatics.
Of a general conical shape, the heart {cor) is situate The heart,
obliquely beneath and behind the sternum, with the base
{basis) above and towards the right, and the tip (apex)
pointing downwards, forwards, and towards the left. The
axis of the cardiac cone lies at once obliquely from rhdit
to left and from behind forwards. (Plate XXXI.) The
surface may be distinguished into two parts,—the ante¬
rior convex, appearing in the space between the right
margin of the sternum and the sinuosity of the left lung;
the posterior plane, resting chiefly on the oblique surface
of the diaphragmatic tendinous centre. These two surfaces
are united by a sharp anterior-inferior margin (margo acu¬
ta), and an obtuse posterior-superior one (margo obtusd).
It generally corresponds in size with the fist of the indivi¬
dual ; its average weight in the adult is about ten ounces;
and its length from the middle of the base to the tip is
about five inches.
The base of the heart is circular, flattened behind, and
presents an oblique groove, which indicates the limits be¬
tween the auricles and the ventricles.
Each auricle is of a tetrahedral shape, and is distinguish¬
ed into the basilar or membranous part (sinus venosus), and
the tip or proper auricle (auricula), a pyramidal angular
process, the structure of which is muscular. The right
auricle is the largest, the left smaller.
The ventricles constitute the great part of the cardiac
cone. Their anterior and posterior surfaces present each
a longitudinal depression (sulcus longitudinalis superior et
inferior), proceeding from the base to the tip, containing
the anterior and posterior coronary vessels, and indicating
the situation of the fleshy partition (septum ventriculorum)
common to both ventricles.
The interior of the right auricle behind presents above
the opening of the superior cava (ostium venosum superius),
below that of the inferior cava (ostium venosum inferius),
larger, directed obliquely inward, with an intermediate
eminence (tubercidum Loiveri), denominated after Lower,
and the Eustachian valve below (vol.ii. 794). Belowandan-
teriorly is the opening into the ventricle, bounded by a
round margin (ostium inferius) ; above is the tip presenting
muscular bands (musculi pectinati) ; and within is the par¬
tition common to both auricles (septum auricularum), with
an oval depression (fossa ovalis), the residue of the fora¬
men ovale, occasionally bounded before by a crescentic slip
of membrane.
The right ventricle (ventriculus dexter velpulmoncdis) is
trilateral pyramidal in shape, with its base above corre¬
sponding to the inferior auricular aperture, its apex to that
of the heart, the anterior-external wall corresponding with
the anterior convex surface of the heart, and the pos¬
terior-internal with the common partition (septum cordis).
It has two apertures—a right superior, communicating
with the auricle ; and a left superior, communicating with
the pulmonary artery.
To the margin of the superior right aperture (ostium
auriculo-ventriculare dextrum), which is round and thick,
are attached several membranous triangular folds (lacinicc),
with two, or occasionally three apices, to which are fixed
tendinous chords (chordce tendinece), with their opposite
extremities terminating in muscular cylinders (musculi
papillares, m. teretes), connected with the fleshy walls of
the ventricle. This membranous fold, though often com¬
posed of two triangular slips only, is denominated the
ANATOMY.
Special three-pointed or tricuspid valve (yalvula triglochin, v. tri-
Anatomy. cuspidalis). Its apices hang into the ventricular cavity,
and are prevented by the tendinous chords and their mus¬
cular bands from being forced back into the auricle.
The left superior aperture {ostium arterice pulmonalis),
corresponding to the beginning of the pulmonary artery
which is attached to it, is placed behind the inner slip of
the tricuspid valve, by which also it is covered. The in¬
ner margin of the pulmonary artery presents three cres¬
centic or semilunar slips, named the sigmoid valves {val-
vulce sigmoidece), with their convex surface towards the
ventricle, and the concave one towards the artery, and mi¬
nute bodies at the middle {noduli Morgagnii), correspond¬
ing to the axis of the artery.
The interior of the left or posterior auricle presents on
the right the two openings of the right pulmonary veins,
on the left those of the left pulmonary veins, occasionally
uniting in a single aperture, to the right and anteriorly
the left surface of the septum, bounded before by a small
semilunar slip, and below the aperture into the left or aor¬
tic ventricle.
The left ventricle has the shape of an obtuse cone,
with its base above and behind, and its rounded apex
behind and to the left. It is rather larger than the right.
The basis has two apertures, a large posterior one, com¬
municating with the auricle {ostium auriculo-ventriculare
sinistrum); and a smaller anterior, opening into the aorta
{ostium aorticum). To the ventricular margin of the for¬
mer is attached an irregular membranous slip, not dissi¬
milar to that of the right auriculo-ventricular opening,
but always terminating in two apices, to which tendinous
chords, connected with tapering muscular bands, are also
attached. This has been denominated the bicuspid or mi¬
tral valve {valvula mitralis). Like the tricuspid, its apices
hang into the ventricle, and are prevented from being re-
truded into the auricle by the tendinous chords and papil¬
lary muscles.
The aortic aperture, anterior and smaller, corresponds
with the commencement of the aorta. Like the pulmo¬
nary aperture of the right auricle, it presents three semi¬
lunar valves, with the convex surface to the ventricle and
the concave to the artery, and with central granules {cor-
puscula Arantii). These valves are occasionally distin¬
guished into anterior, posterior, and inferior or lateral,
according to their relation to the plane of the body. In
their aortic side are generally small hollows, chiefly occa¬
sioned by distension of the aorta, named aortic sinuses.
The heart consists chiefly of muscular fibres, closely
united by filamentous tissue, covered externally by the
reflected or cardiac portion of the pericardium, and inter¬
nally by a proper membrane.
Each auricle consists of two parts,—a membranous-
muscular, arranged in the stratified mode {fascice), distin¬
guished as the sinus; and a fasciculo-muscular, distin¬
guished as the tip of the auricle, arranged in short parallel
bundles {funes). The muscular walls of the left ventricle
are more than double the thickness of the right; and while
those of the latter collapse on division, those of the for¬
mer retain their original disposition. The fleshy pillars of
the interior of the right are small and slender compared
with those of the left, which are thick and strong.
The arrangement of the muscular fibres of the heart,
which has been studied by Senac, Wolff, Duncan, and
Gerdy, is peculiar. Though mutually interlacing, like all
the muscles of the entrophic order, the external are ar¬
ranged in layers {strata), while the internal affect the fasci¬
culated form. At the base they are incurvated round the
basilar border, and wind obliquely towards the apex ; but
as they approach the latter region, more especially in the
septum, they observe the longitudinal direction. The as¬
sertion of Soemmering, that they are distinguished as be- Special
ing connected without filamentous tissue, is inaccurate.
The adipose tissue at the surface, and towards the base
and apex of the heart, appears to be useful in facilitating
motion in an organ in incessant action, and forms a soft
cushion for the cardiac arteries.
The inner membrane of the heart is thin and transpa¬
rent. In the right auricle and ventricle, where it is conti¬
nuous on the one hand with the inner venous membrane,
on the other with the inner membrane of the pulmonary
artery, it is evidently different from that in the left cavi¬
ties. * It is thinner, and more delicate and transparent.
Covering every recess, it is doubled to form the different
valvular productions. By Bichat it is believed to be iden¬
tical with the inner venous membrane ; but this is mere
supposition. In the left cavities the inner membrane is
thicker and more opaque than the right; and its valvular
duplicatures, which are much thicker, approach to the fibro¬
cartilaginous character. This is particularly the case in
the aortic sigmoid valves, which often in the healthy adult
are firm and elastic, not unlike the palpebralfibro-cartilages.
The supposition of Bichat, that it is identical with the
inner arterial membrane, with which it is continuous, is, in
regard to the ventricle, not improbable.
The heart is supplied with blood from the aorta by
means of the right anterior or inferior, and the left su¬
perior or posterior coronary or cardiac arteries {arterice
cardiacce), both issuing from the aortic sinus immediate¬
ly above the anterior and lateral sigmoid valves. The
right or anterior coronary artery, lodged in the superior
furrow, after sending several large branches to the septum
and left ventricle, inosculates at the apex with a large
branch of the left or posterior coronary. The latter, which
is the largest of the two, after winding round the base of
the heart towards the right, is recurvated at the thin mar¬
gin to the posterior surface, where it runs in the posterior
furrow, and is divided into two considerable branches, the
larger of which is distributed to the apex; while the
smaller, running transversely between the left auricle and
ventricle, winds round to the obtuse border, and terminates
at the apex, where all the three vessels inosculate freely.
The blood is returned by corresponding veins to the coro¬
nary, which terminate by one aperture in the right auricle.
Its nerves are derived from the pneumogastnc and sym¬
pathetic.
The four chambers of the heart {atria, atriola) are dis¬
tinguished into pairs,—a right auricle and ventricle com¬
municating mutually and with the pulmonary artery, and
a left auricle and ventricle communicating with the aorta.
The auricles, separated by the common septum, do not
communicate in the natural state; and though in many
hearts an oblique opening exists at the anterior margin of
the oval depression passing into the left, the crescentic
membranous slip by which it is covered prevents the
blood of the right auricle from communicating with that
of the left. The ventricles are separated also by a thick,
fleshy, common partition, through which there is no direct
communication, though it was a favourite subject of in¬
quiry before the time of Harvey, to discover communicat¬
ing apertures.
The capacity of these chambers varies. The right au- Capacity of
ricle is always more capacious than the left. The two the cardiac
ventricles are, as near as may be, of equal capacity; andchambers.
the discordant results obtained on this point by numerous
inquirers show merely that any variation is accidental or
dependent on the state of the organ during the close of
life. The blood found in the right ventricle after death
varies from 11 ounce to 3 ounces. The capacity of the
left, which is generally empty, is estimated by Meckel to
vary from 8 to 20 drachms.
ANATOMY.
65
Special The blood contained in the right chambers is modena-
Anatomy. coloured or venous; that of the left chambers is scarlet-
red or arterial. The former is derived from the vence
Course of which open into the right auricle; the latter from
throu h the Pulmonary veins> which open into the left. The di-
the°car(liacrection in which the blood flows on both sides is from the
diambs. venous apertures into the auricles, thence to the ventricles,
and thence to the respective arteries. The venous blood,
on reaching the auricle, distends it, and impels its muscles
to contraction ; and the cavity thus diminished expels the
blood in the only direction in which it can proceed,—by
the aurico-ventricular aperture into the ventricle. This
chamber being distended, its muscular walls all round,
especially at the base, contract and diminish its cavity,
when the blood, extruded, quits the ventricle in the only
direction in which it can, viz. by the aperture of the pul¬
monary artery. The blood from the pulmonary veins fol¬
lows the same course in the chambers of the left side.
The blood of the ventricles is prevented from returning
into the auricles partly by the tricuspid and mitral valves,
but chiefly by the annular contraction of the auriculo-ven-
tricular apertures, which are drawn from the margins to¬
wards the septum; while the latter is shortened, and the
apex is made to approach the base.
ihe distribution of the branches of the aorta may
understood fiom the following tabular view.
S
o
r
C3
□
u
tu
•*->
X
W
Superior thyroid.
Pharyngeal.
Lingual.
External maxillary.
Occipital.
Post-auricular.
Temporal.
.Internal maxillary.
15^ f Ophthalmic.
£ '-g I Posterior communicating,
•g £ 1 Anterior cerebral.
° [Middle cerebral.
'Vertebral.
Inferior thyroid.
Suprascapular.
Transverse cervical.
Ascending cervical.
Deep cervical.
Internal mammary.
. Superior intercostal.
§ 2. THE ARTERIES AND VEINS.
Connected with each ventricle is a large tube, in which
the blood flows from the trunk to the branches. The
pulmonary artery, the first of these, divaricates into a
right and left branch, subdivided and distributed respec¬
tively to the right and left lung.
The aorta, which is the second, is the large artery
which distributes the blood after aeration in the lungs to
the system at large.
The aorta, rising from the left ventricle, after giving off
the cardiac arteries, makes an antero-posterior incurva¬
tion with the convexity upwards, denominated the arch
or curvature (arcus aortce). (Plate XXXI. a, a.) From
the upper side of this arch arise three large vessels, the
innominata or subclavio-carotid, the common trunk of the
right subclavian and carotid arteries (i), the left carotid
(i), and the left subclavian. The aortic trunk, after
this curvature, proceeds downward on the left margin
of the dorsal vertebrae, giving oesophageal, bronchial, and
superior intercostal arteries, thymic, pericardial, and in¬
ferior intercostal arteries successively. From the level of
this arch to the parabolic opening of the diaphragm at the
tenth dorsal vertebra, it is distinguished by the name of
thoracic aorta; and below this, to the fourth lumbar verte¬
bra, it is the abdominal aorta. At its transit through the
parabolic aperture it sends off the diaphragmatic arteries.
The vessels issuing from the abdominal aorta may be dis¬
tinguished into two orders, those which issue from its sides
in pairs, and those which issue from its anterior surface sing¬
ly only. The former consists of the capsular, distributed to
the renal capsules; the renal or emulgent, to the kidneys;
the spermatic, to the testes; and the lumbar, to the lumbar
muscles, and that region generally. The latter are three
in number only, the cceliac, superior mesenteric, and inferior
mesenteric. Opposite the fifth lumbar vertebra, or the fibro-
cartilage uniting the fourth and fifth, the aorta terminates
by divaricating into two large lateral trunks, the common or
primary iliacs (iliacce communes'); while from its middle be¬
hind proceeds a small azygos artery, distinguished as the
sacro-median, along the median line of the sacrum. In
this course the aorta is placed in the posterior angle of the
thoracic and abdominal serous membranes, and, inclosed
by the anterior vertebral filamentous tissue, sends from
its posterior surface numerous arteries to the vertebral
column and spinal chord.
vol. m.
-o
3
irj
< o.
2
CQ
i bJD 1
O
1 £
^5
Pi
External thoracic.
Infrascapular.
Circumflex humeral.
Deep humeral.
Anastomotics,
or
Articulars.
Radial i*ecurrent.
Superficial volar.
Dorso-radial of the thumb.
Dorso-radial of the fore finger.
Annular—deep arch.
. f Ulnar recurrents.
c3 1 Interosseal,
p j Nutritious.
L Volar or palmar—superficial arch.
Ileo-lumbar.
Sacral-lateral.
Obturator.
Gluteal.
Ischiatic.
Internal pudic.
Umbilical.
Vesical.
Middle hemorrhoidal.
Uterine.
Vaginal.
(Inguinal
portion.
f Epigastric.
(Circumflex iliac.
Deep f Circumflex femoral,
femoral. (Perforating.
Superior articular.
Inferior articular.
Internal inferior circumflex.
External inferior circumflex.
Anterior 1 ^ rr Deep
tibial. / Dorsal of the foot-1 plantar
T1 , . (Internal plantar. ) arch.
tibhal°r i External plantar—superficial
. Peroneal.
a;
Oh
3
c/i
arch.
i
66 A N A T
Special In general the denominations of these arteries indicate
Anatomy, the parts to which they are distributed. In the ultimate
distribution of the arterial system, however, there is great
variety; and it is often impossible to determine the exact
origin, course, and distribution of the smaller terminations.
The trunks alone are constant in position. In distribution,
the following general rules are observed:—ls£, The arterial
trunks send small lateral branches to the parts between
which they run. 2dly, The majority of individual organs
are supplied, not by one proper vessel, but either by one
principal artery and two or more subordinate ones, or by
several subordinate ones. 3dh/, A trunk, after giving
off several lateral branches, may either terminate in one
vessel, which is ultimately distributed to the organs to
which it is destined; or it may divaricate into several,
none of which may be considerable enough in size, or di¬
rect enough in course, to be regarded as the proper termi¬
nal vessel. Thus it is often difficult to determine whether
the temporal artery or the internal maxillary is the con¬
tinuation of the external carotid, which of the palmo-digital
arteries is the continuation of the radial, whether the an¬
terior or the posterior tibial artery is the continuation of
the popliteal, and whether the dorsal of the foot is the
termination of the former, bthly, In the terminal vessels,
where inosculation is frequent, it is impossible to deter¬
mine whether an artery arises from one trunk or another.
Thus in the arterial arches of the hand and foot, in which
the digital vessels issue from the convexity of the arch, it
is impossible to say whether these arteries arise from the
radial or the ulnar in the one case, or the anterior or the
posterior tibial in the other.
The arteries are accompanied by veins, which in gene¬
ral correspond, for the purpose of conveying the residual
blood, after distribution, to the right chambers of the
heart, to be transmitted by the pulmonary artery to the
lungs for renovation. The veins of the head, chest, and
superior extremities, open into the superior cava ; those
of the lower part of the trunk, the pelvis and pelvic ex¬
tremities, terminate in the inferior cava ; the veins of the
stomach, intestinal canal, spleen, and pancreas, terminate
in the portal vein; and the regredient hepatic veins are
united in one vessel, which terminates in the upper end of
the inferior cava.
SECT. II. THE ORGANS OF AERATING CIRCULATION, OR
RESPIRATION.
The lungs are two soft, spongy, vascular bodies, con¬
tained in the cavity of the chest, one on each side, and
imitating in shape the internal figure of that region. Each
lung, resembling somewhat a cone, with one side truncated,
and the base obliquely cut, is distinguished into a convex
external surface, corresponding to the concave internal one
of the thorax ; a flat inner or mesial surface, corresponding
to the mediastinum ; a rounded obtuse apex, corresponding
to that of the demithorax; and a concave base directed
obliquely from the mesial plane to the hypochondres, cor¬
responding to the convex surface of the diaphragm.
Each lung is distinguished into lobes (lobi) separated
by fissures (fncisurce). The right, which is the largest,
consists in general of three lobes, the superior, middle,
and lower; the left of two only, an upper and lower. The
mesial margin of the left is distinguished from that of
the right by a sinuous notch, indicating the situation of
the heart (fovea cardiacd).
The intimate structure of these bodies, which has been
the subject of much research, depends on the nature of
the tubes which are distributed to them, and of which
chiefly they consist. These are the bronchial or breath-
tubes (bronchi), the continuations of the windpipe, and
the branches of the pulmonary artery and veins.
O M Y.
The windpipe (trachea) is a cylindrical tube, about four Special
or five inches long, extending from the cricoid cartilage, to Anatomy,
which it is attached by a fibro-mucous membi ane behind
the sternum, to the level of the third dorsal vertebra, or the
fibro-cartilage between it and the second. (Plate XXXI.
t.) It consists of from 17 to 18 or 20 cartilaginous rings
(annuli), truncated behind, united by a fibrous membrane
without, continuous, but particularly firm in the interannu-
lar spaces, and along the whole posterior part of the canal.
These fibres are white, firm, longitudinal, and closely set.
Within is the mucous membrane, continued from the la¬
rynx to the bronchi, resting on filamentous tissue, in which
arc embedded the mucous follicles. By many, muscular
fibres have been represented to exist between the rings ;
according to Soemmering transversely and longitudinally;
and Reisseissen has recently maintained their reality at the
posterior part of the tube. Their fibrous disposition is
undeniable, but their muscular character may be doubted.
The windpipe, covered before by the thyroid gland,
and corresponding to the sigmoid pit of the sternum, is at¬
tached to the oesophagus behind by filamentous tissue.
Opposite the third dorsal vertebra the trachea is bifur¬
cated into two tubes named air-tubes (bronchi), which are
directed obliquely to each lung with a mutual intermediate
angle of about 35°. The right is about one fourth larger
and one fifth longer than the left. Both are cylindrical, but
divaricate at their lower end, where they sink into the
substanceof the lungs, into several smaller tubes(irorac/wa),
which again ramify and subdivide into tubes still smaller,
and successively. The interbronchial angle is occupied by
lymphatic glands, which are also arranged round the tubes.
The bronchi consist of cartilaginous rings, complete
above, but parted into three annular segments between
the middle and lower ends, united by whitish fibrous tissue,
longitudinal externally, transverse within, and lined by
mucous folliculated membrane. As they advance into the
substance of the lungs, and are still more minutely divid¬
ed, the cartilages diminish in size and firmness, and their
place is supplied by fibrous tissue of transverse circular
fibres, which at length also disappear, and mucous mem¬
brane alone is left.
These transverse annular fibres have been supposed by
Haller, Soemmering, and recently Reisseissen, to be mus¬
cular. It is not improbable that they are so ; but no posi¬
tive proof of this fact has yet been adduced, and they ap¬
pear rather to belong to the elastic fibrous system.
The larger bronchial tubes are accompanied each by an
artery derived from the aorta or the subclavian, and fol¬
lowing their ramifications into the pulmonic substance.
The blood conveyed by these vessels is returned either to
the vena azygos or the superior cava.
The pulmonic or final divisions of the bronchial tubes
terminate in blind sacs covered by mucous membrane,
and communicate with each other, forming an appearance
of intersecting compartments, which have been distinguish¬
ed by the name of air-cells (cellulce aerece), or pulmonic
vesicles (vesiculce pulmonis). They are represented as
polygonal and irregular, and about one eighth or one tenth
part of aline in diameter. (Haller and Soemmering.) On
the whole, these air-cells appear to be merely the termi¬
nations of the bronchial tubes mutually communicating,
lined by a very delicate mucous membrane.
The pulmonary artery, ramified and subdivided to a
great degree of minuteness, communicates most freely
with a number of vessels, which may be traced into
trunks terminating in the pulmonary veins. This capil¬
lary system, enveloped in filamentous tissue, is distributed
beneath the mucous membrane of the terminal bronchial
tubes or communicating cells. The exterior surface of
this filamentous tissue is covered by the pleura. From
ANATOMY.
Special these facts it results that the lung consists of cartilaginous
Anatomy. an(j fibrous tubes mutually intersecting, and the capillary
communications of the pulmonary artery and veins, inve-
loped in filamentous tissue, lined on one side by mucous
membrane, covered on the other by transparent serous
membranes. The air-cells, lined by mucous membrane,
have no communication with those of the filamentous
tissue, as some have absurdly imagined. Except this fila¬
mentous tissue, the lung has no proper substance ox paren¬
chyma ; and its structure is entirely filamento-vascular.
In the capillary vessels of the pulmonary artery and
veins, the venous or modena blood, exposed to the in¬
fluence of the inspired air through the thin bronchial
membrane, parts with its dark, and gradually acquires a
bright red tint. This may be styled the aerating or ar-
terializing capillary system.
The lung, however, receives other vessels, the bron-
chials, by which its mucous aerating membrane and sub¬
mucous tissue are nourished. Entering with the bron¬
chial tubes between the folds of their pleura, these ves¬
sels are subdivided as they proceed, and at length form a
minute network on the attached surface of the bronchial
mucous membrane.
The lung derives its nerves from the eighth pair chiefly,
and a few filaments from the great sympathetic. The
lung is well supplied with lymphatics, both superficial and
deep.
SECT. III.—THE ORGANS OF SECRETORY CIRCULATION, OR
SECRETION.
Of the organs of secretory circulation, several, as the
lacrymal gland, the salivary glands, the liver, and pan¬
creas, have been already considered ; and others, for ex¬
ample the testes, will fall under subsequent heads. This,
however, is the proper place to notice the organs of the
urinary secretion, which consist of two glands, the kidneys,
and two excretory ducts, the ureters, terminating in a
common receptacle, the bladder.
The kidneys (renes) are two glandular bodies situate
in the posterior or lumbar part of the abdominal region,
one on each side of the lumbar vertebras, behind the pe¬
ritoneum, and before the psoas muscle and part of the
diaphragm, with the quadratus lumborum behind and la¬
terally, and enveloped in a thick layer of adipose tissue.
The right kidney is below the liver, above the caecum,
behind part of the duodenum, colon, and the right extre¬
mity of the pancreas. The left is bounded above by the
spleen, by the transverse arch of the colon before, and it
has the sigmoid flexure below. The right kidney is about
two inches from the outer margin of the vena cava, and
the left at about the same distance from the outer margin
of the aorta.
The situation of the right kidney is generally lower
than that of the left, so that part of its lower extremity is
in the iliac fossa, while the lower extremity of the left is
quite above the margin of the ilium.
Resembling in general shape the large French bean,
named from it, each kidney may be described as an ob¬
long body, convex externally and at both ends, and with
a sinuosity at its inner margin, named the renal fissure
{fovea rents), in which the vessels and excretory duct are
contained. Each kidney is between four and five inches
long, and two broad; and the weight of each varies from
three to four ounces. The anterior surface, correspond¬
ing but not attached to the outer surface of the peri¬
toneum, it convex, but becomes hollow at the inner mar¬
gin, where it terminates in the renal fissure. The pos¬
terior surface, which is less convex, is separated from the
internal aponeurosis of the transverse abdominal muscle,
67
The kid¬
neys.
the diaphragm, and the psoas magnus, by a thick layer Special
of adipose tissue. Anatomy^
The kidney consists of glandular structure, invested by
a firm membrane, somewhat fibrous in appearance.
In the glandular structure the anatomist recognises the Structure,
most distinct example of this form of tissue. It consists
of two parts, a granular external, and a tubular internal.
The former, which occupies the exterior of the kidney, is a
homogeneous substance, of a yellow fawn colour, and con¬
sists of minute spherical or spheroidal granules {granula),
aggregated together by filamentous tissue, and forming at
their exterior calycoid or cup-like cavities, in which the
round fundi of the tubular conoids are lodged. In these
the capillary vessels of the kidney are ramified with great
minuteness. The tubular part consists of very minute
capillary tubes {tubuli uriniferi, tubuli Belliniani), varying
in length, united by filamentous tissue, and arranged in
parallel juxtaposition, so as to form conoids with globu¬
lar bases, which are lodged in the cup-like cavities of the
granular portion, and rounded apices directed to the renal
fissure. The number of these tubular cones varies from
10 or 12 to 18 or 20. Their apices form an equal num¬
ber of nipple-like processes {papillce), covered by a thin
membrane almost transparent, in which are numerous
minute holes, apertures of the tubes of which the cones
are composed. These apertures, however, are much less
numerous than the tubes, several of which are united in
one common orifice. The renal papillae thus constituted
project into a series of conical cavities, formed within of
the papillary membrane, without of fibrous strata and fila¬
mentous tissue. These cavities, which from their shape
are denominated funnels {infundibula, calyces), uniting
into three or four larger ones, terminate in a considerable
membranous sac named the basin {pelvis) of the kidney.
These two parts of the kidney are distinguished not
only in structure but in colour and consistence. While
the granular part is fawn-coloured, and somewhat soft and
flabby, the tubular is pink-red, fleshy and firm; and the
boundary line is distinct. The tubular cones are separated
from each other by partitions, which appear to be fila¬
mentous tissue.
There is no doubt that the granular is the secreting
part of the gland; and the tubes are merely conduits of
the urine, which indeed may be expressed from their
apertures. It is important, however, to determine the
mode in which the two portions communicate. The as¬
sertion of Ferrein and Eysenhardt, that the tubes are blind
canals, is inaccurate in this respect, that the terminal
tubes evidently communicate with others in the interior
of the cones, which again are immediately connected with
the granular part. It further appears, that in the granu¬
lar part there are very minute white tortuous canals,
which appear to communicate with the straight tubes of
the cones. All beyond this is entirely conjectural.
The kidney, therefore, cannot be said to possess paren¬
chyma or proper substance. The idle distinctions into
cortical and medullary ought to be rejected as remnants
of an exploded theory.
The kidneys are supplied with blood from the aorta byBlooa-ves-
the renal arteries. Issuing at right angles from the late-sels.
ral regions of the abdominal aorta, below the superior me¬
senteries, these vessels pass directly into the fissure at its
superior and anterior part, the left behind, the right occa¬
sionally before the renal vein, but crossing its direction.
The calibre of these vessels is considerable, about three
lines at least; and they have been estimated to convey
the sixth part of the blood of the abdominal aorta. The
left artery is about one inch long, the right is the whole
breadth of the vertebral column longer. In the renal
fissure each artery divaricates into three or four consider-
68 ANATOMY.
Special able branches, which enter the kidney a little above the
Anatomy, attachment of the basin (pelvis). These vessels are again
subdivided into an anterior series before, and a posterior
cluster behind the infundibula, which they accompany to
the papilla. Dividing more minutely, they form anasto¬
motic arches, from the convexity of which proceed minute
vessels, radiating into the granular substance of the gland.
These vessels are distributed principally to the granular
matter at its calycoid surfaces, in which the tubular cones
are lodged.
The veins are arranged exactly in the same manner, and
connected with the renal trunk, much as the arterial
branches are connected with it.
The kidney is supplied with nerves, accompanying the
arteries, derived from a plexus inclosing the renal trunk,
and which is originally formed from filaments of the solar
of the great sympathetic.
The basin The pelvis consists externally of a prolongation of the
or pelvis, renal investment, a proper middle membrane, white,
opaque, and fibrous, and an inner lining, which, though
thin and semitransparent, presents the character of mu¬
cous membrane.
The upper extremity of each kidney is covered by the
renal capsule, a substance of no peculiar structure, and
the nature of which is unknown.
The ure- The basin forms the common termination of the renal
ters. funnels, and the commencement of the ureter. This is a
membranous tube, of the diameter of a moderate-sized
quill, passing between the renal basin, behind the perito¬
neum, to the posterior and inferior part of the bladder, in
which the lower extremity opens. Each ureter is inclin¬
ed to the mesial plane below. The right ureter is on the
outside, and neaidy parallel with the inferior cavity. Both
cross the psoas at an acute angle, and below the common
iliac arteries and veins. In the pelvis they cross the vas
deferens in the male, and on reaching the bladder pass ob¬
liquely, from eight lines to an inch, through its coats, and
open in the posterior margin of the lower fundus of that
organ.
These tubes consist of fibrous membrane, lined by mu¬
cous and covered by filamentous tissue. It contains no
muscular fibres, notwithstanding the assertions of some.
The ureters are supplied with blood derived from the
renals, occasionally from the lumbars and spermatics, but
more especially from the aorta by two ureteric arteries.
The uri- The urinary bladder is a muscular membranous bag,
nary blad- spherical above and cubo-spherical below, placed on the
lower region of the pelvis, behind the pubal symphysis,
and before the rectum in the male, and the uterus in the
female. From the peculiarity of its figure and relations,
it is distinguished into a superior/Mficfes, spheroidal, direct¬
ed to the abdominal cavity; an inferior fundus, cubo-sphe-
roidal, between the ureters and urethral opening; a neck
(cervix), pyriform at the latter point; an anterior surface,
corresponding to the posterior of the pubal symphysis; a
posterior, corresponding to the rectum in the male and the
uterus in the female; and lateral regions, corresponding
to the ilio-ischial inner surface, and those of the obturator
inter mis and levator ani.
In females generally the transverse extent of the blad¬
der is greater than in the male, and in females after child¬
bearing than in the virgin. In infancy its superior fundus
is pointed and conical rather than globular,—a peculiarity
derived from its fcetal shape, which is pointed, with the
urachus, a ligamentous chord proceeding to the navel, at¬
tached.
Structure. The bladder consists of a muscular coat, covered above,
behind, and laterally by peritoneum, and lined by mucous
membrane.
The peritoneal covering is continued from the anterior
surface of the rectum, and the lateral regions of the pelvis Sjiecial
over the posterior and lateral and part of the superior sur-Anatomy,
faces of the bladder, all of which are iree ; while the infe¬
rior yjmrfKs, the neck, and the anterior, are covered by fila¬
mentous tissue, connecting the organ to the neighbouring
parts. This filamentous tissue is abundant, especially below.
The muscular coat, always distinct, varies in thickness
in different individuals. In females, so far as we have ob¬
served, it is rather thicker than in males. The fibres run
in all directions, but are strong at the superior surface,
where some anatomists have arbitrarily distinguished them
by the name of detrusor urince. I here are no fleshy pillars,
mentioned by some, in the healthy state.
The neck is surrounded by a thick range of circular
fibres, which has been denominated the sphincter of the
bladder.
The mucous membrane, without villi or epidermis, is ex¬
tended over the whole inner surface of the organ, and is
continuous behind with that of the ureters, and before with
that of the urethra. The space inclosed between these
three orifices is named the vesical triaw fie (trigonus vesica)-,
and a minute duplicature of the mucous membrane at the
urethral orifice is denominated the vesica uvula.
The bladder is supplied with blood chiefly from the
posterior iliac or hypogastric trunk, by means of the com¬
mon pudic, the obturator, the ischiatic, and the hemor¬
rhoidal. Of these, one vesical artery proceeds from the
hemorrhoidal; another often comes off directly from the
hypogastric as an inferior vesical; and in some instances
they issue from the umbilical. The vesical nerves are
partly from the sympathetic, partly from the sacral.
The capacity of the bladder varies in different indivi¬
duals. In the female it is generally more capacious than
in the male. In the healthy state it may contain a pound
of urine, without extreme distension ; and it is often ca¬
pable of containing two, three, or four pounds. Its situa¬
tion varies at different periods of life, and in different de¬
grees of distension. In the foetus and infant, when the
pelvis is small, the bladder is contained in the abdomen.
In the adult in the ordinary state it is within the limits of
the pelvis; but when much distended, its superior fundus,
rising above the pubis, is in the abdomen. During preg¬
nancy, also, it is thrust forwards and upwards by the
gravid womb.
Urine, the fluid secreted by the kidneys, is particularly
distinguished by containing, with various saline substances,
urea, an animal principle containing 46 per cent, of azote.
As the saline ingredients also abound in principles con¬
taining this element, it may be inferred that the chief pur¬
pose of the kidneys is to remove from the system a con¬
siderable proportion of nitrogen, which would either be
injurious by its presence, or disturb the due proportion of
the other elements.
The urethra, which terminates the urinary apparatus, is
nevertheless common to it with the reproductive organs.
The male urethra especially is more connected with the
reproductive than the secretory organs. In the female, in
whom alone this canal is proper to the latter, it is a short
muco-membranous tube, terminating in a papillated ori¬
fice in the superior anterior wall of the vagina.
PART III.
ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS PERTAINING TO THE REPRO¬
DUCTIVE FUNCTIONS.
These organs, by the possession of which the indivi¬
duals of the human race are distinguished into two sexes,
male and female, consist in the former of impregnating,
and in the latter of the impregnable organs. The former
may be again distinguished into preparing and transmitting
ANATOMY.
Special organs ; and the latter into receiving and ootrophic organs,
Anatomy. 0r those which nourish the product of generation.
CHAP. I.—THE MALE OR IMPREGNATING ORGANS.
The male organs consist of two glandular organs, named
testicles with excretory ducts, for secreting the impreg¬
nating fluid, and an organ for transmitting it to those of
the female.
The testicles (testes) are two ovoidal bodies contained
on each side of the mesial plane in a cutaneo-cellular sac
named the scrotum, attached to the anterior inferior part
of the pubal symphysis.
I'he scro- The scrotum consists of skin with very thin corion, rest-
um. jng 0n loose filamentous tissue, which forms on the mesial
plane a thick wall, separating the right half of the scrotal
bag from the left. On the median line is a superficial
groove, named suture (raphe), at which the corion and
filamentous tissue, elsewhere loose, are united into a solid
and firm substance. Most of the old anatomists mention
a muscular layer known by the name of dartos, and to
which they ascribe the contraction of the scrotum on ex¬
posure to cold ; but the existence of this muscular layer
is not supported by inspection. The scrotal skin is well
supplied with arteries, and especially veins connected
with those of the epigastric, external iliac, femoral, obtu¬
rator, and external pudic, the branches of which anasto¬
mose freely. The nerves are from the lumbar, obturator,
and crural.
The scrotal filamentous tissue incloses on each side a
thin membranous sac of a pyriform shape, with the base
below, and tapering to a neck above. Adherent on the
outside to the filamentous substance, this membranous sac
is free and smooth within, except at the neck, where it
embraces a part distinguished by the name of spermatic
'he vagi- chord. This, which is the sheath-like or vaginal coat
al coat, (tunica vaginalis), is distinguished into two parts, an in¬
ferior pyriform, forming a cavity for the testicle, and a su¬
perior cylindrical, covering the spermatic chord, and ad¬
hering to it. This membrane is said to be fibrous exter¬
nally ; but it appears to be merely condensed filamentous
tissue. Within it is evidently a transparent serous mem¬
brane, both in qualities and distribution. It is continued
from the adherent part of the chord downward, and over
Ithe testicle.
'he albu- Within the cavity of the former are contained the tes-
incous tides, both suspended by the spermatic chord, with the
epididymis behind. Their substance is inclosed in a firm,
opaque, white, fibrous investment, covered by a thin trans¬
parent membrane, reflected from the vaginal coat. The
former is the tunica albuginea, or proper tissue of the
gland ; the latter is the vaginal coat of the testicle (tunica
vaginalis testis).
'he tes- The testicle consists of minute irregular-shaped gra-
nules, of a white or gray-white colour, soft, closely com¬
pacted, and with numerous capillaries distributed through
them. More minutely examined, these are found to be
capillary tubes of extraordinary length, folded on them¬
selves, and contorted so as to occupy a small space, and
when unfolded extending, according to some anatomists,
'he semi- 16 feet, according to others to 25 or even 100 ells. These
iferous Jong tortuous tubes, which are named the seminiferous
J es‘ (ductus seminiferi), are estimated at about 300 in num¬
ber. . Ihey communicate by one extremity with the blood¬
vessels and lymphatics of the testicle, and by the other,
after several unite into one common duct, terminate in
about 20 larger tubes, denominated egredient ducts (vasa
efferentia), which, united in a cluster by means of fila¬
mentous tissue, and invested by part of the tunica albugi¬
nea form at the upper part of the gland a whitish cylin-
dncal body, about six lines long and two broad, distin- Special
guished by the name of the process of Highmore (corpus Anatomy.
Highmori). flhese efferent vessels unite and form a single
tube of gieat length, which, folded on itself by innumer- ^ie iy°’
able turns, connected by filamentous tissue, and invested ri*Si?
by tunica albuginea, constitutes the epididymis, attached Thf emiT’
by its head to the testicle, and by an incurvated extremity didvmis.
named tail, continuous with the common excretory duct
(vas deferens).
I he latter is a long fibro-cartilaginous tube, ascending The vas
upwards from the tail of the epididymis, and making deferens or
part of the spermatic chord, with which it enters theseminal
abdomen at the inguinal aperture. At the inner margin excret017
of this it separates from the chord, and descends into<lUt’
the pelvis, first by the side, then at the posterior and
inferior fundus of the bladder; and, approaching that of
the opposite side with the vesicula seminalis on the outer
margin, each vas deferens is in contact with the other at
the base of the prostate gland. Here each receiving a
tube from the corresponding vesicula,. forms a common
duct (ductus ejaculans), which traverses the prostate, and
terminates in the urethra about one inch and a half from
its vesical end, on each side of the eminence named veru-
montanum.
The spermatic chord, by which the testicle is suspended, Spermatic
consists of the spermatic artery or its divisions, derived inchord*
general from the aorta, two or three spermatic veins, seve¬
ral lymphatics, and the vas deferens, inclosed in filamentous
tissue, and covered by a slip of muscular fibres denomi¬
nated the suspensory muscle (cremaster, tunica erythroides),
detached partly from the internal oblique and transverse
of the belly, fixed partly at the inner surface of the liga¬
ment of Poupart and the tuberosity of the pubis.
The spermatic artery divaricates into several branches,
which are distributed, after a few sent to the epididy¬
mis, among the seminiferous ducts. They communicate
with numerous tortuous veins, which are collected into a
cluster known by the name of the pampiniform body, situ¬
ate immediately below the tunica albuginea.
Below the inferior of the bladder, on the outside Seminal
of that organ, are placed two bodies, oblong, flattened,vesicles*
pyriform, with the base behind, composed at first sight of
a series of cells separated by septa. Each of these bo¬
dies, which have been named the seminal vesicles (vesicu-
Ice seminales), consists of a long tortuous membranous
tube, convoluted on itself, and with the folds aggregated
by bridles of filamentous tissue, which convert it into
communicating sacs. The cavity of this canal, which
communicates with the urethra by a tube, common to the
vesicles and the vasa deferentia, has been supposed to
serve as a reservoir for the seminal fluid after secretion
by the testicles ; but this supposition is by no means ve¬
rified, and is open to several objections.
The transmitting organs consist of the penis with the
urethra and prostate gland..
The penis, the shape of which is well known, consists, ofThe caver-
two parts, the cavernous body (corpus cavernosum), and then0US^0(^’-
spongy body (corpus spongiosum) containing the urethra.
The cavernous body, single before, bifurcated behind,
may be described as two cylindrical bodies, inclosed in a
fibrous investment, which, uniting them on the mesial
plane, forms a partition (septum medium), perforated
nevertheless with orifices for vessels. The divaricating
posterior extremities (crura) are firmly attached to the
ischio-pubal rami on each side. The intermediate trian¬
gular interval is occupied by the perineal filamentous
tissue, fat, the perineal muscles, and the spongy body in
the middle. Above and before, both are connected to the
pubal symphysis by a triangular, flat, fibrous substance,
named the triangular or suspensory ligament.
ANATOMY.
Special The spongy body is a cylindrical cellulo-vascular tube,
Anatomy, inclosing the urethra, and occupying the middle depres-
sjon> a]ong the lower surface of the cavernous body, from
1 he spongy jts anterior extremity, where it constitutes the glam, to
,oc^’ the angular bifurcation of the cavernous body, where it is
expanded into a substance denominated the bulb of the
urethra. The spongy body is invested on the side and
below by integuments only.
Their Both these parts, but especially the cavernous body,
structure. consist of numerous minute arteries, communicating di¬
rectly with elongated and dilatable veins, and constitute
the best example of erectile arrangement in the body.
The injection of these vessels constitutes the erection of the
penis, and induces the contraction of the urethra necessary
to expel the seminal Huid. The two extremities of the
spongy body, the glam before and the bulb behind, form
the limits of the erectile tissue round the urethra. The
anterior extremity is covered by loose skin, which forms
the foreskin (praeputium), and, in the shape of a thin semi-
mucous corion, provided with epidermis, is continued over
the glans, from which it passes insensibly into the mucous
membrane of the urethra.
With the penis several muscular organs are connected.
The ischio-cavernosus and tramversus perincei on each side
connect the cavernous body to the ischium; and the
bulbo-cavernosus connects it to the bulb of the urethra.
Mr Houston of Dublin has lately discovered a packet of
muscular fibres situate between the pubal arch and the
penis on each side, which, by compressing the dorsal vein,
may, he imagines, contribute to erect the organ.
The cavernous and spongy bodies are supplied with
blood from the terminal end of the internal pudic artery, by
means of two vessels, the cavernous and the dorsal. The
bulb receives branches from the transverse perineal artery.
The pros- The prostate gland is a body cordiform or flat conoidal
late gland. in shape, with the base behind and the apex before, cor¬
responding to the vesical end of the urethra, situate behind
the pubal symphysis before, and below the neck of the
bladder, in the angle between it and the rectum, and be¬
tween the levator ani of each side.
It is distinguished into three lobes,—two lateral, united
on the mesial plane,—and a small cellulo-vascular slip in
the angle between them, towards the base. In structure
it is composed chiefly of minute arteries and veins rami¬
fied in a firm, fleshy, filamentous tissue, amidst which are
placed follicles with minute ducts, which terminate in
larger tubes, varying in number from seven to twelve, the
apertures of which are on the sides and the surface of the
urethra. These follicles secrete a viscid liquor, the use
of which is unknown. From the fact, however, that, when
the prostate gland is diseased or injured, the sexual ap¬
petite is languid or extinguished, it may be inferred that
the prostate is essential to the generative functions in the
male. It is analogous to the uterus in the female.
Cowper’s With the prostate may be mentioned the accessory
y.aiuis. glands of Cowper, two small bodies, oblong-round, placed
on each side of the urethra, before the prostate. They
appear to be mucous follicles on the large scale.
The ure- The urethra is a membranous canal, extending from
thra. tile neck of the bladder in the pelvis to the extremity of
the glans, where it terminates on the surface by an aper¬
ture (orificium urethra), consisting of two lateral seg¬
ments. Its length and width vary in the erect and
unerected state of the penis. In the latter it is about
seven or eight inches long, and its calibre is about three
lines, but admitting of distension beyond this. Accord¬
ing to the parts with which it is connected, it is distin¬
guished into four different portions; ls£, the prostatic,
about one inch ; 2d, the membranous, from one to one inch
and a half; 2>d, the bulbous, scarcely one inch; and,
the spongy portion, occupying the anterior part of the Special
canal, inclosed by the spongy body. Anatomy.
The surface of the urethra is a mucous membrane sup-
plied with follicles, and moulded into blind sacs named
lacuna, which appear to contain mucous ducts. Its
capacity varies in different parts. Wide at the middle of
the prostate, it is contracted in the membranous part,
which is indeed the narrowest of the canal; it enlarges
again in the bulb; and from this it preserves the same
diameter to immediately behind the glans, where it forms
a dilatation distinguished by the name of the navicular
(fossa navicularis). The apertures in this canal have
been already mentioned to be, besides that of the bladder,
one ejaculatory on each side of the veru-montanum, from
seven to ten excretory apertures from the prostatic ducts,
and one aperture from each accessory gland. The mu¬
cous membrane of the membranous and spongy portions
presents longitudinal folds, which appear to be connected
with the occasional distensions of the tube for the expul¬
sion of the urine.
The urethra, straight in direction on the mesial plane,
is incurvated within the pelvis from behind forwards, so
that its concave incurvation incloses the pubal arch,
while its convexity is turned to the perinaeum. The pen¬
dulous state of the penis, when unerected, causes it to ac¬
quire another incurvation without the pelvis, with the con¬
vexity directed upward. These curvatures are consider¬
ably exaggerated in engravings. The first round the arch
of the pubis is much less angular than it is delineated.
CHAP. II.—-THE FEMALE OR OOTROPIIIC ORGANS.
The female generative organs consist of the ovaries,
the uterine or Fallopian tubes, the womb, and the vagina.
These organs are contained in the pelvis.
From the time of Steno, anatomists have given the name The ova-
of ovaries or eggbeds (ovaria) to two ovoidal bodies, about nes.
the size of a pigeon’s egg, placed one on each side of the
womb in the pelvis, in a duplicature of peritoneum termed
the broad ligament (ligamentum latum) of the uterus. Con¬
vex and free on their anterior and posterior surfaces, and
tapering towards each extremity, their lower margin is
straight or slightly concave, with a vascular sinuosity.
The external extremity is contiguous to a round solid
chord (ligamentum teres), forming the anterior margin of
the broad ligament, and proceeding from the womb to the
internal orifice of the inguinal canal and the pubal extre¬
mity of the ligament of Poupart, and by which the uterus
is retained in the pelvis. Each ovary weighs about one
drachm and a half.
Covered externally by peritoneum, stretched over a Ovarian
fibrous membrane of some firmness, the ovaries consist of vesicles 01
a pulpy brownish-gray substance, very vascular, in which S61™3-
are embedded minute bodies of vesicular appearance and
oval shape, varying in number from 15 to 20. These bo¬
dies, which, from the time of De Graaf at least, have been
regarded as ova or embryal atoms or germs (ova Graaji-
ana, ovarii vesicula), consist of a thin membrane contain¬
ing a viscid, reddish, or yellow fluid.
The ovary is supplied with blood from arteries analo¬
gous to the spermatic of the male.
Previous to puberty the ovaries are smooth in surface
and entire. After this period, both in females who have
had children, and even in virgins, they are marked on the
surface by minute depressions, which have been denomi¬
nated cicatrices, and which are believed to be the conse¬
quence of minute breaches of the ovarian tunics, occasion¬
ed by the escape of the vesicles from the surface of the
ovary. There is no proof that these cicatrices are the
invariable result of sexual intercourse. Small before pu¬
berty, at that period they acquire considerable size, and
ANATOMY.
Special retain them till the age of 45 or 48, after which they
.natcmy. shrivel and shrink to a very small size.
The Fallopian or uterine tubes are the excretory ducts
of the ovaries. They are cylindrical tubes about four or
five inches long, contained in the anterior fold of the su- vine, after sending branches to the vagina and neiehbo
perior margin of the broad ligament, between the round ing parts, ascend along the margins of the organ and
ligament and the ovary, and connected by their lower ex- ^ ^ —i...
71
the spermatic, partly from the hypogastric. The former, Special
a ter passing between the folds of the broad ligaments, Anatomy.
and giving branches to the tubes, enter the uterine    
stance by its lateral regions. The second, named the ute-
long, broad at its
drachms to 14 ounce.
tremity with the superior angles of the womb. Their supe
rior extremity, which is loose, is surrounded by a fringed
or laciniated slip of peritoneum, in the centre of which is
seen the upper or peritoneal aperture (orificium superius),
larger than the calibre of the canal, which admits a hog’s
bristle, but contracts at the lower or uterine extremity
(orijicium uterinum), which is situate in the upper angle of
the inner surface of the womb.
Covered by serous membrane externally, lined by thin
mucous membrane with follicular glands, the Fallopian
tubes consist of fibrous tissue interposed between these
two. Below, however, at their junction with the womb,
they seem to partake of the structure of that body.
|he womb. The womb (uterus, matrix) is a hollow organ with
thick walls, shaped like a conoid, flattened before and
behind, situate on the mesial plane in the pelvic cavity,
between the bladder before and the rectum behind.
Small before puberty, at that period it is about inches
widest part, and weighs from 7
It is distinguished into the fundus,
body (corpus), and neck (cervix); the first free, directed
upwards; the second also free, between the bladder and
rectum; and the third connected within and below to
the vagina. At each side of the fundus is a corner or
angular part, which communicates with the uterine ex¬
tremity of the Fallopian tube. The neck of the womb
may be distinguished into the external or peritoneal, and
the internal or mucous neck, which terminates in an ellip¬
tical opening, with rounded, thick, firm margins, not unlike
the mouth of the tench, and named therefore os tincce,
as well as os uteri. These lips become rough and irregu¬
lar in women after child-bearing, in consequence of the
distension during parturition.
The cavity of the womb is small compared with the
volume of the organ, in consequence of the thickness of
its containing walls. It is triangular in shape, with the
base at the fundus, and the apex at the neck. The su¬
perior angles are small recesses, in which the uterine ex¬
tremity of the Fallopian tube of each side opens. The
cavity is much contracted at the neck, forming a short
cylindrical canal, the lower aperture of which is the os
uteri, communicating with the vagina.
Covered externally by peritoneum, the womb consists
of a peculiar thick, firm, whitish substance, lined by
mucous membrane. This intermediate matter, though
neither red nor distinctly fibrous, has been very general¬
ly regarded as muscular. Its contractile powers during
parturition it is impossible to doubt. But while it is dif¬
ficult to reconcile this phenomenon with the absence of
muscular tissue, it must be allowed that it is much more
easy to maintain than demonstrate the unequivocal ap¬
pearance of muscular fibres. On this topic the reader may
consult a paper by Mr Charles Bell, in the 4th volume
of the Medico-Chirurgical Transactions ; and an elaborate
account of the different ranges of muscular fibres in the ute¬
rus, by Madame Boivin, an eminent Parisian accoucheuse, in
her Memorial de l'Art des Accouchemens, Paris, 1824.
Ihe uterine mucous membrane is thin, but reddish-
gray, villous, and marked by numerous pores, the aper¬
tures of blood-vessels, most probably those which secrete
the menstrual fluid. At the neck it is provided with
muciparous glands, which are the seat of several of the
forms of leucorrhoea.
Ihe blood-vessels of the uterus are derived partly from
•ucture.
distributed to its fundus.
The uterine veins correspond to the arteries in course
and connections. In the walls of the organ they form
large sinuses, very distinct after parturition.
The uterine lymphatics are connected with those of
the pelvis and hypogastric region. The nerves, which
are numerous, proceed from the lower extremity of the
great sympathetic, from the renal plexus, the spermatics,
the last lumbar nerves, and the sacral.
The womb is the proper ootrophic organ, to the inner
surface of which the ovum is attached by a vascular body
denominated the placenta or after-birth.
The vagina is a membranous vascular tube, situate on The va.
the mesial plane, behind the pubal arch and urethra, andgina-
befine the rectum, and extending from the neck of the
womb in the pelvic cavity to the external outlet {vulva),
where it is continuous with the surface. Not exactly
cylindrical, but flattened before and behind, its length
is about four inches, its breadth one, but very distensible.
It is generally distinguished into the upper vaginal recess
{vagince fundus), inclosing the neck of the womb behind
the os tincce, the lower vagina {vagina propria), and the
vaginal opening {vulva).
The vagina consists of mucous membrane surround¬
ed by filamentous tissue, a vascular network, and some
muscular fibres. The mucous membrane, which is red
below, gray above, and not unfrequently marbled, soft
and spongy, is disposed in numerous large transverse
and semicircular folds {rugce) on the anterior and poste¬
rior surfaces. In the recesses of these folds are numerous
pores, evidently the source of the mucous viscid secretion
which is so abundant on this membrane, during sexual
excitation, at the period of parturition, and morbidly in
gonorrhoea in the female. On the lateral regions it pre¬
sents pyramidal eminences (papillce).
The mucous membrane is connected by filamentous
tissue to another, which in the vicinity of the uterus is
compact, firm, and elastic, and below, towards the ori¬
fice, is thinner, and contains a network of numerous com¬
municating vessels, in which the blood is occasionally ac¬
cumulated in the manner of erection. The lower extre¬
mity is inclosed laterally by some muscular fibres {con¬
strictor vulvce), which are believed to have the effect of
contracting the vagina voluntarily, and by which, when
continued, as they occasionally are, to the base of the labia
magna, women, according to Soemmering, may move these
parts. The vaginal membrane is provided with lympha¬
tics connected with those of the pelvis. The nerves,
which are numerous, and some of which appear to termi¬
nate in the pyramidal eminences, are derived partly from
the sacral, partly from the crural trunks.
The vagina terminates in the vulva, an opening formed
within by the clitoris before, the hymen behind, and the
nymphce or labia parva on each side; externally by the
mons veneris before, the frenum and navicular fossa be¬
hind, and the labia magna on each side.
The clitoris is a small, oblong, conical process, consist¬
ing of erectile vessels, covered by mucous membrane,
attached to the lower margin of the pubal symphysis. The
hymen is a crescentic fold of mucous membrane, surround¬
ing the sides and posterior part of the vagina. The small
lips or nymphce {labia parva) are two crescentic bodies,
consisting chiefly of erectile vessels, contained within a
duplicature of semimucous membrane. With these the
inner surface of the labia is continuous; and they consist
72
ANATOMY.
Special chiefly of filamentous tissue, placed between semimucous
Anatomy, membrane and skin.
Connected with the female ootrophic organs are the
l he female or mammce.
breast. The femaie 0f t]ie human species has only two breasts ;
and their position on the anterior and superior part ot
the thorax, on each side of the mesial plane, is a character
its external surface to the inner of the chorion, and in- Special
closing a watery fluid, variable in quantity, in which the Anatomy,
foetus, suspended by the umbilical chord, floats.
The umbilical chord (funis umbihcahs) consists of, ls£, The umbi.
one vein and two arteries, inclosed in—2d, a soft, semifluid, heal chord,
gelatinous substance, named from Wharton gelatina Whar-
toniana; 3d, the urachus, a ligamentous chord proceed-
the thorax, on each side ot the mesial plane, is a cnaracier , —, — ^ hhdder • and Uh the
which, with those of .the h—e apparatus, indicates
umbilical sheath (vagina umbilicalis). In the eaily period
of uterine life, it also contains part of the intestinal canal,
the vesicula umbilicalis either partly or wholly, and the
omphalo-mesenteric vessels. Of these parts the umbilical
veins and arteries, by their connection with the placenta,
are the most important. The others our limits allow us
The gland is of a flat, rounded figure, and consists of m^ely tomdjeate or orbicular, thick, cake-shaped The pi,,
lobes of white pulpy substance, separated . from each 0filament0.,Leak;, attached tocent,P
the inner surface of the womb, and a smooth membranous
to which the umbilical chord is fixed. It consists of
distinctly the erect biped attitude
Of a hemispherical or conical shape, the female breast
consists of a glandular organ, named the mammary, sur¬
rounded by adipose tissue, and covered by integuments.
It is distinguished into the breast (mamma), the nipple
(papilla, mammilla), and a coloured ring of skin (areola)
other by filamentous tissue, and which may be resolved
into granules or acini about the size of millet seeds, which
again are composed of minute oblong vesicles disposed in
a radiating manner. From the granules or acini proceed
minute tubes named the lactiferous (ductus lactiferi, tubuli
galactophori), which uniting into larger tubes, varying in
number from 20 to 30, terminate in the centre of the
mammary gland, behind the areola in conical dilated sacs
(sinus), varying from one or two to three lines in diame¬
ter. These galactophorous ducts, which are larger than
in any other gland, are formed of mucous membrane,
which extends into the sinuosities, and is at the nipple
identified with the skin. Several of the lactiferous tubes
are said to originate from the adipose tissue of the breast;
but this seems merely to indicate that they communicate
with the vessels of this substance. The lactiferous tubes
are indistinct before puberty, small in the virgin, and in
general in the sterile, and during the intervals of preg¬
nancy, and large only at the close of that period, and du¬
ring the process of suckling.
The nipple of the female breast is a flat, conical process,
the shape of which is well known, consisting externally of
skin, with thin delicate corion and epidermis, internally of
mucous membrane, and an intermediate network of dilata¬
ble arteries and veins mutually and freely communicating.
These parts are united by filamentous tissue, which varies
in quantity at different periods. But from the vessels now
mentioned the nipple derives its property of occasional erec¬
tion, especially under the influence of mental emotions.
The breast derives its blood from the internal mamma¬
ries, the intercostals, and the thoracics or external mam¬
maries, the branches of which penetrate between the lo¬
bules of the gland. It has lymphatics, though not more
abundantly than any other organ. The nerves are chiefly
cutaneous.
The mammary gland is separated from the pectoral
muscle by a thick cushion of adipose substance, on which
it rests; and it derives a gentle conical elevation from the
subcutaneous adipose tissue. The mammary skin is re¬
markable for the delicacy and softness of the corion.
CHAP. III. THE PRODUCT OF GENERATION.
The ovum or impregnated germ, the result of the union
of the sexes, consists of an embryo or new animal, inclosed
in several membranes, and attached to the inner surface
of the uterus by a vascular mass.
The foetal Of the membranes, one, the decidua (epichorion), be-
mem- longs to the uterine surface; the other two, the chorion
branes. and amnion, belong to the feetus or embryo. The decidua
consists of two parts, an external (decidua vera), and an
internal (decidua reflexa) ; both modifications of albumi¬
nous secretion. The chorion, the outer covering of the
foetus, is a thin transparent membrane, covered with vil-
losities on both surfaces, but especially the external. The
amnion is a thin transparent membrane, adhering feebly by
one,   
lobular portions (cotyledones), separable from each other,
and each of which receives a small artery derived from the
uterine trunks, which are much enlarged during pregnancy.
The average weight of the placenta is 1 pound 2 ounces.
The placenta, according to Dr Hunter (Anatomical
Description of the Human Gravid Uterus, edit, by Dr
Baillie, Lond. 1794), consists of two portions ; a fcetal or
umbilical, and a maternal or uterine part.
The foetal part is composed entirely of ramifications of
the umbilical arteries and umbilical vein. Ihese, divid¬
ing with extreme minuteness, are distributed to all parts
of the placenta. The branches of the umbilical arteries
finally terminate in the umbilical vein, and have no other
termination: all thebranches of the umbilical vein arise from
the umbilical arteries, and have no other commencement.
The maternal part consists of a whitish-coloured sub¬
stance, which is spread over the outer surface of the pla¬
centa in the form of a membrane, and sends off innumer¬
able irregular processes, which pervade its substance as
deep as its inner surface. These are everywhere so
blended and entangled with the ramifications of the um¬
bilical system, that it is impossible to discover the nature
of their union. They are interwoven in such a manner,
however, as to leave innumerable small vacuities or cells
between them, which communicate freely with each other
through the whole mass. The maternal part is full of
large and small arteries and veins, none ot which are de¬
rived from the vessels of the foetal part, but all from the
arteries and veins of the uterus. All the arteries ai'e
serpentine, and much convoluted; the larger, when in¬
jected, are almost of the size of crow-quills; and, after
little or no ramification, they terminate abruptly in the
cells already described. This is their only termination.
The veins have frequent anastomoses, pass in a very
slanting direction, and generally appear flattened; some
of them are as large as a goose-quill, but many ot them
very small; and all arise abruptly from the cells of the
placenta. This is their only commencement.
The umbilical arteries, which are branches of the hypo-Umbilical
gastric, ascend beside the bladder and before the rectum, arteries,
approach each other, pass over t\xc fundus of the bladder,
and reach the navel with the urachus. There they alter
their direction, and are wound round the umbilical vein,
which proceeds from the placenta by the same aperture
(the navel) by which the arteries escape. These arte¬
ries, which are almost equal in diameter to the hypogas¬
tric or posterior iliac, of which they appear to be the con¬
tinuation, diminish in size after birth, and appear then to be
mere branches. Eventually they are obliterated and con¬
verted into solid chords, about inch from their origin.
The umbilical vein, which is larger than both arteries Umbita
taken together, is the common trunk of the veins of the veul-
ANATOMY.
Jecial placenta, from which it proceeds through the umbilical
tomy. opening or navel, in the folds of the falciform ligament, to
the umbilical fossa of the liver, where it divides into two
branches, one large, proceeding to the venaportce and liver,
another small, into the vena cava, known by the name of
venous duct or canal {ductus venosus). The umbilical vein
is distributed chiefly to the left lobe of the liver,
comical The structure of the foetus differs in many respects
liari- fr0ni that of the adult; and these differences depend on
°f the t]ie gtage which the process of developement has attained.
9' As it is impossible to trace the history of this interesting
process within the limits of this sketch, we shall merely
specify the principal anatomical peculiarities by which
the foetus is distinguished from the full-grown subject.
A large vascular body, denominated the thymus gland,
is found to occupy the anterior mediastinum. The kid¬
neys are covered by triangular filamento-vascular bodies,
named renal capsules, larger than the glands themselves,
and supplied with large blood-vessels. The liver is very
large, especially its left lobe, and occupies not only the
right hypochondriac and epigastric, but the left hypo¬
chondriac region. The lungs are compact and of a
deep red colour, and sink in water; and the bronchial
tubes are collapsed and void of air. In the heart the
right and left auricle communicate freely by an oval
aperture in the septum. The pulmonary*^ artery, rising
from the right ventricle, divides, not into two, as in the
adult, but into three branches; one on each side, going
to each lung, small, and conveying little blood; and one
in the middle, proceeding to the aorta, about 9 lines
long, named the arterial canal {ductus vel canalis arteri¬
osus). The umbilical vein, proceeding to the liver, is
distributed by about 15 or 20 branches to the left lobe of
that organ. In the horizontal furrow it divides into two
branches, one of which goes to the portal vein, the other,
apparently the continuation of the trunk, opens into the
vena cava, under the name of venous duct {ductus vel
canalis venosus), forming with it an angle acute above,
and provided with a valve. The kidneys consist of lobules
as numerous as their tubular cones, which indeed these
lobules are, separate from each other. The urinary bladder
is not within the pelvis, but in the abdominal part of that
cavity; and it terminates above in a point, to which a liga¬
mentous process {urachus), connecting it to the navel, is
attached. In the male, the testicles are contained in the
abdomen, often immediately behind the internal aperture.
Lastly, till the seventh month the pupillary aperture is
closed by a peculiar membrane.
The engravings with which the foregoing article is illus¬
trated have been sufficiently explained by literal or numeral
references, in the course of description. We have only to
add, that fig. 1 and 2 of Plate XXX., from Soemmerring, a, e
intended to show the important parts at the lower surface of
the brain ; fig. 3, from the same, the relations of the middie
band, vault, and septum; and the other two, from Reil, the
internal arrangement of the nucleus. Plate XXXI., from
Scarpa, shows the phrenic nerve, and the thoracic part of the
pneumogastric and sympathetic, with the cardiac plexus and
nerves. 1 late XXXII., from Cruikshank, gives a general
view of the arrangement of the lymphatics. "
In the foregoing account of the anatomy of the human
body, many points have been treated in a manner too short
and cursory, considering their importance ; and in the at¬
tempt to restrain it within due limits, the heads of several
uiye been only indicated. It was the intention of the author
to introduce all the new information in microscopical anatomy,
which the researches since the year 1832 had furnished. This
VOL. III.
73
lowever, particular circumstances render impracticable. For Special
those who wish to study the subject more minutely, besides Anatomy,
the works occasionally mentioned, we refer to the following1
general systems and treatises. °
1. S. Th. Soemmerring De Corporis Humani Fabrica ;
Latio donata, ab ipso auctore aucta et emendata. Tom i
De Ossibus, Trajecti ad Moenum, 1794. Tom ii De Li-
gamentis Ossium, 1794. Tom. iii. De Musculis, Tendini-
bus, et Bursts Mucosis, 1796. Tom. iv. De Cerebro et Nereis
1798. Tom. v. De Angiologia, 1800. Tom. vi. De Splanch-
nologia, 1801. This work, which is excellent so far as it
goes, and is particularly distinguished for clear arrangement,
and distinctness, precision, and accuracy of description, is in¬
complete. It wants the anatomical description of the eye,
the ear, and the generative organs in the two sexes. The
first two defects, however, are ably supplied by the author
in his Abbildungen des Menschlichen Auges, fol. Frankfort
1801; and Abbildungen des Menschlichen Hoerorqanes. fob
Frank. 1806.
Of this work a new and greatly enlarged edition, in which
the deficiencies above noticed are ably supplied, was pub¬
lished at Leipsic between 1841 and 1844. See historical
sketch.
2. Traite AAnatomie Descriptive ; par Xav. Bichat, Me¬
dian du Grand Hospice d’Humanitie de Paris, Professeur
d’Anatomie et de Physiologie. Tome i. a Paris, 1801; tome
ii. et iii. 1802 ; tome iv. par M. F. R. Buisson, 1803 ; tome
v. par Philib. Jos. Roux, Prof. d’Anatomie, 1803. The death
of the author interrupted the publication of this work in the
middle of the third volume, the first part of which only is by
Bichat; while the sequel of that volume is compiled from the
materials left at his death. This constitutes the most accu¬
rate descriptive system yet extant; and the strongest proof
of its superiority is, that its descriptive portion has been very
closely copied in the work of Colquet.
3. Cours dAnatomie Medicale, ou Siemens de VAnato¬
mie de VHomme, avec des Remarques Physiologiques et Pa-
thologtques, et les Resultats de V Observation sur le Siege et
la Nature des Maladies, dapres VOuverture des Corps ; par
Antoine Portal, Prof, de Med. &c. &c. Paris, 1803, tomes
cinq. A complete and accurate work.
4. Handbuch der Menschlichen Anatomie, von J. F.
Meckel, Band i. ii. and iii. Halle und Berlin, 1815. This
work was translated into French in 1825, by MM. Jourdan
and Breschet.
5. Traite d!Anatomie Descriptive, redige d’apres Vordre
adopte d la Faculte de Medicine de Paris ; par Hippol. Clo¬
quet, Docteur en Medicine, &c. This is a very good system
of descriptive anatomy. In arrangement, M. Cloquet follows
that of Bichat; and in description the first volume, and a
great part of the second, are copied almost literally from the
first, second, and part of the third of that author. It would
have been quite as well had this been avowed; for it de¬
prives Bichat of much of his most unquestionable merit, and
gives an unfavourable impression of the candour of M. Clo¬
quet. In the sequel of the second, on the vascular system,
and the organs of. respiration and digestion, the author has
availed himself of the materials of Soemmerring.
6. Elements of the Anatomy of the Human Body in its
sound state, ivith occasional remarks on Physiology, Patho-
logy, and Surgery, by Alexander Monro, M.D., &c. 2 vols.
Edinburgh, 1825.
On the subject of General Anatomy, on various details on
the anatomical divisions and peculiarities of the Brain, on the
minute structure of the Lungs, the Liver, the Kidneys, and
other glands, we refer here in general, besides the works men¬
tioned in the close of the historical sketch, to the following
treatises.
7. Elements of General and Pathological Anatomy, pre¬
senting a view of the present state of knowledge in these
74
ANATOMY.
Coxnpara- branches of science, by David Craigie, M.D., F.R.S.E., Fel-
tive lowofthe Royal College of Physicians, Edinburgh, and Hon-
Anatomy. orary Consulting Physician to the Royal Infirmary. Second
edition, enlarged, revised, and improved. Edinburgh and
London, 1848. Philadelphia, 1851. 8vo, pp. 1072.
8. The Cyclopcedia of Anatomy and Physiology. Edited
by Robert Bentley Todd, M.D., Professor of Physiology
and of General and Morbid Anatomy in King’s College,
London. London, vol. i., 1836; vol. ii., 1839; vol. iii., 1847;
vol. iv., 1852; large 8vo.
9. Elements of Anatomy, by Jones Quain, M.D. Fifth edi¬
tion, edited by Richard Quain, F.R.S., and William Shar-
pey, M.D., F.R.S., Professors of Anatomy and Physiology in
University College, London. In two vols. London, 1848.
10. On the Structure of the Lungs. Pesearches on the Mi¬
nute Structure of the Lungs in Man and the Principal Mam-
miferom Animals. By M. Le Dr Rossignol. Edinburgh Compara.
Medical and Surgical Journal,jo\. Ixxn, p. 88. July 1849.
11. The Human Brain, by Samuel Solly, F.R.S. Lon- v
don 1847, 8vo., pp. 628. . . - m ^
12. Plates of the Brain in Explanation of the Physical
Faculties of the Nervous System, by Joseph Swan. Lon¬
don, 1853. 4to. . . 7 tt/. 7
13. Archivfur Anatomic, Physiologic, und W issenschaft-
liche Medicin. Herausgegeben von Dr Johannes Muller.
Berlin, 1834-1853.
On the subject of Chirurgical and Topographical Ana¬
tomy, it would be difficult to refer to a more useful work
than the following, , , j
14. Surgical Anatomy, illustrated by lithograph coloured
engravincs ; by Joseph Maclise, Surgeon. London, 1849—
1851. Second edition, 1853. (d. C.)
COMPARATIVE ANATOMY.
PART I.
ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF RELATION.
CHAP. I. COMPARATIVE OSTEOLOGY.
Bones ge¬
nerally.
Red-Blooded Animals only can be said to possess
that assemblage of bones denominated skeleton; and as
in these the most constant part is the vertebral column,
it furnishes the general character of Vertebrated. The
shells of the Mollusca and the Crustacea have been ge¬
nerally regarded as a species of internal skeleton; and
in the circumstance of affording mechanical support and
external protection, they indeed resemble the skeleton of
the Vertebrata. But neither in mode of developement
nor in chemical constitution can they be regarded as of
the same nature. Hence it is only in the vertebrated
classes that it is requisite to study the peculiarities of the
skeleton.
In general characters the bones of the Mammalia re¬
semble those of the human subject. Like them, they are
white, firm, elastic, and incompressible. They consist
also of compact and reticular or cancellated tissue. In
the lower animals the latter kind of structure is in gene¬
ral coarser and looser than in man; and in the Cetacea
especially the cavities are large. In the carnivorous ani¬
mals the compact structure is exceedingly dense, and gives
the bone much greater weight than in other animals. In
the Cetacea also the acoustic or lithoid portion of the
temporal bone is of a marble hardness.
The bones of the Mammalia may, like those of man, be
distinguished, according to their mechanical form, into
long, flat, and short bones. Though the first class in ge¬
neral possess a medullary canal, this cavity is imperfect
or wholly wanting in the bones of the Cetacea and Am¬
phibia.
The cavities denominated sinuses are much more com¬
pletely developed in several of the Mammalia than in the
human skeleton. In the pig these cavities extend into
the occipital bone ; in the elephant they not only give the
frontal bone extraordinary protuberance, but they extend
into the parietal, temporal, and even the occipital bones,
and contribute much to augment the volume of the head.
In the ox, deer, and sheep, they communicate with the
cavity of the horns.
The bones of Birds are in general whiter, firmer, and
smoother than those of the Mammalia ; and they con¬
sist of a firm, compact substance, which is elastic and hard
in the bones of the trunk, and extremely brittle in those
of the extremities. With the exception also of some of
the thin, flat bones, as the sternum, they consist of thin,
compact walls, inclosing large capacious cavities, which
contain not marrow, but air, and which communicate by
one or more minute holes with the windpipe and lungs.
While these cavities, which may be regarded as the most
perfect and advanced form of sinuses, diminish consider¬
ably the weight of the whole skeleton, by the density and
completely cylindrical shape, they rather augment the
strength. In the chick, and at birth, the bones are ho¬
mogeneous and without cavities; afterwards they contain
marrow; and eventually this disappears and gives place
to air.
The bones of the Reptiles are not remarkable in any
respect, unless in being void in general of medullary ca¬
vity. The absence of this canal was originally observed
by Caldesi, and afterwards by Cuvier, in the tortoise; by
Troja in the bones of the frog and toad; and by Carus in
those of the turtle. In the crocodile, however, and in
several of the lizard family, they are large and distinct.
The bones of Reptiles also are less firm than those of Birds
and Mammals.
The bones of Fishes are remarkable for great softness,
flexibility, and elasticity. Those of the lamprey, shark,
ray or skate, and sturgeon family, are soft, flexible, sec-
tile, of a bluish white colour, translucent, and so elastic
that a cutting instrument forced into them is speedily re-
truded by the resilient nature of the bony matter, from
these characters, the bones of these families have been
regarded as cartilaginous, and the fishes themselves have
been distinguished by this character. (Pisces cartila-
ginei, pisces chondropterygii.) In the other fishes,
the bones, though softer than those of Mammals, Birds,
and Reptiles, present a greater degree of firmness and so¬
lidity, are whiter and more opaque, and are much less
sectile, than those of the cartilaginous division. As in this
respect, therefore, they approach the genuine bone of the
Mammals, these are distinguished as fishes with osseous
skeletons. (Pisces ossei.)
The bones of both classes of fishes consist of a large
quantity of gelatine, with a small proportion of phosphate
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Vnatomy.
75
late
i:xxiv.
<r. 1.
he spine
ervical
rtebrae.
ofhme. In the osseous fishes, however, the latter sub- Vnau {BrMypmdidactytui). The most common number Compara.
stance ts most abundant. >s "'hml, ls that not only of man, but of the ourane- live
The colour of the bones of fishes, though in general outang, silky monkey {simia marikina\ patas (s vatas) Anatomy
whitish gray, is observed to vary in certain genera. In maimon (simin maimon), macaca (simia ajmmolqus),  
the gar-pike (esox below), for instance, they are green, baboon (s. sphynx), magot (s. mum), mandrill (s maimon)
and in the viviparous blenny (blenmus vtvtparm), the pongo (s.pmujo), niacauco (lemur catta), vamnvre ureat
sand launce (ammodytes tobianus), and two species of and horse-shoe bat, colugo (galeopithecus) shrew hare
labrus (the l. lapina and (eruginosa), they assume a green and rabbit, agouti, flying squirrel, mouse and field rat and
colour after boiling. The causes of these varieties in camel and dromedary. The next most frequent number
is 13, which is that of the mole, white bear, civet, the
cat tribe (felis), the dog, wolf and fox, the didelpfiis
tribe, the cavy, guinea pig and paca, the mouse tribe,
excluding the two exceptions already mentioned, the long¬
tailed manis, the stag, the antelope genus, the o^at,
sheep, and ox, and the dolphin and porpoise. The num¬
ber is 14 in the gibbon, coaita, and weeping monkey, in the
colour are unknown.
SECT. I.—OSTEOLOGY OF THE MAMMIFEROUS ANIMALS.
The skeleton of the Mammalia bears a general resem¬
blance to that of the human subject, in the construction,
shape, and disposition of its component pieces. Distin-
rsal
ftebrae.
,7 i . ~  r  ^<„uaiLa, cuju weeping monxey, m the
guishea, like that, into head, trunk, and extremities, we howling ape (simia beelzebul), the tarsius, the brown bear
recognise the importance of the trunk, and especially of raccoon and coati, the weazel genus, the porcupine, ho£^,
the snine, in the different classes of mammiferrms nnl. and giraffe. It is 15 in the lori, hedgehog and tenrec, in
the badger, pangolin, and seal. The number is 16 in the
glutton, hyena, ant-eater, American lamantin, and mega¬
therium. In the horse, quagga, and dugong, they are
18 ; in the rhinoceros 19 ; in the Indian elephant and tapir
20; and in the Unau or two-toed sloth 23, which, as al¬
ready stated, is the greatest number yet known.
In the ape family the dorsal vertebrae resemble those
of the human subject, but their spinous processes are
long, and erect in the macaca and magot. In the bats,
instead of spinous processes, which are wanting, there are
the spine, in the different classes of mammiferous ani¬
mals.
The spine consists of separate vertebrae, which are con¬
veniently distinguished, as in man, into cervical, dorsal or
costal, lumbar, sacral, and coccygeal or caudal.
The number of cervical vertebrae is the same in animals
with the longest and shortest necks,—in the horse, camel,
and giraffe, and in the mole and ant-eater. They are al¬
ways seven. The only exception is observed in the Ai or
three-toed sloth (bradypus tridactyld), which has 9 cervical
vertebrae (Cuvier); and an apparent exception is presented
\ s ' ” rr— x ^ wiicuc wcumxig, mere an
in the dolphin and porpoise, in which the first two are con- minute tubercles. The want of these, however, in sun-
solidated into one; and in the cachalot or large-headed dry species, leaves the column comparatively smooth be-
whale, in which the last six. sometimes the whole cpv£»n llinrl- Tn til^ TAmr\ov /nmorlviimx/Ja   1 
whale, in which the last six, sometimes the whole seven,
are united or ankylosed. The last six are also united in
the ant-eater and manis (Cuvier). Even in this state,
however, the traces of the original separation are distinct.
In the ape the cervical vertebrae are distinguished from
hind. In the proper quadrupeds these processes are larger,
straighter, and stronger, as the head is weighty or sup¬
ported on a long neck, in order to give attachment to the
strong yellow cervical ligament. This peculiarity is very
  -r-    Hum distinct in the giraffe, camel, ox, rhinoceros, and elephant.
those of man chiefly by the spinous processes being stronger In the dolphin they are straight, and smaller than those of
and not bifid, and in their bodies being projected more the loins.
over each other before, so as to support the head more The lumbar vertebrae vary in number still more, per-I'umbar
perfectly. In the Zoophaga the transverse processes of haps, than the cervical and dorsal; and this variety may oc- vertel>r£e.
the cervical vertebrae are flattened from behind backwards, casionally be traced to the greater or less distinctness with
and those of the atlas are very large, both for supporting which the sacral and coccygeal are distinguished. The
the head and giving attachment to the strong muscles smallest number is 2, which is that of the two-toed ant-
eater, ornithorhyncus, and American lamantin; and the
greatest 9, which is that of the lori. The most frequent
number is 7, which is that of the greater part of the
monkeys, the macauco, the great bat (noctula), the hedge¬
hog, shrew, raccoon ; the tiger, panther, puma, and cat, in
the feline genus; the wolf and fox in the dog; the hare and
rabbit; the whole murine genus except the hamster; and in
the camel and dromedary. The next number in frequency
is 6, which is that of the horse-shoe bat, the colugo (galeo-
employed in defence, attacking prey, or bearing it off.
For the same purpose the spinous process of the axis is
very prominent, while the others are short and directed
towards the head. In the mole and shrew the cervical
vertebrae, which are void of spinous processes, are simple
osseous rings, which move easily on each other, probably
to facilitate the frequent motions requisite in these ani¬
mals in burrowing. In the hog the cervical transverse
processes are compressed and broad before, so as to ap-
a # 7 1 7 ^ I/Aac iiwi oc-oiiuc Uctt, 111C UUiLlgU KUIAICO-
pear double. In the elephant the cervical vertebrae have pithecus), the white and brown bear, the coati, the weasel
snort Single spinous nrocesses. and thp hndips nrmppti'no- o-cmne klio   r„l- .1 ]
short single spinous processes, and the bodies projecting
over each other as in the ape. In the Ruminants the
length of the spinous processes diminishes as the neck is
elongated. Thus they are almost wanting in the camel
and giraffe, in which the arched neck is much retro-flected;
genus, the civet, the lion, among the feline, and the dog
among the canine genus, the didelphis and cavy genera,
the hamster, the stag, antelope, goat, sheep, ox, horse, and
quagga. The gibbon, coaita, Ai, Echidna or Ornithorhyn¬
cus hystrix of English zoologists, six-banded armadillo,
i ... .   uvu .71 A-iiigxiDu puuiugious, ,siA.-ua,iiueu aimauiiio,
and the same peculiarity is recognised in those of the and dugong, have only 3 lumbar vertebrae; the ourang-
10tn’ ,, . , , , . outangj pongo, and howling ape, 4; the vampyre bat 4; the
I-rom these facts it results that the length of the neck hyena, armadillo, Unau, and tapir, 4; the jocko, tarsier,
C,c n6n S n°^ 0It1 * 10 nurnker’ hot on the longitudinal extent, and common bat, 5; the badger and glutton, the porcupine,
° Tjf C?lvicf vertebrae. beaver, pangolin, long-tailed manis, hog, giraffe, gazelle,
j i e f.01^ ’ ^ 'oracic, or costal vertebrae are distinguish- chamois, and seal, all 5 ; and the agouti and flying squir¬
ed by forming the central fixed basis of the ribs; and rel have 8.
^ n?im^)er depends on that of the latter class of bones, In theQuADRUMANA and Zoophaga generally the outer
•C ^ if very variable. I he number of costal vertebrae side of each posterior articular process presents an apex
nes 10m , which is that of the Chinese monkey, com- turned backward, so that the anterior articular process of
mon a , arnia i o, helmet-headed dolphin (delphinus glo- the next vertebra is locked between two eminences, which
iceps), am angetic dolphin, to 23, which is that of the confine its movement much. Though this apex is found
76
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
in the Rodentia, it is there shorter; and the arrangement
is wanting in the other tribes. The size of the transverse
processes indicates the strength of the loins,—a fact
which is evinced especially in the instance of the horse,
porpoise, &c.
Sacral ver- The number of sacral vertebrae is still more various,
tebrae. even jn the species of the same genus. Thus, while in
several of the ape genus, in the lori, in the vampyre bat,
the colugo (galeopithecus), the coati, and two of the
didelphis, there is one sacral vertebra only, most of the
apes have sacra consisting of 2, 3, 4, 5, or 6 pieces ; the
majority of other animals have 3 sacral vertebrae; the
hedgehog, porcupine, guinea pig, paca, hare, tiger, several
of the murine genus, the ant-eater, rhinoceros, camel, dro¬
medary, chamois, goat, sheep, and ox, have 4; the ele¬
phant has 5; the Ai 6; the Uhau 7; and in the mole,
white bear, and quagga, they also amount to 7. The fre¬
quency of the three sacral vertebrae in the lower animals
shows that Galen, who ascribes only 3 to the human sub¬
ject, must have derived this inference from the former.
These vertebrae are in the mammalia narrower than in
man, and their direction forms with the spine, instead of
receding backwards, a straight line ; an arrangement evi¬
dently connected with the horizontal position of the for¬
mer. The shape of the sacrum in the lower mammals is
that of an elongated triangle ; and it is further remarkable,
that in those species which occasionally assume the erect
attitude on the hind leg, as apes, bears, and sloths, the
width of the sacrum is proportionally greater. The sa¬
cral spines, which are short in man and the ape, become
longer in the Zooph ag a, and form a continuous ridge in the
rhinoceros, most ruminants, and especially in the mole. In
the vampyre bat the sacrum forms a long compressed
cone, the extremity of which is united to the ischial tu¬
berosities, without sustaining a coccyx. The seal has two
sacral bones ; but the Cetacea, e. g. the dolphin and por¬
poise, are void both of sacrum and coccyx.
The coccygeal bones constitute the tail of the lower
animals, and in many instances they are extremely nume¬
rous. The smallest number is 3, which is that of the
magot (simia, sylvanus, pithecus, et inuus) or Barbary ape ;
and the greatest yet known is that of the ant-eater, in
which they amount to 40, and the long-tailed manis, in
which they amount to 45. Next to these may be placed
that of the coai'ta 32, the baboon 31, the phalanger {di¬
delphis orientalis) 30, the marmoset {didelphis marina) 29,
the pangolin 28, the silky monkey {simia rosalia) and
black rat 26, the weeping monkey and howling ape 25 ; the
panther, mouse, dormouse, and elephant, 24; the lion,
beaver, water-rat, Norway rat, and field-rat, 23 ; the flying-
cat, puma, cat, dog, marmot, and rhinoceros, 22; the
otter, 21; the Chinese monkey, raccoon, civet, hare, and
rabbit, 20; the tiger and wolf, 19; the macauco, glutton,
marten, fat dormouse, dromedary, giraffe, and quagga, 18;
the tarsier, shrew, camel, and horse, 17 ; and other genera
and species, without any determinate order, descending
so low as to 9, 8, 7, 6, and 4. The quilled duckbill {echidna,
ornithorhyncus hystrix) has only 12 caudal vertebrae, while
the common one {ornithorhyncus paradoxus) has at least
20. The gibbon and vampyre bat are the only mammifer-
ous animals, excepting the Cetacea, in which there are
no coccygeal bones. It sometimes happens that a monkey
or opossum loses a portion of its tail, when the truncated
end is converted into a knotty excrescence, sometimes
carious, always different from the taper point of the last
coccygeal vertebra; and in this case it is difficult to de¬
termine the exact species.
In the Cetacea, in which the absence of pelvis affords
no mark to distinguish the lower vertebrae into lumbar,
sacral, and coccygeal, those below the dorsal may be re¬
el. Lc
Lamantin 16 24
Dugong 18 28
Dolphin 13 47
Tursio  .13 38
D. Globiceps 11 37
D. Griseus 12 42
D. Gangeticus 11 28
Coccygeal
or caudal
vertebrae.
garded as lumbo-coccygeal; and their number is estimated Compara.
by deducting that of the cervical and costal from the total hve
number. The following table, which shows the number
of the costal, the lumbo-coccygeal, and the total number
of vertebrae, indicates that their number varies much in
various genera of this family.
t. d. l.c. t.
46 Porpoise 13 40 60
46 Narwal 12 35 54
67 Hyperoodon 9 29 45
58 Cachalot or White
56 Whale 14-15 39 60
61 Greenland Whale... 15 37 59
46 Rorquhal 14 31 52
In general, however, if we reckon the first 2, 3, or 5 ver¬
tebrae after the costal as lumbar, it may be said that the
caudal vertebrae of the Cetacea vary from 22 or 25, which
are the numbers respectively in the lamantin and dugong,
to 34, 38, and 42, at which they may be estimated in the
dolphin. We shall see that, in the dugong at least, we are
guided in this estimate by the rudimental bones of the
pelvis.
The coccygeal or caudal vertebrae of the Mammalia
may be distinguished into two kinds; those which con¬
tain a canal in continuity with that of the vertebral co¬
lumn and sacrum, and those in which the pieces are solid.
The first, which are next the sacrum, have articular,
transverse, and spinous processes, distinct in proportion
as the animals move their tails. The latter are generally
prismatic in shape, diminish in size towards the extre¬
mity, and have only slight tubercles for muscular attach¬
ments. Animals with prehensile tails, as the American
ape {sapajous), have above, at the base of the body of
each vertebra, two small tubercles, between which pass
the tendons of the flexor muscles. By means of this
mechanism these animals can twine the tail round the
branch of a tree with sufficient force to support the weight
of the body.
The Mammalia with long mobile tails have often two
or three small supernumerary bones placed on the lower
surface of the junctions of several of the coccygeal ver-
tebrae, from the 3d or 4th to the 7th or 8th. These
sesamoid bones give attachment to muscles. In the
beaver, which employs its tail as a trowel, the transverse
processes are remarkable for size, while the lower spinous
processes are larger than the upper ones,—an arrangement
which enables it to depress the tail forcibly when it beats
the ground.
The shape of the chest in the Mammalia varies in The chest
general as the clavicles are present or wanting. In ani¬
mals provided with clavicles, as the Quadrumana, bats,
the squirrel, beaver, mole, ant-eater, hedgehog, and sloth,
the shape of the chest approaches to the human, or is
conoidal, and flattened before and behind. In those void
of clavicles it is compressed laterally, from the smaller in¬
curvation of the ribs ; and the sternum makes a remark- The ster-
able prominence, so that the transverse or intercostal dia-nuni-
meter is less proportionally, and the sterno-vertebral is
greater proportionally, than in man and the claviculated
animals. In the long-legged animals, as the giraffe and
those of the stag kind, this prominence of the sternum is
sufficient to give it a keel-like appearance {thorax carina-
tus). In the carnivorous animals the chest presents its
greatest longitudinal extent.
The number and shape of the ribs varies in the differ- The ril
ent tribes. In number, indeed, the ribs always correspond
with that of the costal vertebrae. Thus, in the Quadruma¬
na, Zoophaga, Rodentia, Edentata,and Ruminantia,
they vary from 12 to 15 pair, with only three exceptions,
the glutton, hyena, and ant-eater. In the Chinese monkey,
common bat, and armadillo, they are a pair less than in
A N A 1
Conijiara- man. While tlie quillet! duckbill (echidna, ornithorhyncus
Ibve hystrix) has only 15 ribs, the common duckbill (ornithor-
Anatomy. ]tyUCUS paradoxus) has 17; the horse and quagga have
18, the rhinoceros 19, the elephant and tapir 20, and in
the U7iau or two-toed sloth they amount to 23, which is
the greatest known number. On the whole, the most
prevalent number is 13. In the carnivorous animals they
are narrow and dense in structure. In the herbivorous
they are large, broad, and thick. In the armadillo the
two first ribs are large compared with the others. In the
two-toed ant-eater, which has 16 pairs, the}' are so broad
that they are imbricated over each other like the plates of
a corslet, and render the parietes of this animal’s chest
exceedingly solid. In the two species of duckbill (orni¬
thorhyncus paradoxus and hystrix ; echidna of Cuvier), the
true ribs, in number 6, consist of two portions—a long or
vertebral joined to the spine, and a short or sternal at¬
tached to the sternum. These portions are united by
cartilage, so as to resemble the ribs of birds. The 9 or
10 false ribs terminate before in broad, flat, oval plates of
bone, which are mutually connected by elastic ligaments.
The sternum, which is broad in the ourang and pongo,
is narrow in the other species of ape, and consists of seven
or eight pieces. In the vampyre and all the bat family
it is narrow, but presents before or below rather a promi¬
nent azygous ridge or keel (carina), and an anterior ex¬
tremity, broad on the sides, like a T, for receiving the
clavicles. In the mole the clavicular extremity of the
sternum is continued before the ribs, and is flat on the
sides for receiving the two short clavicles. In the hog
the sternum is broad behind and narrow before. In the
rhinoceros, horse, and elephant, it is prolonged before and
flat on the sides. In the Cetacea it is broad and thin,
especially before.
Cranium. Though the Quadrumana have 8 cranial bones, the
sphenoid often consists of two portions, one forming the
orbitar wings and the anterior clinoid processes, the other
the temporal or large wings, the posterior clinoid processes,
and the basilar fossa. The two parietal bones are early
united into one in the Chiroptera and the other Zoo-
phaga, in which, however, the frontal remains biparted
by a middle suture. The temporal tympanum is separat¬
ed from the rest of the bone by a suture, which is seldom
obliterated in the feline, canine, and viverra genera. The
temporal tympanum is also separate in the Rodentia, and
the frontal ununited. The parietal is united in some, as the
hare, the porcupine, cahia, marmot, rat, and squirrel; se¬
parate in the mouse, fat dormouse, and rabbit. The frontal
and parietal bones of the elephant are early united with
the other cranial bones, and form a vault without trace of
suture. In the hog, tapir, and hippopotamus, the two
parietal bones form one piece, while the frontal bone is
biparted ; and though in the rhinoceros both are biparted,
the frontal is early united into one portion. The sphe¬
noid bone of the animals of this tribe long consists of two
pieces, one forming the orbitar wing; the other the tem¬
poral wings, which, it is to be further observed, are the
smallest, in opposition to their proportional dimensions
in man. In the Ruminants and Solidungula the frontal
remains long parted by its middle suture; but the two
parietals are represented by a single bony vault. The
tympanum is always distinct from the temporal bone.
In the seal and walrus the parietal and the frontal con¬
sist of two pieces. The lamantin has only one bony arch,
representing the two parietal and the squamous part of
the temporal bones, while the temporal tympanum is de¬
tached from the rest of the bone. In the other Cetacea
the parietal bones are at an early period united to the oc¬
cipital and temporal bones, so that the five form one solid
poition. The auditory or pyramidal bone is always de-
" O M Y. 77
tached from the temporal, and adheres to the cranium bv Compara-
soft parts only. The sphenoid is not only long separate, tive
but consists of several portions. Anatomy.
1 hough, among the Quadrumana, the cranium of the
ourang-outang approaches that of man in shape, it differs
nevei theless in the connections of the constituent bones.
J he temporal wing of the sphenoid bone is very narrow,
does not reach the parietal, and touches the frontal only
by its upper extremity, so that the temporal bone is part¬
ly articulated with the frontal. The temporal suture is
not imbricated, but serrated. The same mode of connec¬
tion is observed in the mandrill, macaca (s. cynocephalus),
magot, and guenon (Cercopithecus), or tailed monkey
tribe. In the American monkey the temporal win<* of
the sphenoid touches neither the frontal nor the panetal
bones ; but the temporal bone is articulated directly with
the malar by its flat portion. In the American monkeys
the frontal bone does not touch the temporal wing of the
sphenoid, and the parietal is articulated to the malar. In
the howling ape (simia heelzebul) the connections are as
in man.
The connections of the cranial bones are in the Zoo- Connee-
phaga the same as in man. In the Rodentia the sphenoid t‘olls-
is joined to the frontal and temporal, without touching the
parietal; and the orbitar and temporal fossce are very small.
In the armadillo, pangolin, and sloth, the connections are
as in the Rodentia ; but in the ant-eater the parietal
bone, continued below the cranium, is united to the sphe¬
noid at the posterior part of the orbito-temporal fossa:.
In the elephant, though the cranial bones are at an
early period consolidated into one, the auditory is always
distinct from the temporal bone. In the hog, tapir, rhi¬
noceros, and hippopotamus, the sphenoid is united to the -
parietal bone, and its temporal wings occupy a small
space only of the orbitar and temporal fossae. The orbi¬
tar wings, though larger, appear small externally. The
auditory bone, though distinct, is, however, united by its
base to the margin of the auditory canal of the temporal
bone. The sphenoid of the ruminants is articulated, as
in man, with all the cranial bones; but its orbitar wing,
which is extensive, is principally concealed within the
cerebral cavity, and covered by the orbital part of the
frontal bone. In the Cetacea generally, all the sutures
which remain after early life are squamous or imbricated.
The outline of the frontal bone in the ourang-outang is
more irregular than in man, and the orbitar arches are
less surbased. In the American monkeys its outline is
triangular, and terminates in a point towards the vertex.
In the others of this family (Simia), this bone is almost
elliptical, and the orbitar arches are nearly straight; and
in the whole family these arches form, as in man, the an¬
terior border of the frontal bone, in consequence of the
narrowness of the root of the nose. In the makis it be¬
gins to widen, and the eyes become oblique,—a circum¬
stance which gives their frontal bone a rhomboidal shape.
The frontal bone in the Zoophaga, and in all the subse¬
quent Mammalia, except the Cetacea, forms an irre¬
gular prismatic or cylindrical surface with three faces—a
superior, bounded before by the muzzle, behjnd by the
cranial convexity and two lateral, descending into the or¬
bitar and temporal fossce on each side. The hedgehog,
mole, shrew, ant-eater, some of the phocce, the morse or
walrus, and the rhinoceros, have no proper orbitar arches;
and the frontal bone, though broad behind, is contracted
and nearly cylindrical between the orbits. In the hippo¬
potamus, the ruminants, and the onedmofed animals, it
enlarges, and forms a vault over each orbit. Lastly, in
the Cetacea it is narrow from before backward, resem¬
bling a fillet stretched across the cranium, but descends
beneath the maxillary bones to form the floor of the orbit.
78 A N A T
Com para- The parietal bones of the ourang-outang differ from
tive those of man only in their temporal margin being nearly
Anatomy. straight. Those of the ape are narrower, and become more
oblique-angled as the cranium is flattened. In the Zoo-
phaga and Edentata they are almost rectangular. The
single parietal of the RodentiaIs nearly quadrilateral; but
it is sometimes flat, sometimes rounded, sometimes sur¬
mounted by a crest. Of the single parietal bone of the
ruminants, that of the stag, most of the antelope genus,
the sheep and the goat, is broad, and sends on each side
a narrow process into the temporal fossa before the occi¬
pital arch; in the camel it is narrower, and bears a lon¬
gitudinal crest; and in the ox and antilope bubalus it is
placed behind the occipital crest, and resembles a fillet
surrounding the back of the head transversely. In the
Solidungula the single parietal is nearly quadrilateral,
and placed before the occipital crest.
The occi- The occipital bone in the lower mammalia is remark-
pital bone, for fjVe characters. 1. The proper occipital surface,
instead of being oblique or horizontal, and inferior or ba¬
silar, becomes vertical and posterior. 2. The plane of
the occipital hole forms with that of the orbits an angle
constantly diminishing, becomes parallel to the orbitar
plane, and at length crosses it above the head. 3. The
plane of the occipital condyles, instead of being transverse
and horizontal, becomes oblique, and at length vertical.
4. The basilar or cuneiform process is not only hori¬
zontal, but forms with the occipital a right angle. And,
5. The mastoid process, which in man and the ape forms
part of the temporal, belongs in the other mammalia to
the occipital. In the polar bear, however, the mastoid
process constitutes part of the temporal bone.
From the 1st, 2d, and 3d characters, it results that the
head of quadrupeds is not balanced on the spine, but is
suspended by muscles, tendons, and ligaments, especially
the strong cervical, which connects the occipital spine to
the spinous processes of the cervical and dorsal vertebrae.
This ligament, therefore, though feeble and indistinct in
man, is strong, particularly in quadrupeds with heavy
head or long neck, in order to counteract the disadvantage
of the long lever. It is strongest in the elephant, and is
almost wholly ossified in the mole—a condition requisite
for the burrowing faculty exercised by that animal.
The tern- The temporal bone is naturally distinguished in the
poral bone. Mammalia into two parts ; a flat or proper temporal, cor¬
responding to the squamous part of the human temporal
bone, and the pyramidal, acoustic, or auditory, correspond¬
ing to the pyramidal or lithoid portion of the human sub¬
ject. The first only, which is proper to the scull, claims
attention here. In the ourang-outang and most of the
genus simia it forms a trapezium with the longest side
above, and the height of which varies with that of the
scull. In the American apes it is smallest in this direc¬
tion. In the Zoophaga the proper temporal bone is as in
the ape. Being narrow in the Rodentia behind, it is a
little rounded in the short-muzzled Edentata, the Rumi-
nantia, and Pachydermata.
The ethmoid is, strictly speaking, the olfactory bone,
and shall be mentioned under the organs of sense. The
sphenoid, among other offices, may be regarded as the
essential ophthalmic bone.
The facial The facial bones of the lower Mammalia differ from
bones. those of man ; first, in the number of separate pieces;
and, secondly, in the form and proportional horizontal ex¬
tent.
Intermax- The difference in number consists in each superior max¬
illary iuary being divided into a maxillary bone proper, and
bones* an anterior or labial portion; which being interposed be¬
tween the proper maxillary, are commonly denominated the
intermaxillary (ossa intermaxillaria). As it bears also the
O M Y.
superior incisors, it is named by Haller the incisive bone Compara.
(os incisivum); but since it is found not only in the rumi- tive
nants, which, excepting the camel, are void of incisors, but
in the Edentata and Cetacea, this denomination is less
applicable than the former. It ynuy be doubted whether
these should be regarded as additional bones, as they are
generally represented by zootomists ; for they are in truth
merely the incisive or anterior portion of the superior
maxillary bones. In other respects, the difference be¬
tween the human and the animal superior maxillary bone
is, that in the former each bone is in one piece, in the
latter it is in two. Even in the human foetus the trace
of the separation may be recognised ; and we have seen it
in the human scull some years after birth. Conversely,
it is early obliterated in some quadrupeds. Thus, though
distinct in the ourang-outang seen by Cuvier, it was not
found by Tyson or Daubenton, and is wanting in one pre¬
served in the Hunterian museum. In a young specimen
of the jocko also, noticed by Cuvier, no trace of the in¬
termaxillary suture was observed. It appears also to be
wanting in the perforated bat, the horse-shoe bat, and
the three-toed sloth.
Mutually united on the mesial plane, the intermaxillary
bones are united to the maxillary by sutures, which pass
from the outer angles of the latter, near the incisive holes,
towards the palate, where they intersect. In form and
size it varies in the different orders and genera. Small in
many of the Zoophaga and the walrus, it is large in the
Rodentia, in the hippopotamus, porpoise, and cachalot,
and prominent in the wombat. In the duckbill it consists
of two unciform portions, united by a broad intermediate
cartilage.
The peculiarity of the animal face consists in the ho- Elongation
rizontal elongation of the two jaw-bones. In the monkey of the face,
tribe this elongation is trifling; and all that is remarked
is, that the palate and maxillary bones are more elongated
in proportion to their height, and that their anterior part,
instead of being vertical, is more or less inclined forwards.
The degree of this elongation, which differs in different
genera, may be estimated by the acuteness of the facial
angle.
The narrowness of the interorbital space is another Interorbi-
character of the animal countenance. In the guenon and tal region.
American ape it is a mere septum ; but in the ourang-
outang, magot, and howler, it is larger, by reason of the
nasal fossce ascending to this height. From these the
face of the Zoophaga is distinguished by the following
circumstances. 1. The breadth of the ascending maxillary
processes throws the orbits to the sides; 2. these orbitar
surfaces form the anterior wall instead of the floor of the
orbit; 3. the malar bone is united neither to the frontal
nor to the sphenoid bone, and forms only the zygomatic
arch and the lower margin of the orbit; 4. the orbit, clos¬
ed neither behind nor below, communicates freely with
the temporal fossa ; and, 5. the palate bones are much
elongated and form a considerable spacg of the internal
wall, to which the ethmoid bone does not contribute. In
the Rodentia the interorbital space is still larger, by rea¬
son of the size of the intermaxillary bones throwing the
maxillary backwards and to the sides, where they form the
inner orbitar wall, in which the palate bones occupy only a
small space. The anterior wall is formed by a process of
the maxillary, which contributes to form the zygomatic
arch, while the malar is suspended in the middle between
the process and that of the temporal bone. Very similar
is the face of the elephant, except that the height of the
alveoli from the tusks, thrusting the nose upwards, and
shortening its bones, alters entirely the expression of the
head of this animal.
In the sloth, in which the face is short in proportion to
ANATOMY.
Orbits.
Com para- the scull, the malax* bone attached to the maxillary only,
tive is not united to the zygomatic process of the temporal. In
Anatomy. ]ong_muzz]ecl Edentata,in which the face is conoidal,
the maxillary bones extend to the orbits, and are separat¬
ed by a broad lacrymal bone, while a long palate bone
forms the inner wall of these fossce. The zygomatic arch,
which is interrupted in the ant-eater and pangolin, is com¬
pleted in the Cape ant-eater and the ai-madillo. In the
tapir and rhinoceros the maxillary bone passes beneath
the orbit; and the nasal bones form a sort of vault, which
supports in the fii'st animal the trunk, and in the second
the horn.
In the Cetacea the maxillary and intermaxillary bones
form a sort of flattened beak, distinguished into four paral¬
lel bands, of which the maxillary, which are external, alone
bear teeth in three genei*a, provided with the latter organs.
The nasal fossa is a vertical opening before the cranium,
surrounded before and laterally by the intermaxillary
bones. The maxillary ascend in the same manner, and
cover that part of the frontal bone which forms the orbitar
vault, but do not themselves contribute to the formation
of this cavity. The nasal bones are two minute tubercles
implanted on the frontal bone above the narrow aperture.
The malar is in the shape of a style, suspended by cartilages
beneath the orbit; and the latter cavity is completed be¬
hind by a process of the frontal, which joins the zygoma¬
tic of the temporal bone, and below which the orbitar
and temporal /b.ss<g communicate.
The direction of the ox-bits, the shape of their base or
facial border, and their relation to the temporal/ossa, are
important circumstances in the animal face and cranium.
In the simi(E the angle of the orbitar axes is rather
smaller ; and the shape of the margin, which is quadrilate¬
ral in the jocko, becomes oval in the oui*ang-outang and
American monkeys. The angle of the axes enlarges in
the other Mammalia; and the base or anterior margin
becomes nearly circular in the Zoophaga, Rodentia,
Edentata, and Pachydermata ; but the arch is incom¬
plete behind. In \heRuminants and Solidipeda, however,
in which it is also circular, the border is complete. In
the Cetacea the orbitar vault is semicircular, their axes
are rectilineal, and there is no floox*.
In the human scull the junction of the malar bone
with the frontal and sphenoid completes the orbit extei*-
nally, and prevents it from communicating with the tem¬
poral/ossa ; and the same arrangement is observed in the
simia. In the Carnivora, Rodentia, Edentata, and
Pachydermata, however, in which the malar bone is
united neither to the frontal nor the sphenoid, the orbit
is not only incomplete on the external posterior border,
but communicates freely with the temporal In the
Ruminants is observed an arrangement intermediate be¬
tween that of the Quadrumana and that of the Carni¬
vora. The malar bone, united to the frontal, completes
the orbitar ring; but as it is not united to the sphenoid, it
allows the orbits and temporal fossce. to communicate. The
orbit of the mole is so superficial, that it can scarcely be
said to exist.
Ihe lower jaw of the mammiferous quadruped differs
from that of man chiefly by the following circumstances.
Ihe triangular flat surface which constitutes the chin, and
which is most distinct in the Caucasan race, begins to be¬
come faint in the negro, and is altogether lost in the monkey
tribe. In the ourang-outang, indeed, the animal character
of the lower jaw appears distinct in the vertical convexity
ot the anterior arch of the jaw, and the retreating of its
lower margin. In the lower Quadrumana the anterior
maxillary arch is still more retreating, and the maxillary
rami form a more acute and elongated angle. These
animal characters are still more conspicuous in the Car-
79
The lower
jaw.
NivoRA,most Of the Pachydermata, Ruminants, Soli- Compara-
dungula, and Rodentia. The ascending ramus also tive
becomes short in the Pachydermata and several of the Anatomy.
Cetacea, more so in the Zoophaga, and is almost extinct
in several of the Rodentia, for instance the paca, beaver,
and porcupine, and the armadillo, ant-eater, and duck¬
bill, among the Edentata. In the Zoophaga, however
in which the prehensile and masticatory muscles are large
and powerful, the ramus becomes broad, and its coronoid
process is extensive. The angle which the ramus forms
with the body of the jaw, and which is almost right in the
adult human subject, becomes obtuse in the lower ani¬
mals, nearly at the same rate at which the ramus dis¬
appears ; and indeed the transition of the angle into a
straight line implies the disappearance of the ramus. This,
therefore, is the character in the Edentata and Ceta¬
cea, in which there is neither ramus nor coronoid process,
after these parts have been seen for the last time in the
amphibious Mammalia.
When the mammiferous cranium is considered gene¬
rally, and the relative direction and proportion of the
cranial and facial part of the head examined, we recog¬
nise more distinctly the characters by which the lower
orders of that class are distinguished from man. This
character consists in the position of the occipital bone and
hole, the position and direction of the facial bones in re¬
lation to the frontal, the elongation of the former, and
large size which they present in relation to the cranial.
In the human subject, it has been already observed, the
position of the occipital bone is oblique and horizontal,
and the plane of the occipital hole is horizontal, while its
position is anterior. In most quadrupeds, while the bone
assumes a vertical position, the hole becomes posterior,
and its plane vertical or oblique, in proportion as the face
is elongated. The plane of the occipital hole forms with
that of the horizontal a considerable angle, which Dauben-
ton undertook to determine, by drawing one line through
the plane of the aperture, and another from its posterior
margin through the lower edge of the orbit. [Mem. de
VAcad, des Sciences de Paris, 1764, p. 568.) In the horse
this angle is about 90°, while in the ourang-outang it is
only 37°, and in the lemur 47°. In other respects, however,
it furnishes an imperfect result, since in most quadrupeds
which differ very much it ranges between 80° and 90°.
The direction of the face in relation to that of the Camperian
cranium, determined according to the method of Camper, line and
furnishes more accurate results. While in the human angle-
subject it varies, according to the races, from 70° to 80°, ‘
in the ourang-outang it is only 65°; in the American
and long-tailed monkeys about 60° ; in the macaca and
baboon about 45°; and, lastly, in the mandrillo, the most
vicious and ferocious of the monkey tribe, only 30°. In
some species in which the ear is elevated and the guttu¬
ral fossa deep, for instance in the pongo and alouate or
howler, the small size of this angle does not indicate pro¬
portional elongation of muzzle; and to rectify this incon¬
venience, it is requisite to draw the basilar line of the
facial angle parallel to the base of the nostrils. With
this modification, however, the Camperian line admits of
correct application to the human race and Quadrumana
only, in which the frontal sinuses are small and not promi¬
nent. In quadrupeds, for instance the carnivora, several
of the ruminants, and in the elephant, the frontal sinuses
are so large and prominent as to affect the results given
by the facial angle very materially. In other orders,
again, for instance the Rodentia and the morse, the nose
occupies so much space that the cranium is inclined
backwards without its walls being free before; and it is
impossible to know where the facial line passes. These,
therefore, must be measured by the inner surface. Lastly,
80
ANATOMY.
Compara- in the Cetacea the pyramidal elevation of the cranium part is not much broader than their pubah In the Rumi- Compara-
tive above an elongated but flattened face renders the facial nants, the Pachydermata, and Solidungula, tie 11a
Anatomy. iine much more vertical than it ought to be. The follow- portions again become broad; and in the elephant and rln-
ing measurements show the angle subtended by a line noceros especially, this width, combine^ wit engt
drawn parallel to the base of the nostrils, and another
passing by the anterior margin of the alveoli, and touch¬
ing the convexity of the cranium, whether the point of
contact be concealed by the face or not.
European infant 90*
European adult 05
European aged 75
Negro adult..: 70
Young ourang-outang 67
American monkey 65
Java monkey 57
Young mandrill 42
Coati •' 28
Pole-cat 31
Pug-dog  35
Mastiff^ tangent without 41
Method of Aware of the imperfect results obtained in this method
Cuvier. 0f measurement, Cuvier proposes to estimate the relative
proportion of the cranial and facial part of the head, by
comparing the respective areas exhibited by a longitudi¬
nal and vertical section of both. In this section the area of
the cranium is to that of the face sometimes in a ratio of
majority, sometimes of minority, occasionally of equality.
In the European the area of the cranial section is about
four times that of the face, excluding that of the lower
jaw. In the negro the cranial area remaining the same,
that of the face augments about one fifth, whereas in
the Calmuck it augments only one tenth. In the ourang-
outang the proportion is still less. In the American ape
the facial is almost half the cranial area. The ratio is
that of equality in the mandrill and most of the Carni¬
vora, except the varieties of short-muzzled dogs, as the
pug, in which the facial is rather less than the cranial area.
In the Rodentia, Pachydermata, Ruminants, and Soli¬
dungula, the facial is larger than the cranial area. Among
the Rodentia, in the hare and marmot, it is a third larger ;
in the hedgehog double; in the Ruminants almost double ;
in the pig a little more than double; nearly triple in the
hippopotamus; and almost four times in the horse. In
the morse and elephant the face is rendered large by
the height of the alveoli; and it may be regarded as
augmenting the organs of the senses. The cranium of
the Cetacea is very convex, and the face very flat, and
the proportional area of the latter is thereby diminished.
The facial area of the dolphin may be a third larger than
the cranial.
The outline of the cranial section in the human subject
is oval, that of the facial section forms a triangle, with
the longest side contiguous to the cranium, and the small¬
est without, while the angle formed by the latter with
the third side or palate is the facial. In the lower ani¬
mals, this triangle, which may be named the facial, be¬
comes so much elongated, that the cranial side, which is
the longest in man, becomes the shortest of the three in
the cynocephalm and mandrill, and continues so in the
other quadrupeds.
The pelvis. The basin {pelvis) of the Mammalia in general agrees
with that of man in forming a part common to the trunk
and the lower extremities. It differs, however, altogether
in the direction which it takes, which is obliquely back¬
wards, with its anterior opening or brim forwards and
downwards, and in the bones being smaller and much nar¬
rower ; both of which characters are connected with its
not being used in the lower animals to oppose the gravi¬
tating weight of the abdominal and pelvic viscera. In the
apes, most similar to man, the coxal bones are much
elongated; and in the Zoophaga, their superior or ilial
of the ilio-pubal rami and the concave abdominal surface,
concurs to give the pelves of these animals the prodi¬
gious capacity by which they are distinguished. 1 he
pelvis of the amphibious Mammalia differs from that of
the Zoophaga only in being narrow and elongated, and
Mastiff, tangent within 31 in the pubis being thrown behind. In the ant-eater,
Ka;=^:=::25 mole, and shrew, the pubal junction is open as in birds;
Leopard, within 28 and in the two latter genera, the bones are so narrow that
Hare, within 30 the sexual and urinary organs are placed without its cir-
Marmotte, within 25 cumference. In the sloth genera, e. g. the Ai and Unau,
Porcupine 23 ^ pejvjs js wide, the cotyloid cavities turned upwards,
Pangolin. 39 ^ tbe ischial tuberosity is united with the sacrum, so as
R:in~::::::::::::::::::::::30 to convert the isclnatic notch into a hole. This sacro-
Horse.V......... 23 ischial junction is also observed in others of the Edentata,
Dolphin 25 as the ant-eater and armadillo, and in the phascoloma
The marsupial animals present two
(didelphis ursina).
minute bones, one on each side, connected by movable
articulation to the pubis, and which are employed to sus¬
tain the mammillary pouch (marsupium) or nipple-bag,
in which the young are reared after exclusion from the
uterus. These bones, which are distinguished by the name
of marsupial {ossa marsupialia), are oblong and flattened.
Lastly, in the Cetacea, in which the pelvic extremities
are wanting (Plate XXXIV. fig. 2), the pelvis is also so
far deficient, that instead of consisting of the sacrum and
coxal bones, it is represented by a small bony appendage,
suspended in the soft parts on each side of the anus, and
which, meeting at angles on the mesial plane so as to form
a bone like the letter V, are merely a rudiment of the
ischial bones.
The shoulder of the Mammalia generally differs from
that of man by the absence or the proportions of the collar¬
bone, and by the shape of the scapula.
The collar-bone exists in the Quadrumana nearly as The collar-
in man; but it is wholly wanting in the three orders of Un- bone.
gulata—Pachydermata, the Ruminants, and the Soli¬
dungula—and in all the Cetacea. Betw'een these ex¬
tremes it is found in various forms in the intermediate or¬
ders of the Unguiculata. Among the Zoophaga it
exists in the Chiroptera, especially the bats proper, in
which it is strong and large; the Insectivora, as the
hedgehog, shrew, and mole genera; and in the didelphis or
opossum among the marsupial animals. In the others of this
order, as the bear, raccoon, coati, weasel, otter, dog, cat,
and seal, the collar-bone is represented by clavicular bones,
suspended among the muscles, touching neither the ster¬
num nor acromion; and in some species it is altogether
wanting. The Rodentia may be distinguished into two
subdivisions, as they are provided with or void of collar¬
bones. The first comprehends the squirrel, beaver, and
mouse, with the helamys, marmot, and aye-aye or cheiro-
mys genera. The second consists of the porcupine, hare,
and cavy genera, as the guinea-pig and paca, in which
the collar-bone is rudimental only, suspended among the
soft parts. It exists in most of the Edentata, as the sloth,
armadillo, ant-eater, and the gigantic fossil animal named
megatherium ; but it is wanting in the pangolin, and was
believed to be wanting in the echidna and duckbill till
Cuvier demonstrated its existence. In the Cetacea there
is no vestige of collar-bone.
From these facts it results that the clavicle exists in
all animals, the fore legs of which are frequently or habi¬
tually protruded, either to seize, as apes and the Roden¬
tia ; or to fly, as bats ; or to dig and burrow, as the mole; or
to rake the ground, as the hedgehog and ant-eater. In the
mole particularly, the collar-bone, instead of being long, is
ANATOMY.
Compara- a broad, thick, short, quadrangular bone; and while it is
tive connected to the acromion by a ligament, it is articulat-
ed to the humerus by a large facette. The collar-bone
of the echidna and ornithorhyncus is very singular. It
consists of a broad central bone, surmounted by two trans¬
verse branches spreading out on each side, so as to give
the whole bone some resemblance to the letter T, but
sinuated so as to make the diverging branches like the
Greek v. In young animals this bone consists of three
portions. The two diverging branches are genuine collar¬
bones, and may be regarded as a bifurcated bone; while
the middle is supported on the sternum, and has articu¬
lated to each side a part of the scapula, corresponding to
the coracoid process. The collar-bone, indeed, is a power¬
ful buttress, which prevents the arm-bone from being
thrust too much forward.
The shoul- Of the shoulder-blade or scapida, which is present in all
der-blade. red-blooded animals with thoracic extremities, and hence
in all the Mammalia, the principal point is to remark the
varieties which its shape presents. Though in man, most
of the Quadrumana, the Chiroptera, and the elephant,
the vertebral margin or base of several authors on human
anatomy is the longest, it becomes the shortest in most
quadrupeds, especially those which, like the Ruminants and
the Solidungula, have long legs and narrow chest. In
most of them, also, this margin, instead of being straight, is
rounded, as in the Carnivora and Rodentia. In the Car*
nivora without collar-bone, the hedgehog and didelphis,
the acromion is less prominent; there is another eminence
directed backwards, almost perpendicular to the spine.
The coracoid process, also, which is present in the Chi¬
roptera, the hedgehog, and didelphis genus, is wanting in
most of the zoophagous tribe. In the hare the acromion
terminates in a long slender process, rising at right angles
and bending backwards, which may be named the recur¬
rent. In the Ruminantsand Solidungula, notonly are this
and the acromion, but even the coracoid, wanting. The
scapula, again, of the hog and rhinoceros is remarkable for
the disappearance of the spine at the glenoid angle ; while
from its middle proceeds a prominent process towards
the costal or inferior margin. In the mole the scapula is
long and narrow, like a cylindrical bone, placed parallel
to the spine,—an arrangement which, together with the
shortness and thickness of the clavicle, already mentioned,
is evidently connected with the burrowing habits of this
animal. Lastly, in the echidna and ornithorhyncus, which
in so many characters of organization approach the Am¬
phibia on the one side, and the Birds on the other, the
scapula is a single sinuous bone, attached by one extre¬
mity to the sternum and middle part of the clavicular
bone, with the other loose ; and in the middle an articular
cavity, in which the head of the humerus is placed, and
which evidently corresponds to the glenoid. In this in¬
stance, therefore, the clavicle and scapula may be regarded
as united into a single bone.
ume‘ The humeruf, which exists in all the animals with tho¬
racic extremities, undergoes considerable variations. In
the lower animals generally it is much shorter than in man ;
and it is invariably shorter in proportion as the metacar¬
pus is elongated. Thus, in animals with what is named a
cannon bone, that is, one metacarpal, as in the horse and
the ruminants, the humerus is so short that it is conceal¬
ed in the soft parts as far as the cubit. In the Cetacea it
may be said to attain its maximum of brevity. In the bat
and sloth it is long in proportion to the rest of the body.
Hie humerus of the mole is perhaps the most extraor-
inary of all those of the mammiferous animals. Not only
is i articulated with the scapula by a small head, but it
jS co.nnectec[ with a facette of the clavicle by another be-
onging to the great tuberosity, and between which and
VOL. hi.
81
the head is a deep pit. The crest of the small tuberosity Compara-
is so large, that it represents a square placed vertically, tive
so that the linea aspera is above. The rest of the bocly Anatomy,
of the bone, which is very short, is arched above, so that"^^
the cubital extremity ,s directed upwards. From this
arrangement it results that the cubit is elevated above the
shoulder while the palm is turned downwards,—a disposi¬
tion necessary for the burrowing habits of the animal.
n the sinvue the radius and ulna are arranged as in Radius and
man, except that in the cynocephalus, mandrill, magot, and ulna,
guenon, the coronoid process of the ulna is narrower
and the radial facette deeper. In the other Mammalia
the ulna very generally disappears or becomes rudimentary
only. In the bat family and the colugo (galeojnthecus)
the ulna is wanting or is represented by a slender style
placed below the radius. These animals are therefore des¬
titute of the power of pronation and supination. In the
Zoophaga, the radius and ulna, though separate, are
void of rotatory motion; and the olecranon is compressed,
and continued farther back than in man. In the Pachy-
dermata the radius is before and the ulna behind, and,
though distinct, there is no rotation. In several of the
Rodentia, for instance the marmot, porcupine, &c. the
coronoid process is small, and in others, e. g. the cavy,
hare, and mouse family, it is altogether effaced. In the
Ruminants the ulna is united immovably to the radius;
and in the Solidungula it is represented by an olecranon
adhering to the posterior surface of that bone. In the
Cetacea, though both bones are present, they are much
flattened.
The carpus of the ape genus contains one bone more Carpus,
than that of man, situate between the pyramidal and large
bone, and which seems to result from the trapezium be¬
ing divided into two parts. Conversely, in the Zoophaga,
but especially in the dog, cat, hedgehog, shrew, bear, and
seal, the scaphoid and semilunar are united into one large
bone. Those which have a vestige of thumb, as the
hyena and glutton, have the trapezium very small. The
mole has not only 9 carpal bones, as the ape, but a large
sickle-shaped bone, which is attached to the radial mar¬
gin of the fore paw, and which gives it the shape proper
to the habits of the animal. rIhe toes are further very
short. Of the Rodentia, the hare resembles the ape ; but
in the beaver, marmot, squirrel, and cat, the scaphoid and
semilunar make one bone; while in the porcupine the su¬
pernumerary bone is between the pisiform and metacarpal
of the fifth toe. In the two-toed ant-eater there are only
6 caipal bones, 4 in the first row and two in the second;
in the thiee-toed sloth there are only 5, 3 in the first row
and 2 in the second; the pangolin has 7; the cachecame
8 and a rudimental small toe; the elephant 8, 7 wedge-
shaped and one elongated, corresponding to the pisiform;
and the other Pachydermata 8. In the rhinoceros, which
has only 3 toes, the trapezium only is wanting; but there
is a supernumerary bone on the margin of the scaphoid,
and on that of the unciform, as in the porcupine. The first
range consists, in the Ruminants and Solidungula, of 4
bones; in the former, excepting the camel, the second
consists of 2, and the latter of 3. Those of the Cetacea,
which are much flattened, are 3 in the first row and 2 in
the second.
The Mammalia generally have as many metacarpal Metacar..
bones as toes, that is, never fewer than 3 or more than 5,PUS>
with the exception of the Ruminants, in which these bones
are in early life consolidated into one named the cannon
bone. In animals which walk on the tips of the toes, or
which use them as organs of prehension, the metacarpal
bones are lengthened to nearly double; and hence in all
these animals the metacarpus is erroneously named the
fore leg, and therefore it has been imagined, that in several
82
ANATOMY.
Anatomy.
Fore toes.
Compare of our domestic animals the different parts of the lower ex-
tive tremity are articulated in opposite directions to those of
man. Thus the fore leg of the horse, deer, sheep, and
dog are in truth the metacarpus of these animals; and what
is vulgarly named the fore knee or cannon bone of the
horse, is actually the carpus or wrist-joint. It is there¬
fore convex on the dorsal, and concave and inflected on
the palmar aspect, exactly as the carpus of the human
subject.
In the three-toed sloth, the three bones of which the
metacarpus consists are mutually consolidated at the base
and with the rudiment of a fourth toe. In the Cetacea,
the metacarpal bones, which are much flattened, are also
mutually united.
In the Mammalia generally, if we include imperfect or
rudimental phalanges concealed in the skin, there are never
fewer than 3, nor more than 5. The Unguiculated ani¬
mals generally have 5, perfect and imperfect- The cha¬
racter of the perfect fore toe or finger is to consist of 3
rows or phalanges, excepting the first of the radial side,
which has only 2. In the Quad Humana this is separate,
and opposable to the other toes, constituting a thumb,
and giving this tribe of animals a prehensible organ en¬
titled to the epithet of hand. It is, however, shorter and
less perfect in other respects than the genuine thumb of
the human hand. In the codita (simia paniscus) it is con¬
verted into a rudimental bone, concealed under the skin.
In the Zoophaga, which have no power of grasping mi¬
nute objects, the thumb or first toe is parallel to the others,
and, though equal in length to these in the ursine family,
it is shorter in the mustela, viverra, canine and feline ge¬
nera. In the latter, which have the power of erecting the
claws, to prevent them from being blunted in walking, the
shape of the middle and unguinal phalanx is remark¬
able. The former is triangular prismatic, with two late¬
ral and a plantar or palmar inferior surface. The third
or unguinal phalanx is shaped like a hook, consisting of
two parts. One, directed forwards, sharp and pointed,
receives the nail or claw, in a long groove like a sheath.
The second part of the hook, which is behind, rises verti¬
cally from the lower part by which it is articulated, and
is produced into two processes, to which are attached the
erecting muscles of the claw, which are flexors of the
phalanx.
Among the Rodentia there is a perfect but short thumb
in the hare, beaver, and jerbois ; a two-phalanxbut conceal¬
ed one in the squirrel, mouse, and rat family, porcupine,
paca, agouti; and a one-phalanx concealed one in the
cavy, guinea-pig, marmot, &c. In the Edentata the
number of fore toes varies much ; in the Tamanoir, and
Tamandua or four-toed ant-eater, the thumb-toe is oblite¬
rated ; in the Ai or three-toed sloth, both that and the fifth
toe are obliterated; and in the two-toed ant-eater, and
Unau or two-toed sloth, these, with the second toe also,
are obliterated.
The elephant has 5 perfect toes, all concealed under
the thick, callous hide of the foot. In hoofed animals with
4 toes, for instance the hog, tapir, and hippopotamus, the
ihumb-toe is in the shape of a small rudimental bone.
In the Ruminants the single metacarpal bone (Chesel-
den’s figure of the Deer, Plate I.) is articulated with two
digital phalanges, which constitute one of the distinguish¬
ing characters of this order—the cloven foot. In some
genera, at the root of these twro perfect toes are two small
bones, often covered with horn, which represent two other
toes. The last or unguinal phalanx is always trilateral
in shape. In the horse and the Solidungula generally,
the two lateral toes are represented only by two bony
styles, named the splint bones, situate on the two sides of
the metacarpal or cannon bone. The three phalanges of
The fore
cannon
bone.
the single toe which constitutes the foot are distinguished Compara.
as the pastern bone, which is the first phalanx ; the coro- the
net, which is the middle or second; and the coffin bone,
which is the third or unguinal phalanx, which has the
shape of the hoof, rounded before, convex above, and flat
below. To the back of the pastern joint are connected
two sesamoid bones ; and to the coffin bone is attached
another, named the shuttle bone. In the Cetacea, all the
phalanges, which are flattened, and often cartilaginous,
are united in the fin or paddle. ....
The thigh-bone, which is single in all the classes, fol- Thigh-
lows the type of that of the human frame in general figure bone,
and parts. In the Mammalia it is, however, proportion¬
ally shorter, and its length diminishes as that of the me¬
tatarsus ausrnents. In the Ruminants and Solidungula,
for instance, it is so short that it is concealed by muscles
against the belly; and hence it is too often overlooked
and confounded with the leg. In other respects the ge¬
neral characters are, that it is not arched ; that, excepting
in the bear and some of the simia genus, e. g. the ourang-
outang, it is shorter than the leg-bones; that its neck is
very short, and more perpendicular to the axis of the
diaphysis than in man; and that the great trochanter is
raised above the head, which is directed inwards. In the
simice it is quite cylindrical, and void of linea aspera. In
the tapir the middle part is found flattened; and at the
external margin there is a prominent crest, terminating
in an unciform process. In the rhinoceros the great tro¬
chanter and the unciform process are so elongated as to
unite almost, and form a hole between them and the dia¬
physis. The unciform process is observed also in the
horse, beaver, and armadillo. The thigh-bone of the seal
is so short, that the half of its length consists of the two
articular extremities.
Though the leg-bones of the Mammalia bear a general Leg-bones
similitude to those of man, the tibia alone is constant; and
the fibula, after becoming unusually slender, and chang¬
ing its position from the outside to the posterior part of
the tibia, is converted into a mere appendage, and at
length disappears entirely. Thus, though it is distinct,
and occupies its usual position in the simice, in the Chirop-
tera it is extremely slender; and since the femora are
directed backward, the fibulce are turned towards each
other. In several of the Edentata, for instance the pha-
tagin, armadillo, and sloth, it is large, curved, and remote
from the tibia. In the dog family and the Rodentia it is
altogether behind the tibia. In the mole and murine genus
it is consolidated to the lower third of the tibia, leaving
an empty trilateral space above. In the rhinoceros, ele¬
phant, and hog, the fibula is flattened and united to the
whole length of the tibia. In the ruminants it is repre¬
sented by a small bony appendage, placed on the outer
margin of the astragalus, below the tibia, and forming the
external or fibular ankle. Lastly, in the horse and Soli¬
dungula, thefibula is reduced to a styloid rudimentai pro¬
cess, which is firmly consolidated in the adult animal to
the upper part of the tibia.
Between the tarsus of man and that of the other Mam¬
malia the following are the principal differences.
In the simice the fibular facette of the astragalus is I he tar-
nearly vertical, and the tibial is very oblique; and the sus‘
calcaneum wants the tuberosity, except in the pongo. In
the ordinary bat family the calcaneum is elongated into
a styloid process, concealed in the substance of the mem¬
branous ubiform expansions; but in the roussette (jptero-
pus) the tuberosity projects beneath the foot.
In the Rodentia the calcaneum is produced consider¬
ably backwards, while the scaphoid, which consists of two
parts, forms a tubercle on the sole. Among the Eden¬
tata the three-toed sloth is peculiar in having a tarsus,
ANATOMY.
83
Compara- consisting of four bones only, tlie astragalus, calcaneum, and
live two cuneiform bones, the first of which is articulated not
Anatomy. on]y the tibia, fibula, and calcaneum, but with the
large cuneiform bone, without any intermediate scaphoid
bone. Its connection with the tibia is by means of a con¬
vex articular surface, which rolls on the external part of
the tarsal end of the tibia. From this mode of articula¬
tion it results that the foot of the sloth admits neither of
being elevated nor depressed, but simply of performing
lateral motions of adduction and abduction, to which it
owes the power of clasping the trunks of trees and climb¬
ing, but which renders progression difficult and laborious.
The hog has a scaphoid with three ordinary cuneiform
hones, and a rudimental great-toe bone beneath the first.
In the tapir and rhinoceros there are only two cuneiform
hones. All the animals already enumerated have the
same number of metatarsal bones as of toes.
In the Ruminants the cuboid and scaphoid bones are
united, unless in the camel, in which they are distinct.
At the outer margin of the pulley of the astragalus is a
bone which represents the lower head of the fibula, and
which is farther articulated to the upper surface of the
os calcis. In this side also there are only two cuneiform
bones, which are united in the giraffe. The two meta¬
tarsal bones are always united, as in the metacarpus, into
Third can-one, which forms a posterior cannon bone. The Soli-
non bone, dungula resemble the camel in this, that the scaphoid is
distinct from the cuboid bone, and that there are two
cuneiform bones, while the peroneal rudiment and the
corresponding articular surface of the calcaneum are want¬
ing. The metacarpal are also consolidated into a single
piece, named the hinder cannon bone, each side of which
is provided with a minute bony style.
Hind toes. The toes of the Quadrumana and the Marsupialia
are longer than those of man ; but the great toe is shorter
than the others, and its metatarsal bone is susceptible of
separation and opposition, as the thumb or thumb-toe of
the hand. Hence Cuvier, in his first classification, dis¬
tinguished the latter by the name of Pedimana. The
Aie-aie among the Rodentia appears to possess the same
faculty. Among the Zoophaga the great toe remains
always conjoined with and parallel to the ethers; and in the
canine and feline genera it is obliterated. Among the
Rodentia, that of the beaver is nearly equal to the other
toes; those of the marmot, porcupine, and the murine
genus, are shorter; in the paca it is almost obliterated;
it is reduced to a single bone in the Cape gerboa; and
the leporine genus have no trace of it. In the cavy,
agouti, and guinea-pig, the great and small toes are each
reduced to one bone. In the gerboa (mus jaculus) and
alactaga {mus sagittd) the three middle metatarsal bones
are united into a single one similar to the cannon bone of
the Ruminants and Solidungula ; and while the two la¬
teral toes are distinct, though short, in the former animal,
they are obliterated altogether in the latter.
Among the Edentata, the ant-eater, orycteropus, pan¬
golin, and armadillo, have five toes, of which the great is
the shortest in all. In the sloth the great and small toe
are reduced to one small bone. The other metatarsal
bones are united at their base. The toes have only twro
phalanges, of which the unguinal are the largest.
In the subsequent families the metatarsal bones de¬
serve particular attention. In the elephant and Pachyder-
mata, their tarsal extremity has a flat surface, and the
phalangeal consists of a convex tubercle, which presents
below a prominent line in the middle of the bone. In
the Solidungula this line is above and below both. In
the Ruminants, in which the cannon bone consists of the
two metatarsal bones, the line of union is represented by
a deep line like the tract of a saw. The elephant has 5
perfect toes; the hog 4; the tapir and rhinoceros 3; the Compara-
Ruminants have two perfect toes on one metatarsal bone, flve
and two small ones attached behind its base. The So- vAn_atomT-
lidungula have one perfect toe, and two imperfect, which
are reduced to a single styloid bone. In these animals
the body is supported in walking by the last or unguinal
phalanx alone; and hence the term foot is not of the
same import as in the human subject and animals simi¬
larly constructed. While indeed man supports his person
in progression on the os calcis and the posterior or meta¬
tarsal phalanges, in the other mammiferous animals the
former bone touches not the ground, but is always elevated
above it a considerable height. All the zoophagous or
unguiculated animals, excepting the plantigrade, support
themselves chiefly on the unguinal and middle phalanges
both of the fore and hind foot; and neither the posterior
phalanges nor the calcaneum touch the ground, as is easi¬
ly demonstrated on observing the gait of the hedgehog,
dog, fox, cat, or similar individuals of the same family. The
animals distinguished by the name of Plantigrade are
believed to support themselves on the entire foot. But
though the foot is certainly spread on the ground more
freely than in those already mentioned, by the bear,
glutton, badger, and others, it appears that not the heel,
but the metatarsus, is allowed to touch the ground in pro¬
gression. In the Ruminants and Solidungula, as already
mentioned, the only part of the foot which is applied to
the ground is the unguinal phalanx; and it is well known
that the horse supports himself on the plantar surface of
the coffin bone only.
Lastly, in the Amphibious Mammals, while the extreme
brevity of the humerus femur unfit them for progression
on land without extreme awkwardness and difficulty, the
expanded shape and oblique position of the metacarpal
bones and phalanges, the length of the tibia and fibula, and
the greater length of the first and last than the middle
metatarsal phalanges, all concur to give these animals
great facility in swimming. (Cuvier, Ossemens Fossiles,
tome v. partie i. septieme partie.) In the Cetacea, again,
while the total want of pelvic extremities renders motion
on land quite impracticable, the fin-like disposition of the
metacarpus and metacarpal phalanges, with the great
strength of the lumbar, and the length of the coccygeal
vertebrae, peculiarly qualify them for locomotion in the
waters.
sect. ii.—osteology of birds. Plate
X.XXIV
The number of vertebrae of which the different regions ^ 3
of the spine consist, is not less variable in Birds than in ^
the Mammalia. Some idea of these variations may be
formed from the number exhibited in the following table
by Cuvier.
Species.
Vultur. Vulture 
Falcofulvus. Eagle 
— haliaVtus. Bald buzzard
— foiteo. Buzzard 
— nisus. Sparrow hawk 
— milvus. Kite 
Strix bubo. Eagle owl 
Strix ulula. Brown owl 
Muscicapa grisola. Fly-catcher
Turdus merula. Blackbird 
Tanagra tatao. Tanagra 
Conus corone. Crow 
 pica. Magpie 
 glandarius. Jay 
Sturnus vulgaris. Starling 
Loxia coccothraustes. Grosbeak
— pyrrhula. Bullfinch......
Vertebras Vertebrae Sacral Coccygeal Spine.
of Neck, of Back. Vertebras- Vertebra1.
13
13
14
11
11
12
13
11
10
11
10
13
13
12
10
10
10
11
17
11
10
11
11
12
11
10
10
9
13
13
11
10
12
11
A N A T O
84
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
Fringilla domestica. Sparrow...
 cardnelis. Goldfinch...
Parus major. Titmouse 
Alauda arvensis. Lark 
Motacilla rubecula. lled-breast
Hirundo urbica. Swallow 
Species.
Caprimulgus Europceus. Goat- |
sucker j
Trochilus pella. Colibri 
Upupa epops. Hoopoe 
Alcedo ispida. King’s fisher...
Picus viridis. Woodpecker 
Ramphastos. Toucan 
Psittacus erithacus. Parrot 
Columba cenas. Stockdove 
Pavo cristatus. Peacock 
Phasianus colchicus. Pheasant
Meleagris gallopavo. Turkey..,
Crax nigra. Curassow bird. |
Hocco J
Struthio Came/us. Ostrich 
Casuariut. Cassowary...
Phoenicopterus. Flamingo 
Ardea cincrea. Heron 
alba. Stork 
grits. Crane 
Platalea A'iaia. Spoonbill 
Recurvirostra. Avoset 
Charadrius pluvialis. Plover...
Tringa vanellus. Lapwing 
Scolopax rusticola. Woodcock...
 arquata. Curlew 
Hcemutopus. Oyster-catcher...
Rallus crex. Hail 
Fulica atra. Coot 
Parra. Jacana 
Pelicanus onocrotalus. Pelican...
 carbo. Cormorant...
Sterna hirundo. Sea swallow...
Earns. Gull 
Procellaria. Petrel 
Anas cygnus. Swan 
— anser. Goose   
— bernicla. Bernacle.........
— boschas. Duck 
— tadorna. Sheldrake 
— nigra. Black diver 
Mergus merganser. Merganser
Colymbus cristatus. Grebe...
Vertebra;
of Neck.
9
11
11
11
10
11
11
12
12
12
12
12
12
13
14
13
15
15
18
15
18
18
19
19
17
14
15
14
18
13
12
13
15
14
16
16
14
12
14
23
15
18
14
16
15
15
14
Vertebra;
of Back.
8
11
7
7
7
9
7
9
8
8
7
8
9
8
9
8
7
9
8
8
8
11
10
10
8
11
9
8
10
Sacral
Vertebra:.
10
11
11
10
10
11
11
9
10
8
10
12
11
13
12
15
10
10
20
19
12
10
11
12
14
10
10
10
13
10
15
13
7
12
14
14
10
11
14
14
14
15
11
14
13
13
Coccygeal
Vertebra;.
8
7
7
9
7
8+
7
8
5
5
Cervical
vertebrae.
Dorsal
vertebrae.
Neck.
In this table the most remarkable circumstance is the
great number of cervical vertebrae, which are much more
numerous than in the Mammalia. They vary from 9,
the number in the sparrow, to 23, which is that of the
cervical vertebrae of the swan. The most common num¬
ber is 11, which is that of 10 genera. The next most fre¬
quent is 12, 13, and 14, which are equally the numbers
of 9 genera. The next is 15, which is that of 8; 10 oc¬
curs in 6, 18 in 4, and 16 in 3. In the stork and crane
they are 19.
The next remarkable circumstance is, that the dorsal
or costal vertebrae are greatly fewer than in the Mam¬
malia, never exceeding the number of 11, and being more
frequently about 7 or 8. Thus, while they are 11 in the
cassowary, swan, and sheldrake, 10 in the goose, bernacle,
and grebe, and 9 in the sparrow, lark, humming-bird,
parrot, crane, avoset, oyster-catcher, cormorant, and black-
diver, they are 7 or 8 in all the other genera, and only
6 in the bullfinch.
There are no lumbar vertebrae strictly so named, for
those which extend from the chest to the tail are con¬
solidated into one piece with the iliac bones. The tail,
which is short, consists of from 7 to 9 vertebrae.
The part most variable in proportional length is the
neck. It is so much longer as the feet are elevated, ex-
M Y.
cept in some of the swimmers, in which it is greatly Compara-
longer, because they require to seek their food below the five
surface of the waters on which they float.
The bodies of the cervical vertebrae are articulated not
by plane facettes, which would admit obscure motion only,
but by portions of cylinders, which allow extensive mo¬
tion. The 3d, 4th, or 5th superior vertebrae allow of an¬
terior inflection only, and the others of posterior inflection.
This gives the necks of birds an alternate serpentine in¬
flection ; and it is by rendering the two arches, of which
this curvature consists, straight or convex, that the ani¬
mal elongates or shortens his neck. The articular pro¬
cesses of the superior vertebrae are directed upwards and
downwards; those of the lower are turned anteriorly and
posteriorly.
Instead of transverse processes, the cervical vertebrae of
birds are provided with a tubercle above, and the anterior
extremity of which terminates in a narrow style, descend¬
ing parallel to the body of the vertebra.
Only the most superior and inferior vertebrae have dis¬
tinct spinous processes, and these have anterior as well as
posterior ones. The middle ones have before two crests,
which form a half-canal, and behind a tubercle, often bifid,
or, when they are elongated, two rough lines. The atlas,
which is articulated with the occipital bone by a single
facette, has the shape of a minute ring.
As the neck of birds is movable, the back is fixed. The Back,
spinous processes of these vertebrae are in mutual contact,
and they are connected by strong ligaments. Most of
these processes are generally consolidated into a single
continuous crest, extending along the whole back. The
extremities of the transverse processes terminate in two
apices, one directed forwards, the other backwards; and
occasionally they are consolidated into a continuous mass
like the spinous. That this arrangement is requisite for
the trunk to remain fixed during the violent motions which
take place in flying, is rendered probable by the fact, that
in birds which do not fly, as the ostrich and cassowary,
the spinal column retains its mobility.
The last dorsal vertebrae are often placed on the crest
of the iliac bones, and they are then united, as the lumbar,
on the large piece of the iliac bones, from which it re¬
sults that the number of vertebrae can often be estimated
in no other mode than by that of the holes of the nerves
which issue from the chord.
The caudal vertebrae are most numerous in the species Caudal
which move the tail with most energy; for instance, the vertebra:,
magpie and swallow. They have spinous processes be¬
low as well as above, and very long transverse processes.
The last of all, to which the pinions are attached, is long¬
est, and has the shape of a ploughshare or a compressed
quoit. In the cassowary, which has no visible tail, the
last bone is conical; in the peacock, on the contrary it
has the shape of an oval plate, situate horizontally.
It was early observed by the original zoologist and tra- Cranium,
veller Pierre Belon, that the crania of birds were void of
sutures; and that in a few only were these lines of dis¬
tinction into separate bones recognised. The explanation
of this peculiarity is found in the history of the ossifica¬
tion of the head in young birds, which shows that the
cranium consists at that period of separate bones, corre¬
sponding in number and situation to those of quadrupeds.
Thus, there are two frontal bones, which are continued
forwards to form the vault of the orbits ; two small parie¬
tal bones behind the frontal; a temporal bone on each
side of the scull; a sphenoid united to the occipital, even
in subjects in which the other sutures are distinct; or a
spheno-occipital bone, which is early united with the tem¬
poral.
These sutures, however, are distinctly seen only in
>
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
85
young birds and those recently hatched ; for the bones two external ones, which corresnnnH m „
are very early united, and in the adult bird the cranial arches of the Mammalia and whirh o h Zyg]0mJtlC
sutures are invanably obliterated. Thus, in the domestic are articulated to the quadrangular bone which moves on
fowl and turkey the scull is one piece ; and the only trace the temporal before the eir Th« * " • wmcft ™oves on
of suture that remains is a linear depression in the mid- which have been already stated tn ° inter™edialf ones>
die of the frontal bone, indicating the original formation rygoid processes,andwhkh are paralHare^lac^d benla'th
m ^ l'alves- In rece,"tly bird, also, the the septum of the orbits, and ale articulated by the“ nos
tenor extremities with a small bone, variable in shape
but named omoid by Herissant, which is also articulated
with the quadrilateral. From this arrangement results
a singular species of broken lever, not dissimilar to the
parallel joint of the piston and lever of the steam-eno-ine
and the effect of which is, that whenever the lower5jaw
is depressed by its proper muscles, it necessarily causes
sphenoid is separated from the occipital bone by a trans¬
verse suture, extending from the one ear to the other.
The occipital bone is at the same time a ring, consisting
of four parts ; a superior, two lateral, and an inferior
which is small. The sphenoid, which forms the greater
part of the base of the cranium, is nearly trilateral, with
a small anterior process, to which the palatine arches are
If has no pterygoid processes, and does not the quadrilateral bo^ne^ p rform’a si ghrSUyTo8
itenor aperture of the nostr s. The lem- iioo ,„   ...u:„u e s "■ rotatory mo-
Facial
bones.
articulated. ^  7
touch the posterior aperture of the nostrils. The tem
poral bone, though void of zygomatic process, has a
pointed style, which contributes to form the posterior
margin of the orbit. The frontal bone, after covering
part of the cranium, is continued forwards in a broad, thin
plate, which forms the vault of the orbits, while these ca¬
vities are separated by a thin vertical bony plate which
descends at right angles from the frontal bone, and is con¬
nected behind with the sphenoid. The long eminences
observed on the heads of the cassowary, curlew, pintado,
and some species of hocco, are produced from this supra¬
orbital part of the frontal bone ; and their interior, which
consists of loose diploe, communicates with that of the
same bone.
I he face in birds is rarely so firmly consolidated as the
cranium. It is composed of two lacrymal bones, forming
the anterior margins of the orbits, and united on the me¬
sial plane; two nasal bones anterior to the lacrymal; two
bones corresponding to the superior maxillary, and form¬
ing the external lateral parts of the upper half of the bill;
two inter-maxillary bones ; two anterior palate bones, cor¬
responding to those of the Mammalia ; two posterior pa¬
late bones corresponding to the pterygoid processes of the
tion, m consequence of which, by means of the omoid
bone, the upper jaw is at the same time elevated on the
elastic plates; and as soon as the lower jaw is raised, the
elasticity of these plates forces down the superior one.
The upper jaw is immovable in a few instances only,
and of these the calao or rhinoceros bird is one.
The breast bone (sternum) is a trilateral, boat-shaped Sternum
bone, concave internally, convex with a middle longi-or breast,
tudinal crest externally, with the base of the trianglebone'
above, and the apex, which is also incurvated backwards,
below. The middle longitudinal crest, which is occa¬
sionally named the keel (carina), is shaped something
like a spherical triangle, with the broadest side above, the
base before, and the apex behind; and its prominence
forms large spaces on each side for the attachment of the
pectoral and other muscles used in flight. In the male
wild swan (anas cygnus), in some species of curlew, in the
crane, and in the guinea-fowl, this crest forms a cavi¬
ty for the reception of the windpipe. In the ostrich and
cassowary, which do not fly, the sternum is void of crest,
and is merely arched strongly.
The ribs, which rarely exceed 10 pairs, may be distin-The ribs,
guished into sterno-vertebral and vertebral. Though the
, .. , . a 1 y ~ r—w.v, guioncu iulu ateuiu-vtirieurai ana verteorai. inouari the
of nn°ld ; and v1?! kT JaWi a Parfboloid bone’ consisting latter are generally before, they are sometimes also be-
of two ram* united before, where thev are covered hv the hind Tho nQv-i-QLroi  : . i-
I’he quad-
lateral
kone.
of two rami united before, where they are covered by the
horn of the lower half of the bill. Besides these, there is in
the whole class an irregular-shaped bone, common to the
cranium and lower jaw, and connecting these two together.
This bone, which has been rather improperly named the
1 1 j , A r v sLcuiu-Lusua cartilages or tne iviammalia by umtino-
square, quadrangular, or quadrilateral bone (os quadratum), the rib to the sternum. The ribs of birds, however are
COIlSlStS of hnriv with r»nrvilin^Qr hz-Jl/Avnr   i• . • • i v v . - . ?
hind. The vertebral end terminates in two diverging pro¬
cesses, one of which is articulated with the vertebral body,
the other with the transverse process. The sternal extre¬
mity consists of a bony process, which performs the part of
the sterno-costal cartilages of the Mammalia by uniting
laxillary
nies.
consists of a body with curvilinear hollow margins, termi
nating in two elevated and rather pointed processes, one
of which is connected with the cavity named tympanum,
while the other, projecting into the orbit, affords attach¬
ment to several muscles. The anomalous character of
this bone has perplexed several of the most distinguished
zootomists; and while Geoffroy gives it the name of os
Tympano-styloidewn, Spix considers it analogous to the
annular process of the temporal bone, which in the human
. ^ »» V, * J ClJl C
further distinguished by presenting near their middle a
flat long process, projecting from the rib backwards at an
acute angle, and resting on the rib immediately below, so
that each rib is supported not only on the vertebrae and
sternum, or the vertebrae alone, but on the next rib below.
These processes are obliterated in the lower ribs.
The coxal bones constitute one piece wfith the sacrum Basin or
and lumbar vertebrae. The ischial portion is united withPelvis-
the sacrum, and the ischiatic notch is converted into a
r A. •  1 .T All. XlU.llia.lI LUC 5
he'^LTXi.iM CarUS regfdS 11 Is, repr-Se uting I'0'6' The part which corresponds to the os piibis of the
aiirt h b ?rsar eresembance'nshape is not consolidated before so af to form a
‘ one of its connections. .cvmrJvfrcic ™  _
and in one of its connections.
Both maxillce are void of teeth; but the hard, horny
matter of the bill covering the margins and extremities
of each jaw, and constituting the mandibles (mandibula),
is manifestly constructed to perform for Birds what teeth
do for the Mammalia. But the most remarkable pe¬
culiarity of the facial bones of this class is, that the
.    ~ l/W 1W11U a
symphysis, but proceeding directly backwards, terminates
in a styloid process, variable in length and slenderness.
The only exception to this mode of structure occurs in the
ostrich, in which the pubal bones are united below. The
infra-pubal or oval hole is present in the whole class not¬
withstanding. It is worthy of remark, however, that in
unner Gw nflmDo T   young birds this and the ischial aperture are still notches,
ritv V ms=S, f m°reff °r m°tl0n' In.the maj°- in consequence of the deficient ossificatiofi of the parts,
to the crant?m ! HlS 18 eSJte,d. by theJaw being united The direction of the pelvis in birds is nearly that of
plates • but in tli ^ means 0 lm’ flexible, elastic, bony the spine, that is, obliquely backwards, and deviating but
d sthmt mV Parrotlfamdy the upper jaw is entirely little from the horizontal line.
The incp ^0nnecte by a proper articulation. The wings or thoracic extremities are connected to the
divided intn A 6 atine. surface of the upper jaw is trunk by three bones, the collar-bone or clavicle, the sra-Collar-
lancies, which diverge backwards. The pula, and the bifurcated bone. The collar-bones, which bone.
86
ANATOMY.
Compara- are straight, strong, and cylindrical, are articulated by a
tive large head with the anterior and lateral part of the ster-
Anatomy. num> in which its motion is rather limited. It forms be
Shoulder-
blade.
Furcula.
fore and laterally two short processes, one anterior-infe¬
rior and internal, articulated with the bifurcated bone;
the other posterior-superior and external, uniting with the
scapula, and forming a cavity, in which the head of the
humerus is lodged.
The scapula is a long bone, flattened, but narrow, and
slightly incurvated, with the convex side turned towards
the spine, to which it is nearly parallel in position. The
head or anterior extremity is thick and extensive, oblique
from before backwards, and is articulated behind with the
clavicle, before with the humerus. The free extremity is
thin, flattened, and sharp. The whole bone is not dissi¬
milar in shape to a scimitar.
Bifurcated Besides these, which Birds possess in common with the
bone, or Mammalia, we find an azygous bone, situate on the mesial
plane, denominated in ordinary language the .Mem/ thought,
and, from its shape, the fork-like or bifurcated bone. It
consists of two long, rounded, converging branches, united
at an acute angle, and forming a broad process, flat in
the vertical direction, and by which it is articulated to
the anterior extremity of the crest or carinated part of
the breast-bone. To the posterior or free extremities of
the divergent branches are articulated the humeral ends
of the collar-bones, which are thus enabled to sustain
the violent motions of the humerus during flight. The
branches of the bifurcated bone are separate in the os¬
trich, and each is united with the clavicle and scapula
of the same side, so that the three bones form only one,
much flattened, and with a hole towards the sternal ex¬
tremity. In the cassowary the bifurcated bone is re¬
duced to a mere rudimental process at the inner margin
of the head of the clavicle. From these facts it results,
that the bifurcated bone is particularly useful in the ener¬
getic and continued efforts of the wings in flight, and not
only serves to keep the clavicles apart, but, by lengthen¬
ing the distance between the collar-bones and sternum,
enables the animal to use a longer lever. It is freest,
strongest, and most elastic in the birds which fly best.
In birds which do not fly, and which use the wings mere¬
ly to sustain the equilibrium, as the ostrich and casso¬
wary, it is reduced to almost nothing, or it is in such a
rudimental and imperfect form, that it cannot keep the
collar-bones apart.
The bones of the thoracic extremities, or those of the
wings, correspond in general to those of the Mammalia.
They consist of a single cylindrical humerus, articulated
with the scapula and collar-bone above, two bones of the
fore wing corresponding to the ulna and radius, two bones
of the carpus, two of the metacarpus, consolidated by their
extremities, one styloid bone as a thumb, a long finger con¬
sisting of two phalanges, and a short one consisting of one.
The thumb supports the bastard pinions, the large finger
and metacarpus the primaries, while the small one, which
is covered by the skin, is destitute. In several of the web¬
footed divers, for instance the duck and penguin (alca im-
pennis and spheniscus), these bones are flattened like thin
plates.
In the pelvic extremities the thigh-bone is provided with
one trochanter only, is shorter than that of the leg, and
is almost invariably straight; and is arched only in the
cormorant, duck, and dobchick. In the ostrich its dia¬
meter is about four times that of the humerus. The tibia
differs from that of the Mammalia chiefly at its lower
extremity. While the fibula adheres to it like a slender
appendage as far as the middle, the tarsal extremity ter¬
minates in two trochlear condyles, with an intermediate
pulley-like groove. The tarsus and metatarsus are repre¬
sented by a single bone of considerable length, and the Compara.
head or tibial end of which consists of a middle piomi- .
nence and two lateral depressions, and which, therefore,
moves in cardinal opposition, but does not admit of exten¬
sion beyond the straight line. Though variable in pro¬
portion to the length in different orders, this bone is very
long in the order Grall.® (Grallatores). It termi¬
nates below in 3 pulley-shaped processes, to which are
attached the bones of the 3 anterior toes, with an inter¬
nal margin for that of the great toe. In the ostiich there
are 2 processes only, corresponding to the two toes. In
the penguin tribe, however, the tarsus and metatarsus con¬
sist of 3 bones, separate from each other in the middle,
but united at the tibial and digital extremities. To the
tarso-metatarsal bone of the cock, and others of the Galli¬
naceous tribe, is attached the spur, a conical pointed ex¬
crescence of hard horny matter.
Thoracic
extremi¬
ties.
Pelvic
extremi¬
ties.
SECT. III.—OSTEOLOGY OF THE REPTILES.
The number of vertebrae, and all the other attributes of
the spinal column, vary more in this class than in all the
others.
In the Cheloniad or Tortoise family there are 7 cer-Vertebra',
vical, 8 dorsal, connected with the shell in an immovable
piece, so as to have neither processes nor articular facettes;
from 3 to 5 lumbar and sacral, consolidated in like manner ;
and about 20 caudal or coccygeal. (Plate XXXIV. fig. 5.)
In the Saurial or Lizard tribe, the number 7 predomi¬
nates in the cervical, being that of the crocodile and most
lizards. In several, however, there are 8, as in two of
the monitor genus, the American safeguard, the lizard of
Fontainebleau, the dragon, the iguana, the anolis, and the
gecko and seine; and in a few, as the Nilotic monitor,
and an undetermined species of monitor, they amount to
9. In the chameleon there are only 5 cervical vertebrae.
Here, however, a singular peculiarity is observed. Instead
of the cervical vertebrae being, as in the Mammalia,
distinguished by being unconnected with ribs, to those,
from the third to the seventh inclusive, short ribs, un¬
connected with the sternum, are attached. The atlas and
axis, therefore, alone are proper cervical vertebrae; but
the general analogy is observed in the cervical ribs being
exceedingly short and almost rudimental. The dorsal vary
from 11, which is that of the crocodile and iguana, to 29
and 30, which are the numbers in the New Holland seine
and Nilotic monitor. In the American safeguard, cordy-
lus, stellio, crested basilisk, dragon, guana, and great ano¬
lis, they are 16 ; in the chameleon, black safeguard, and
ameiva, 17 ; in the tupinambis, spotted gecko, and golden
seine, 18; in the green lizard and spotted guana {poly-
chrus) 19; in the Fontainebleau and gray lizard 20; 21
in the Levant seine and undetermined monitor; and 22
in the Java and New Holland monitor.
The Batraciioid or Ranine reptiles are void of ribs,
and it is impossible therefore to distinguish the first three
orders of vertebrae from each other. In general, however,
there are from the nape to the pelvis 8 vertebrae, all provid¬
ed with long transverse processes, and which are longest in
the last. The sacrum is represented by a long flattened but
pointed bone, without coccyx. In the Surinam toad (rana
pipa) the last vertebra is consolidated with this bone ; and
the transverse processes of the second and third vertebrae
are so much larger than the others, that they resemble ru¬
dimental ribs. In the Salamander family there are from
the head to the sacrum 14 vertebrae, all alike in shape ex¬
cept the first, which receives the occipital bone, and the
last, which is articulated with the sacrum. These two are
distinguished by wanting rudimental ribs, which are small
elongated bones, movable, and articulated with the trans-
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
87
ranium.
verse processes, which are directed backwards. The arti- Still more manifest is this arrangement in the Ranine Compara.
cular processes are large and imbricated, the posterior or Bathachoid and Serpentine or Ophidial Rentiles tile
, resting on the anterior, so as to resist the motion of the In the former, as exemplified in the froir the occinital hone Anatomy.
spine backwards. The sacrum consists of one vertebra which forms the posterior cranial vertebra consist* nffmw ^
only, but the coccyx or tail is composed of 27. pieces, and has two articular processes The middle era
In the Serpentine tribe the vertebrae may be said to nial vertebra is represented by the parietal bones above
attain the most extensive numerical developement. With and the posterior part of the sphenoid below while he
the exception of the head and rudimental ribs, they con- tween it and the occipital or posterior is contained the’
stitute the whole skeleton. (Fig. 3.) From the head to the temporal as the organ of hearing. The third or anterior
tail their shape is the same, and may be distinguished into cranial vertebra is represented by the anterior part of
body, articular and transverse spinous processes. In some the sphenoid bone below and the two narrow frontal
species, for instance the boa, the spinous processes of the bones above. The face, which mav be regarded as the
back are so much separated as to allow mutual motion to a organ of the senses, is elongated anterior&to the head
considerable extent. In others, conversely, for instance somewhat after the manner of the Cheeoniad familv •
the rattlesnake, these processes are so long and broad as while an approximation to the Birds is indicated in the'
to touch each other, while the oblique processes, which articulation of the lower jaw, which is connected to the
foim their bases, are imbricated over each other. In con- head by the intervention of a quadrilateral bone.
In the Serpentine family, the cranium of which is very
similar in other respects, the most remarkable deviation
is in the want of ethmoid bone. The lower jaw is con¬
nected to the cranium by an intermediate bone, corre¬
sponding to the quadrilateral, but of an oblong shape, and
something like a collar-bone.
The chest of the Reptile class varies much in the Chest,
mode of formation. While true ribs are recognised in the
Saurial family only, the Batrachoid reptiles have a
sternum without ribs, the Serpentine ribs without ster¬
num, and the Cheloniad ribs united into the dorsal shell,
and a sternum expanded into the abdominal one.
In the Saurial family the ribs correspond in number Ribs,
to that of the costal vertebrae already mentioned, that is,
12 in the crocodile and iguana, two of which are not con¬
nected to the sternum, 17 in the chameleon, 18 in the
tupinambis, and 27 in the monitor. The Saurial rep¬
tiles, however, are peculiar in having from 1 to 6 ribs at-
    J    ^
sequence of this arrangement the motion of the spine is
limited behind, but more extensive on the ventral sur¬
face. The vertebral bodies, which move easily on each
other, are provided with a sharp spine directed towards
the tail, which somewhat limits motion in this direction.
The first vertebra differs from those of the rest of the
body in supporting short or rudimental ribs ; there are
therefore no cervical vertebrae and no proper neck in the
serpent family. The caudal vertebrae are distinguished by
not supporting ribs, and by their spines both dorsal and
ventral being double, and forming two rows of tubercles.
The articulation of the bodies of these vertebrae is pecu¬
liar. On the anterior part of the body is a round hemi¬
spherical tubercle, while the posterior presents a corre¬
sponding cavity, so that each vertebra forms a cup and
ball joint with the following one.
The number of costal vertebrae varies from 32, which
is that of the blind worm (Anguis fragilis), to 204 in the
1 1 7 7 . > \ J7 , 7 .     ’ AAA Having 11UU1 A LU W I1US U [-
ringed snake (Coluber natmx), 244 in the snake, and 252 in tached to the cervical vertebrae, and the opposite ends of
the Boa constrictor, .and which 1 S TTO I'll ITS f" O O’FOG F tirll I /■•I'l o y*w r\4- ■w•»-» 4- /-x 4- i-v 4-1-v ^    rT,l_ _ 1*1
the Boa constrictor, and which is perhaps the greatest
known number. Of intermediate numbers, the Amphisbcena
has 54, the viper (Coluber berus) has 139, the rattlesnake
175, and the cobra di capello 192. The caudal vertebrae
vary in number from 7, which is that of the Amphisbcena,
to 112, which is that of the Coluber natrix. Of interme¬
diate numbers, the blind worm has 17, the rattlesnake 26,
the boa 52, the viper 55, and the cobra 63; from which
it appears that the number of the caudal is not in pro¬
portion to that of the costal vertebrae.
Of the heads of the Cheloniads, the most remarkable
characters are, that the facial line is horizontal, and quite
continuous with the cranial line; that the orbits, though
which are not connected to the sternum. These, which
have been named cervical ribs, form a transition to the
rudimental ribs of the Serpentine family, which are
larger in the neck than elsewhere. The sternum of the
crocodile consists of two parts,—an anterior or thoracic,
which is osseous, supporting the two collar-bones,—and a
posterior or abdominal, which is cartilaginous, and extends
to the pubis, and furnishing to the abdominal parietes
eight cylindrical cartilages. In the East India crocodile
it appears that these lateral processes are converted into
a single broad piece of cartilage on each side. (Fig. 4.)
The ribs of the Cheloniad family are represented by Dorsal and
      waaaaaha A.AAV-, a a aca u A» i c uiuiL», uiuugu the dorsal shell, which consists of eight broad incurvatedsterno-ab-
complete without, are continuous behind with the temporal plates, identified behind with the dorsal vertebiTe, and^0111^!
fossae ; that the parietal and occipital bones are compressed terminating before in the margin of the shell, and which
laterally, wlnle the latter ^terminates above in a sharp are doubtless genuine ribs. In the ordinary land-tortoise
(Testudo Grceca) these are seen in the shape of elevated
bony ridges, proceeding from the head of each rib in a trans¬
verse concave bend to the margin of the dorsal shell. On
each side of these ridges the bone is depressed, and is
united at its lowest point by a genuine suture with the ad-
spine, projecting behind. The occipito-parietal and occi-
pito-temporal sutures are distinct. The cranial cavity is
small compared with the volume of the scull.
These characters are not less remarkable in the Saurial
or Lacertine Reptiles. The cranium of a crocodile mea-
. IQ \ A r •   7. ^1, f'vsxwi, KJJ a. OULU1C Willi LllCctU"
suring trom 13 to 14 leet is scarcely capacious enough to joining ones. These sutures, however, are not continuous
admit- tl 1 thlimK • Ond ( 11V 71 n 11 %-v-* 4-a-x At 4-1-* u n „ i.* _  ? x1_ C* if 1 1 •- i t -at « ..
admit the thumb; and Cuvier estimates the area of the
cranial section, which is oblong, at about of that of the
whole head. In these animals, indeed, the bones of the
superior and inferior jaws are so much prolonged, and oc¬
cupy so large a proportion of the head, that small space
with those of the sterno-abdominal shell, but meet it in
the intermediate points. (Fig. 5.) The sterno-abdominal
shell consists, in like manner, of several transverse pieces
consolidated into one. The ordinary number is eight on
each side of the mesial plane, and a ninth azygous, gene-
• 1 -Pf 1' 1-1 * • ' • £ dAV-4V-' IaIIC liicold.! lyiclllt.} CtilLi cl Hill
is c or the proper cranial cavity, which indeed is an rally placed in the centre of the shell. In a specimen,
immediate continuation of the vertebral. In these ani- however, of the tabular tortoise (Testudo tabulata), in our
ma s, a so, t ic anatomist can trace, much more distinctly possession, the number of the sterno-abdominal pieces is
lan m t e more perfect, the resemblance between the 11, of which 8 are in pairs, united on the mesial line from
crania )ones and the vertebral. In the Cheloniads, and before backwards, and 3 azygous at the posterior tip of the
aurial especially, the occipital bone is very distinctly a shell. In young animals it is easy to recognise the unions
cep in ic veitebra. 0f these constituent bones, which consist of sutures ex-
88
Compara-
tive
Anatomy-
ANATOMY.
Thoracic-
extremi¬
ties.
actly similar to those of the cranium in the Mammalia.
So feeble is the union, that it often happens that the ab¬
dominal shell especially separates at the lines of junction,
in the attempt to detach it from the dorsal.
The Batrachoid Reptiles, though void of ribs, are
provided with a sternum, which before is a cartilaginous
process, terminating on a disc placed below the larynx,
where it receives the collar-hones, and forms behind a
broad plate placed below the abdomen, and giving attach¬
ment to the muscles. In the Salamander tribe, which are
without sternum, the ribs consist of twelve pair of small
rudimental processes, articulated with the vertebrae, but
admitting of very limited motion.
Lastly, in the Serpentine family, though there is no
sternum, the upper vertebrae are provided with costal
processes, quite rudimental. The great number of these
costal rudiments, amounting in the rattlesnake to 175, in
the cobra di capello to 192, in the coluber natrix to 204,
and in the boa constrictor to 252, and the freedom of
their anterior extremities, enable the animals of this tribe,
which are destitute of locomotive members, thoracic or
abdominal, to employ the spinal column and the ribs as
organs of progressive motion. On this point the reader
will find some interesting observations by Sir Everard
Home {Phil. Trans. 1812, p. 163). In the region of the
neck, where the ribs acquire peculiar length, they are
employed in erecting that region, and producing the ex¬
pansive swelling peculiar to this tribe of animals. . It is
an important link in the same series of facts, that in the
animal absurdly named the flying lizard {draco volans), the
five posterior ribs are recurvated and elongated to form the
bony skeleton of the membranous sails by which the ani¬
mal supports itself in its desultory flight from tree to tree.
It is in the Saurial family that the locomotive extre¬
mities of Reptiles ought first to be studied. In tkese we
find an elongated scapula without spine, and one short flat
bone, constituting the clavicle, united to the sternum. In
the iguana and chameleon this bone is broad and nearly
quadrilateral, while in the tupinambis it is large and oval¬
shaped, with its greatest length from before backwards,
and with two unossified points.
In the Ranine tribe, while the scapula consists of two
articulated pieces, the upper towards the spine, each
shoulder is provided with two collar-bones attached to the
two extremities of the sternum, and the two anterior of
which correspond to the bifurcated bone of birds. The
sternum, collar-bone, and first part of the scapula, form
one piece. In the salamander, in which the same conso-
! lidation is observed, the scapular portion is most distinct
and directed to the spine, while of the clavicular portion
| the part connected to the sternum stretches below the
; chest, but, without uniting with that of the opposite side,
the right glides over the left,—an arrangement which fa-
I cilitates the dilatation of the chest during inspiration.
A nearer approach still to the bifurcated bone than is
«een in the Ranine may be recognised in the Cheloni ad
family. In these animals three bones are united to form
the humeral cavity. The first is a flat, trilateral bone,
situate below the abdominal and thoracic viscera, close to
the abdominal shell, and which, notwithstanding its situa¬
tion, is evidently the scapula. The second is a bone about
the same length, flat, and like the feather of an oar at one
extremity, which is free, round in the middle, and flatten¬
ed in: the opposite direction at the other end, which is
firmly united at a right angle to a long slender cylindrical
bone! At the angle of union of these two bones is part
of the glenoid cavity, which is complete in the small end
of the scapula. The first of the two bones is the collar¬
bone proper; the second is the lateral branch of the bone,
which forms the bifurcated, and which is occasionally
united with its fellow. (Plate XXXIV. fig. 5.) The abdo- Compara.
minal shell we have already stated to represent the ster-
num or breast-bone. „ ..
The humerus in the Saurial and Cheloniad family
is arched and incurvated in a serpentine direction. It is
articulated with a radius and ulna, which are succeeded
by three rows of carpal bones, one row of four metacarpal
bones and digital phalanges, varying in number in differ¬
ent qenera. In the skeleton of a fossil animal belonging
to the Saurial tribe, originally delineated by Collim, and Fossil ske.
afterwards by Cuvier, and named by him the Pterodac-^™*}
tyle or Wingtoe {Pterodactylus, Ossemens Possiles, tome re.)tjje
v.), the metacarpal bone and phalanges of the index are
prolonged to about twenty times the ordinary length, for
the purpose, apparently, of giving attachment to the mem¬
branous web by which the animal occasionally elevated it¬
self into the atmosphere. This animal, which, like the dra¬
gon {draco volans) of modern times, must have combined
the contradictory characters of a flying reptile, may be re¬
garded as forming the link between the Reptiles and
Birds, as the Ichthyosaurus does between Reptiles and
FISH ES«
In the pelvis of the Cheloniad family it is remarkable Pelvis,
that the pubal and iliac bones appear to change places.
Thus the ilium on each side is a narrow bone proceeding
backwards to the sacral part of the spine, which is re¬
ceived between its posterior aperture; while theap¬
pears in the shape of a broad, trilateral, flat bone, uniting
before with its fellow on the mesial plane, behind with the
ilium, and below with a flat, thin, quadrilateral bone, cor¬
responding to the ischium, with which it forms the oval
aperture. The inner of these three bones presents, as
usual, the cotyloid cavity. It is further to be observed,
that the two iliac bones, and consequently the whole pel¬
vis, are movable on the vertebral column. (Plate XXXIV.
fig. 5.)
In the Saurial Reptiles the pelvic bones are arranged Pelvic ex-
and shaped nearly as in the Cheloniad. In the Ranine tremities.
the iliac bones are much elongated, and the pubal and
ischial are consolidated into one piece> the symphysis of
which forms a rounded crest.
The femur is short, thick, and incurvated sinuously, with
the convexity before towards the tibial end, and the con¬
cavity towards the pelvic. Trochanters, though present
in the Cheloniad, are wanting in the Saurial and Ra¬
nine Reptiles. In the leg we find both tibia Jibula
distinct, and of nearly equal size, in the Cheloniad and
Saurial family, but conjoined in the Ranine family.
The tarsus consists of five bones, and sustains four or five
metatarsal ones, on which are supported three rows of
phalanges. The metatarsal bones, which vary in length,
are longest in the crocodile and others of the Lacertine
tribe. In the Ranine, again, the astragalus and calca-
neum are the bones of greatest proportional length.
The anatomical characters now enumerated are proper
to the skeletons of Reptiles at present existing on the
surface of the earth or in its waters ; and in these we find
a gradual transition from the Saurial and Cheloniad,
by means of the Serpentine, to the finny inhabitants of
the ocean. Even the Batrachoid Reptiles, in the early
period of their existence while tadpoles, we shall have
occasion to see, approach to the Fishes ; and in one sin¬
gular genus, if not two, the Proteus anguinus and Siren
Lacertina, the characters of the Reptile are combined
with those of the Fish, in having at once lungs or internal
respiratory cells, and gills or external ciliated branchiae.
The transition thus indicated is still more strongly de¬
monstrated in the osteological characters of two Genera
of animals now extinct, so far as is yet known,—the Ich¬
thyosaurus and the Plesiosaurus.
ANATOMY.
Compara- From the specimens of the Ichthyosaurus hitherto dis-
tivc covered, it appears that the number of vertebra? varies from
80 to 90 or more; in one entire specimen they amounted
Osteoiorri- t0 104, (Conybeare and De la Beche); that they are flat-
cal pecuh- tened, with the transverse diameter greater than the longi-
arities of tudinal, and the two articulating surfaces of the bodies
the Ich- calycoid or cup-shaped as in Fishes. Though the annular
thyosauruspart js distinct from the body, it is united to its sides. The
spinous processes, which are long and prominent, form a
continuous ridge above the spine, and are connected to
each other by a process from the front of the one spine,
which is inserted into a pit in the back of the other. In¬
stead of proper transverse process, a certain number of
the vertebrae are provided with two tubercles on each
side of the body, of which the superior, convex, is articu¬
lated to the tubercle of the rib, while the other, which is
concave, receives the head. In the inferior part of the
vertebral column, these two tubercles, after approximat¬
ing, are eventually identified into one.
The ribs, which are numerous, and extend from the
occiput to the pelvis, are slender and trilateral in shape,
bifurcated above, and attached to the vertebrae by a head
and tubercle. In the perfect specimen of Mr de la Beche
they amount to 31, and of these 17 appear to be cervical
or anterior false ribs, with single tubercles; thus affording
another mark of resemblance to the Saurial family in
osteological characters.
The bones of the head, distinguished by the extraordi¬
nary size of the orbit, are similar to those of the Saurial
Reptiles. The sternum, collar-bone, and scapula, though
also similar to those of this family, bear a much closer re¬
semblance to the figure of these parts in the Echidna and
Ornithorhyncus. The humerus is short, thick, and sinuat-
ed; the bones of the fore arm flat, and probably constitut¬
ing part of the fore or thoracic fin. The Carpus consists
of three rows, the first containing three bones, the other
two, four each. These are followed by five or six rows of
flattened, irregularly cuboidal bones, gradually diminishing
in size and number to the tips, and which represent at once
the metacarpus and phalanges of the fore paw, used appa¬
rently chiefly as a fin or paddle. The pelvic extremities
appear to have been less strong and perfectly construct¬
ed than the thoracic. The femur is smaller and shorter
than the humerus ; the tibia and fibula are flattened like
the idna and radius ; the tarsus consists of two rows only,
the first containing three, and the second five bones ; and
this in like manner terminates in five ranges of flattened
bones, gradually diminishing in size, and which represent
the metatarsus and metatarsal phalanges of the hind paw
or paddle.
From the specimens hitherto discovered of the Plesiosau¬
rus, it appears that the total number of vertebrae amounts
to 90, of which 35 appear to be cervical, while the other
55 are dorsal and caudal, the regions of which are propor¬
tionally short. The head of this animal also is small and
compressed, nor has it the large orbit of the Ichthyosau¬
rus. Each rib consists of a vertebral and sternal portion,
united at an obtuse angle, the former articulated by a
single head to the transverse process, and the latter con¬
nected with its fellow by a transverse slip, so that the
lower or abdominal ribs appear to have surrounded the
abdomen with a complete cincture. The anterior part of
the chest is occupied by two trilateral bones uniting in
the middle, which, from t.hpir r,nnnp/->f-!nn uritR
89
num and the transverse bone the clavicles; and it is Compara-
orthy of remark, that not only this bone, but the middle tive
piece, closely resembles in figure and disposition those 0f Anatom-v-
the Echidna and Ornithorhyncus. The pelvis consists of^^
three bones, a vertebra or superior, corresponding to the
ilium narrow and slightly incurvated ; an anterior, ascend¬
ing forwards, and broad, separating the pubis; and a pos¬
terior, short, forming the ischium. The humerus and femur
are longer than in the Ichthyosaurus. There is a very
short radius and ulna, and tibia and fibula, articulated
with five carpal and tarsal bones; and the rest of both
paddles consists of successive rows of flattened but lon£
bones, contracted in the middle, and expanded at the ex¬
tremities, representing the metacarpal and metatarsal di¬
gital phalanges. (Home, Phil. Trans. 1816, 1818, 1819,
1820; De la Beche and Conybeare, Geological Transac¬
tions, vol. v. p. 559 ; and Cuvier, Ossemens Eossiles, vol. v.
part ii.)
SECT.
and Ple¬
siosaurus.
the middle, which, from their connection with the scapula,
are believed to be the coracoid bones; and above these
is a transverse piece, with a middle notch and lateral
sinuated elevations, which is regarded as the sternum;
while the scapula extends on each side like a buttress be¬
tween the two. It is not improbable, nevertheless, that
the middle portions named coracoid bones are the ster-
vol. m.
IV. OSTEOLOGY OF THE FISHES.
The Serpentine or Ophiad Reptiles present in their
osteological characters an approximative transition to
those of Fishes. While in the former order the skeleton
is reduced to the spinal column, ribs, and head, in the
latter class the spine and head only are left; and in some
tribes the transition is still more distinctly marked by
the presence of ribs.
The vertebra of a fish is distinguished from that of any Vertebra;,
other animal by the shape of its body. The cephalic and
caudal, or anterior and posterior surfaces, are hollow cup¬
like cones, so that the union of each two vertebrae forms
a double conical cavity, united by the base, containing a
substance composed of concentric fibro-cartilaginous layers,
with intermediate albuminous or gelatinous matter. By
this cartilage the vertebral bodies are united; and on this
the motions of the spine are effected. This motion, how¬
ever, is chiefly lateral; for the spinous processes are so
long, and the articulation so complex, that antero-poste-
rior inflection or extension is nearly impracticable.
In the cartilaginous fishes, for instance the shark, stur¬
geon, and lamprey, the vertebral bodies form simple tubes,
which, from the extreme elasticity of the constituent car-
tilage, propel the contained fluid to a considerable dis¬
tance. Thus Sir E. Home saw the fluid projected to the
height of four feet from the intervertebral cavities of the
shark. {Phil. Trans. 1809.) In this order, also, the
spine is infinitely more flexible, and its resilient power,
when bent by the muscles, is almost incredible. On each
side, also, the vertebrae are excavated, to form a canal for
lodging the large blood-vessels.
Ihe vertebrae of fishes are numerous, and not easily
distinguished into classes. They may, however, be dis¬
tinguished into two, according as the spinous process is
above only, or above and below at once. Those with the
dorsal spine only are denominated dorsal or abdominal verte¬
bra, and have commonly at the sides transverse processes
for the attachment of the ribs. Those with the dorsal
and ventral spines are distinguished as the caudal verte¬
bra. Ihe last caudal vertebra is generally trilateral, flat¬
tened in the vertical direction; and its tip is marked with
articular pits, which indicate the attachment of the small
elongated bones which sustain the caudal fins.
Ihe number of vertebrae varies. In the uranoscopus
or star-gazer there are only 25, in the balista 17, and in
the four-spined trunk-fish (ostracioii) only 13; while in
the sturgeon the number is 84, in the eel 115, and in the
shark 207.
Though Fishes have no chest, and require none, since
their respiratory organs are gills, all of them are not void
of ribs. The ray, shark, syngnathus, tetraodon, diodon, cy~
M
90 ANATOMY.
Compara- chpterus, Jlstularia, &c. have indeed no vestige of rib.
tive But in the sturgeon, balista, eel, uranoscopus, pleuronectes.
Anatomy. sea-wolf, and dory, they are in the shape of short rudi-
mental processes ; in the trigla and loricaria their sides are
horizontal; in the perch, carp, pike, and chetodon, they
encompass nearly the whole upper region of the abdomi¬
nal cavity ; and, lastly, in the silver-fish (zeus vomer), the
herring, rhomboidal salmon, &c. they are united to a
sternum. In the little animal named sea-horse (syngna-
thus hippocampus), several series of osseous tubercles of
the skin, surrounding the body like belts, are supposed to
represent false r'bs. The sternum is limited to a small
number of Fishes. Besides those already mentioned, in
the dory there is a series of minute flat bones disseminat¬
ed along the lower edge of the belly, which is supposed
to represent a rudimental sternum.
In size and number the ribs vary, though in the silurus,
carp, and chetodon they are of largest proportional size ;
in the herring they are as fine as hairs.
The head. The head in the finny tribes is more an object of zoolo-
Cramum. gical than anatomical description. The chief points to be
remarked are, that the cranium forms but a small part of
the head; that the orbits are separated by a septum, some¬
times membranous, occasionally, as in the wolf-fish, bony ;
and that there is on each side a large movable bone, cor¬
responding to the quadrilateral of Birds, not square,
however, but oblong, which supports not only the lower
jaw and palatine arches, but the gill-cover. In the car¬
tilaginous fishes the sutures are early obliterated, and the
cranium consists of an inseparable mass of cartilage. In
the bony fishes the cranium is separable into numerous
pieces, and in the perch they amount to 80. In the cra¬
nium of fishes the anatomist recognises more distinctly
than in the superior orders the formation according to the
vertebral type. Small in proportion to the whole head,
the cranium appears like a direct continuation of the ver¬
tebral column. In the osseous division of the class es¬
pecially, the cranium may be distinguished into the occi¬
pital or posterior vertebra, the spheno-parietal or middle,
and the frontal or facial vertebra. The cavity thus formed
is very small; yet small as it is, it is not exactly filled by
the brain, between which and the bones there is inter¬
posed a pellucid fluid, contained in fine cellular tissue.
The cranium of the osseous fishes also is widest between
the ears, because the organ of hearing is contained within
its cavity with the brain. In the cartilaginous it is quite
different.
i.oa»ino- Though Fishes are destitute of extremities similar to
live mem- those possessed by the other three classes of the Verte-
bersorfins. BRATa, they are not, however, without locomotive mem¬
bers. The thoracic extremities are represented by tbe
pectoral fins, and the pelvic by the ventral. In short,
it may be said that the bones of the thoracic and abdomi¬
nal extremities are converted into osseous rays in the
finny tribes.
Pectoral In the Ray genus, in which the wing-like disposition of
fins. the pectoral fins gives the body a rhomboidal shape, they
consist of numerous radiating cartilaginous lines, all at¬
tached to a cartilage parallel to the spine, divisible into
two or three others, and articulated above to another ad¬
herent to the spine. Below there is a strong transverse
bar common to the cartilages of both fins, and separat¬
ing at once the sternum and clavicle. This transverse
bar is also seen in the shark tribe; but their pectoral
fins, which are much smaller, are not articulated with the
spine.
In the osseous fishes, and in many others usually re¬
ferred to the cartilaginous division, e. g. the balista, the
pectoral fins are fixed to an osseous belt, which sur¬
rounds the body behind the gills, and which supports the
posterior margin of their aperture. This belt consists of Compara.
a single bone on each side, articulated to the posterior- tive
superior angle of the cranium, and uniting below the^™ny
breast with that of the opposite side. This bone, which peclora]
may be regarded as a scapula, varies in shape and the^nS4
ano-le which it forms with its fellow in different species.
In fishes flattened vertically, the angle of union is acute;
in those which are depressed, the angle is so obtuse as to
form nearly a straight line. In many fishes, especially
those of the order Thoracici, e.g. pleuronectes, coitus, zeus,
chetodon, perch, &c., in the small unicorn (Sa/fste), and
others, the superior part forms a large spine,, which de¬
scends immediately behind the fin, and to which the ad¬
ductor muscles are attached. This spine, which is mov¬
able, has been improperly named a clavicle.
The rays by which the membrane is supported are not
directly articulated to this belt, but are connected by a
row of minute flat bones, which may be compared to the
carpus in the other three classes. When the fiist ray of
the pectoral fin, however, is thorny, as in the harness-fish
{loricaria), and some species of silurus, it is articulated di¬
rectly with an osseous belt; and it is remarkable that some
fishes, as the silurus and stickle-back, have the power of
retaining this spinous ray erected against the body as a
means of defence. This is effected by a cylindrical tu¬
bercle, on which the spinous ray is articulated by a hoi-,
low, bounded before and behind by an elevated process.
When the spine is erected, the anterior process, entering
a hole in the cylindrical tubercle, is locked in it by the
spine revolving slightly on its axis, so that it cannot be
inflected unless by the spine revolving in the opposite di¬
rection.
The pectoral fins are so long that they answer the pur- Pterygoid
pose of wings in several species of trigla, the trigla Ai-pectoral
rundo, the flying gurnard {trigla volitans), the springinghns-
gurnard {trigla evolans,) in the scorpmna volitans, the
tropical flying fish {exoccetus volitans), and some others.
Their situation also is liable to vary. In the exoccetus
they are near the gills, but in tbe blennius and others they
are remote. Lastly, they are totally wanting in a small
number only, as the lamprey {petromyzon), the hag-fish
{myxine, Lin.; gastrobranchus), the murcena, the eel genus,
the sphagobranchus, &c.
The abdominal or ventral fins, which correspond to the Abdominal
pelvic extremities of the other classes, are so denominated or ventral
because in the majority of fishes they are situate below hns-
the belly, and nearer the anal outlet than the pectoral. By
this circumstance a numerous order are distinguished by
tbe name of Abdominal Fishes (Abdominales).
In a small number of fishes, comprehending the gadus,
blennius, hurtus, callionymus, trachinus, and uranosco¬
pus, the ventral fins are placed under the throat, below
the aperture of the gills, and before the pectoral fins.
This order is therefore distinguished by the name of Ju-
GULARES.
In the most numerous order of all, the ventral fins are
situate behind and below the pectoral fins. These have
therefore been denominated Thoracic Fishes (Phora-
cici).
The ventral fins consist of two parts—one formed of
rays covered by a double membrane, apparent externally,
and constituting the proper ventral fin ; the other internal,
representing the coxal bones of the pelvis, always support¬
ing the pinna! rays, and often articulated with the bones
of the trunk. It is never articulated, however, with the
spine, nor does it form an osseous belt round the abdo¬
men. The bones of which it consists are generally flat¬
tened, varying in shape, and in mutual contact by the in¬
ternal margin. In the shark and ray genera only is there
a single transverse bone, nearly cylindrical, to the extre-
ANATOMY.
i)l
Compara- mities of which the fins are attached. The direction of
dve the pelvic plane to the walls of the abdomen varies ac-
Anatomy. cor(]ing to the shape of the body of the fish. In the flat
vCntra?^ ^shes th0)' are directed obliquely, and their inner margin
gns forms the keel of the belly. In fishes with a broad or cy¬
lindrical belly they form a plane more or less horizontal.
In the Jugular and Thoracic Fishes, the pelvic
bones are always articulated with the base of the belt
which sustains the pectoral fins; and they vary much in
shape and situation.
In the trachinus, uranoscopus, coitus, sciama, chetodon,
and perch, these two bones are united by their inner mar¬
gin. In the cuckoo-gurnard, in which they are united by
the posterior tip only of their internal margin, they are
broad, flat, and oval. In the sole and flounder genus (pleu-
ronectes), in which the fins are attached to their anterior
tip, they are united in a quadrangular pyramid, the apex
of which is directed backwards and upwards, and the
base forwards. In some of the stickle-backs these bones
once, and perhaps intermediate between the two, this ab- Compara-
breviation is carried perhaps to its greatest possible degree, tive
in leaving the articular ends only of the four locomotive Anatom.v-
extremities. Lastly this reduction is merely prepara-
tory to that exhibited in the whole class of Fishes, in
which the three longitudinal bones so conspicuous in the
higher classes of animals are completely obliterated, and
those representing the hand or forepaw and foot are arti¬
culated directly to the shoulder and pelvic bones.
Besides the bones already mentioned as constituting
the skeleton, there are observed in the osseous fishes
minute bones, generally fork-like in shape, disseminated
through all the muscular parts of the body. The purpose
of these bones, which, as being totally insulated from the
other parts of the skeleton, are denominated ossicula mus¬
culorum, is chiefly to afford points of support; and they
are probably to be regarded as rudimental representatives
of osseous parts, more completely developed in the higher
animals.
are altogether separate, and being long, receive in their
middle a movable spine, which supplies the place of the
ventral fin. In the dory (zeus faber, L.) they are flat and
triangular, in mutual contact by their whole surface. In
the silver-fish (zeus vomer) they are small and cylindrical.
In the whole of the Abdominal order, on the contrary,
the pelvic bones are equally unconnected with the bones
of the shoulder and with the osseous belt of the pectoral
fins, and are confined to the middle-inferior part of the
belly, not far from the anus. In general these two bones
are separate from each other, and are retained in their si¬
tuation by ligaments. In the carp, in which they are
elongated, they touch only by their posterior third. In the
herring, in which they are small and approximated, they
are continuous with the minute bones of the sternum. In
the pike they are broad and trilateral, approximated by
their anterior tips, separate behind where the fin is at¬
tached. In the silurus, in which they are united, they
form a round and often spinous shield before, while the
fins are attached to the exterior-posterior margin. Last¬
ly, in the cuirassier or harness-fish (loricaria), the pelvic
bones are united in one piece, the posterior notch of which
forms the anal aperture, while the fins are attached to its
external margin.
The proper fin consists of a certain number of osseous
rays, simple or bifid, supported by one or two rows of mi¬
nute bones placed between them and the pelvic bones.
On these small bones the constituent rays move, diverging
or converging like the rods of a fan, while the whole fin
may be inflected or extended by the minute bones moving
on the pelvic, so as to adduct or abduct the fin.
In the cartilaginous fishes the structure is different. To
the tip of each pelvic bone are articulated two principal
cartilages, one external, forming a kind of toe with seven
or eight joints; the other internal, supporting all the other
rays of the fin, which often exceed thirty in number.
Analogy or If we suppose these bones, like the minute ones of the
nrincM ■ Pectora^ fin> to represent the tarsus of the other three
i orgamsa-11 c^asses’ ^ must follow that, in the locomotive extremities,
tion. humerus, with the ulna and radius, and the femur,
with the tibia and fibula, are obliterated. It is not un¬
important to observe, that the general structure of the
Vertebrata tends through various transitions to this ter¬
mination. In the Amphibia the long bones of the extre¬
mities are shortened by removing the diaphysis, and leaving
their articulating ends only. In the Cetacea the pelvic
extremities are removed altogether. In the Cheloniad
and Saurial Reptiles the same long bones of the extre¬
mities are much abridged; and in the Ichthyoid Rep-
iiles, now extinct, but sharing by their structure a form
of animal existence partaking of the reptile and fish at
It is further a curious circumstance, that the skeleton, Violation
which is so symmetrical in all the other classes and orders, of the law
begins to exhibit a deviation from this first in the skele-°* s.ymrne-
ton of the finny tribes. In the Sole genus {Pleuronectes) tlT-
this deviation is very conspicuous. Both eyes are placed
on the same side of the mesial plane; and the side on
which the eyes are placed is broader than the opposite
one. The former is bounded by a convex margin, the lat¬
ter by a concave one. Jbe orbit towards the former is
large, the other small and imperfect. Conversely, it is to
be observed, that in the latter the maxillary and intermax¬
illary bones are larger than in the former. The sides of
the inferior jaw are less discordant; and though in the
Sole and Plaice those of the eyeless side are more straight
and elongated than those of the other, in the Turbot (Pleu-
ronectes maximus) they are nearly symmetrical.
CHAP. II.—COMPARATIVE MYOLOGY.
Though this is the proper place to consider the pecu¬
liarities of the muscular system of animals, the limits as¬
signed to this sketch will not allow us to enter into de¬
tails. We shall merely, therefore, take a cursory view of
those points in which the myology of the lower animals
differs from that of the human subject.
In general, in the lower animals, especially the Mam¬
malia, Birds, and Reptiles, the muscles correspond in
situation to those of the human subject; and whatever
modifications they undergo consist in changes of figure,
and in some few instances in changes in attachment. The
former kind of changes may be in all cases pretty accu¬
rately estimated by the osteological characters of the class,
order, or genus; for when the position, shape, or direc¬
tion of a bone is altered, in the same proportion nearly
are the attached muscles altered in their attributes.
Though in the lower animals, however, the zootomist Deficiency
traces muscles in general quite analogous to those of the in number,
human subject, in several instances this analogy ceases to
be observed. In general the muscles of the lower animals
are less numerous than those of the human subject; and
this deficiency in number, though not much observed in
the Quadrumana, is very remarkable in all the inferior
orders of the Mammalia, and still more in the Birds
and Reptiles. In general, also, these variations are most
conspicuous in the locomotive extremities. Thus the
small pectoral muscle, which is present in the Quadru¬
mana, is wanting in the Carnivora and the whole of
the Ungulated Animals and the Reptiles. The short
supinator is present in the Canine and Feline genera, but
the long is wanting; and both are absent in the Chirop-
TERA, RoDENTIA, PACHYDERMATA, RuMINANTIA, and
92 ANATOMY.
Compara- SotiDUNGULA, and in the whole class of Birds. Both
t^ve pronators {teres and quadratus) are present in the Qua-
drum ana and Carnivora, but wanting in the Chirop-
tera, Ruminants, and Solidungula. The Rabbit, and
perhaps the Rodentia generally, have the 'pronator teres;
but as the radius is not very movable, its influence is
trifling.
Myologicai In the mole the rhomboideus is inserted into the cervi-
peculiari- cal ligament, which is ossified; and it therefore elevates
ties «t the t]ie ilea(j an(i neck on the scapula with singular force.
This is effected still more remarkably by the occipital
part of the rhomboideus, the fibres of which being parallel
to the spine, pass below the proper rhomboideus to be
attached to the transverse ligament and the middle of the
cranium. The strong, thick, quadrangular collar-bone has
two muscles, a supraclavius and a subclavius. The large
pectoral is very thick, and nearly as large as in birds.
The common extensor of the fingers or fore toes is the
only muscle which is common to man and all the quadru¬
peds. Of the proper extensors the horse has two on the
side of the common extensor, but acting as an extensor
of the fore pastern; another between the common exten¬
sor and the extensor of the pastern, and which seems
merely an appendage to the former. The proper extensor
of the index is wanting in the Rodentia, Ruminants,
and Solidungula ; and while the two latter orders are
destitute of the long and short extensors of the thumb,
and the feline, canine, ursine, and leporine genera have the
former, they are destitute of the latter. Lastly, the lower
animals are wholly destitute of the short muscles of the
hand, which in man produce flection, abduction, adduc¬
tion, and opposition. In the Chiroptera only is there
one extensor, and flexors of the fore toes.
Among the muscles of the pelvic extremities the glu-
t(BUS maximus, or large muscle of the buttock in man, di¬
minishes much in the Quadrumana; and in the other
orders is reduced to a very small size. The buttock in
the Mammalia generally consists chiefly of the glutceus
medius and minimus ; and while the glutceus maximus is in
the horse in a great part aponeurotic, the g. medius is so
large as to produce those forcible and sudden extensions
of the hind leg which constitute the kick.
In the leg the sartorius of the horse, the animal in
which the muscles have been most studied, is large, and
is distinguished by the name of the long adductor, in op¬
position to the gracilis, which constitutes the short ad¬
ductor. The muscle representing the biceps of man is in
all quadrupeds a uniceps, and the single head is attached
to the ischium only. In the horse and dog it has been
denominated the vastus longus.
The gastrocnemius externus et internus (gemellus), which
constitute the calf of the human subject, diminish consi¬
derably in the lower animals ; and the solceus, which is
placed below them, also becomes small, and is particu¬
larly slender in the Ruminants and Solidungula.
Afusdes The following muscles are wanting in the whole class
wanting 0f Birds. The diaphragm, the recti abdominis, and the
in birds, pyramidales ; the muscles of the dorsal part of the spine,
the splenius, the brachialis externus, or third head of the
triceps ; the supinators of the fore arm or wing, as already
mentioned, all those corresponding to the short muscles
of the hand and fingers ; the quadratus lumborum, the
psoas parvus, the psoas magnus, iliacus internus, obturator
externus, and the extensor longus pollicis pedis.
Two muscles, which occupy the situation of the prona¬
tors, act as flexors, showing the connection between the
actions of inflection and pronation, and the occasional
substitution of the latter for the former.
In this class, also, the glutceus maximus is of a pyra¬
midal shape, while the true pyriformis is wanting. The
glutceus minimus, which is attached to the anterior edge Compara.
of the iliac bones, is the iliacus. In place of the pectineus t|ve
there is a slender muscle, which extends to the knee, on^'
over which its tendon passes, and gliding behind the leg,
its tendon is bifurcated, one slip going back to be inserted
into the posterior part of the metatarsus, the other to be
united to the perforated flexor of the first and last toe.
This muscle, which is named the accessory femoral flexor,
is the one by which birds are enabled to clasp a perch
during sleep.
In Birds the great pectoral is a remarkable muscle in Muscles
point of size. It consists indeed of three muscles, themed in
large pectoral, the middle, and the small, which occupy
the sides of the vertical crest of the sternum, and consti¬
tute what is named the breast of the animal; and which
are chiefly employed in the energetic motion of the wings
in flying. These muscles are sometimes so large that
they weigh more than all the other muscles of the animal
together. In birds which fly much they are dark coloured
and firm; in those which fly little, as the domestic poul¬
try, they are white coloured, and in general soft. The
same distinction is observed in the muscles of the two ex¬
tremities. In birds much on the wing these muscles are
dark coloured and firm, while those of the legs are com¬
paratively lighter and more tender; and, conversely, in
birds little on the wing and mostly on the legs, as the
domestic poultry and many of the Grallce, the waders,
swimmers, &c. the muscles of the wings are light coloured
and tender, while those of the legs are dark coloured, firm,
and strong.
The flexor muscles of the leg and toes of Birds merit Mecba.
notice. They consist of muscles corresponding to thenism ,of
long flexors, which are divided into three masses. ThePeiching’
first consists of five portions, three of which may be re¬
garded as constituting a single common perforated flexor.
It rises by two bellies, one attached to the external con¬
dyle of the femur, forming a perforated tendon, which
receives one of those of the muscle corresponding to the
peronceus; the other to the posterior surface of the fe¬
mur, forming the tendons of the index and small toe.
This muscle is further connected by intermediate fibres
with the accessory femoral flexor,—a muscle placed on
the internal surface of the thigh, and sending its tendon
over the knee; and as the tendons are inserted into the
unguinal phalanges, when the accessory femoral bends
the thigh the flexors of the toes inflect them also, and
retain them in the inflected position. By means of this
arrangement birds are enabled to clasp a perch or other
small body when roosting, without continued muscular
effort, and thereby to sleep on the perch. This mode of
explanation, which was originally given by Borelli, has
been controverted by Vicq d’Azyr; but apparently not
on good grounds.
Among the class of Reptiles, while the muscles of the
Ophidial family are confined to those of the vertebrae
and rudimental ribs, in the Cheloniad these are oblite¬
rated, and the muscles of the neck, head, and tail, and
those of the locomotive extremities alone, are left. In
the other two classes of reptiles the muscles are in gene¬
ral analogous to those of the Mammalia.
There are not many instances of muscles which, though Cutaneous
unknown in man, are found in the lower animals. Of1111180*6,
these the most remarkable are the cutaneous muscle {pan-
niculus carnosus), and the suspensory of the eye. The
former was absurdly maintained to exist in the human
subject, especially by Nicolaus Massa ; but it is manifest
that the assertion was derived from the dissection of the
lower animals only. It was not long after demonstrated
by Charles Etienne, that no fleshy pannicle or cutaneous
muscle exists, such as is found in the lower animals; and
■■■■■
ANATOMY.
'ompara-
live
.natomy.
93
that the only cutaneous muscles in man are the htis- and so on to the 13th, each contained in a ligamentous ComparJ
simus colli, the epicramus or scalp-muscle, and those P-rnnve. wWh fm-ma o*.    r™ v
ispen-
ry mus-
? of the
e proper
certain
imals.
Ail,
41 caudal
Mscles.
simus colli, the epicranius or scalp-muscle, and those
which are attached to the face, and which by their mo¬
tion give expression to the countenance. The cutaneous
muscle even is not found in the Quadrumana, nor does
it exist in the pig. In various other animals, however,
it is found in different degrees of distinctness. It is
very well marked in the hedgehog and porcupine;—by its
means they have the power of erecting their spines, and
rolling themselves up;—and in the armadillo and the ant-
eater tribe. In the mole, also, we have seen it pretty well
marked.
It is an interesting fact, that Galen originally observed
that the lower animals possess a seventh muscle of the
eye, or one more than man. The suspensory or infundi¬
bular muscle (musculus choanoides), as it has been named,
from its shape, especially in the Ruminants and Soli-
dungula, has the apex fixed to the margin of the optic
hole, and its base inserted a little behind the four straight
five
groove, which forms an investment. The muscles of both —
sides acting together, elevate or incurvate the tail up- Anatom.v-
wards. 1
The interspinalis and spinalis obliquus or lumbo-sacro-
coccygeal are the continuations of the interspinales dor si
et lumborum. The spinous processes, however, becoming
indistinct, or being represented by two tubercles, the at¬
tachments vary.
2rf, The muscles which depress or inflect the tail down¬
wards take their origin within the pelvis, and are pro¬
longed to various extents along the inferior surface of
the tail. Of these there are four pairs, the ileo-coccygeal
of Vicq d'Azyr, the inferior sacro-coccygeal, the inter-coc¬
cygeal muscles, and the pubo-coccygeal of the same author.
The insertions of these muscles vary in different genera,
according to the number of vertebrae of which the tail
consists. The pubo-coccygeal is wanting in the raccoon,
but it is distinct in the dog and opossum. The effect of
muscles. In the Zoophaga and Cetacea it consists of the ileo-coccygeal and it, is to depress the tail and apply
four parts, sp that these orders appear to be provided it forcibly to the anus
In the rhinoceros it consists of
with 8 straight muscles,
two portions.
There is yet another part, the muscles of which can
scarcely be said to exist in the human subject, but which
attain a very great degree of developement in the lower
animals. The coccyx of the human subject is expanded
in the lower animals into a highly flexible prolongation
denominated the tail (cauda), variable in length, but al¬
ways consisting of separate vertebrae, articulated and
movable on each other. While the coccyx of the human
subject possesses two muscles only, the ischio-coccygeus
and sacro-coccygeus, which are so insignificant in size that
they scarcely serve to move the part, the caudal verte¬
brae of the lower animals are moved by muscles greatly
larger, more numerous, and more powerful.
The tail is to animals a much more useful and power¬
ful organ than the coccyx to man. It is a member which
peculiarly belongs to them; and though in ordinary cir-
3rf, There are only two muscles which carry the tail to
the sides of the animal—the ischio-coccygceus externus, and
the intertransversalis of Vicq d’Azyr; the former proceed¬
ing from the pelvic surface of the ischium below and be¬
hind the acetabulum, to the transverse processes of the cau¬
dal vertebraj, the second extending in a continued band
between all the transverse processes.
The tail, therefore, in the Mammalia, consists of a
series of successively decreasing vertebrae, moved by eight
pairs of muscles.
In Fishes it is not easy to trace any analogy between
the muscles and those of the other classes. Though the
spine, head and fins, have appropriate muscular bundles,
the natural or fascial distinctions are less evident than in
the other three classes. It is important, however, to re¬
mark, that while the muscles which move the spinal co¬
lumn are placed in these classes, partly before, and chief¬
ly behind the vertebrae, those of Fishes are placed on
cumstances pendulous, it is made to assume a variety of each side. Hence the lateral motion of the spine, which
motions of which no other organ is susceptible, and to is inconsiderable in Mammiferous animals, Birds, and
perform duties which would be otherwise impracticable. Reptiles, becomes very conspicuous in the finny tribes,
With many, as the long-tailed monkeys, the sloths, the especially in the motion of swimming, while the antero-
ant-eater, and the squirrel tribes, it is indispensable as an posterior inflection or extension is altogether insignificant.
organ of prehension. The majority of animals, as the
Ruminants, Solidungula, &c. use it as a whip or lash to
drive away insects. The lion, tiger, and others of the
feline tribe, lash their sides with it when enraged. The
It is almost superfluous to remark, that, in the greater
part of the finny tribes, the muscles are white or pale
coloured. In a few only, for instance the salmon, trout,
gwiniad (coregonus), herring {clupea harengus), carp (cy-
Cetaceous swimmers employ it as a rudder and oar in the primes), and some others, are the muscular fibres of a pale
waters. The beaver uses it as a trowel, to enable him to flesh red. The circumstances on which these differences
construct his clay-built dwelling. An organ employed depend are not known; but it is supposed that in the
so variously must consist of a muscular apparatus rather latter sorts the proportion of oleo-albuminous matter is
C°miP j-ir more abundant tban in tbe former. The proportion of
J he different motions of which the tail of the Mamma- albumen, however, in the muscles of fish, seems in general
lia is susceptible may be referred to three heads,—one to be small. They abound in gelatine and isinglass; and
by which it is extended or elevated, another by which it
is inflected or depressed, and a third by which it is made
to beat the sides. The combination or succession of these
in some of the cartilaginous fishes especially, the greater
part of the muscles seem to consist chiefly of gelatine in
various degrees of consistence. This is particularly the
~  —vcmuua ucgicca ui cuiisisieiice. Ains is particularly tne
motions gives rise to secondary ones more complex in case with the lamprey, the hag-fish (myxine glutinosa),
character. It may be twisted on its axis, or turned in a and even with the sturgeon. The sterlet especially (aci-
sPira direction. These motions are effected by three a small species of sturgeon found in the
casses o muscles. rivers of Russia, both European and Asiatic, abounds in
s > ie muscles which raise the tail are situate above ; gelatine ; and the presence of this principle enables the
iey aie musculi sacro-coccygeci superiores. Commenc- inhabitants to use it in the preparation of a species of
ing at t ic base of the articular processes of the 3 or 4 soup, the sterlet, which is esteemed a great delicacy. In
as um iar vei tebrae, or those of the sacrum and the cau- some of the genus Pleuronectes this principle is also very
dal vertebrae, by fleshy slips, they are connected to ten- abundant. Thus the Plaice {Pleuronectes Platessa), sole
on*’ vv uc 1 aie inserted into the base of the first of the {P. Solea), and especially the turbot (IP. Maximus), con-
cauc a vtitebiae, which are void of articular processes, tain a considerable proportion of gelatine. On the pro-
1 lie second tendon goes to the next following vertebra, portion of this principle depends the quality of fish used
94 A N A T
Compara- as an article of food in nourishing without exciting. All
tive fishes which abound in gelatine uncombined with oleo-al-
Anatomy; luminous matter may be safely used as articles of food;
■vvhiie those in which the latter ingredients predominate
are invariably eaten with the risk of disordering the sto¬
mach and producing indigestion.
CHAP. III.—COMPARATIVE iESTHIOLOGY, OR THE COM¬
PARATIVE ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF SENSATION.
SECT. I.—THE ORGAN OF SMELL.
The organ of smell consists of the nasal cavities, those
of the ethmoidal and turbinated bones, and the frontal,
sphenoidal, and superior maxillary sinuses, all of which
communicate with the nasal. The whole of these parts
are invested by fine periosteum, lined by mucous mem¬
brane. The ethmoid bone is the essential organ of smell;
and the others appear simply to multiply the extent of
the membrane.
The ethmoid bone consists of a perforated plate, with
a middle vertical one attached at right angles to it, and
lateral portions composed of thin bony plates convoluted
with various degrees of complexity and minuteness in
Ethmoid different orders and genera of animals. These convoluted
cells. plates form what are denominated the ethmoidal cells.
They may be represented as numerous tortuous canals,
proceeding from the perforated plate forwards and out¬
wards, approximating mutually, and forming numerous
communicating cavities. Such nearly is the structure of
these plates in the Edentata, Ruminantia, Solidun-
gula, Pachydermata, and Carnivora, the last of
which have more complicated cells than the first. In the
dog they are numerous and extensive. In the Rodentia,
for instance the porcupine, they are few—not above 3 or
4 on each side.
In Birds the internal side of each nostril is occupied
by three orders of plates; the inferior turbinated or
spongy bone; the middle, consisting of one plate convo¬
luted on itself two turns and a half; and the upper, shaped
like a bell, adhering to the frontal and lacrymal bones.
These form three tortuous passages, varying in size and
tortuosity in different genera. Though generally carti¬
laginous, these turbinated bones are membranous in the
cassowary and albatross, and bony in the calao and
toucan.
In the nostrils of Reptiles there are convoluted pro¬
minent plates, which, however, are merely membranous
productions, unsupported by any bone.
In the Fishes, in like manner, there are membranous
folds, the disposition of which is tortuous. They are,
however, more regularly arranged than in the other
classes. In the cartilaginous fishes they consist of semi¬
lunar folds placed in parallel tracts on each side of a
broad plate, which divides the one side of the nasal cavity
from the other. In the sturgeon, however, they are ar¬
ranged in diverging plates, which are subdivided into
more minute ones, like the branches of a tree. In the
osseous fishes generally they consist of radiating plates
disposed round a prominent central tubercle.
In these three classes the olfactory nerve is distributed
to the membrane much in the same manner. This nerve,
however, does not proceed farther than the superior tur¬
binated bones; and the middle and inferior appear to be
supplied with filaments of the fifth pair, the naso-oph-
thalmic branch of which is distributed to the nose in all
the vertebrated animals. In the Mammalia, further, the
spheno-palatine ganglion sends several filaments to the
posterior part of the narine membrane.
By most zootomical authors the trunk of the elephant
has been described as an organ of smell peculiar to that
O M Y.
animal. We are satisfied, however, from observing the mo- Conipara.
tions of this body in the living animal, that it is an organ, hve
not of smell, but of prehension. Cuvier, after adopting
the ordinary view, has relinquished it, and, on the ground '(~>J
of personal inspection, admits that the sense of smell in
the elephant is confined, as in other animals, to that por¬
tion of the nasal cavities which is contained within the
bones of the head. The trunk of the elephant, therefore,
will with greater propriety be noticed under a subsequent
head.
The nasal cavities of the Cetaceous animals are not
so much organs of smell as channels of respiration, and
must also be noticed afterwards. It is sufficient here to
remark, that in these animals the part of the cranium cor¬
responding to the ethmoid bone is penetrated by no aper¬
ture, or, in other words, is not an ethmoid bone. It has
therefore been asserted that the Cetacea have no olfac¬
tory nerve, and no sense of smell. This, however, is by
no means established. Blainville and Jacobsen have ob¬
served in the dolphin nerves which they regard as olfacient;
and Treviranus delineates nerves of the same character.
By Otto and Rudolphi, on the contrary, who have had
frequent opportunities of dissecting the dolphin and whale,
the existence of these nerves is denied.
Though almost all the invertebrated animals give proofs Smell in
of the existence of the sense of smell, in none of them do mverte.
we find any organ in wdiich this sensation appears with t)rate(l ani-
certainty to be exercised. That these animals possessma3,
the faculty of smell, is inferred from the fact, that insects
recognise their food at a distance; that male butterflies
scent the female even when inclosed in cages; and that
the ordinary flesh-fly deposits her eggs on tainted meat,
and occasionally on fetid plants, in the belief that they
are the proper nidus, though in the latter case the larvae
perish for want of the necessary sustenance.
Since odorous particles are evidently applied to the ol¬
factory membrane of all aeropnoic animals by the me¬
dium of the atmosphere, and since the organ of smell is
therefore situate in connection with the wind-pipe, it was
conjectured by Baster, that, in insects at least, the organ
of smell is situate at the entrance of the tracheae or air-
tubes. This conjecture derives some probability from the
fact, that the inner tracheal membrane in these animals is
soft and moist, and that those in which it is expanded
into convoluted lacunae and tortuous vesicles, for instance
beetles, flies, and bees, are remarkable for the nicety of
their sense of smell.
The antennae, in which this sense has been placed by
some anatomists, appear to be rather organs of touch than
of smell.
In the Mollusca the whole cutaneous covering seems
to combine the character of an organ of touch or tact,
and of smell. Like an extensive pituitary membrane, it
is soft, villous, moist, and liberally supplied with nerves.
The Articulata and Zoophytes seem much in the same
state. But on all these points information is rather con¬
jectural than positive.
SECT. II. THE EYES ; THE ORGANS OF VISION.
All red-blooded animals, without exception, are pro¬
vided with two movable eyes, consisting of the same es¬
sential parts as those of man, forming globular organs, and
placed in the cranio-facial cavities named orbits. In none
are there more or fewer; and the exceptions to the general
rule, either in relation to the presence of these organs,
or number, are only apparent. Among the Mammalia, Blind
indeed, there are two instances of blindness,—in the zemm though not
or blind rat (Jttus typhlus, Lin.; Spalax typhlus, Pall.), ande.vfle^
the golden mole (Talpa Asiatica, Lin.; Chrysochloris,anima
Lacep. and Cuvier). But in neither of these animals are
ANATOMY.
ompara-
tive
n atomy.
(jure of
e eye-
U.
cis and
iiuneter.
^ ueous
•l incur.
Axis.
Man and ape 137..
Dog  24..
Horse  24..
Ox  20..
.136
. 25
. 25
. 21
the eyes absolutely wanting; they are merely very mi¬
nute, and covered by a thin fold of hairy skin, in which
there is said to be no aperture. Much in the same man¬
ner the murcena coecilia, and the hag-fish (jnyxine, Lin.,
gastrobranclms ccecus), though provided with eyes, are de¬
prived of the use of these organs by the opacity of the con¬
junctiva. In the Anableps (Cobitis Anableps, Lin.), the
cornea and iris are biparted by transverse bands, so as to
give the animal the appearance of having two pupils in
each eye, though the crystalline lens, vitreous humour,
and retina, are single. This animal affords the only ex¬
ample of this structure among the vertebrated animals;
but a similar arrangement is observed in the Cephalopo-
dous Mollusca and cuttle-fish family.
The general shape of the eye depends on the medium
in which the animal lives. It is nearly spherical, or ap¬
proaching the spherical shape, in man and the quadrupeds
moving along the surface of the earth; that is, in the
lowest and most dense region of the atmosphere. The
cornea merely forms a slight convexity, in consequence of
being the segment of a smaller sphere than the rest of
the eyeball; yet in the porcupine, opossum, &c., this
difference is inconsiderable. To show the degree of this
convexity, it is merely requisite to compare the axis or
antero-posterior diameter with the transverse diameter of
the ball, as exhibited in the following table:—
Tr. Diam. Axis. Tr. Diam.
Whale  6 11
Porpoise  2  3
Owl 13 12
Vulture 13 16
According to the measurements of the younger Soem¬
mering, the axis of the human eye, taken in a beautiful
Tyrolese girl of 20, is to the transverse diameter as 100
to 95; that of the eye of the magot (simia inuus) as 85
to 84 ; and that of the bat (vespertilio auritus) as 12 to 11.
In the raccoon (vrsus lotor) and lynx (j'dis lynx) alone the
axis is exactly equal to the diameter. In all the other ver¬
tebrated animals, it is, as in the measurements of Cuvier,
less than the transverse diameter at the rate of from 9 to
33 or 45 per cent. In the horse it is as 186 to 212, in
the seal as 130 to 142, in the Indian elephant as 135 to
180, and in the black whale (balccna mysticetus) as 20 to
29. In the owl it is as 17 to 18, in the golden falcon as
141 to 16, in the ostrich as 18 to 191, and in the swan as
7 to 10. In the Reptiles and Fishes it is always less at
the rate of from 3 to nearly 10 per cent. In the cuttle-fish,
which may be taken as a general example of the inverte-
brated classes, it is much greater, the axis being to the
diameter as 80 to 57. (D. W. Soemmering de Oculorum
Hominis Animaliumque Sectione Horizontali Commentatio.
Goetting. 1818, fob)
In Jishes and the Cetacea which inhabit the sea, the
anterior part of the eyeball is much more flattened, and
in many fishes it resembles a hemisphere with the plane
surface before and the convex behind. In the ray genus
the superior part is also flat, so as to give the eye the ap¬
pearance of the quadrant of a sphere, cut through two
large circles perpendicular to each other. In some fishes,
especially the burbot ( Gadus Lota), the cornea is convex.
In Birds which occupy the elevated regions of the at¬
mosphere, the deviation from the spherical shape is in the
direction opposite to that of fishes. On the anterior part,
winch is sometimes flat, sometimes shaped like a truncat¬
ed cone, is chased a short cylinder, closed by a very con¬
vex, and occasionally hemispherical cornea, always be-
onging to a much smaller sphere than the posterior con¬
vexity.
ihese differences in shape depend on the proportion be¬
tween the density of the medium in which the animals live
95
and that of the aqueous humour. In the higher regions of Compara-
the atmosphere, in which the air is very much rarefied, the tive
refracting power of the aqueous humour is much more con- Anatomy,
sideiable than at the surface, occupied by quadrupeds;
and hence it is more abundant in the former than in the
latter class. Its refracting power, however, would be
almost extinguished in a watery medium, from which it
could differ but little in density ; and hence it is either
trifling or absolutely wanting in the inhabitants of the
deep. In the cuttle-fish family it is entirely wanting.
The crystalline lens in Fishes, which is nearly spheri¬
cal, projects through the pupil, and leaves little room for
the aqueous humour. The lens is also very convex in the
Cetacea, the Amphibious Mammalia, the diving birds,
as the cormorant, and the marine and aquatic Reptiles.
Affecting the oblate spheroidal shape in the Mamma¬
lia, it becomes extremely so in man, and still more in
Birds. Its consistence is greatest in animals in which it
is most convex , and hence it is matter of common obser¬
vation, that the crystalline of fishes is particularly firm.
It also contains rather more albumen than the lens of the
Mammalia. The crystalline lens occupies least propor¬
tional space of the eyeball in man, and most in fishes.
The comparative spaces occupied by each of the hu¬
mours may be understood from the following table, in
which the axis of the eye, or the space occupied by the
whole three humours, is represented by unity.
Man 
Log  
Ox 
Sheep  
Horse 
Owl 
Herring 
Aqueous
Humour.
Crystalline
Humour.
Vitreous
Humour.
•If
9
■43-
•25
8
•21
1 8
•37
J 2
T 7
1 8
"4 3
8
•57
On the proportion of the total volume occupied by each
of the three transparent parts there are few accurate facts.
It may be remarked, however, that the human eye among
the Mammalia is that in which the vitreous humour
is proportionally most abundant. It is estimated to be
twenty times more copious than the aqueous. In the ox
it is only ten times, and in the sheep nine times the
quantity of the aqueous.
In the Mammalia generally, the sclerotic is compa-Sclerotic,
ratively elastic, soft, and yielding; but in all animals in
which the eye deviates from the spherical shape, as the
Cetacea, Fishes, and Birds, this membrane is strength¬
ened by greater solidity and thickness of tissue, or sup¬
ported by accessory parts of a hard unyielding structure.
In the eye of the whale these two parts, the hard and
soft, are naturally distinguished in a very striking manner.
1 he lateral parts of the sclerotic are nearly an inch thick,
and very hard. The posterior part is about one and a half
inch thick, and softer, because the spaces between the
firm fibres are filled with oily substance. The posterior
part presents for the optic nerve a canal one and a half
inch long, the walls of which are formed chiefly by fibres
in direct continuity with the dura mater,—the only fact,
it may be observed, which favours the statement of the
ancient anatomists, that the sclerotic is derived from the
dura mater. The sclerotic of the porpoise, though only
two or three lines thick, has the same structure as that
of the whale. In the seal it is thick before and thicker
behind, but the middle zone is thin and flexible.
The sclerotic in Birds is thin, flexible, and elastic be-Osseous
hind, with a bluish glistening aspect, and without distinct zone of
fibres. The optic nerve enters, not by a hole, but an ob-birds,
lique canal. The anterior part consists of two plates, be¬
tween which is enchased a zone of thin, hard, oblong, osse-
96
ANATOMY.
and rep.
tiles.
Cornea.
Compara- ous scales, varying in number from 11 or 12 to 14 or 15,
tive imbricated over each other so as to give the anterior part
Anatomy. 0p t]ie eyebaU a great degree of hardness, and a figure
unsusceptible of change. Though these plates are nearly
flat in most birds, and form an annular zone slightly con¬
vex, they are broad, arched, and concave internally in the
owl genus, and form a bell-shaped tube, with the posterior
aperture oval and the anterior round. This may be de¬
nominated the osseous ring {annulus osseus, zona ossea).
In the ostrich it is narrow and flat.
Among the Reptiles, the Cheloniads possess an osse¬
ous zone, consisting of plates inclosed in the membrane
without being continuous wkh its substance. They are
also found at the lateral part of the sclerotic in the cha¬
meleon and some of the Saurial Reptiles, as the Croco-
dilus Sclerops and Lucius, the monitor, and the iguana (D.
W. Soemmering). It is also an important character in the
structure of the eye of the Ichthyosaurus, which indicates
the connection of that animal with the Saurial tribe,
that its sclerotic was provided writh an osseous zone, con¬
sisting, as in these, of 13 separate pieces.
In Fishes the sclerotic is cartilaginous, homogeneous,
semi-translucent, elastic, and, though thin, firm enough not
to collapse. In the ray it is expanded into a tubercle, by
which the eye is attached to a peduncle or stalk. The
sclerotic of the sturgeon is so thick that it resembles a
cartilaginous sphere, with the external part hollowed for
the humours and membranes.
In the Cephalopodous Mollusca it forms behind a
truncated cone, with the apex at the bottom of the orbit
containing the gangliform swelling of the optic nerve, and
several glandular parts, with the eye before.
The cornea has often been represented to be merely a
continuation of the sclerotic; and though this is easily
disproved by accurate dissection of the human eye and
that of our ordinary domestic animals, its inaccuracy is
much more manifestly demonstrated in the animal world
at large. In the whale and rhinoceros the margins of the
two membranes penetrate reciprocally. In man and the
ox the corneal margin is enchased within the sharp im¬
bricated edge of the sclerotic. In the tope-fish {squalus
milandra, Lin.; galeus, Cuv.) the cornea is observed dis¬
tinctly passing within the sclerotic in the manner of im¬
brication. The cuttle-fish is destitute of cornea ; and as
there is no aqueous humour, the crystalline lens is cover¬
ed by a fine thin membrane, extended beneath the con¬
junctiva.
In all animals provided with eyelids, the mucous mem¬
brane, after being folded behind the eyelids, is reflected
forwards over the sclerotic and cornea, in the form of g
thin, transparent membrane. In those void of eyelids, as
most fishes are, the skin, passing into mucous membrane,
is continued directly over the cornea, without forming
any angular fold, and adheres strongly. This is very dis¬
tinct in the eel, which may be flayed without leaving any
trace at the site of the eyes, except a round, translucent
spot. The same peculiarity is remarked in Serpents
and in the cuttle-fish family. In the zemni, golden mole,
blind eel, and hag-fish, it has been already stated that the
cornea is covered by opaque mucous membrane.
The choroid coat exists in all animals yet examined. It
is always very vascular. The inner layer, which has been
Ruyschian distinguished by the name of tunica Ruyschiana, can scarce-
membrane. jy be gaid to exist in man, small quadrupeds, and birds.
In the large quadrupeds, however, especially the Cetace¬
ous animals, it appears in the form of a distinct simple
membrane like epidermis. The lateral and anterior parts
of the membrane are always invested by a semifluid, viscid
substance, of different shades of black or brown black {jpig-
mentum nigrum); chocolate brown in the hare, rabbit, and
Corneal
conjunc¬
tion.
Choroid
coat and
pig; deep red brown in some birds; and purple red in Compara.
the calmar. The absence of this dark-coloured pigment, tive
which is not unfrequent, is observed in albinos, both hu-
man and animal, for instance white rabbits and white mice.
The transparency of the Ruyschian membrane then shows
the choroid of its natural red colour ; and the pupil is red
and contracted, and the eye intolerant of light.
In the Zoophaga, Ruminantia, Pachydermata, So- The ta.
lidungula, and Cetacea, the concave or inner surface Petl™. or
of the Ruyschian membrane is diversified with colours of™^06
metallic lustre, more or less brilliant and something irides-
cent. In the ox it is of bright metallic green, changing
to sky-blue; in the horse, buck, buffalo, and stag, it is a
silvery blue passing to violet; in the sheep of a pale golden
green, sometimes bluish ; in the lion, cat, bear, and dol¬
phin, of a pale gold yellow; and in the dog, wolf, and
badger, of a pure white, surrounded by blue. This
coloured part of the inner choroid surface, which occupies
chiefly the side opposite to that on which the optic nerve
enters, is named the tapetum. The use of it is by no
means obvious. The explanation of Monro in reference
to the tapetum of the ox, that it represents more distinct¬
ly to that animal the colour of his natural food, is not only
frivolous, but inapplicable to the other genera.
The tapetum is wanting in all Birds and Fishes, ex¬
cepting the ray, in which there is at the bottom of the eye
a beautiful silvery-coloured space, produced by the trans¬
parency of the Ruyschian tunic, through which the tint
of the choroid is seen.
In Fishes generally the choroid consists of two dis-Thecho.
tinct separable membranes; the external, the proper cho-™^121^
roid, white, silvery, or golden, very thin and not vascular; 5 ^
and the inner or Ruyschian, black, and consisting of a net¬
work of vessels. Between these two membranes is a body
of a bright red colour, consisting of numerous tortuous
vessels, convoluted and inclosed in pulpy filamentous
tissue. Its general shape is that of a thin cylinder, en¬
compassing the optic nerve like a ring, which, however, is
incomplete at one side. This is the choroid gland,—a
body about which there has been some difference of opi¬
nion, but which appears to be glandular rather than any
thing else. Its vascular structure is well seen in the
globe-fish, perca labrax, and cod, in which they are very
large, and form numerous anastomotic communications.
They are generally covered by a white, opaque, viscid fluid.
The choroid gland is wanting in the Cartilaginous
Fishes, the eye of which approaches more nearly to that of
the Mammalia in this as in other circumstances. The
choroid of the ray and shark genera is a threefold tissue
of vessels, thick and consistent; the tunica Ruyschiana
is very thin and semi-transparent; and between these is a
layer of silvery matter with metallic lustre.
In the cuttle-fish genus, though between the sclerotic
and choroid there are several glandular bodies, there are
none between the choroid and Ruyschian tunic. The
choroid is thick, soft, and vascular; the Ruyschian thin,
firm, and dry ; and though there is no tapetum, the whole
interior surface of the eye is covered by deep purple, semi¬
fluid, viscid varnish.
Ciliary processes are found in all the Mammalia, Birds, Ciliary
several Reptiles, and even in the cuttle-fish among
Mollusca ; but they are wanting in almost all fishes. an
The indented border of these processes is more dis¬
tinct, and is converted into a genuine fringe in the large
animals, as the ox, horse, rhinoceros, and whale, in which
the angle applied to the capsule is more acuminated than
in other animals. In the Carnivora, particularly the
lion, the base of the plates is shorter in proportion to the
other sides than in the previously mentioned animals, so
that the opposite angle is more prominent; nor is the
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy,
The iris
uid uvea.
border indented. In all the species every third or fourth
plate is shorter than the others, but without determinate
order.
The ciliary plates of Birds are mere serrated stria,
without sufficient prominence to make them undulate in
fluid. In the owl they are fine, closely set, and nume¬
rous ; in the ostrich they are larger and more numerous;
and in all, their extremities adhere firmly to the capsule
of the lens.
In the tortoise the ciliary processes are so short that
they are recognised only by the impression left on the vi¬
treous humour; in the crocodile, however, they are dis¬
tinct, and terminate each by an angle nearly right. They
are indistinct in the toad, and imperceptible in the ordi¬
nary lizards and serpents.
The ciliary body and processes are large and distinct
in the tope-fish; but if they are seen in any other of the car¬
tilaginous fishes, they are wholly wanting in the osseous, in
which the Ruyschian tunic is directly continuous with the
uvea.
The utility of these processes in retaining the lens in
its position is nowhere so distinctly seen as in the eye of
the cuttle-fish family, and especially the many-feet of the
ancients (polypus octopoda'). In these the ciliary pro¬
cesses form a large diaphragm or zone, in the aperture of
which the crystalline lens is truly chased. They pene¬
trate a deep annular furrow which sorrounds the lens,
dividing it in two unequal hemispheres, and cannot be de¬
tached without laceration.
The iris, of the same intimate structure as in man, is
of a deep tawny or brown in the Mammalia, and marked
with fewer coloured stria than the human iris. In Birds
it is of a uniform lustreless colour, varying according to
the species, bright yellow, red, or clear blue. In the
microscope it appears like a net-work formed by the in¬
tersection of numerous very minute fibres. The uvea is
so fine that when the viscid varnish is removed it be¬
comes transparent, and the iris appears of the same colour
on both sides. In Fishes, conversely, the iris is so thin
and transparent that the uvea is seen through it, of a
golden or silvery brilliance, showing its direct connection
with the choroid. Intermediate in metallic splendour is
the iris of the Reptiles. The vessels, however, are
greatly more conspicuous, especially in the crocodile.
The central aperture or pupil, though round in man, the
Quadrumana, many of the Carnivora, and Birds, is
not of that shape when contracted in all animals. In the
feline family it consists of two elliptical segments, which
form angles above and below, and which approach mutu¬
ally so as to form a slit nearly vertical. In the Ruminants
it is oblong transversely, and forms at its greatest contrac¬
tion an oblong or transverse slit. In the horse, in which it
is also transverse, its upper margin is distinguished by a
five-pointed festoon. In the whale it is oblong transverse¬
ly, and in the dolphin it is heart-shaped. The pupil of the
crocodile resembles that of the cat; in the frog and gecko
it is rhomboidal; and round in the tortoise, chameleon,
and common lizards. In the ray among Fishes the upper
margin forms several radiating slips like the branches of
i G P^m'tree> gold-coloured without, dark within. In
t e dilated state these slips are folded backwards between
t le upper margin of the pupil and the vitreous humour;
but when the eye is pressed they are erected, and close
the pupil like a blind.
The motion of the pupil is voluntary in the parroquet,
an^p.ls lnd1stinct in most of the Fishes.
ie pupillary membrane is well known to exist in the
foetuses of all the Mammalia ; but it is not determined
whether it is found in the chick of birds.
On the subject of the retina in the lower animals the
VOL. m.
97
ost important point is the structure of the melanoplectic Compara-
or pectimfoim membrane (pecten, marsupium nigrum) of tive
• Dfi' t\t lhlS C aSS tl?e °Ptic nerve forms not a round disk Anatomy,
as in the Mammalia, but a narrow white line, the margins
and extremity of which are in continuity with the retina The™hl-
Along this line is suspended a plicated or convoluted membrane
“T ^ fi"e ,and vascular ^ structure, like the or™!"-’
choroid, from which, however, it is quite distinct, and en-P™m ni-
tering a depression of the vitreous humour almost like a^rumi and
wedge. Its vessels, which proceed from a proper branchits
of the ophthalmic artery, are distributed in a minute arbo
rescent form, among the folds of which the marsupium con¬
sists; and from these vessels the black viscid pigment with
which its folds are covered appears to be secreted. The
plica or membranous folds vary in number. In the" casso¬
wary they are only 4; in the brown owl (S. aluco) 5 ; in the
common owl, ostrich, Guiana macaw, and merganser, they
are 7 ; in the flamingo 9 ; in the falcon and swan 11; in the
vulture and goose 12 ; in the duck, large heron, woodcock,
and coot, 13; in the stork and partridge 15; in the crane
17; in the pheasant 20; in the turkey 22 ; in the jackdaw
25 ; and in the thrush 28. According to the observations
of the elder Soemmering, to whom we are indebted for
these numbers, the number of folds, though variable in
different species, is the same in the same. In most birds
the folds are arranged in a pectiniform order. On the use
of this organ different opinions have been entertained by
Petit, Haller, and Home ; but all of them are conjectural.
In the Reptiles and many Fishes, between the optic
nerve and the retina is a small tubercle, from the margins of
which the latter membrane appears to rise ; and radiating
fibres are perceived more distinctly than in most quadru^
peds. In many other Fishes the connection of the reti¬
na with the optic nerves resembles that of Birds. Thus,
in the salmon, trout, herring, mackarel, cod, dory, and
moon-fish, the optic nerve, after passing through the
Ruyschian tunic, appears to be parted into two long white
processes, which, following the outline of this membrane
parallel but not contiguous to each other, are connected
with the retina by their opposite margins.
In all animals provided with ciliary processes the retina
terminates at and is connected with the gray pulpy zone
denominated ciliary ligament. In those without ciliary
processes, as the Fishes, it terminates suddenly at the
attached or large margin of the uvea.
In several of the reptiles the retina presents the yellow
spot of Soemmering. The principal peculiarities of the
humours have been already mentioned.
Of the appendages the most important are the lacrymal
gland and nictitating membrane.
In the Ruminants the lacrymal gland consists of two or Lacrymal
three bodies, each composed of granules, each provided gland,
with a separate short excretory duct. In the hare and
rabbit, in which the gland is large, there appears to be
only one excretory duct, which perforates the upper eye¬
lid near its posterior angle.
A gland peculiar to certain species, and wanting in
man, that of Harder, is situate at the external or nasal
angle, and presents an aperture under the third or nicti¬
tating eyelid, from which issues a thick viscid fluid. It
is found in the Ruminants, the Rodentia, the Pachy-
dermata, and in the sloth genus.
The caruncle exists in the Ruminants as in man, and
appears to consist of numerous aggregated follicles. It is
wanting in the Rodentia.
In the Cetacea, as in most animals which live under
water, there is neither gland nor lacrymal passages ; and
they are represented apparently by lacuna below the up¬
per eyelid, which discharge a thick mucilaginous fluid.
Birds, though destitute of caruncle, have both lacry-
N
98
ANATOMY.
Compara- mal gland and that of Harder, the latter large, oblong,
tive and flesh-coloured, placed betwixt the levator and adductor,
Anatomy. ant\ discharging by a single canal, opening at the inner
surface of the third eyelid, a thick yellow fluid. The la-
SECT. III.—THE EAR.
Compara-
tive
In warm-blooded animals generally, that is, in the Mam-
MALIA and Birds, the labyrinth or essential part of the
Mucipa¬
rous folli¬
cles.
crymal, which is small, round, and very red, is provided organ consists of three sem'^cuaica > g
in general with two or three canals, which, though small, enlargement to each (aw^Za), a ca ty t
are distinct. In most of the Grall* and Palmiped canals named vestibule
Birds there is, in place of the lacrymal gland, a hard
granular body, occupying the upper part of the orbit, and
following in "situation the curvature of the eye. It has,
nevertheless, no visible excretory duct.
In the turtle there is a reddish granular lobulated body,
of considerable size, extending beneath the temporal vault.
In the tortoise, frog, and toad, there are two small blackish
glands without apparent excretory ducts. Neither in
Serpents nor Fishes has any glandular apparatus in the
eye been recognised.
The third Though in man and the monkey tribe the eyelids
eyelid or consist of two semilunar cutaneo-muscular folds, with a
nictitating minute mucous duplicature at the nasal angle, the latter
membrane. acqUires such a developement in the lower animals as to
constitute a genuine third eyelid, often distinguished by
the name of nictitating membrane. I his duplicature is semi-
canais nauicu ^ , • * j.
ing canal, divided into two compartments by a longitudi¬
nal septum. This may be named the bilocular cone (corcw
bilocularis). These parts consist of membranous substance
inclosed in the bony walls of the pyramidal or auditory bone.
In all the Mammalia the bilocular conical canal is convo¬
luted in a spiral form, and hence is denominated, as in man,
the cochlea—a name, however, which is applicable to it in
this class only. . ,
The organ of hearing in the Mammalia consists of the
same parts nearly as in man. In some, indeed, f°r in-
dtnnce the euinea-pig (cabiai), and porcupine, the cochlea Cochlea
makes ftree turns and a half; and, conversely, in the Ce- and c*
TACEA only one and a half. In most of the Zoophaga,
and in the hog, elephant, and horse, the cochlea is much
laro-er in proportion than the semicircular canals ; but in
the hare it is small, and in the mole very small. In the
of this the Cetacea present no trace. In the Birds, on
the contrary, in which the eye is covered by the eleva¬
tion of the lower eyelid, which is also the largest, the
third eyelid is large, and covers the eye like a blind drawn
before it; yet it is in some degree translucent, for it is
evident that birds see objects through the membrane. In
semicircular canals are so small, that their existence was
long denied by Camper, till they were demonstrated by
Cuvier in a foetal whale. In general the labyrinth of the
Mammalia is greatly smaller in proportion to the head
than in Birds. . . ..
This part, which is membranous, is inclosed in the solid
* n .1 .  1 : A 4-V»r»f
^T^rf«he«eTrdp™id.rdorlyA««
sion of the upper as well as the elevation of the lower ^ existence appears to be .dent.fied w.th the a .
eyelid.
Though the Serpentine reptiles are void of eyelids en¬
tirely, in the crocodile, tortoise, and Batrachoid, theie
are three, as in birds, the third being vertical in the two
former orders, and horizontal in the latter. In the Saurial
and Cheloniad, also, the third, which is translucent, moves
from before backwards by means of a single muscle, and
may cover the whole eye. In the lizard genus the eyelids
consist of a circular veil drawn before the orbit, and per¬
forated by a horizontal fissure, which is shut by a sphinc¬
ter, and opened by a levator and depressor. The gecko has
no movable eyelid.
Compound 1° insects, the eye consists of innumerable hexagonal
eyes of the surfaces, slightly convex, and mutually sepaiated by mi-
Articu- nute furrows, containing fine hairs variable, in length.
lata. Each of these hexagonal surfaces, which constitute a hard,
elastic, very transparent membrane, may be regarded as
a cornea or crystalline lens, convex externally, concave
within, and thicker in the centre than on the margins.
Immediately behind is an opaque, viscid coating, varying
in colour in the different species, analogous to the choroid
pigment of the vertebrated animals, and completely ob¬
structing the transmission of light. Beneath this varnish
are short, whitish filaments, corresponding in number to
the corneal surfaces, and mutually joined like mosaic or
tessellated pavement, separated only by the dark-coloured
pigment, and which appear to correspond to the retina of
the Vertebrata. Behind these again is a delicate, dark-
coloured membrane, which appears to correspond to the
choroid; and exterior to this is a membrane continuous
with the optic nerve, and which seems to be a general re¬
tina, forming, by subdivision of its parts on the anteiior
part of the choroid, the divided or multiplied retina. This
is the structure of what are named compound eyes. That
of the simple eyes of insects is too minute to be accurate¬
ly demonstrated; but analogy gives probability to the in¬
ference that they are not dissimilar.
searches, however, on the labyrinth in the foetus of the
Mammalia, and especially in those of whales, demonstrate
the fact that it is in a completely membranous form, dis¬
tinct from the bony inclosure; that in shape and consti¬
tuent parts it exists previous to the bony inclosure ; and
that the latter is afterwards moulded round the different
parts as they acquire their full developement. It is also to
be observed, that in the mole the semicircular canals are
seen within the cranium without preparation, and the
cochlea is merely inclosed in fine cellular tissue. In the
bat family, also, both parts are seen without bony inclo-
sure. . .
The tympanum forms a cylindrical or spheroidal cavity in Tympa.
most of the Mammalia. In most of the Digitata thenum*
mastoid process consists of a slight prominence of the tym¬
panum only as it is identified with the latter; but in the
cabiai, guinea-pig, hog, the Ruminants, and So.lidungula,
it is represented by a long process of the occipital bone. In
most of the Zoophaga and Rodentia the parietes of this
protuberance, which are thin and hard, form by their se¬
paration a large cavity. In the hog only it is occupied
by a firm cancellated structure.
All the Mammalia, except the ornithorhyncus, have the Tympanal
tympanal bones as in man; the hammer (malleus), anvil bones.
(incus), orbicular bone and stirrup (stapes). The lenti¬
cular bone, which is rarely found in the adult, is probably
only an epiphysis of the anvil. They are articulated with
each other so as to admit of motion, and are moved by
the same muscles as in the human subject—the internus
mallei, externus mallei, laxator tympani, and stapedius. In
the ornithorhyncus, however, there are only two tympanal
bones.
In all the Mammalia, except the Cetaceous, the ear Externa
is provided with a bony external canal (meatus)-, and3?611111’6,
most of the Mammalia, except the Cetaceous, have a
cartilaginous funnel-shaped opening (concha) attached to
the outer margin of the bony meatus, and which serves to
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
ANATOMY.
collect the sonorous vibrations, and direct them to the double canal, one senaratpA ^J
meatus. The other exceptions are among the Insecti- hole from the tympanal ^ o me"lbrane ot the. round Co»?Para-
vora, the mole, and some of the shrew oenus • amonn- with a cavity> the other communicating tive
' the Rodentia, the zemni or blind rat, and some of the rat? stones, not harder than sterch^flthl66 Ve7 ^ friabl-e
mole genus ; among the Edentata, the pangolin or scaly circular canals of considerable sTze^each tW° ^ f™1'
ant-eater; and among the Amphibia, the morse and se- circumference. In the froir and toad’wt? 7r™InS a larSe
vera species of seal; and the ornithorhyncus paradoxus. form almost a complete cfrcle ^ n fnmin, 66 SLith0ph0'
. rhe tympanum of the Cetacea is peculiar. It con- ceous friable stone • but the bilornlar • an amyla-r°as sacs
sists of a bony plate, convoluted on itself like a buccinum, observed. In the salamander also hi wl7 h 1° °nger kceouT*
unless that the thick side instead of containing a spiral canals form together
cavity, is entirely solid The opposite side is thin, Lh which is belowcontains a sing^amylacl^ sfon’e The
an irregular margin The anterior extremity of the tym- same arrangement is observed in the^arTat-inous FisW.
panum is open, and there commences the Eustachian unless that the sac contains two amylaceoSones near
tube, which ascends along the pterygoid process, and, pe- ly oval in shape, suspended in a geliLous semifluid nuta
Of thenti Tr T f6’ tefrTateSt,at thf upper part In the 0sseous Fish“ !t is “ little different The ,hre-
of the nose. 1 his direction of the tube and position ot semicircular canals terminate in a membranous sac which
its orifice is so niuc'h more necessary, because, since these is divided by septa into compartments which contain one,
stones
appear.
animals have no external bony meatus, and the ear-hole
scarcely admits a pin, the vibrations of the air reach
their organ of hearing entirely by the Eustachian tube,
and because the Eustachian tube also in these animals
conveys odorous impressions to the part in which the
sense of smell appears to reside. The aperture by which
it communicates with the nose is provided with a mem-
two, or three small stones suspended in gelatinous fluid!
These minute stones, however, instead of being soft, fri¬
able, and amylaceous, as in Reptiles and cartilaginous
Fishes, are as hard as rock, and white as porcelain. These
parts are situate on the sides of the cranial cavity, and
are fixed to it by cellular tissue, vessels, and osseous or
cartilaginous processes. This sac, in the fluid of which
Bilocular
one no
onger spi.
al.
branous valve, which prevents the water from entering the ex1remit£S o/m
n 1 nnTTf8 hX1:f8 " by - , , . believed correspond to the bilocular cone o? the higher
In liiRDS, of the three semicircular canals the vertical classes. ^
is largest, and obliquely directed forwards and outwards; These membranous cavities are contained, in the bony
the second ^horizontal and turned outwards; and the fishes, in the general cavity of the cranium; and while only
thu d, which, like the first, is vertical, crosses the second, the middle of the canals is inclosed in the bone of the
and is turned in the direction opposite to that of the first, cranium, the extremities and the sac are quite free. The
e vestibule is small and nearly spherical. The bilocu- sturgeon, which belongs to the cartilaginous order is the
ar cone, which is obtuse at the apex, is situate obliquely first in which the canals are entirely inclosed in the cra-
backwards and outwards below the inferior part of the nial cartilage; but even in this a membrane is interposed
cranium. Ihe longitudinal septum consists of two nar- between the cranium and sac, which is free. In the rav
row cartilaginous plates connected by a thin membrane, and shark genera, again, these organs are entirely in?
Ihe posterior canal is short, and, as m the Mammalia, closed in the cartilage of the head. ^
is separated from the tympanal cavity by the membrane
of the fenestra rotunda; while the anterior, which is
larger, communicates directly with the vestibule. The
whole of these parts are inclosed, as in the Mammalia,
in the compact bone of the pyramid
The tympanal cavity, in like manner, is modified, and
eventually disappears as we descend in the scale. Though
present in the tortoise, crocodile, and lizard tribe, it is
superficial and open; it becomes membranous behind in
the Ranine tribe, and communicates directly with the
The posterior and inferior ialls of the tympanal cavity back of the moulh rrod i 7 SeZ^/reXs U
B formed bv part of the ncc n tn hnno • tho      ’ , . , ,7 7: . lepuies 1C
are formed by part of the occipital bone ; the lateral aper
ture is large, and the cavity superficial; and its anterior
pai t is closed by the posterior superior cornu of the quad¬
rilateral bone and a membrane. The inner wall presents
the two apertures—the oval or vestibular, and the round
or cochlear. In this class, however, while the upper is
ympanal
>nes dis-
ipearing
modi-
•d.
entirely disappears, so that the handle of the osseous plate
by which the oval aperture is closed is suspended in the
soft parts with its free extremity below the skin, near the
articulation of the lower jaw. In the lizard tribe, also, Cochlear
the round or cochlear aperture is seen for the last time, aperture
munrl *>.; i .i i ' - —y “EE"'1 ^ 1° the Cheloniad, for instance, the Batrachoid, and the disaPPears-
u" d v t ^ gU a1’’ the l°^er .1S distinctly elliptical,—a Serpentine, this aperture disappears, and the oval or ves-
Fnstn'?11 I16! reverse of wbat 18 observed in man. The tibular alone is left; and in the salamander both disap-Vestibular
seous The ?™ °r 7mpan°-guttural canal is entirely os- pear, and there is no communication between the external aperture
consist- ympanal cavity contains only one ossiculum, part of the cranium and the labyrinth. This arrangement disaPPears-
consisting of two branches ; the first attached to the tym- is continued in the fishes. g
braTovTorTrhn"1,? t0 W ™?&M^.,tbe second closing . In the molluscous animals the labyrinthine membrane
the^fn lang dar platf the vestlbular aperture, and is a simple sac, globular or ovoidal, containing pulpy matter
By C “uZKuZhf t0 th7f7 °r thC Ma“ai7- “ Which is suspe'lded a sma11 body> "hich'L ZZTi
ZiMateianir Pi ‘0 be represented ^ tlle th,e. and amylaceous in the many-feet (polypus), in
^ TKo . ?ie’ . , which the filaments of the auditory nerve are distributed
,Prmr!XS! Sh°r> and °Pened hy a simPle . 0ur bmits do not allow us to enter into the detailed
| locular
1 ie disap
aperture, while the absence of external ear is compensat
ei y a ring or zone of fine elastic feathers with thin
narbs, between which the air passes very easily. In the
oh tube it terminates in a large cavity, the margins of
winch are covered by a smooth valvular fold of skin.
description of the organ in the other Invertebrated
animals.
SECT. IV. THE ORGAN OF TASTE.
1 hough the sense of taste is seated chiefly in the
The pir nf • , ,, 71 UI hKm" inougn the sense of taste is seated chiefly m the
pearance of the h-lEPT|ILES 1§ remarkable for the last ap- tongue in animals, yet that organ performs, in all the
cular ann-iritne i1.0^11.31 con5'\ and first °f tbe sac" classes, so important a part as an instrument of prehen-
codile md Vnar-A fV-1C 1 18 °Und m fishes. In the cro- sion, that it cannot with much justice be distinguished by
ofa conical tnh v .V8 Part aPPears’as 1,n Birds, in the shape the former title only. In the present section, therefore,
t, ivi eel by a cartilaginous partition into a we must regard it as one of prehension as well as of taste.
100
ANATOMY.
Compara. In the Mammalia and Birds the tongue is a muscular
live organ invested by mucous papillated membrane, supported      - Anatomv
Anatomy, a pr0per bone, the hyoid, which serves as a point of out suddenly, and become of a dark-blue colour at the
support in its various motions. In the Ranine Reptiles moment of projection
is in all probability found in several of the lizards, the Compara.
tongues of which, like that of the chameleon, are darted hve
Erectile
arrange¬
ment in
raffe.
it is also muscular, attached to the margin of the lower
jaw. In the salamander, however, it is attached as far as
the tip, and is movable on the sides only. In the croco¬
dile it is attached so generally, both by tip and margins,
that it was long asserted that the animal was tongueless.
In the stellio and iguana it is as movable as in the Mam¬
malia ; and in the seine and gecko to this property is
added that of being bifid, or divided by a longitudinal
notch into two pointed tips. In the ordinary lizard, tu-
pinambis, monitor, &c. the tongue is remarkable for its
great extensibility, and terminates in two long, flexible
though semi-cartilaginous extremities. That of the cha¬
meleon is still more extensible, and forms, by a peculiar
arrangement of vessels, a cup-like extremity. The tongue
of the blind worm (anguis fragilis) and amphisb&na is also
bifid at the tip. The cartilaginous fishes are void of
tongue, while in the bony division of the class this organ
is represented by a hard protuberance, attached to the
middle branchial bone.
In some of the Mammalia, however, the tongue is
not exclusively muscular. In the singularly long, extensi¬
ble, and tortuous tongue of the giraffe, Sir Everard Home
describes a peculiar arrangement of vessels, which he re¬
presents as a substitute for muscular motion. Though Sir
Everard does not appear to understand the exact nature of
this arrangement of vessels, all the circumstances tend to
the tongue S|10W tiiat it js that denominated erectile. These vessels,
ot the gi- from tjie account given, are large, numerous, and com¬
municate freely; and it would be impossible to discover
the reason of such a vascular system, unless for some
purpose of this description. (Phil. Trans. Comp. Anat.)
When the tongue is protruded it becomes perfectly black
or bluish-black, evidently from the injection and detention
of the blood in its elongated and anastomosing veins. By
means of this mechanism the giraffe not only elongates
the tongue to the distance of about twenty inches or two
feet beyond the mouth, but twists it round the soft leafy
twigs of the trees on which he feeds. It is not improba¬
ble that a similar vascular arrangement exists, though in
less degree, in the tongue of the deer, and in the long
projectile tongue of the animals of the ant-eater tribe, as
the Tamanoir, Tamandua, &c.
The erectile arrangement is still more distinctly pre¬
chameleon. sented in the tongue of the chameleon. The researches
of Mr Houston of Dublin show that the tongue of this
animal consists of two parts,—a prehensile, which is ante¬
rior, and provided with a glandular apparatus for secret¬
ing the viscid fluid by which its tip is covered, and in¬
sects are entangled; and an erectile, which is posterior
between the prehensile and the hyoid bone, in the form of
a trellis-work of innumerable minute anastomosing blood¬
vessels, not very dissimilar to those of the cavernous body
in animals generally, and inclosing a central tube connect¬
ing the prehensile portion to the hyoid bone. The effect
of this arrangement is, that when the vascular network is
injected with blood, the anterior part of the tongue is ra¬
pidly darted out at the insects on which the animal lives.
The injection of these vessels, and the consequent pro¬
jection of the tongue, is not independent altogether of the
will of the animal; for the veins by which the blood is
returned pass through a slit in the tendon of the internal
cerato-maxillary muscles, which are always contracted in
order to protrude the hyoid style, and thereby tend, by
compressing the veins, to inject the erectile part, and pro¬
ject the tongue. (Trans. R. I. Acad. 1828, and Dublin
'Hospital Reports, vol. v. p. 487.) The same arrangement
and of the
In all the Mammalia the tongue is invested by a pa-Papillae
pillated muco-villous membrane, in which the papillae are
of the same general characters as in man—granular, mush¬
room-like, or fungiform, tubercular or calycoid, and conical
or acuminated. The only differences consist in the size
and abundance of the fungiform papillae, in the number of
the calycoid and the mode of their arrangement, and in
the shape of the conical papillae and the mode of their
termination. In the Ruminants especially, the conical
papillae are numerous, long, slightly incurvated, and each
terminating in a horny but flexible style slightly incur¬
vated backwards. The tongue of the dolphin and por¬
poise, examined even by the microscope, presents no dis¬
tinct conical papillae, but is covered by minute eminences,
each penetrated by a small aperture.
In the tongue of the dog genus there is a ligamentous Worm of
substance extended longitudinally from the hyoid bone to the dog; ns
the tip of the member. This, which has been vulgarly absurdity-
distinguished by the name of worm of the tongue, and
has been absurdly supposed to be the seat of hydrophobic
rabies, is merely a central pillar of support for the mus¬
cular fibres to act with greater steadiness and effect, and
which enables the animal to protrude and expand the tongue
in lapping water or other fluids better than he could have
otherwise done. A similar central ligament is found in
the opossum.
The tongue of Birds is generally more or less homy,
and almost cartilaginous. That of the woodpecker and
wryneck is peculiar in consisting of two parts,—a basilar
or posterior, loose and fleshy; and an anterior projec¬
tile, long, smooth, acuminated, and covered laterally with
four or five stiff spines directed backwards, which make
the organ a sort of barbed arrow. The soft, loose, or
basilar part of the tongue contains the aperture of the
glottis; and the surface is covered with minute spines
pointed backwards, and each of which is placed in the
centre of a fleshy papilla.
As a prehensile organ of very singular construction, Trunk of
the trunk of the elephant deserves particular notice; and ^ e)e*
it cannot be more conveniently introduced than under the P an '
present section, since it is used not only to convey food,
but drink, into the mouth. The trunk may be described
as a cylindrical tubular organ, consisting of integument,
a sort of fibro-cartilage, muscles, fat, and a membrane of
villous character internally. This tube contains two long
canals continued from the nostrils, parallel to the axis of
the trunk, and separated throughout by a partition of adi¬
pose substance about two fifths of an inch thick. From
the extremity to the middle part of the intermaxillary
bone, in which the tusks are fixed, these canals are nearer
the anterior-superior than the posterior-inferior part of the
tube, the latter wall being thickest; and their diameter is
the same throughout. At this part they undergo a sudden
incurvation, approaching the anterior surface of the inter¬
maxillary bone, and form a semicircular bend with the
convexity turned forwards. Here also they are so narrow
that, without a muscular effort on the part of the animal
to dilate them, fluids could not ascend beyond this point;
and hence this forms the only valvular contrivance, either
to impede the progress of fluids upwards, or to propel
them downwards, at the will of the animal.
Above this curvature each canal is dilated before the
upper part of the intermaxillary bone, and again is con¬
tracted where it bends back to enter the bony nostril; and
the curvature is protected before by the nasal cartilage,
which is oval, convex in the male, and flat in the female.
*
ANATOMY. 101
Compara- Both canals are lined by a dry, greenish-yellow coloured
t*ve membrane, marked with superficial intersections (rugce),
Anatomy. incios;ng rhomboidal spaces, and some venous branches.
'TV Though the muscular fasciculi of the trunk are nume-
nnaratus rous’ they may be referred to two orders,—those forming
,[• the the substance or inner part of the organ, and those by
runk which it is invested. The former, which are transverse,
lighly and cut the axis in different directions, consist of nume-
omplicat- roug sma]i mUscular packets proceeding in various direc¬
tions, some running from the inner membrane to the cir¬
cumference of the tube, others directly from right to left,
and others crossing the two former obliquely. All these
little muscles are inclosed in cellular tissue, containing
white homogeneous fat; and all of them terminate in slen¬
der tendons, some of which cross the layers of the longi¬
tudinal muscles in their course to the external covering,
while others are attached to the internal membrane.
Cuvier calculates the number of these minute transverse
muscles in the trunk of the elephant to be not fewer than
30,000 or 40,000. (Plate XXXVII. fig. 13.)
The longitudinal muscles, which are external, may be
distinguished into anterior, posterior, and lateral bundles.
The first extend from the anterior surface of the frontal
bone, above the nasal bones and cartilages, in parallel
bundles, connected by tendinous intersections downwards
on the trunk. The posterior extend from the posterior
surface and inferior margin of the intermaxillary bones,
and form two layers which meet on the median line along
the lower surface of the trunk. The lateral muscles form
two pairs, one of which, descending between the anterior
and posterior muscles to the middle of the trunk, may be
regarded as a continuation of the orbicular muscle of the
lips, or the representative of the nasalis labii superioris ;
while the other, which is attached to the anterior margin
of the orbit, and is expanded over the root of the former,
may be supposed to correspond to the levator of the
upper lip.
The whole of these muscles are supplied by a very
large branch of the infraorbital or second branch of the tri¬
facial nerve, which, entering on each side between the
lateral and superior muscle, is distributed to the whole of
the trunk.
With such a construction, it is not difficult to under¬
stand the numerous motions of the elephant’s trunk.
While the longitudinal muscles are employed either to
shorten the tube, to bend it upwards or downwards or to
the side, or by means of the tendinous intersections to
give it peculiar inflections, it is manifest that the trans¬
verse ones, which act as antagonists to the longitudinal,
may also either dilate or close the canals, or incurvate or
alter the direction of particular parts.
^acuefy- The foot of the Lacerta Gecko and the house-fly pre-
ng appa- sents a prehensile apparatus of peculiar construction for
heUfeet 0fW.alking alonS surf'aces, n opposition to the action of gra-
ertain v^y* In the former animal the plantar surface of each
mimals. toe presents sixteen transverse slits, leading into an equal
number of pouches, which by means of appropriate mus¬
cles are capable of forming an equal number of vacua, so
that the atmospheric pressure is employed with muscular
effort to support the animal in his unnatural position. A
similar apparatus is found in the upper surface of the head
of the sucking fish (echeneis remora); and something ap¬
proaching to it, though less distinctly, in the foot of the
walrus. (Home, Phil. Trans. 1816.)
CHAP. XV.—COMPAKATIVE ANATOMY OF THE ORGANS OF
VOICE.
„ Under this head our limits allow us to mention very few
circumstances.
In the American long-tailed monkeys (sapajous') the
Mv.
cuneiform cartilages form, by means of adipose cellular Compara-
tissue, before the upper extremity of the ventricle of the ^ve
glottis, a large cushion like a spherical segment, which, Anatomy,
touching that of the opposite side, causes the air to whistle
through the canal in its course to the mouth, and occa¬
sions the flute-like voice of some of these animals, as the
weeper (s. apella) and the capuchin (s. capucina). In the Voice of
howler («. seniculus), so remarkable for its morning and the howler
evening yelling, though the larynx is similar in general aPe>
characters to that of the common sapajou, in having the
two rounded cushions before the ventricles, the hyoid
bone is arched in the form of a spherical chamber, with
a large quadrilateral aperture, and each ventricle opens
into a membranous sac, lying between the epiglottis and
the adjoining wing of the thyroid cartilage. The air, which
passes between the vocal chords, is therefore partly im¬
pelled into this osseous and elastic cavity of the hyoid
bone, and probably by its resonance in this situation gives
the voice of these animals the deep-toned howl by which
they are known in the American forests.
Among the Zoophaga, in the dog the cuneiform carti¬
lages are large, the arytenoid small, the vocal chords well
marked, and the ventricles deep. In the feline tribe the
anterior ligaments, though destitute of cuneiform carti¬
lages, are thick, and separated from the back of the epi¬
glottis by a broad, deep furrow. The posterior ligaments,
though neither free nor sharp-edged, are distinguished
from the anterior by an appearance of greater firmness,
more regular fibres, and by an intermediate furrow. The
approximation of the anterior ligaments towards the glot¬
tis forms a sonorous vault, in which the air may be forci¬
bly vibrated by the posterior. In the bear the cuneiform
cartilages assume the shape of styles, and their posterior
extremity forms a distinct eminence, not above, but with¬
out the arytenoid cartilages, while the ventricles are merely
deep fissures.
The kangaroo has neither cuneiform cartilage, anterior
ligament, nor ventricle; and it may even be said to be
void of vocal chord, while the margins of the glottis are
much separated in the middle. This arrangement appears
to indicate that the animal is almost destitute of voice.
In the opossum, in which there is merely a small infe¬
rior ligament susceptible of tension, voice is limited to a
whistling sound.
In the Solidungula, in which the cuneiform cartilages
are completely concealed by the mucous membrane, there
is neither superior ligament nor proper ventricle; but an
aperture in the lateral wall of the laryngeal membrane,
above the vocal chord, leads into a large, oblong, sinuous
cavity, situate between this membrane and the thyroid
cartilage, and covered chiefly by the thyro-arytenoid
muscles, by which it may be compressed; and above the
anterior commissure of the vocal chords, or below the
base of the epiglottis, is an aperture on the mesial plane,
leading into a cavity below the vault formed by the ante¬
rior margin of the thyroid cartilage. This cavity, which
maybe named the infrathyroid, is superficial in the horse, of the ass,
and its aperture is large; while in the ass, with a small,
round aperture, the cavity is large, capacious, and globular
in every direction, and allows the latter animal to make
his voice re-echo in the singularly harsh sound denominated
the brag. Conversely, though the lateral cavities are
equally large in both animals, the apertures in those of
the ass are small, round, and situate nearer the epiglottis
than the vocal chord, while those of the horse are large,
oblong, and situate immediately above the vocal chord on and horse,
each side. On the latter peculiarity appears to depend
the neigh of the horse.
In the Cetacea we recognise neither vocal chords
nor glottis, that is to say, an aperture variable in size ac-
102 ANATOMY.
Compara- cording to the will of the animal; but the superior part
fcive of the trachea, which represents the larynx, forms a hollow
pyramid or funnel, rising into the posterior part of the
nostrils, in which only it opens, while on the sides is left
a passage for the food. This pyramidal funnel is formed
by an elongated triangular cartilage, corresponding to the
epiglottis, attached by membrane to the arytenoid carti¬
lages, which also take the shape of scalene triangles, with
the small side connected to the cricoid cartilage. Strictly
speaking, therefore, the Cetacea have no larynx, and
probably no vocal organ; and the superior part of the
trachea, with the nostrils, serves merely to admit the at¬
mospheric air for the purposes of respiration.
Birds are distinguished by possessing not only a glot¬
tis or laryngeal aperture similar to that of the Mamma¬
lia at the upper end of the trachea, but a second, deno¬
minated the inferior glottis or larynx, at the lower end,
near its bifurcation. The former, which is composed of
four cartilages, or six, according as the cricoid consists of
one or three pieces, on the middle of the posterior part of
which is a small round bone, articulated with two oblong
longitudinal bones, parallel, and forming between them in
the posterior wall of the windpipe a longitudinal slit, sus¬
ceptible of approximation by means of muscles, is intend¬
ed merely to regulate the admission of air into the wind¬
pipe, or its expulsion from that tube, and to close more or
less accurately its superior orifice.
Inferior The inferior larynx consists of a membrane projecting
or modu- from each side of the inferior aperture of the trachea.
rvn'x’of * This aperture is divided into two, occasionally by an os-
birds. seous anterior-posterior middle bar, occasionally by the
angle at which the two bronchial tubes unite. Since the
first bronchial arc has the same curvature as the last tra¬
cheal ring, the second and third, which are arcs of larger
circles, are less convex without, but more prominent with¬
in, than the former. Over this prominence the tracheo¬
bronchial membrane forms a fold, which, half closing on
each side the inferior tracheal aperture, forms a plate sus¬
ceptible of vibrating by the motion of the air, and produc¬
ing sound. This apparatus, which constitutes what is named
the inferior larynx, or rather glottis, is of two kinds, one void
of proper muscles, the other provided with muscles.
In the former kind of larynx the state of the glottis is
altered only by those muscles which depress and elevate
the trachea. The depressors are two pairs, the sterno¬
tracheal and the glosso-tracheal, the latter attached to
the bifurcated bone and trachea. There are no proper
elevators; but the windpipe is raised by the mylo-hyoid
muscle through the ligaments which connect the hyoid
bone to the superior larynx. In the quiescent or relaxed
state, and while the trachea is depressed, the bronchial
rings approximate, and the second and third even gliding
below the first, the glottis may be elongated. When the
trachea is elevated by these pairs of muscles, the bronchi
are at the same time dragged upwards, and the second and
third arcs are separated from the first; and while the ex¬
ternal prominence of the glottidal membrane diminishes in
length, its tension is augmented. These forms of larynx
without proper muscles may yet be subdivided into two
sorts, as they have or have not lateral pouches, membra¬
nous or osseous. These are observed in the male duck
(anas') and the merganser (niergus), but never in the fe¬
male ; and to this perhaps the harsh and deep tone of
the voice of the male bird is to be ascribed. The larynx
without muscles and without pouch is observed in all the
gallinaceous order without exception*
The forms of larynx provided with proper muscles may
be distinguished into three subdivisions.
The first, which has only one proper muscle on each
side, is observed in the whole of the falcon genus, e. g. the
eagle, hawk, falcon, buzzard, sparrow-hawk, and goss- Compara-
hawk; in the owl genus and the majority of the waders bve
and swimmers, as the heron, bustard, woodcock, lapwing, ^atomy.
rail, coot, gull, cormorant, and some of the passerine birds.
In these birds, in which the motions of the lower larynx
are necessarily limited, the voice is not variable or exten¬
sive in its notes.
The second form of larynx has three pair of proper
muscles, a constrictor of the glottis, an auxiliary constric¬
tor, and a laxator or opener of the glottis. This kind of
larynx is observed in the whole of the parrot genus and
psittacoid birds generally, as the toucan, macaw, calao, &c.
In the third kind of musculo-membranous larynx there
are no fewer than five pair of muscles, the longitudinal
levator of the demiannular cartilages, the posterior le¬
vator of the same cartilages, the small levator, the ob¬
lique levator, and the transverse levator. This quinque-
muscular larynx is found not only in all the birds proper¬
ly named whistlers or warblers, as the nightingale, hedge-
sparrow, blackbird, thrush, goldfinch, lark, linnet, canary,
chaffinch, &c., but in others whose tones are more mono¬
tonous, as the swallow, sparrow, stork, crossbill, &c., and
even in some the tones of which are harsh and positive¬
ly disagreeable, e. g. the jay, magpie, crow, raven, &c.
The differences remarked in the notes of these three
divisions of birds with the quinque-muscular larynx de¬
pend not so much on anatomical peculiarities as on the
timbre of their larynx, and on the mobility of the trachea
in relation to the larynx, and on the tracheal membrane
having dilatations and contractions.
On the whole, the inferior larynx of birds is to be re¬
garded in three lights: ls£, As the reed of a wind-instru¬
ment, like a hautboy or clarionet, in which the notes
vary as the lower glottis varies in its position to the wind¬
pipe ; 2d, as an instrument susceptible of uttering differ¬
ent tones, according to the distance between the mouth¬
piece and vent, or as the windpipe is elongated or short¬
ened ; and, 2>d, as an instrument capable of uttering dif¬
ferent notes by varying the diameter of the mouth-piece,
or as the superior glottis is widened or contracted.
The only bird in which the inferior larynx is wanting is
the vulture.
The vocal organ of the Reptiles consists of the supe¬
rior larynx only, analogous to that of the Mammalia.
This is a cartilaginous apparatus, composed in general of
five distinct pieces at least in the large individuals of the
Saurial genera, as the crocodile and alligator, and form¬
ing a broad cavity behind, before a narrow slit, bounded
by two vertical pillars. The glottis, however, is entirely
membranous ; and there are neither vocal chords nor ven¬
tricles. There are nevertheless two muscles, one for
opening and another for shutting the glottis. When these
act, and the air is made to vibrate against the anterior
pillars, it gives a slight whistling sound only. In the
iguana, tupinambis, lizard, tortoise, and serpent, the ar¬
rangement of parts is nearly the same ; and these animals,
therefore, can utter only slight hissing sounds. In the
chameleon the pillars are furnished with a tense, vibrating
membrane, a fleshy tubercle which contracts the glottis,
and a membranous pouch opening below, between the
lower laryngeal cartilage and the first tracheal ring. In
the frog tribe, so remarkable for their croaking noise, the
vocal chords are large and prominent. The males have
also two membranous pouches, opening by a small aper¬
ture, not in the larynx, but deep in the lateral part of the
mouth. When the frog croaks these pouches are inflated,
and swell the skin on each side below the ear. Though
these sacs are wanting in the female frog, and toad both
male and female, as well as the tree-frog, there is beneath
the throat a single pouch on the median plane.
ANATOMY.
Compara- chap. v.—comparative neurology. classes, in which the white matter progressively aug- Compara-
ments. tive
Anaton^ a general view of the nervous systems in different The sternal and dorsal longitudinal lines indicate the Anatoniy-
classes of animals shows that the only common part is an original formation of the chord in two lateral portions,
azygous tubercle, situate at the anteiior extremity of the with an intermediate cavity denominated the spinal canal,
spinal chord, connected by means of two lateral bundles This exists only during the formation of the chord in the
or peduncles to the rest of the system. This mass, which human foetus, in some of the Mammalia when adult, and
corresponds to what is denominated the cerebellum in man, in the other three classes. Its disappearance in the hu-
is connected in the vertebrated red-blooded animals with man foetus, and in that of various Mammalia, is repre¬
several pairs of tubercles, forming generally a larger mass seated by Serres to depend on the progressive deposition
than itself, and connected to the rest of the system by of gray cerebral matter on the inner or central surfaces
two longitudinal bundles or limbs, which mingle with and of the component pillars of the chord. Though obliterated
intersect those of the cerebellum. These anterior-supe- in man, in whom the gray matter is abundant, it is not
rior tubercles, which constitute the brain proper, present hermetically sealed in the monkey tribe, in which some
numerous modifications in figure, disposition, and magni- traces of it are left. In the Amphibia and Cetacea it is
tude, and even in presence, in the different orders of the larger than in the monkey tribe; its diameter augments
animal world. _ . in the Carnivora, feline, canine, and ursine, in which the
In the vertebrated animals the brain or central part of gray matter is thinner than in the former; and in the
the nervous system consists of the vertebral or funicular Rodentia it is said to be largest of all among the Mam-
portion, named the spinal chord, and the cranial or cepha- malia. Lastly, in the birds, reptiles, and fishes general-
lie portion, properly denominated the brain. ]y, in which the gray matter is scanty and the white pre-
ipinal I he funicular portion has the shape of a cylinder flat- dominates, the spinal canal is large and distinct.
iiord. tened on its superior or dorsal and inferior or sternal The lateral regions of the spinal chord are connected
surfaces. It consists of two similar chordiform produc- with a double series of nerves by means of two rows of ner-
tions, united on the mesial plane, and marked at the line vous filaments, an anterior and posterior, separated by a
of junction by linear longitudinal furrows, of which the longitudinal membrane of fine white tissue, with a serrat-
superior is most deep and distinct. This, however, which ed or festooned border. This membrane, which is named
was observed by Blasius in several animals, is denied by the denticulate, is the same in the Mammalia and Birds.
Bellingeri, who asserts, from various observations, that That these nerves do not issue from the spinal chord, must
though in some parts the superior furrow penetrates more be inferred not only from the phenomena attending the
deeply than the inferior, in the general course of the chord original developement of the nervous system, but especial-
the latter is the deepest. ( De Medulla Spinali Annota- ly from what is observed of their comparative size, and
tiones Anatomico-Physiologica;. Auctore C. F. Bellingeri, that of the chord in the inferior classes. In that of fishes
Aug. Taurinorum, 1823.) This discordance appears to especially, while the chord is small and slender, and by
depend on the circumstance that the sternal or inferior no means fills the vertebral canal, it is remarkable that
furrow is in truth deeper and more distinct in man, the the nerves which supply the voluntary muscles are ex¬
monkey tribe, and a few Mammalia, than the dorsal; ceedingly large. Thus, in many both of the cartilagi-
whereas in most others, as the coati, raccoon, horse, &c. nous and osseous divisions, as the sturgeon, dog-fish, ray,
the dorsal furrow is of the same depth as the sternal; and wolf-fish, cod, &c. the nerves which supply the pectoral
in the mole, murine, and leporine genera, it is deeper and fins are large, broad chords, two or three of which seem
more distinct than the sternal. In Birds and the carti- to contain more substance than the whole spinal chord
laginous Fishes the sternal furrow is deepest; in Rep- itself.
tiles the dorsal and sternal are nearly equally deep ; and in The chord is expanded at its cephalic end into a thick Bulb of the
the osseous Fishes the dorsal is the deepest. On each side eminence denominated the spinal bulb, the surface of chord,
of the chord, also, there is a slight longitudinal depression which presents three pairs of eminences. These eminences
commonly called the lateral {sulcus lateralis). are developed in various degrees in the different classes
The breadth and thickness ofthe spinal chord vary in dif- and orders. In some of the Mammalia the anterior
ferent regions. The lower cervical portion is in general the pyramids or pyramidal bodies are more distinct than in
broadest and thickest; at the upper dorsal region it is some- man, for instance the ape tribe, the Cetacea, Carnivora,
what more slender,becomingthicker again at the lower dor- Ruminants, and Rodentia. They are small in most
sal region; and after again becoming more slender in the Birds, all the Reptiles, and the Cartilaginous Fishes. In
lumbar region, it is expanded into a filamentous brush-like the osseous division they assume the appearance of two
termination ofdifferent lengths indifferent classes, and even parallel chords at the base ofthe brain. The olivary
in different orders. These enlargements at the superior bodies, less prominent in the ape than in man, are still less
dorsal and lumbar regions are believed by Serres to cor- so in the Cetacea, and progressively through the Amphi-
respond with the origins of the thoracic and pelvic extre- bia, Carnivora, Ruminantia, Rodentia, and Insecti-
mities ; and each swelling he represents to predominate vora, and the other three great classes of vertebrated ani-
over the other, as the animal habitually employs the one mals. Conversely, the restiform bodies or posterior pyra-
or the other kind of members. It is remarkable in illus- midal eminences, from man through the ape tribe, the
tration of this principle, that in the Cetacea, which are Cetacea, Amphibia, to the Ruminants, Carnivora,
void of pelvic extremities, the lumbar enlargement is and Rodentia, increase in size.
wanting ; and in the amphibious Mammalia, the pelvic Though the brain of the Mammalia presents the same
extremities of which are feeble, this enlargement is also parts, and is arranged nearly in the same order, as that of
inconsiderable. man, it varies in its proportions to the rest of the body;
1 he spinal or funicular brain consists of white cerebral in its proportions to the cerebellum and spinal bulb; in ge-
matter on the surface and gray matter in the centre, the neral figure ; in the presence, absence, and number of con-
former being most abundant, unless in the sacral region, volutions; in the configuration of its central surface; in
where both are nearly equal in quantity, or the gray rather the communication of its central with its external surface;
predominates. In the Mammalia the gray matter is in and in the manner of its connections with the cerebral
greater proportion to the white than in the other three nerves. As it is impossible in this sketch to examine all
104 ANATOMY.
Compara- these circumstances fully, we shall confine our attention is marked by transverse parallel strise corresponding to Compara-
^ve to the notice of a few only. the lamina of the mammiferous brain. There is neither tive
Anatomy, jj. js not eaSy to ascertain the proportion of the mass of middle band {corpus callosum), vault, nor septum. The
V ^ v' the brain to that of the rest of the body. Excluding as ceiling or vault of the aqueduct or passage from the third W'Y'W
much as possible the ordinary sources of fallacy, in small to the fourth ventricle is not, as in the Mammalia, sur-
animals the brain is proportionally larger; yet in this mounted by the bigeminous eminences, but is merely a
respect man is surpassed only by a small number of ani- thin plate corresponding to the valve. Each optic emi-
mals, habitually lean, and with little muscle, as bats, small nence contains a cavity communicating with the others
birds, &c. While the proportion of brain in man to that by the Sylvian aqueduct. The anterior eminences (cor-
of the whole person varies from a 22d to a 35th part, pora striata) are not striated with alternate white and gray
that of the monkey tribe varies from a 22d to a 42d part; matter, as in the Mammalia. Between the anterior and
and in the baboon it is only the 104th part of the body, the optic eminences are four rounded tubercles, best seen
Among the Mammalia, the Rodentia have in general in the ostrich, which are to be regarded as entirely hete-
the largest proportion of brain, and the Pachydermata rologous to the structure of the mammiferous brain, and
the smallest; and while the hare has a brain about the connecting the cerebral structure of Birds with that of
300th part of the size of the body, that of the elephant, Reptiles and Fishes, in which also these tubercles are ob-
the most sagacious of animals, is about the 500th part the served.
size of his body. It is also remarkable, that while the brain The Reptile brain is smooth and unconvoluted. The
of the horse is only a 400th part of the size of his body, optic eminences, which are situate behind the hemispheres,
that of the ass amounts to a 254th part. The Reptile brain are uncovered, and contain a ventricle communicating
becomes excessively small, that of the turtle being rather with the third. At the extremities of the latter are the
more than the 5000th part t>he size of his body; and anterior and posterior commissures, but there is neither
in some of the Fishes, not all, it appears to attain the soft commissure nor bigeminous eminences. The hemi-
maximum of decreasing proportion, that of the tunny be- sphere presents an anterior eminence, which, however, in
ing so small as the 37,000th part of his body, while the the brain of Birds is unstriated. The cerebral valve is,
brain of the carp is so large as to approach the proportion like that of Birds, unsurmounted by bigeminous emi-
of the elephant. It may be doubted whether, under such nences.
circumstances, any precise conclusions can be drawn from In the class of Fishes the structure becomes still more
results so variable and so little to be expected. simple. The tubercles of which the brain consists are
The proportional weight of the brain to that of the cere- placed in a row ; and their increase in number only de-
bellum is, excepting in the case of one species of ape, the monstrates the decomposition of the organ, and its reso-
saimiri, greater in man than in any other animal. The lution into simple integrant parts. The two representing
ox is equal to man in this respect, and the dog approaches the hemispheres are ovoidal, unconvoluted, and contain a
him. The animals most remote are the Rodentia, as ventricle, in which is seen the eminence analogous to the
the beaver, rat, and mouse, &c. striated bodies. The optic eminences, situate beneath
The convolutions, which are so numerous and so deep the hemispheres, though small, contain each a cavity, as
in man, diminish both in number and size in the Quad- in the two oviparous classes already noticed. Lastly,
rum an a and Carnivora, and are nearly obliterated in there are in several genera, under the common vault of
the Rodentia. In the Ungulated animals, however, the hemispheres, occasionally two, occasionally four tu-
and especially in the Ruminants and the horse, the con- bercles, variable in shape and proportions, but which
volutions are numerous; and even in the dolphin among would be analogous to the bigeminous eminences, were
the Cetacea, they are numerous and deep. In all the they not, like those already mentioned in Birds, situate
Mammalia the cerebellum is foliated. before and above the optic chambers. In the cartilagi-
On the whole, the peculiar character of the brain of nous fishes, in which these tubercles are not observed,
man and the ape family consists in the existence of the the anterior or striated eminences are obliterated. The
posterior lobe and digital cavity. The brain of the Zoo- cerebellum does not cover the fourth ventricle.
phaga is remarkable for the small size of the nates or Behind the cerebellum are two tubercles, which in the
anterior pair of the bigeminous eminences in proportion ray give origin to the fifth pair, and are very distinct in
to the testes or posterior pair. In the Rodentia the or- the pike, trout, salmon, and perch. These tubercles are
gan is distinguished for the large size of the nates, and peculiar to this class.
the want or superficial nature of the convolutions. In the The cavities in the interior of the optic eminences in
Ungulated division of animals, i. e. Pachydermata, Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes, are observed in the foetal
Ruminantia, and Solidungula, the brain is remark- brain of the Mammalia during its early growth,
able for the large size of the nates combined with the It is almost superfluous to mention, that, in the two
number and depth of the convolutions; while that of the warm-blooded classes, Mammalia and Birds, the brain,
Cetacea is remarkable for its height and breadth, and with its investments, fills completely the cranial and verte-
the want of olfactory nerves. It is further to be observed bral cavities. In the Reptiles, however, in which the brain
as a general distinction between herbivorous and carni- does not approach the cranial walls, we remark the first
vorous or zoophagous animals, that in the former the nates departure from this arrangement; and in the Fishes it is so
are larger than the testes, whereas in the latter the testes completely violated that the brain and chord occupy but a
are largest. Lastly, Man and the Quadrumana are the small proportion of the cranio-vertebral cavity; and be-
only animals which possess genuine olfactory nerves. In tween the former and the osseous walls there is a quantity
the other quadrupeds they are represented by the mam- of fine but very loose filamentous tissue, containing in its
miliary processes of the ancients; and in the Cetacea cells a large quantity of pellucid fluid. Though this ar-
they have not yet been unequivocally demonstrated. rangement gives this the appearance of a white jelly-like
The brain of Birds is at once recognised by consisting substance, it is not gelatinous, as is generally represented,
of six distinct tubercles, two representing the cerebral but merely a pellucid fluid, sometimes pale straw-coloured,
hemispheres, two representing the optic eminences, one occasionally with a reddish tint, contained in numerous
the cerebellum, and one the bulb of the chord. The communicating cavities of a tissue which appears to repre¬
hemispheres are void of convolutions, but the cerebellum sent the arachnoid of the warm-blooded animals.
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
\natomy.
105
Ine of
th.
1 irv df
' ereitt
:>! mals.
Thepia mater in the reptiles and fishes is reduced to a nerves of the Mamvtat x* j ■ j ^
filamento-vascular web, accompanying the blood-vessels. tributed to the mn«el^ c’fV, secon(^’ slender, are dis- Compara-
The dura mater undergoes some peculiar modifications the " °o • ? t0ngUe ^ the, SUrfaCe °f a T"
in different orders. In the duckbill a bony plate is con! whicTIravwse' ,b„ l! J =“ '^ge nerve ^omy.
tained between the lamina! of tile falx; and the same neath the lateral line ° Z. on®ltuli'.nally immediately be-
structure is found in the porpoise, perhaps in the other Wrds, reptiles a„d fishes P ”erVe 'S Want'”g m
Cetacka. An osseous tentorium with a quadrangular In Oxi iUex’xT„ xi/
aperture is found in the coai'ta and marten, and the feline numhpr nf x 1 v iSCA le neivous consists of a
and ursine families ; and an osseous partition consisting of parts of the hodv C?.r]ebra ma®ses distributed m different
three parts is found in the dog, horse, Cape ant-eater K thf a l y’ a T Z tW° m°re consPicuo»8 than
teropm), the wombat, and the seal. The bony SiS nladd Un SUPF°Sed t'Verefore !° rePrele.nt th<! brai".
is To found in thewoodcock and others of thetted ^ef STn^UsTollar. <ES°PhagUS’ Wh,Ch U enC°ra-
forms neither falciform^or tenfo'rial prTceVs.16 ^ ^ two'lon^ chords0 7 ^"l °f
On the nerves or ramified chords of the nervous system at varinn« J t T .ei!ding a tbe belly> and expanded
a few words must suffice. In fishes the tenth or pneu- Thefirstofthl? wh° orenlargements.
mogastric consists not of a common trunk, but of ^hree rarelv exrpprk thP’ntT 11C • 1S- SltuaJe on tbe oesoPbagus,
orders of filaments, the first and largest of which are dis- hithert o pvaml A ttlerS m S1Ze‘ AmonS the Zoophytes
tributed to the gills, and correspond to the pulmonary -d^ aSSUmeS &
PART II.
COMPARATIVE ANATOMY OF THE ENTROPHIC ORGANS.
CHAP. I. THE LIMITROPHIC ORGANS.-SECT. I. THE ORGANS OF DIGESTION.-§ 1. THE TEETH.
Though genuine teeth are found in three classes of ani¬
mals only, viz. the Mammalia, the Reptiles, and the
Fishes, yet all the orders of these classes are not provid¬
ed with teeth. Thus, among the first class, the ant-eater
tribe, the pangolin, the echidna and ornithorhyncus, and
the whales—among the second the cheloniads—and among
the third the sturgeon—are altogether destitute of these
organs. In all the invertebrated classes, the jaws, when
present, are provided with notches varying in number.
The echinodermata alone have genuine teeth, inserted in
a mechanical apparatus very different from ordinary jaws.
Though in general structure the teeth of the lower ani¬
mals resemble those of man, in some respects they differ
considerably. These varieties consist either in some
change or modification of the constituent parts of the
teeth, or in the addition of some other substance to those
parts.
The first variety to be noticed is of the former descrip¬
tion. 1
Though in the Quadrumana and Zoophaga the bony
matter of the teeth is quite similar to that of man, in
other orders this substance appears in the form of a very
hard, compact, and more regularly fibrous substance than
bone, and to which the name of ivory (ebur) is applied.
It is chiefly in the canine or tearing teeth that this sub-
stance is found to represent the bony pillar of the teeth;
and it is principally among the Pachydermata, and some
of the Amphibia and Cetacea, that this change is ob¬
served.
The ivory of the elephant is the most tender, and that
w ic i most rapidly becomes yellow on exposure to air.
it is readily distinguished from the ivory of other animals
y the curve lines which radiate from the centre to the
cncumference of the tooth in various directions, and which
0r,TTi ^ ln^erseict*on regular curvilinear lozenges.
f he ivory of the hippopotamus is greatly harder and
v ii er, and is on that account preferably employed for
ic preparation of artificial teeth. A transverse section
, 18 8ubst»nce shows stria} extremely delicate and re-
?.r: n t us animal, also, not only the canine but the
e6i 1 coj181st of this substance. The tusks of the
that nc'fiL i°ar SUS Ethiopians) consist of ivory similar to
.u , le ^‘Ppopotamus. In those of the ordinary boar,
t, no s nee are recognised, there is sometimes a mix-
vul. ih.
ture of brown substance disposed in layers. The ivory of
the teeth of the morse, though void of stria;, is compact
and susceptible of polish nearly as brilliant as that of the
hippopotamus; and its character is, that the central pillar
of the tooth consists of minute round grains, indiscrimi¬
nately aggregated, like pebbles in puddingstone. The
axis or pillar of the molar teeth of this animal, which are
without internal cavity, consists of similar minute grains.
The ivory of the dugong is homogeneous and without
stri(E. I hat of the teeth of the white whale or cachalot
resembles the bone of human teeth in its satin-like ap¬
pearance. The ivory of the tusk of the narwal is very
compact and homogeneous in appearance.
The most singular structure of teeth among quadrupeds
is observed in those of the Cape ant-eater (orycteropus).
I he teeth of this animal, which have the appearance of
two cylinders conjoined, consist of an infinite number of
minute straight parallel tubes, so that their transverse
section resembles that of a rush. As these tubes are
closed only at the triturating surface, it is there only that
the tissue of the tooth is compact; and when the enamel
is worn, the upper orifices of these tubes begin to be
exposed. There is, therefore, no general cavity in the in¬
terior of the tooth. These teeth are also void of root. A
similar tubular structure is observed in the two molar teeth
of the ornithorhyncus, and in the teeth of some fishes.
The enamel {lamella vitrea, cortex stnatus) presents Enamel,
peculiarities in the lower animals, as well as the bone of
the tooth.
While the enamel of the human tooth is confined to
the crown, in several of the lower animals, as the morse,
it envelopes the tooth all round; and in the molar teeth
of. this animal, which, indeed, are void of cavity, it is
thicker under the root than at the crown. A similar ar¬
rangement is observed in the old or adult teeth of the
cachalot, which, when their cavity is obliterated by the
full deposition of osseous substance, are also covered with
enamel below.
The texture or constitution of the enamel is best seen
in the grinders of the elephant. The section of a tooth
in the germ exhibits fibres similar to those of asbestos or
fine velvet. The fracture of the enamel is more dis¬
tinctly fibrous than that of the bone, and the fibres are
everywhere perpendicular, or nearly so, to the surface of
o
106
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
Simple
teeth.
Compound
teeth.
Semiconi'
pound
t-eth.
The ce¬
ment or
crusta
petrosa.
the tooth. The hardness of this substance may be in¬
ferred from the fact that it strikes fire with steel. These
component fibres, however, are not always rectilineal.
Most frequently they describe curves with the convexity
of incurvation towards the crown and the concavity to¬
wards the root. This arrangement at least is observed
in the ruminants. The distinction between the enamel
and bony matter is recognised by a gray line, and another
whiter which belongs to the latter substance..
The enamel varies chiefly in thickness in different ani¬
mals. The tusks which project from the mouth are ge¬
nerally observed to be less white, less hard, and more
similar to bone or ivory than the other teeth ; and on this
account, probably, the existence of enamel has been de¬
nied in the tusks of the elephant. It is nevertheless cer¬
tain that the external layer of these tusks presents radiat¬
ing fibres, though it is by no means so hard, or possesses
the same grain, as the enamel of the other teeth. Enamel
is more apparent, though thinner, in the tusks of the
morse, dugong, and boar; and it is quite as distinct in
those of the hippopotamus as in the other teeth of that
animal. Lastly, the enamel of the teeth of the cachalot,
which is very thick, shows in its section only strice paiallel
to the surface of the osseous substance.
Teeth may be distinguished according to the mode in
which their component tissues are arranged into three
sorts. ls£, When the enamel invests the axis all round,
and does not penetrate the latter, the tooth is said to
be simple (dens simplex). Such is the character of the
human teeth, and those of the Quadrumana and Zoo-
phaga, and several other animals, and all the reptiles.
2d, When the enamel is folded as it were round the bony
part, but without inclosing it, so that the latter forms a
continuous band several times folded on itself, and sec¬
tions of the tooth in every direction divide repeatedly the
component substances, the tooth is said to be compound
or complex (dens multiplex vel compositus). A good exam¬
ple of this structure is seen in the grinders of the ele¬
phant. 3c?, When the base or root of the tooth is simple,
and the folds of the enamel and bone penetrate only to a
certain depth, they are said to be semicompound. Ex¬
amples of this modification of arrangement are seen in
the grinders of the ruminating animals.
In the compound, and part of the semicompound teeth,
the enamel is covered by a third substance; and as the
latter is arranged, especially in the former sort, so as to
leave intervals between it and the next layer of enamel,
this substance serves to fill all these intervals, and conso¬
lidates the component lobes of the tooth even before their
osseous parts are united below. This substance, which is
denominated by Cuvier cement, by Tenon cortex osseus,
and by Blake crusta petrosa, though less firm than either
bone or enamel, is dissolved by acids more slowly than
the former, and sooner becomes black in the fire. In the
teeth of the elephant and cabiai it forms half their mass
at least. In most genera it presents no apparent organiza¬
tion, and resembles a sort of crystalline tartar incrusted
on the tooth. In the cabiai, however, it presents nume¬
rous pores very regularly arranged. Tenon was of opi¬
nion that it arose from ossification of the membrane which
enveloped the tooth ; blake ascribed it to deposition from
the opposite surface of the enamel membrane; but Cuvier
ascertained that it is deposited by the same membrane
and the same surface as the enamel. This accurate
observer found, on inspecting the germs ot the teeth
of the elephant, that when the internal membrane of the
dental capsule has deposited the enamel, it undergoes a
change of structure, and becomes thick, spongy, opaque,
and reddish, to furnish the cement, which is then deposit¬
ed, not in regular crystalline fibres, but in random drops.
The teeth of the Reptiles consist of hard, compact, os- Compara.
seous matter, invested by a thin covering of enamel, and
without cement. .
The teeth of Fishes vary much m structure. They are Teeth of
either simple or compound. The simple teeth are those gshe&
which consist of bone invested by enamel. They may be
distinguished into two species, according to their mode of
attachment. The first are the simple teeth, which are not
implanted in alveoli, but merely attached to the gum, or
fixed by articulation to the jaw, as those of the shark
tribe ; the second are simple teeth growing m alveolar
cavities, as is observed in the majority of fishes, the pike,
dory, &c. The simple teeth attached to the gum are
chiefly distinguished by their fibres intersecting in the
manner of the cancellated tissue of bones, and being
therefore at first light, porous, and spongy, and becoming
afterwards uniformly hard and compact like ivory.
The compound teeth, which consist of an infinite num¬
ber of minute tubes mutually aggregated and invested by
a common covering of enamel, form plates of different
sizes, adhering to the bones of the jaws or palate by an
intermediate membrane only. In some they affect the
disposition of the quincunx; in others they occupy the
whole breadth of the upper jaw at least, as in the ray as
seen on the small scale, and in the same manner in larger
fishes ; others are in straight transverse bars ; others as¬
sume the shape of a circular segment, or the figure in
heraldry denominated the chevron.
In the wolf-fish the jaws are provided with eminences
composed of fibres or tubes proceeding from the base to
the circumference, and which are connected to the jaw
by a substance more spongy than the rest of the bone.
After their first formation the teeth retain nearly their Mecham.
original shape in the Zoophaga, man, and the Quad-cadetri
rumana. In the two latter only their crowns begin to be
worn, rendering the incisor and canine less pointed by the
use of food partly vegetable; but in the zoophagous tribes
they undergo no detrition whatever. In the herbivorous
animals, however, the crown begins to undergo detrition
more or less rapidly; and in no long time the superior
layer of enamel is entirely worn off, and the surface of
the tooth exposes the succession of bone or ivory, enamel,
and cement. These substances are well seen in the teeth
of the Rodentia, for instance the hare; those of the
Pachydermata, as the elephant; the Ruminants, as the
stag, sheep, and ox ; and the Solidungula, as the horse.
In all these animals the enamel, which is hardest, forms
prominent lines or ridges; while the bone and cement are
indicated by depressions.
This detrition, which is purely mechanical, might pro¬
ceed to such an extent in the herbivorous quadrupeds
as to destroy the whole of the crown of the tooth, and
leave the process of mastication to be performed by the
jaws only. It appears to be chiefly to obviate this incon-
venience that the dentition of the elephant, the Ethiopian uc^.e.*n
boar, and perhaps all the Pachydermata, is conducted
in a successive manner through a series of six or eight ejephani
sets of teeth at least. In the former animal, in which
this process has been best observed, and was ably explain¬
ed many years ago by Mr John Corse Scott (Phil. Trans.
1799), each half-jaw, whatever it contains, exhibits at
one time only one complete grinder and part of another
behind it, the prominent parts of which are placed ob¬
liquely to the horizon, forming an inclined plane, so that
the anterior parts are worn before the posterior. The
anterior complete one, which is employed in mastication,
undergoes progressive detrition till its anterior portion is
worn down to the level of the jaw. In this state the fangs
of the anterior part of the tooth begin to diminish, render¬
ing the tooth narrow before ; while the crown of the poste-
1
ANATOMY.
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
107
°ntition
the
rse.
shc±,:bmoeuLte„rsst,,e next at "'e2oth’ °"dc™r-
rn hryei is ad™nS^the ^ ™ ^ -S \sireTXsteor.af — Aniz.
of which only the anterior part was appearing above the about the 11th month, and the second 7n the 9nthP At ' ^
gum, gradually rises, with its crown forming a plane in- the 30th or 32d month the first twn Zw •2°ih' A
dined from before backwards, similar to that of the ante- shed, the third in the 3d year - and ah^ fu
rior grinder. When this posterior tooth has been raised year the last posterior gri/der ^oears Th •r i6th
sufficiently to allow its anterior margin to be used in mas- are longer from before backwards tha^ th!™^ grinderJ
tication, the residue of the anterior tooth drops out al- ones, wldch are themselverc”traeted“„thtLPdl"eHr„
together, and the postenor one continues to rise and ad- as they are pressed by the posterior grinders; from whTch
it results that the dental crowns of young horses are ob¬
long, while those of the old are quadrangular.
In the Mammalia the teeth are always implanted in
the jaw-bones, and never, as in other animals, in the
tongue, palate, &c. The only exception to this rule is the
echidna.
dhe three kinds of teeth, incisor, tearing, and grinder, Arrange,
are found together only in Man, the Quadrumana, themeilt of
Zoophaga, the Pachydermata except the elephantthe teeth-
and two-horned rhinoceros, in the hornless Ruminants,
and in the Solidungula ; but, of all these animals, in
man only are the three forms of teeth arranged in an unin¬
terrupted series, and in such a manner that those of the
lower jaw are applied to those of the upper. In one other
animal only, now extinct, the anoplotherium, is this conti¬
nuity of arrangement observed.
In the Quadrumana and Zoophaga, and all those in
which the canine are larger than the other teeth, there is
a gap on each side of the jaw to receive the canine of the
opposite one. In the ursine genus there is a large empty
space behind each canine tooth. In the hedgehog, shrew,
phalanger, and tarsier, in which the canine are shorter than
the other teeth, a space is left between them and those
opposite. In the maki tribe, proper bat, colugo, and camel,
there is a large interval between the upper incisors. Last¬
ly, the Ruminants want the incisors of the upper jaw, and
the morse those of the lower.
Some animals provided with the three classes of teeth
sists nf fi nr Q i.i    lose the incisors at a certain age ; for instance several of
sists of 8 01 9 plates, is completely exposed at the age of the bat tribe, and the Ethiopian hog. Other Mammalia
k vLTTt £ .1 C,0TlnS f,,12 or,13 l>lates' a‘ have “"'y t™ sort* of teeth, for h,stance incisors and
six years. _ I he fourth to the eighth grinder consist of grinders, separated by an interval without canine, as the
at whJhT1^ 7 n!Tber T 10 t0 23,; but the pen0d wombat and a11 the Rodentia, in which there are only
at which these teeth appear has not yet been determined. 2 incisors in each jaw; the kangaroo, which has two be-
dip^uyjmr88/138'!^66'1 s !°wn to h^ve taken place also in low and 6 or 8 above; and the cavy or h/rax genus,
gigantic fossil animal named the mastodon. _ which have 2 above and 4 below. The elephant has grind-
Pro.cess of displacement and renovation takes ers and two tusks planted in the superior intermaxillary
1 < t n e poison-teeth of serpents, and m the teeth of bone, but no inferior incisors or canine teeth,
the shark, diodon, and tetraodon tribes. In the wolf- Animals may possess grinders and canine teeth with-
sh (anarrhicas lupus) the teeth are shed along with the out incisors, as the sloth tribe and the dugong. The
spongy membrane in which they are contained, exactly ' 1 s -
as the horns of the stag.
In the horse, in which the process of dentition has been
carefully observed, it is usefully employed to determine
the age of the animal. The milk incisors appear at the
end of 15 days; the four middle ones, or the nippers,
are shed at 30 months; the four following ones at 42
months; and the four external, or the corner teeth, at 54
months. Ihe permanent corner teeth do not grow so
quickly as the other incisors ; and by these especially the
age of the horse is determined. At first they scarcely
rise above the jaw. Their middle then presents a hollow
dnTn V!lt ;iblackisu tartar’ the margins of which are worn uy pmtes ui me laminatea, nnrous, m
. S., t00th nso? from the gum, and is rubbed tinguished by the name of w/ia/e-iowe.
he corresponding one ; and it diminishes pro¬
gressively from 54 months to 8 years, when it is alto-
get ier obliterated. The hollow of the other incisors is
obliterated at a later period than that of the corner ones;
and the age of the animal is then estimated from the
length of the incisors, which continue to increase.
1 ie first two molar teeth appear in each jaw and on
vance rapidly, until it is completed, when it is found to be
much larger than the previous tooth, and to consist of a
greater number of plates of ivory and enamel (denticuli).
In no long time this new tooth, which undergoes the
same process of detrition, is succeeded by another one,
the anterior margin of which rises first behind the poste¬
rior one of its predecessor, and which passes through the
same stages of growth, detrition, and shedding. This pro¬
cess is repeated at least seven or eight times, and each
succeeding tooth is larger, and contains a greater number
of ivory and enamel plates than its predecessor. The
elephant has thus 7 or 8 grinders in each half-jaw, or 28
or 32 grinders respectively; yet there are never more
than one tooth and part of another, or at most two, that
is, eight teeth in the upper and lower jaws, at the same
time. Though the disappearance of the fangs of the an¬
terior tooth is ascribed to absorption—which indeed is
a good general name—yet the true reason is the fact that
the maxillary or dental vessels of the elephant are unable
to sustain more than one tooth in each half-jaw at once;
and that since these vessels gradually transfer their
blood to the new tooth, while those of the old one shrink
and are obliterated, as the new tooth grows the old one
is actually dehematised or atrophied. The order in which
the teeth of the elephant succeed each other is nearly
the following. The first or milk grinder, composed of 4
eburneo-vitreous plates (denticuli), cuts the gum eight
or ten days after birth, is well formed in six weeks, and
completely out in three months. The second, which con-
grinders, which are most essential, are most rarely want¬
ing ; and when others are deficient these are present, as in
the armadillo tribe, the orycteropus, the ornithorhyncus,
two-horned rhinoceros, and lamantin. The jaws of the
dolphin are provided with uniform conical teeth all round,
while the cachalot or white whale has them in the lower jaw
only. In the narwal there are only two long spiral tusks
implanted in the intermaxillary bone, and of these one is
often wanting.
Lastly, teeth are entirely wanting in the ant-eater tribe, Absence of
pangolin, and echidna, which are therefore arranged among the teeth,
the Edentata. In the whale the teeth are represented
by plates of the laminated, fibrous, bluish substance dis-
" 1 1 ' y tiie name of whale-hone.
§ 2. ORGANS OF INSALIVATION.
Under this head ought to be noticed the modification
which the salivary glands undergo in the lower animals.
Our limited space, however, obliges us to proceed imme¬
diately to notice the peculiarities of the other divisions of
the alimentary canal.
108
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
CEsopha-
gus.
ANATOMY.
Stomach.
Simple
stomach.
Bilocular
stomach.
§ 3. (ESOPHAGUS, STOMACH, AND INTESTINAL TUBE.
The muscular tissue of the oesophagus consists, in most
of the Mammalia, of spiral fibres twisted in two opposite
directions, the external from before backwards, the inter¬
nal from behind forwards. This arrangement, which was
first observed in the Ruminantia, was supposed to ex¬
plain the process of rumination. This opinion, however,
is refuted by the fact that the arrangement is not con¬
fined to this order, but is very general among the zoopha-
gous and other animals which do not ruminate. In the
kangaroo the direction of these fibres is, as in man, trans¬
verse in the internal layer, and longitudinal in the external.
The oesophageal mucous membrane is covered by epi¬
dermis, which extends to the cardiac opening of the
stomach in man, the Quadrumana, and all the Zoopha-
ga. This membrane, as well as the mucous, is thrown, by
the action of the muscular tunic, into longitudinal folds,
which are effaced only when the oesophagus is distended.
In the tiger, lion, and lynx, there are large transverse val¬
vular folds, and smaller ones in the civet and couguar—
an arrangement connected probably with the carnivorous
habit.
The stomachs of the lower animals vary considerably in
shape, in the insertion of the oesophagus, in the disposi¬
tion of their muscular tunics, and in the simplicity or
complication of their cavities. These characters it is im¬
possible in such a sketch as the present to consider in de¬
tail ; and we shall confine our attention to those peculiari¬
ties which are most striking in the digestive organs of the
animal world.
The stomachs of the Mammalia may be distinguished
into the simple and compound. Those of man, the Quad¬
rumana, zoophagous and most of the herbivorous tribes,
belong to the former order. This simple form of stomach,
however, may be generally distinguished into two parts,
a cardiac and a pyloric, more or less separated from its
other by a central transverse contraction of its annular
muscular fibres. This is particularly seen in the horse,
man, murine family, and many other animals which occa¬
sionally feed both on animal and vegetable matter. In
the human stomach this contraction is represented in
Plate XXXVI. fig. 4. In the porcupine, however, there
are three pouches. This contraction depends on a strong
annular band of muscular fibres at this part of the organ.
In the pure carnivorous animals, however, as the feline
family, the annular fibres, which are very thick, are nearly
equally so from the cardiac to the pyloric end.
The compound stomachs, or those which contain more
cavities than one, are found in the sloths, and the ruminant
and cetaceous animals chiefly.
In the first tribe the stomach of the Unau, or two-toed
sloth, is two-fold. The first cavity is large and globular,
but tapering behind into a conical appendage, separated
by a semilunar fold ; while a large cul de sac on the left of
the cardia opens into a canal which proceeds at first back¬
wards, and then turning to the right, enters the second
cavity by a narrow aperture. The second, which is small,
tubular, and folded under the former from left to right, is
distinguished by a semilunar fold into two halves, the first
of which opens into a small cul de sac on the right side of
the first cavity. The inner membrane of both cavities is
smooth, and without villi. A similar arrangement is found
in the Ai, or three-toed sloth, with this exception, that
the appendage of the second gastric cavity is divided into
three compartments by two longitudinal bands. This ca¬
nal seems analogous to the arrangement of the ruminating
stomachs, in so far as it may allow the alimentary matters
to pass occasionally from the oesophagus directly into the
second stomach.
The stomach of the hxjrax, ashkoko, or Cape cavy, also
consists of two pouches, separated by a middle partition, Compara.
in which there is an aperture for mutual communication. . tive
In the hippopotamus the cardia communicates with three ^
pouches, two of which only are cognizable without, and
with a long tubular bowel, the interior of which is divided
across by several valvular folds.
In the kangaroo the stomach receives the oesophagus
near its left extremity, which is small and bifid (Plate
XXXV. fig. 8); and forming a larger cavity on the right,
passes upwards, making a turn, and crosses to the left be¬
fore the oesophagus, makes another turn, and again crosses
the mesial plane to the right, where it terminates in a ta¬
pering cavity at the pylorus. In this couise it presents
internally a longitudinal band (l, l, l), extending all round
to near the pyloric end, and crossed by valvular membra¬
nous folds, which divide the cavity into cells not unlike
those of the colon, especially in the horse. The mucous
epidermis is continued from the oesophagus over the space
marked c, c.
The stomach of the Ruminants consists of four distinct Quadriln-
but communicating cavities. The first, denominated the cuiar sto-
Paunch (xo/X/a, rumen, penula, ingluvies; la pause, Vherbier, ™ach of.
la double), is a large bag occupying the left side of the
abdomen chiefly, marked externally by two saccular appen¬
dages, and separated within into four parts. (Plate XXXV.
fig. 1, a, A, a, a.) Its inner surface, upon which the epider¬
mis is continued, is occupied by flat papillce. By a
pretty wide aperture (b, b), with rounded margins, this
communicates with the second cavity named the Kings-
hood {/ti'KP'o(pcLhog, reticulum, le bonnet), which is distinguish¬
ed by the rhomboidal and polygonal cells, into which its
inner membrane is moulded. An aperture at the further
end of this (c) leads into the third or smallest cavity,
termed the Maniplies (iyjvQg, omasum, lefeuillet), from the
numerous concentric crescentic folds formed by its inner
membrane (fig* 2, c and p). These folds amount to about
40 in the sheep and 100 in the ox. The smallest of them,
between the aperture from the second into the third ca¬
vity, are puckered or collected towards their further end
by a transverse membranous fold, which acts as a valve to
the aperture between this and the fourth cavity. This one,
generally named the Red (rjvuffrgov, abomasum, la caillette),
is of an elongated pyriform shape, slightly incurvated on
itself (fig. 2, d), and is marked internally by longitudinal
folds (p) incurvated according to the curvature of the ca¬
vity itself, and terminating near the pyloric end in rugce
or irregular duplicatures (r). This is the structure of the
gastric cavities in the ox.
In the camel, dromedary, and lama, the stomach is
equally complicated, though the structure is a little differ¬
ent. In the first of these animals, which may be taken
as an example of the others, the Paunch or first cavity is
a large bag, divided into two compartments on the pos¬
terior part, by a strong band passing from the right side
of the cardiac orifice longitudinally downwards (l, l, fig. 3),
and forming one border of a groove leading to the orifice
of the second. From the left margin of this band pro¬
ceed eight muscular bands, nearly at right angles, and
intersecting with others, form cellular cavities on the left
side of the paunch (n) ; while on the right side there
are similar cells, though smaller, and wholly uncon¬
nected with the longitudinal band. From the left mar¬
gin of the cardia, in like manner, proceeds a broad
muscular band (m, fig. 3) to the aperture (b) of the
Paunch into the Kingshood, after which it takes another
direction (m, fig. 4) towards the Maniplies or third ca¬
vity, within the orifice of which it terminates (c, fig. 4)
The Red or fourth chamber is much the same as that of the
bullock (d, p, r, fig. 5), and the only peculiarity is, that
after terminating in (n) the pylorus, it opens in a small
cavity (o) which leads into the duodenum (A).
*
"
ANATOMY.
From this description, for the particulars of which we
are indebted to the accurate account of Sir E. Home, it
results that the stomach of the camel differs from that of
Waiter- ^ie 0X ant* ot^er horned ruminants chiefly in the pos-
ells of thesession of the quadrilateral cells in the second stomach
i 4" I'l trro i a Vvw 4-1-.^. ^ 1  1  1
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy-
109
iuadrilo-
uiar sto-
'rop of
inis.
;amel. Into these the water is conveyed by the animal when
drinking, and in these it remains. By the action of the
muscular band (m), the aperture between the Paunch and
Kingshood is opened, and the water is directed into it so
as to fill its cells. When these are filled the surplus runs
off into those of the first stomach, where at least those on
the left side of the long band may be regarded as part of
the general cellular structure. These cells are represent¬
ed of a large size in fig. 5, in which they appear like ob¬
longs with rounded corners. They are always larger on
the left side of the band, in the Paunch, than those in the
second stomach.
Both in the bullock and in the camel, and in all the
Ruminants, the first and second stomachs only are covered
by mucous epidermis.
In the Cetaceous animals similar complication of the
gastric cavities is observed. In the bottle-nose porpoise,
Yt acea which may be tak(:n asan example, the oesophagus, which
LTAC A’ is large and capacious, terminates in a spheroidal or ovoi-
dal flask-like bag (fig. 6, a, a) with an aperture a little be¬
low the cardiac, consisting of rose-like annular folds, and
leading into a second cavity. This, which corresponds
to the ruminant kingshood, is nearly spherical in shape
(fig. 7, b), and presents valvular folds more circular than in
the ruminants, and intersected by others so as to give it
the honeycomb appearance characteristic of this cavity.
From this another aperture leads into the smallest cavity
of the three (c, fig. 7) ; and thence into the fourth, which
is long, cylindrical, and slightly incurvated. The third
cavity is remarkable for presenting in its inner membrane
numerous apertures of mucous glands.
Birds are distinguished by possessing a stomach con¬
sisting of three cavities. The first is the crop, which may
be regarded as a mere expansion of the oesophagus, and
confined chiefly to land birds. It is filled not only with
food, but with small stones; and its chief purpose seems,
by mechanical comminution, to supply the place of the
teeth in dividing the granular aliment, and bruising or
killing the animals swallowed. It is found chiefly in the
granivorous birds. It is wanting in the ostrich, in the
piscivorous birds, and most of the Graliae.
I he second is the glandular crop or subsidiary stomach
(ventriculus succenturiatus, bulbus glandulosus), a mem-
brano-glandular sac, which may be also regarded as an
oesophageal dilatation. It is larger when the crop is want¬
ing ; and though, when conjoined with it, it is always very
glandular, and may be therefore regarded as a chemical
solvent of alimentary substances, it appears to supply the
want of the crop, which is certainly chiefly a mechanical
apparatus. rIhe glandular crop or subsidiary stomach is
remarkable for the number and size of the glandular bodies
contained between its mucous and muscular tunics. These
glands, though variable in shape, are generally conical;
and some consist of several glands conjoined in one com¬
mon peduncle (Plate XXXVI. fig. 3). All of them are hol¬
low, and secrete a fluid which is discharged by one or
nioie minute apertures, and which is of essential importance
m the solution of the food. In some instances, as in the
mencan ostrich (fig. 2), they are few in number, and oc-
cupy only a small part of the posterior wall of the oesophagus.
ie gizzard or proper stomach of birds may be consi¬
dered as a horny mucous membrane, somewhat cartilagi¬
nous, continuous with that of the oesophagus, and covered
V two strong thick muscles, the fibres of which converge
to a point. (Plate XXXVI. fig. 1.) In the carnivorous and
piscivoious <7e«era of birds, especially those in which the
dandular
izzard.
crop is wanting, the gizzard loses its muscular character, Compara-
and is converted into a membranous pouch. live
I he stomach of Reptiles does not present those dila- Anatomy,
tations observed in Birds; and when it changes its dia-^^
meter or capacity, it is only progressively and insensibly,
Its general diameter, nevertheless, is proportionally larger
than m the two classes already noticed. Most generally
without cul desac, its shape is spheroidal, more or less ob¬
long; its membranous walls are thin and transparent- its
muscular layer almost imperceptible; the cellular identified
with the mucous tissue; the situation of the cardia indeter¬
minate ; and the pylorus, without valve, is distinguished
by a simple tapering contraction of the gastric walls, and
the appearance of the structure proper to the intestines.
In this class of animals, further, digestion appears to
be less regulated by fixed principles than in the other
two. It is evidently not confined exclusively to the sto¬
mach. The oesophagus of the turtle is provided with
numerous large, firm, pointed processes, which in all
probability contribute to the mechanical division of the
food, so much the more requisite as the Cheloniad Rep¬
tiles are toothless. Except in the crocodile, the Sau-
rial Reptiles are destitute of large arch or proper car¬
diac cavity. In the Ophidial or Serpentine Reptiles
the stomach has the figure merely of a dilated sac be¬
tween the oesophagus and intestines, and presents no cur¬
vature. It is probably in connection with this modifica¬
tion of structure that we find animals remain for days in
the oesophagus of serpents; and this tube appears to be
to a certain extent capable of digesting aliment as much
as the stomach. The best mark of distinction in such
circumstances is the cessation of epidermis.
In no class of animals does the stomach vary more in Stomach
shape, structure, and situation, than in Fishes; and per-of fishes,
haps the general character of the alimentary canal in this
class is most justly given by representing it as deviating
from those attributes of regularity which we find in the
higher classes. While in the Mammalia and Birds it is
always distinguished by its spheroidal or pyriform enlarge¬
ment between two tapering extremities, and by being
much more dilated than any other part of the alimentary
canal, in the Reptile class it begins to part with this cha¬
racter ; and it loses it altogether in the Fishes. In most
of the finny tribes it is often not more capacious than the
oesophagus ; and it is distinguished from this tube only by
the villous character of its internal membrane. In gene¬
ral, also, the situation of this pyriform dilated sac is trans¬
versely across the body in the Mammiferous class. In
the feathered tribes this character also is slightly set
aside, and partly from the alteration in shape, partly from
that of position, the stomach occupies less of the trans¬
verse diameter than of the longitudinal extent of the
body. Among the Reptiles this character, though still
retained in the Cheloniad, and even in the Saurial, is
gradually enfeebled in the Ophidial ; and in the Fishes
it may be said to be entirely obliterated, since the organ
occupies much more longitudinal extent than transverse
width of the body.
The first character of the alimentary tube of fishes is
the width or capacity combined with shortness of the oeso¬
phagus. The latter character is manifestly associated
with the absence of lungs and consequent want of chest;
so that between the throat and abdominal cavity, the in¬
terval, which corresponds only to the space occupied by
the heart, is extremely abridged. The oesophagus con¬
sists, as in the other classes, of a mucous membrane sur¬
rounded by a muscular tunic; but the mucous mem¬
brane is distinguished by the firmness and whiteness of its
corion, which in some genera approaches to the consistence
of horn or cartilage, and by the presence of conical pa-
pillce, sometimes of great hardness, and which appear to
ANATOMY.
110
Compara- act mechanically on the food. It is almost superfluous to
tive notice the facility which the large capacity of this tube
Anatomy, affords fishes for swallowing their prey. Most of them
are voracious in the extreme ; and it is not uncommon to
find the stomach and oesophagus crammed to the throat.
The figure and position of the stomach of Fishes are
so variable, that it is difficult to give a character of gene¬
ral application. Though in many genera, especially of the
Jugulares, it consists of a cylindrical sac with a slight
dilatation immediately below the cardia, in others it is
oblong ovoidal, as the ray and shark tribe ; and in others,
as the sole, dory, and flat fishes generally, it is orbicular.
In the sturgeon it consists of a cylindrical tube incurvated
twice on itself. In none is there more than one cul de sac,
the depth of which varies as the part corresponding to
the pylorus is more or less remote from the fundus. When
the limits of the stomach are indistinct, the situation of
the cardia is equally so. In the lamprey (petromyzon)
and pen-fish (syngnathus pelagicus) the whole tube is ot
a uniform size from the mouth to the anus; and much
the same may be said of the carp genus. The genera in
which it forms a distinct dilatation or cul de sac are
chiefly the following; the eel (inurcena anguilla), conger
{m. conger), the bullhead genus (cottus), the scorpeena hor-
rida, labrus genus, perch, cuckoo gurnard, mackerel, her¬
ring, salmon, mormyrus genus, mullet, and silurus Bagre.
In the anableps the dilatation disappears ; and in the
chcetodon ciliaris and some others it is a large sac incur¬
vated in an arch-like bend.
The intestinal canal in most of the Mammalia is very
similar to that of man ; and the chief differences of differ¬
ent orders and genera are found in the difference of lon¬
gitudinal extent either of the whole intestinal tube or
the comparative lengths of its several parts.
Compara- From the time of Grew to that of Cuvier, and most
five length mo(jern anatomists, it has been a point of some importance
of the in- to determine the length of the intestinal tube in relation
thebocf10 t0 t^iat t^ie body* comParative length, which is
e °ty' greatest in the Mammalia, diminishes successively in the
Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes. It has been occasionally
stated by different anatomists, that the intestinal tube is
longer, cceteris paribus, in granivorous than in carnivorous
animals, and conversely. When we come, however, to com¬
pare the different lengths of this tube in the several tribes,
we find that this statement demands modification. In the
ape family its length varies from 5 to 8 times that of the
body; in several of the lemur tribe from 4 to 6 times, the
smaller length being in this case compensated by the size
of the ccecum ; and in others of the lemur tribe, e. g. the
lori, the intestine is only three times the length of the
body. Among the Chiroptera there are two examples
of very great contrast in this respect. While the intes¬
tine of the noctula or great bat (vespertilio noctula, Lin.)
is the shortest of all the Mammalia, and scarcely does
more than exceed the length of the animal’s body, that of
the roussette (pteropus) or East India bat, which lives
chiefly on vegetable matter, is at least 7 times longer than
its body. A similar instance of the meeting of extremes
is found in the Marsupial order, in which the marmoset
and cayopollin have intestines only 21 times longer than
the body, while that of the phalanger is more than 11
times longer. In the plantigrade or ursine family, which
occasionally live on vegetable matters, the proportional
length approaches to that of the ape.
In the carnivorous animals the intestine, though gene¬
rally short, varies from 3 times to 8 times the length of
the body. The former is the proportion in the lion, wild
cat, ocelot, couguar, and weasel; and the latter in the
hyena. Some of them also vary among themselves. Thus
the intestine of the wild cat is greatly less than that of
the domestic animal. The proportion is very great among
the Rodentia, in several of which it is 8, 10,12, or 16 times Compara.
longer, as in the agouti, than the body of the animal. Among tive
the murine tribe, however, it undergoes a diminution, ^tomy.
Among the Edentata, again, especially the sloth tribe, it
diminishes very much, being only about 3-| times longer
than the body in the Ai and Unau. This brevity is so
much the more extraordinary that these animals are void
of csecum, and live on vegetable matters; but, in all pro¬
bability, the duplicature of the gastric cavities in some
degree compensates this deficiency.
The intestinal tube attains its greatest proportional
length in the Ruminant animals, being at least 11 times
longer than the body, as in the goat, and 28 times longer
in the ram. This immense length is supposed to compen¬
sate the absence of dilatation in the large intestines, and
the small size of the caecum. In the Solidungula, again,
which are remarkable for the large size of the caecum, the
length of the intestine diminishes much, being 8 times
longer than the body in the zebra, 9 times in the ass, and
10 times in the horse.
Lastly, it is a singular circumstance, that in different
species of the same genus the comparative length varies
much. We have already noticed the difference between
the length of the intestine in the wild and in the domestic
cat. The wild and tame boar is a similar instance of the
same, the intestine being only 9 times longer than the
body in the former, and so much as 13^ times in the lat¬
ter. It is possible that such differences may depend on
the different habits of the animal in his wild and domestic
condition. This explanation, however, is totally inade¬
quate to account for the difference in the comparative
length of the intestinal tube in the Asiatic and African
elephant, being 10 times longer than the body in the
former species, and only 7 times in the latter. The same
may be observed of two animals very closely allied, if not
of the same genus, the echidna and ornithorhyncus. The
intestine of the former animal is 7 times longer than his
body, while that of the latter is only 5 times.
In Birds generally the intestine is shortest among those
genera which prey on animals and fish; it varies from
twice to five times the length of the body. In the galli¬
naceous and passerine birds, which live on grains, it is
always longer and more capacious than in those which
live on animal substances. In the cassowary, which is
granivorous with a short intestine, the intestine is di¬
vided by contractions into distinct pouches, to compen¬
sate for the brevity of the tube. It must be remarked,
nevertheless, that in several birds which prey on fishes,
the intestinal tube is proportionally longer than in those
which feed only on grain; and the proportional length
is not diminished in birds living indiscriminately on ani¬
mal and vegetable aliment.
The intestinal tube of the Reptiles is still shorter than
that of Birds, and often it does not exceed twice the
length of the body. It is longest in the Cheloniad, and
shortest in the Ranine and Serpent tribe. In the tad¬
pole, however, a singular peculiarity is observed. The
intestinal tube of the tadpole of a frog is nearly ten times
longer than the space between the muzzle and the vent
(anus); whereas, after the animal has become a frog, the
intestine is only twice as long as this space.
In the class of Fishes the intestinal tube is still shorter
and more direct in its course to the vent or outlet. In
a few which live chiefly on marine vegetables, for instance
some of the chcetodon genus, it is about six times longer
than the body of the animal; and in a few of the cnr\) genus
(viz. cyprinus capceta) it amounts to ten or twelve times
longer than the body. In others, however, of the same
genus, for instance the cyprinus mursa, it is scarcely as
long again, showing here once more an instance of the
conjunction of extremes not easily explained.
f
ANATOMY.
Compara- In most vertebrated animals the intestinal tube may be
hve distinguished by natural marks into two divisions, one ex-
Anatomy. tending between the pyloric end of the stomach to a part
of the tube, where it becomes wider and more capacious;
into ileum ^ie other from this to the vent or outlet. In some instances,
Rnd calm, however, this distinction is very obscurely and imperfectly
marked. In the Mammalia, in which the distinction is
observed, it is indicated by one or more appendages,
which, if large, are denominated cceca, and if slender and
long, are termed vermiform processes. Man, the ourang,
and the wombat (phascolomys), are the only animals
which are possessed at once of ccecum and vermiform ap¬
pendage. In the other genera of the ape tribe, in the
maki of the lemur, in the colugo among the Chiroptera,
the ichneumon, many of the carnivorous tribe, the opossum
and kangaroo, the Rodentia except the dormouse, the
Cape ant-eater, the Pachydermata except the hyrax,
the Ruminants, Solidungula, and Amphibia, there is
only a caecum without vermiform process. The caecum is
wanting in the sloths, the bat tribe, the Ursine except the
ichneumon, the marten, pine-marten, weasel, &c. the dor¬
mouse, and all the Cetaceous animals.
The presence of caecum or vermiform process, however,
is not necessary to distinguish the canal into two portions.
The inner or mucous surface of the ileum is always villous
and uniform; and the whole intestine, except its supe¬
rior or pyloric portion, is convoluted in proportion to its
length, and moves about freely in the abdominal cavity;
whereas the colon is more or less fixed at different points,
it is shorter and more capacious, and its inner membrane
is merely mucous without long villi. A mark equally
general is the semilunar duplicature of mucous membrane
placed between the ileum and colon, and named the ileo¬
colic valve. In the sloth and armadillo tribes, which want
caecum and vermiform process, this and the slight differ¬
ence of diameter are the only marks of distinction between
the ileum and colon. In all the other Mammalia which
are destitute of caecum the whole tube is of the same
calibre, occasionally diminished towards the vent; and the
division into ileum and colon is no longer cognizable.
In all the Mammalia with one caecum, it appears in
the form of a production from the large intestine beyond
the part at which it receives the ileum; and though va¬
riable in its diameter and structure, it bears a general re¬
semblance to the colon in these respects. In herbivorous
animals, and even in some that are omnivorous, as the ape
and lemur tribes, it is generally large and puckered by
tendinous bands. To this, however, an exception is ob¬
served in the Ruminants, in which the caecum is mode¬
rate in size and unpuckered. It is small and unpuckered
in the kangaroo-rat and wombat; while, conversely, in the
colugo and brown phalanger, which are believed to be
chiefly zoophagous, it is very large and puckered.
In the zoophagous animals generally both the colon and
ccecum are of small calibre, little different from that of the
ileum; and both the colon and cascum are destitute of
cells or compartments. In herbivorous and several om¬
nivorous animals, on the contrary, the inner surface of the
colon is divided by longitudinal and transverse bands into
a number of cells or compartments. From this rule, how¬
ever, there is an exception in the wombat, kangaroo, and
the Ruminants. In the Rodentia the colon is cellular at
its commencement only.
In birds the canal is provided with two cceca, one on
each side, not far from the vent. In the omnivorous and
g—us these cceca are generally long and capacious.
Vy hue they are very large in the nocturnal predatory
birds, they are either obliterated or wanting in the diur¬
nal predatory birds, in the green woodpecker, the lark,
and the cormorant. In the heron, bustard, and grebe,
there is a single small one; in the cassowary two very
111
andlhick3”*1 m ^ merSanser> diver, &c. they are short Compara-
In all birds the short bowel between the insertion of the Anat°my-
caca and the clocwa is a little wider and more capacious than
those between the pylorus and the cceca ; and this is the
only circumstance which indicates in this class the dis¬
tinction of the tube into ileum and colon.
In the reptiles the intestinal tube is generally void of
cceca or appendage; and the only distinction consists in the
one part of the tube, which is long and slender, being joined
to another which is short and thick, and in the presence
of a semilunar membranous fold at the point of insertion.
In the iguana alone has a genuine ccecum been observed.”
The distinction into small and large intestine, or ileum
and colon, is still less obviously observed in the class of
fishes. It sometimes happens that the difference of capa¬
city is inverted, and that the calibre of the portion which
terminates at the vent is actually smaller than that of the
part connected with the stomach. This arrangement is
observed in the ray, shark, sturgeon, and even the bichir;
in the syngnathus, trunk-fish, and balista. In other in¬
stances the diameter is the same throughout; and the
only distinction is derived from the anatomical characters
of the inner membrane. In the lamprey, sea-devil, rough
star-gazer, radiated sole, holocentrus sago, carp tribe, mor-
myrus, and mullet, it is impossible to distinguish the intes¬
tine into large and small.
Fishes resemble Reptiles in being destitute of Pyloric ap-
at the junction of the small and large bowel. In many ofPendages
them, however, there is attached to the intestine, some-ot fishes-
where below the pylorus, a variable number of small intes¬
tines terminating in blind ends, similar in size and struc¬
ture to the intestine with which they communicate. These
tubes, which have been not very happify named pyloric
appendages {appendices pyloricce), in so far as they are
most frequently connected rather with the part of the
bowel corresponding to the duodenum, vary in number
from 2, 4, 6, or 8, to 80 or 180 in some genera, and even
their number is not the same in different species of the
same genus. Thus, while there are 6 in the smelt {salmo
eperlanus), there are 68 in the s. lacustris, and 70 in the
salmon {s. salar). In like manner, though there are 18
in the anchovy {clupea encrasicolus), there are 24 in the
herring {c. harengus), and fourscore in the shad (c. alosa).
In some, as the cod and pollach, they consist of several
large trunks ramified into numerous small ones.
These appendages, however, are wanting in the carti- Peculiar
laginous fishes with free branchice, in most of those with fo™ of the
fixed branchice, in the Apodes, and in several of the tho-aPPen*
racic and abdominal order. In the sturgeon and somedages*
others they are represented by a series of communicating
cavities inclosed in the intestinal membrane, which is
covered by a cellulo-muscular tunic and peritoneum (Plate
XXXVI. fig. 5), and which assumes the external appear¬
ance of a pancreas.
Among the cartilaginous fishes the brevity and direct- The spiral
ness of the intestinal tube is compensated by a peculiar dis- valve ot
position of the intestinal mucous membrane. This consists ^ies*
in part of the membrane projecting like a broad fold or pro¬
cess from the inner surface of the intestine, and winding
round from the pyloric to the anal or lower extremity
(fig. 7 and 8). This, which is denominated the spiral valve,
may be easily understood from these figures, which repre¬
sent the arrangement as it is observed in the shark. In
the sturgeon, in which it is found in the last portion of in¬
testine (fig. 6), its peculiarities have been described by
the writer of this article in the Wernerian Transactions,
vol. vi.
In all the Mammalia the intestinal tube terminates/fectam.
in a distinct bowel denominated the rectum, the mucous
membrane of which is continuous with the skin at the
ANATOMY.
112
Compara- anus. This rule can scarcely be said to be violated in
tivc the case of the echidna and ornithorhyncus, in which there
Anatomy. jg an aperture at the lower part for the urine and the
semen of the male and the ova of the female. These
anomalous and singular animals form a transition to the
mode in which the intestinal tube terminates in the three
genuine oviparous classes. In Birds, Reptiles, and most
of the cartilaginous Fishes, the intestinal tube terminates
in an outlet common to it with the urinary organs, denomi-
Cloaca. nated generally the cloaca. In the sturgeon, however, it has
been shown, in the paper already mentioned, that there is
a distinct urinary outlet; and that consequently this ani¬
mal cannot be said to have a cloaca. In the greater part
of fishes, while there is one vent for the excrement, there
is another common one for the urine, the ova, and the
spawn.
On the subject of the liver, spleen, and pancreas, it is
impossible to enter with any interest in this sketch.
CHAP. II. SECT. I. THE HEMATROPHIC ORGANS.
The Mammalia and Birds agree in having a heart con¬
sisting of two pairs of chambers, a venous auricle and
ventricle, and an arterial auricle and ventricle. The
Eustachian valve is often wanting in the Mammalia. It is
wanting, for instance, in the lion, bear, and porcupine;
while it is broad and muscular in the seal, and assumes a
spiral direction along the upper walls of the right auricu¬
lar sinus in the elephant.
It was at one time imagined that the aquatic Mamma¬
lia were distinguished from the terrestrial by the foramen
ovale being open and forming a communication between
the two auricles. This, however, is a mistake, at least in
the adult animal; for neither in the otter, the seal, nor
the porpoise or dolphin, did Cuvier find this aperture per¬
vious ; and it may be inferred, that when it is open, it is
an anormal remain of the fetal structure. In the orni¬
thorhyncus, also, according to Sir Everard Home, it is im¬
pervious. In the porcupine and elephant, in which there
are two anterior vence cavce, the blood of the left anterior
cava, which opens in the sinus near the aurico-ventricular
aperture, is conveyed directly into the right ventricle.
The reptile heart, the first in the cold-blooded division,
varies somewhat in the several tribes. In the first three,
the Cheloniad, Saurial, and Ophidial, it consists of
two auricles and one ventricle, divided in some instances
into communicating chambers. In the Batrachoid family,
on the contrary, it always consists of one auricle and one
ventricle, the interior of which is unilocular or undivid¬
ed. In several of the Turtle tribe, among the first family,
the ventricle consists of a pulmonary chamber, in which
the blood is more particularly directed to the pulmonary
artery, and a general or aortic chamber, which is above,
and from which the blood is conveyed into the aorta. In
the crocodile the ventricle is divided into three chambers,
communicating by several apertures. One is inferior and
to the right, and communicates with the right auricle by
a large aperture provided with two valves. On the left,
and before, is the second chamber, receiving the orifice of
the left descending aorta. Behind is an aperture leading
into the smallest chamber of the three, situate at the mid¬
dle of the base of the heart, and receiving the common
trunk of the pulmonary arteries. The left chamber is
above. In the Ophidial or Serpentine family the ven¬
tricle is divided into two chambers, a superior and infe¬
rior, separated by an imperfect partition, which allows the
two to communicate.
The heart of the finny tribes is as simple as that of the
Ranine reptiles, which indeed constitutes the preparatory
step in the descending scale of organic forms. It consists,
as in these animals, of two chambers only, an auricle and
ventricle- The former receives the blood from the body
at large, and transmits it to the ventricle, which is almost Compara.
in all cases unilocular. From this a single vessel conveys the
it, not to the body at large, but to the gills, from which it
is again collected by several branchial veins.
Of the blood-vessels of the four vertebrated classes it
is superfluous to speak in any detail.
The most remarkable circumstances are the minute
subdivisions which in some classes the arteries undergo
previous to final distribution. In the Ruminants, and se¬
veral of the Pachydermata, the branches of the carotid
artery, instead of uniting by the communicating vessels, are
subdivided into a great number of minute vessels, which
form round the pituitary gland a communicating plexus,
denominated by the ancients Rete mirabile.
In the slow lemur {lemur tardiyradus) Sir A. Carlisle
found the subclavian artery, after entering the axilla, di¬
vide into 23 arterial cylinders of equal size, and the iliac
on the brim of the pelvis into at least 20 equal-sized tubes,
which in both cases surrounded the principal artery, redu¬
ced to a small vessel, and, proceeding along the extremity,
were distributed chiefly to the muscles. {Phil. Trans.
1800.) A similar arrangement, carried to a still greater ex¬
tent, was found in the Ai or three-toed sloth, in which the
axillary and iliac arteries were divided into about 60 or 65
cylindrical parallel tubes. In the slender lemur {Lemur
laris') these vessels are subdivided into 4 or 5 only.
In Fishes in which the unilocular ventricle sends its
blood to the gills only, the heart is pulmonary, and the
arterial system is destitute of central impulsive organ.
In the sturgeon, which is one of the best examples of the
distribution of the arterial system in the finny tribes, the
blood, which is distributed in the branchial by the large
artery, is collected in numerous vessels, which may be
regarded as analogous to the pulmonary veins of the
warm-blooded classes, but which have thick parietes like
arteries; and these uniting, form a large vessel, which is
lodged in a cartilaginous canal formed by the continuous
bodies of the vertebra. This vessel is further void of com¬
pressive or elastic tunics, and the blood moves through it
as through an immovable and inelastic tube. From its
sides, however, a series of arterial vessels issue, which
forthwith assume the usual characters of arterial tubes. In
many other fishes the parietes of the large artery adhere
in part to the semi-osseous canal in which it is lodged.
SECT. II. THE ORGANS OF AERATING CIRCULATION.
The lungs of the Mammalia are in all essential points
perfectly similar to those of the human subject.
The lungs of Birds differ chiefly in not presenting dis¬
tinct lobules, in having the air-vessels larger and more dis¬
tinct, in the branchial tubes not becoming quite so small,
and in terminating not alone in the pulmonic vesicles, but
in perforated parts of the surface of the lungs, which lead
into large air-sacs, communicating with all parts of the
body, and forming an accessory lung. In the ostrich,
which may be taken as a general example, there are four
of these cells or aerolabous sacs. The first, which is
anterior, extends from the apex of the chest to the iliac
bones, between the first ribs and heart above, and between
the lower ribs and a cell which surrounds the intestines.
It is divided into four chambers, the first two communicat¬
ing with the lungs by large apertures, while the fourth opens
in the iliac bones. Behind this large sac are two small ones,
between the iliac bones and the peritoneal sac. Before it
is another small one occupying the lateral regions of the
apex of the chest, and communicating with sacs in the axil¬
la and neck. Besides these, the stomach, liver, heart, and
intestines are surrounded by sacs. All of these communi¬
cate by saccular processes with the cavities of the bones.
By this peculiar arrangement Birds possess the greatest
extent of respiratory surface of all classes of animals.
ANATOMY.
113
Compara¬
tive
Anatomy.
The lungs of Reptiles are distinguished by consisting of the erectile movable tubular fangs. Fig. 15 is the head of Compare
the innocuous, and 16 of the poisonous serpent.
PART III. REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS.
Undei this head we mention only the nipple-bag (rnarsu-
Tempo-
rarv gills
of the tad¬
pole.
Urinary
organs of
the ovi-
parous
classes.
Poison
gland and
fangs of
serpents.
large sacs, subdivided by membranous partitions into poly¬
gonal cells, which again are subdivided by smaller slips
into smaller cells. In these cells the bronchial tubes
are not ramified, but divide abruptly in them at the sur¬
face of the lung. Some idea of this arrangement may
be obtained from the lung of the ordinary land-tortoise pium mammillare), or secondary uterus of the Marsupial
(Testudo Graca, Plate XXXVII. fig. 1). The sacs or animals (Plate XXXVII. fig. 7); the nipples (fig.8); and
large cells are smaller and more numerous in the turtle the manner in which the foetal animal, in a verylmperfect
(fig. 2); but the general disposition is much the same. and embryal form, becomes attached by the mouth to the
The young of the Batrachoid family, and several of nipples (fig. 10). The il/arswjomm, therefore, ought to be re-
the water-lizard tribe, are provided with fimbriated or garded, not as a mere pouch in which the young may take
ciliated processes attached to the neck, and which are in refuge after they are grown, but as a subsidiary uterus, com¬
all respects similar to the gills of fishes. These gills dis- bining the character of the Mammae of the other orders,
appear as the animal grows; and when it assumes the true The Mammalia are peculiar in possessing a uterus. In
ranine or reptile character, vesicular lungs like those of the other classes this organ is withdrawn, and the ovary
other reptiles, and which had continued in a hitherto (fig. 11) and oviduct alone are left. In the ovo-viviparous
latent and rudimental state, are developed, and the ani- animals, as the ovo-viviparous shark, the oviduct (fig. 12)
mal breathes as others of the same tribe. resembles that of the common fowl. In the lower classes
A peculiar form of respiratory organ is found in the the ova are hatched out of the body entirely.
tive
Anatomy.
lamprey or seven eyes, and the two species of hag-fish,
(Myxine, Lin.; Gastrobranchus, Bl.; and Gastrobranchus
Dombey). The former has on each side seven apertures
leading into cylindrical tubes, in which the branchiae are
contained. (Plate XXXVII. fig. 3.) In the two species
of hag these tubes are dilated into ovoidal cavities, in
In the space assigned to this article, it was impos¬
sible to treat fully of a subject so extensive as the struc¬
ture of the animal world; and while the author has ar¬
ranged its divisions in such a manner as to show in what
order it may be most easily and advantageously studied,
which the water is received, and on the membrane of he has introduced only those topics which are most indis-
which the branchial vessels are distributed. In this re- pensable, and most require illustration. For more com-
spect, therefore, the hag-fish approaches to the mode plete details, therefore, he refers the reader to the follow-
of respiration among the cephalopodous Mollusca, in ing works.
which the branchiae are inclosed in a cavity. Lastly, in 1. Lemons d'Anatomic Comparee de G. Cuvier, Membre
the Aphrodite aculeata, which may be taken as an example de I’lnstitut National, &c.; recueillies et publiees sous
of the respiration of worms, there is a series of tubes like ses yeux par C. Dumeril, chef des Travaux Anatomiques,
tracheae and bronchi, proceeding from the surface to the
interior, and in which the water containing the air requi¬
site for respiration is received. (Fig. 6.)
SECT. III. SECRETORY ORGANS.
Under this head ought to be described the urinary or¬
gans of the four vertebrated classes. Those of the Mam¬
malia agree in consisting of kidneys more or less lobu-
lated, ureters or excretory tubes, a reservoir or urinary
bladder, and a urethra opening on the same mucous sur¬
face with the organs of generation. In the three oviparous
classes considerable changes are made. Though in Birds
and Reptiles the glandular organs denominated kidneys
are left in the shape of aggregated glands with the two
excretory tubes, the bladder is withdrawn, and the ureters
open in the cloaca. The only apparent exceptions are
the ostrich and cassowary, in which the cloaca is so orga¬
nized that it may serve as a bladder or temporary recep¬
tacle of the urinary secretion. In the Reptiles the pre¬
sence of this organ is variable, being found in the Che-
loniad and Batrachoid; and the iguana, tupinambis,
chameleon, stellio, and dragon, among the Saurial tribe ;
but wanting in the crocodile, lizard, agami, gecko, and the
whole Ophidial tribe. In Fishes it is not less variable.
While the ray and shark tribe are destitute of bladder,
and the ureters terminate in a cloaca, this receptacle
exists in the sea-devil, lump-fish, globe-fish, and others
of the cartilaginous division.
A peculiar secreting organ, deserving notice, is the poi¬
son gland of the poisonous serpents. It is a glandular body
situate on each side above the upper jaw, behind and be¬
low the eyes, with a considerable cavity, which opens into
&c. Cinq tomes. Paris, tome i. 1799;—tome v. 1805.
2. Blumenbach’s Manual of Comparative Anatomy ; with
additional Notes by W'illiam Lawrence, Esq. F. R. S. Se¬
cond edition, revised and augmented by William Coulson
Lond. 1827, 8vo. The notes are derived chiefly from
the work of Cuvier and the papers of Sir E. Home in the
Philosophical Transactions. 3. Gore’s Translation of Ca¬
ms's Introduction to the Comparative Anatomy of Animals.
Lond. 1827, 2 vols. 8vo. The arrangement of this work,
in which the author examines the forms of organs as they
ascend, from the lowest to the highest classes, diminishes
its general interest. 4. Lectures on Comparative Anato¬
my, in which are explained the Preparations in the Hunte¬
rian Museum. By Sir Everard Home, Bart. Lond. 1823,
6 vols. 4to. This work consists of the papers read by
the author at the Royal Society, and published in their
Transactions. Though entitled, therefore, Lectures on
Comparative Anatomy, it embraces a much more exten¬
sive field, and contains a great number of physiological
and pathological papers. This renders it at once rather
desultory and prolix. It contains, nevertheless, a great
number of facts illustrative of peculiarities of structure in
the animal world; and it is particularly valuable by the
number of engravings with which it is embellished. It
can scarcely be said to possess any arrangement whatever.
5. Recherches sur les Ossemens Possiles, ou Von retablit les
characteres de plusieurs anirnaux dont les Revolutions du
Globe ont detruit les especes. Par M. le Bar. G. Cuvier, &c.
Nouvelle edition. Tome i. 1822, Osteology of the Elephant,
Hippopotamus; tome ii. partie i. 1822, Osteology of the
Rhinoceros, Horse, Hog, Daman, and Tapir; tome iv.
1823, Osteology of the Deer and Ox, the Bear, Hyena,
i.
a long excretory tube, lying along the outer surface of the Lion, Glutton, Wolf, and Dog; tome v. partie i. 1823,
upper jaw, and opening in the tubular tooth, represented Osteology of the Reptiles, the Ichthyosaurus and the
at fig. 17 and 18; and which is movable in an articulation, Plesiosaurus; partie ii. 1823, Rodentia, Edentata,
and may be erected, as in fig. 18, or depressed, as in 16, at Monotrema, Amphibia, and Cetacea. Paris, 1824.
the will of the animal. The poisonous serpents are there- These papers contain much accurate osteological descrip-
foie distinguished from the innocuous by the presence of tion. (d. C.)
VOL. in. P
114
ANA
Auatomy AnATOMT Act, AND ANATOMICAL SCHOOLS. Notwith-
Act standing the reputation to which a few British anatomists
II have attained within the last hundred years, before the pass-
gorasT *ng ^'e Anatomy Acts of 1831 and 1832 the study of
practical anatomy in Great Britain was all but proscribed
by statute. Early, it is true, in the sixteenth century, by
way of encouraging anatomical studies, it was ordained that
“ the bodies of four murderers should be delivered after
execution to the corporation of barber-surgeons of London,
for the purposes of dissectionand at that time we were
not much behind the rest of Europe in anatomical know¬
ledge : but our legislation regarding the supply of bodies
for the dissecting-room remained stationary, while the rest
of the world was advancing, as became apparent by the
fact, that until the middle of the last century our students
were forced to seek anatomical knowledge in the various
schools of Italy or of Holland. Yet our courts of law were
in the habit of punishing medical men for professional igno¬
rance, and our public boards of requiring anatomical skill
in those who appeared before them for examination, while
the laws prohibited the means of obtaining it at home ; and
it was even penal for any one to be in possession of a human
body for anatomical purposes, except it were that of an exe¬
cuted murderer.
In defiance, however, of such strange discouragements,
anatomy, especially in London and Edinburgh, made much
progress, by the public winking at notorious transgressions
of the law; but this anomalous state of things produced a
class of offenders termed body-snatchers, whose revolting
and, in some instances, atrociously criminal modes of sup¬
plying the dissecting-room were exposed in the parliamen¬
tary inquiry that preceded the Act now noticed.
By previous Acts of Parliament the criminal courts had
been empowered to annex to the capital sentence on a mur¬
derer, that his body should be publicly dissected. But it
was justly considered that thus the idea of great crime was
connected with dissection, and the prejudices of all classes
against anatomy greatly increased. Accordingly, in the se¬
cond year of William IV., a parliamentary committee inves¬
tigated the subject, and in the following year an act was
passed that abolishes dissection as a part of any criminal
sentence, legalizes schools of anatomy, and permits the pos¬
session of human bodies for the purpose of dissection, under
judicious regulations, which are sufficient to prevent the
revolting practices of the body-snatcher, and the still more
atrocious crimes for which Bishop in London and Burke at
Edinburgh were executed. Under this act the supply of
bodies in our anatomical schools has been sufficient, without
violating the sepulchres of the dead, or outraging the feel¬
ings of the living. The average supply of bodies to the
London schools is estimated at 600 annually.—See Report
of House of Commons, of 22d April 1829 ; and Anatomy
^ay 1829> of 11 th December 1831, and of Sth
jyiciy 1 oOi^.
ANAXAGORAS, an eminent philosopher of antiquity,
was born at Clazomenae (now Kelisman), in the first year
of the 70th Olympiad, or 500 b.c. (Apollodorus). His
family was rich and noble, but he early sacrificed the pro-
spects of worldly ambition to his passion for philosophy
Leaving his patrimony to be cultivated and enjoyed by his
relations, he gave himself up to the contemplation of nature
which he regarded as the true object of man’s existence!
lo philosophy, he afterwards said, “I owe my worldly
rum, and my soul’s prosperity.” Some writers call him the
pupil of Anaximenes ; but this statement, if taken literally
is irreconcileable with chronology. According to others, he
enjoyed the instructions of his countryman Hermotimus
who, according to Aristotle, was the first to proclaim the
doctrine of a supreme regulative intelligence. At the age
ANA
of 20, or according to others, of more than 40, he went to
Athens, at that time entering on the most brilliant period
of its history, and there continued for 30 years. His philo-'
sophical teachings soon drew around him the best intellects
of Athens, and he numbered among his pupils Pericles Eu¬
ripides, Archelaus, and probably also Socrates. Without
interfering in the public affairs of the state, he contented
himself with forming the minds of its rising youth in the
principles of wisdom. But neither the elevation and disin¬
terestedness of his character, nor the powerful friendship of
Pericles, could ward off the shafts of persecution. The
philosopher was accused, like Socrates in the next genera¬
tion, of impiety (ao-efieLa) and enmity to religion, in intro¬
ducing new and dangerous opinions concerning the gods.
He was charged, among other things, with teaching that
the moon was but a mass of matter like the earth, and the
sun (the bright Apollo) a fiery mass of inanimate substance.
The philosopher was tried and condemned to die; but the
eloquence of Pericles procured the commutation of the sen¬
tence into a fine and banishment. Anaxagoras retired to
Lampsacus, where he continued to teach philosophy till his
death in the 73d year of his age, b.c. 428. “ It is not I ”
said he in his exile, “ who have lost the Athenians, but the
Athenians who have lost me.” The day of his death was
for several centuries commemorated by a yearly holiday
called the Anaxagoreia, in all the schools of Lampsacus.
Opinions the most contradictory have been attributed to
this philosopher. From the fragments that survive of his
writings, and the statements of others regarding his opinions,
it is impossible to obtain a systematic view of his doctrines.
Diogenes Laertius, in his Life of Anaxagoras, has collected,'
with little care and judgment, details which were scattered
through various writings. It appears that, in the midst of
some extravagant conceptions, Anaxagoras held opinions
which indicate a considerable acquaintance with the laws of
nature. His idea of the heavens seems to have been that
they were a solid vault, originally composed of stones ele¬
vated from the earth by the violent motion of the ambient
ether, inflamed by its heat, and by the circular motion of
the heavens fixed in their respective places. He considered
the sun to be a fiery mass of stone larger than the Pelo¬
ponnesus ;' and Xenophon introduces Socrates as refuting
that doctrine, and delivering an unfavourable opinion con¬
cerning his other writings. The moon he believed to be
inhabited, and to have its light reflected from the sun.
Lienee we find his disciple, Euripides, calling the moon not
the sister, but the daughter, of the sun. From his perceiv¬
ing that the rainbow is the effect of the reflection of the
solar rays from a dark cloud, and that wind is produced
by the rarefaction, and sound by the percussion of the air,
le seems to have paid considerable attention to the pheno¬
mena of nature.
Our information is more correct concerning his opinions
of the principles of nature and the origin of things. He
imagined that in nature there are as many kinds of principles
as there are species of compound bodies ; and that the pecu¬
liar form of the primary particles of which any body is com¬
posed is the same with the quality of the compound bodyitself.
L or instance, he supposed that a piece of gold is composed
of small particles which are themselves gold, and a bone of
a great number of small bones: thus, according to Anaxago¬
ras, o les o every kind are generated from similar particles.
he universe, according to him, consisted in the beginning of
an mfimte variety of these elementary principles (VouyA),
which were afterwards mixed and arranged' by the moving
force of intelligence (vovs). “ He was the first,” says Dio¬
genes Laertius, “who superadded mind to matter, open¬
ing his work in this pleasing and sublime languageAll
m0s were con used; then came mind and disposed them
■Anaxa¬
goras.
ANA
inaxar- jn order.” Aristotle, in like manner, says, that he taught
cyS that intelligence was “ the cause of the world, and of all
\naxi- order 5 and that while all things else are compounded, this
lander. alone is pure and unmixed ” Reason (Aoyos) he held to be
-.S—* the regulative principle of the mind, as the nous is of the
universe. The senses inform us regarding external pheno¬
mena ; but this information, he held, required the correction
of reason. The fragments of Anaxagoras have been col¬
lected by Schaubach, Leipsic, 1827, and again in a better
edition by Schorn, Bonn, 1829.
ANAXARCHUS, a Grecian philosopher, who lived un¬
der Philip of Macedon and Alexander, was born in Abdera,
and belonged to the sect generally known by the name of the
Eleatic. said to have been instructed in his early
studies by Diomenes of Smyrna, or Metrodorus of Chios.
He had the honour to be a companion of Alexander; and
a few anecdotes transmitted to posterity concerning him
render it evident that he treated him with the usual free¬
dom of a friend. He checked the vain-glory of Alexander,
when, elated with pride, he aspired to the honours of divi¬
nity) by pointing to his wounded finger, saying, “ See the
blood of a mortal, not of a god.” We are likewise told,
that, on another occasion, while the king was indulging im¬
moderately at a banquet, the philosopher repeated a verse
from Euripides, reminding Alexander of his mortality. It
is, however, to be regretted, that the fidelity of the philo-
pher was wanting at the time when the mind of Alexander
was tortured with remorse at having slain his friend Clitus ;
for it is reported that on that occasion he endeavoured to
soothe the agitated mind of Alexander by saying, that
“ kings, like the gods, could do no wrong.” It is said that
Nicocreon, tyrant of Cyprus, commanded him to be pounded
in a mortar, and that he endured this torture with incredible
patience ; but as the same fact is reported of Zeno the El¬
eatic, there is reason to suppose that it is fabulous; and it
may be added, that this narrative is inconsistent with the
general character of Anaxarchus, who, on account of his
easy and peaceable life, received the appellation of “ The
Fortunate. . Regarding his philosophical doctrines we have
no information, save that he held the sovereign good to con¬
sist in perfect tranquillity of mind (ctara^eia).
AN A XIL A U S of Larissa, a physician and Pythagorean
philosopher, was banished from Rome by Augustus, b.c. 28,
on the charge of practising the magic art. This accusation
appears to have originated in his superior skill in natural
philosophy,or what may be called “natural magic.”—Euseb.
Chron. ad Olymp. clxxxviii; St Iren. i. 13; Plin. xix. 4
xxv. 95, xxviii. 49, xxxii. 52, xxxv. 50.
ANAXIMANDER, a famous Greek philosopher, a friend
or pupil of Thales, was born at Miletus in the 42d Olym¬
piad, in the time of Polycrates, tyrant of Samos, 610 b.c., and
died at the age of 63. He was the first who publicly taught
philosophy, or wrote upon philosophical subjects, and carried
his researches very far into nature. It is said that he dis¬
covered the obliquity of the zodiac, was the first who pub-
hshed a geographical table, invented the gnomon, and set up
the first sun-dial in an open place at Lacedaemon. The pri¬
mary essence he held to be infinite (aVetpov), all-embracing,
and divine ; that this infinite always preserved its unity, but
that its parts underwent changes ; that all things came from
it; and that all returned into it. According to all appearance,
ne meant by this obscure and indeterminate principle the
chaos °f the other philosphers. He asserted that there is
« 111 ai Y °f worlds; that the stars are composed of air and
ie, which are carried in their spheres, and that these spheres
e gods ; and that the earth is placed in the midst of the
universe, as m a common centre. He added, that infinite
n SjV'Tr,<? f 10 l)r°duct of infinity, and that corruption
proceeded from separation. 1
A N C
at Mi]eh^r^WES,,an rTent Greek Philosopher, born
der Hp diff d1^’ SC1° ar’ and success°r of Anaximan-
der. He diffused some degree of light upon the obscurity
o his master s system. He made the first principle of things
to consist m the air which he considered as immense or in¬
finite, and to which he ascribed a perpetual mntinn PTo
asserted that all things which proceeded from it were defi¬
nite and circumscribed; and that this air, therefore was
God, since the divine power resided in it and agitated it
to dness and moisture, heat and motion, rendered^ visible*
and gave it different forms, according to the different de¬
grees of its condensation. All the elements thus proceed
from heat and cold. The earth was, in his opinion, one
continued flat surface.
Anaximenes, a Greek historian and rhetorician, was born
at Lampsacus, a city of Mysia in Asia Minor, in the fourth
century b.c. Some writers ascribe to him the Treatise on
the Principles of Rhetoric, which bears the name of Aristotle •
and it is reported that Philip of Macedon invited him to his
court to instruct his son Alexander in that science. He at¬
tended Alexander in his expedition against Persia. The his¬
tory of Philip, of Alexander, and likewise twelve books on
the early history of Greece, were the productions of his pen
but only a very few fragments exist.
. AN A Z ARB US, or Anazarba, in Ancient Geography, a
city of Cilicia, on the left bank of the Pyramus, eleven miles
from Mopsuestia. Augustus changed its name to Caesarea
(ad Anazarbum), and on the division of Cilicia it became the
metropolis of Cilicia Secunda. It suffered severely from
earthquakes in the reigns of Justinian and Justin. Its site
is supposed to be the present Anawasy or Naversa.
A NEAR, a town of Asia, in Arabian Irak, on the Eu¬
phrates. It was taken by Khaled, lieutenant of the khalif
Omar, in the year 632, and rebuilt by the first khalif of the
Abbassides. It is 35 miles west of Baghdad. Long1. 43.
2. E. Lat. 33. 15. N. This is also the name of a fortified
town m Independent Tartary, 20 miles north-east of Khiva.
ANBER TREND, the Hindustanee name of a celebrat¬
ed book of the Bramins, wherein the Indian philosophy and
religion are contained. The word in its literal sense de¬
notes the cistern wherein is the water of life. The Anbert-
kend is divided into 50 beths or discourses, each of which
consists of 10 chapters. It has been translated from the
anginal Indian into Arabic, under the title of Morat al
Maani, q. d., the marrow of intelligence.
ANCA, a small town of Portugal in the province of Douro,
near Coimbra. It has extensive quarries of a fine bluish-
white stone, which is exported in considerable quantities.
AN CAS TER, a parish of Lincolnshire, once a Roman
station, and considered by many antiquarians as the Cau-
sennae of Antoninus. Population in 1851, 589.
ANCENIS, an arrondissement in the department of the
Loire-Inferieure, in France. The extent is 305 square
miles, or 195,436 acres. It is divided into five cantons, and
these into 27 communes. Population in 1851, 48,102. The
chief place, of the same name, contains 3661 inhabitants.
ANCESTORS, those from whom a person is descended
in a straight line. The word is derived from the Latin
ancessor, contracted from antecessor, goer before. Many
nations have paid honours to their ancestors. It was pro-
perlj- the departed souls of their forefathers that the Romans
worshipped under the denominations of lares, lemures, and
penates, or household gods. Hence the ancient tombs were
a kind of temples, or rather altars, whereon oblations were
made by the kindred of the deceased.
ANCHISES, in Fabulous History, a Trojan prince, the
son of Capys, and descended from Dardanus. He was hon¬
oured with the affections of the goddess Venus, who bore
him a son named Alneas, the hero of the Alneid.
115
Anaxi¬
menes
II
Anchises.
116
Anchor.
Antiquity
of anchors.
Weight of
anchors of
different
sizes.
ANCHOR.
ANCHOR, in Navigation, from the Greek ayKvpa, which
Vossius thinks is from oyKvj, a crook or hook, an instrument
of iron or other heavy material used for holding ships in any
situation in which they may be required to lie, and prevent¬
ing them from drifting by the winds or tides, by the currents
of rivers, or any other cause. This is done by the anchor,
after it is let down from the ship by means of the cable, fix¬
ing itself into the ground, and there holding the vessel fast.
The anchor is thus obviously an implement of the first im¬
portance in navigation, and one on which too much atten¬
tion cannot be bestowed in its manufacture and proper con¬
struction, seeing that on it depends entirely the safety of the
vessel in storms. The invention of so necessary an instru¬
ment remounts, as may be supposed, to the remotest anti¬
quity. The most ancient anchors consisted merely of large
stones, baskets full of stones, sacks filled with sand, or logs
of wood loaded with lead. Of this kind were the anchors
of the ancient Greeks, which, according to Apollonius Rho-
dius and Stephen of Byzantium, were formed of stone;
and Athenaeus states that they were sometimes made of
wood. These sorts of anchors retained the vessel merely
by their inertia, and by the friction along the bottom. Iron
was afterwards introduced for the construction of anchors,
and also the grand improvement of forming them with teeth
or flukes to fasten themselves into the bottom ; whence the
words dSdvres and dentes are frequently taken for anchors in
the Greek and Latin poets. The invention of the teeth
is ascribed by Pliny to the Tuscans; but Pausanias gives
the merit to Midas, king of Phrygia. Originally there was
only one fluke or tooth, whence anchors were called crepd-
(TTogoi.; but shortly afterwards the second was added, accord¬
ing to Pliny, by Eupalamus, or, according to Strabo, by
Anacharsis, the Scythian philosopher. The anchors with
two teeth were called d/x<£i/3oA.oi or d/x^to-ro/xoi, and from
ancient monuments appear to have been much the same with
those used in our days, except that the stock is wanting in
them all. Every ship had several anchors, the largest of
which, corresponding to our bower or sheet anchor, was
never used but in extreme danger, and was hence peculiarly
termed lepd or sacra ; whence the proverb sacram ancho-
ram solvere, as flying to the last refuge.
Anchors are now universally made of wrought iron, ex¬
cepting in Spain and some parts of the South Sea, where
they are made of copper. One essential quality in every
anchor is a sufficient weight and angle of arm and fluke to fix
itself in the bottom ; and this has been determined by prac¬
tice for different anchors, and for vessels of different sizes.
Large vessels have several anchors of different sizes, which
are stowed in different parts of the vessel. These are dis¬
tinguished by different names, viz., the best bower to the
starboard ; and the small bower to the port cathead, with
the flukes on the bill-board ; the sheet-anchor, on the after
part of the fore-channels on the starboard side; and the
spare-anchor on the port side. The above anchors are of
the same size and weight. The two latter are only let go
in cases of danger, when the vessel is riding in a heavy gale.
In men-of-war they are always kept ready for letting go.
The stream-anchor is of a much smaller size than the above,
used only for riding in rivers or moderate streams. It is not
generally above one-fourth or one-fifth of the weight of the
others. Lastly, the hedge-anchor is still smaller, being only
about one-half of the stream-anchor, and is only used when
hedging in a river. Ships of the large class carry four large
and three small anchors, and the smallest class, as brigs, cut¬
ters, and schooners, three or four.
The weight of anchors for different vessels is allowed by
the tonnage. A pretty near rule for the principal anchor of
ordinary-sized vessels is to allow for the cwts. in the anchor
-one-twentieth of the tonnage. Thus a vessel of 400 tons
would require her principal anchor to be 20 cwt., or accord¬
ing to the following tables:—
Anchor,
Merchant Vessels.
Cable Weight of
Tonnage. Chain An^hor.
Tons. Inches. Cwt.
20
35
50
65
70
80
100
130
160
190
220
250
280
320
380
430
480
520
720
"5 IT
ii
3
T
if
if
1
1
n
H
li
if
La
li
Hi
i
H
2f
3i
4J
5
5f
7
8
9i
10J
12
14
15§
Hi
20
21
25
33
Guns.
20
24
28
32
36
38
40
44
50
64
74
80
90
100
120
Vessels of War.
Cable Weight of
Tonnage. Chain.
Inches.
If
500
700
750
920
970
1000
1100
1300
1500
1600
1900
2500
2600
2700
3000
If
If
If
If
If
If
2
2
2i
2f
2f
2f
Anchor.
Cwt.
25
29
33
38
41
44
47
50
61
65
72
85
92
94
99 to 100
Next to the weight, the form of the anchor, and the pro- Form and
portions of the different parts, are of great importance. The dimension
most general form, and that which has indeed been almostof anchori
universally adopted all over the world, is that represented
at Plate XXXVIII. fig. 1, and in section at Plate XXXIX.
fig. 1, consisting of the two hooked arms for penetrating and
fixing themselves into the soil; the long bar or shank for
attaching the cable; and the stock, which is attached to the
extremity of the shank, and serves to direct one of the points
downwards into the soil. The weight of the anchor then
causes the point to penetrate more or less according to the
softness or hardness of the bottom ; and the action of the
vessel on the cable, instead of loosening the anchor, tends
rather, by the hooked shape of the arms, to fix these deeper
and firmer into the soil; so that the vessel is held quite fast,
unless either the cable itself gives way, or any part of the
anchor, or the anchor is dragged along owing to the loose¬
ness of the soil. The cable draws upwards by the extremity,
and turns the whole round the point of the fluke. The
one end of the shank is made square, to receive and hold
the stock steadily in its place without turning. To keep the
stock also from shifting along the shank, there are raised
on it from the solid iron, or welded on it, two square tenon¬
like projections, called nuts. The length of the square of
the shank is about one-sixth of the whole length of the shaft,
and the thickness about one-twentieth. From the end of
this square the shank increases in thickness, tapering to¬
wards the extremity, where the arms are attached: in all
this part it is either made wholly round, or with a flat on
opposite sides, or polygonal. The end next the stock is
called the small round. The other extremity, where the
arms and the shank unite, is called the crown, and the point
of the angle between the arms and the shank the throat.
Here the thickness of the shank is from inch in small
anchors, to 3 inches in large ones, greater than at the small
round. A distance equal to that between the throat of one
arm and its bill is marked on the shank from the place where
it joins the arms, and is called the trend. Near the extre¬
mity of the square part of the shank is the hole for receiving
the shackle for the cable, which is about half the thickness
of the small round, and the diameter nearly equal to the
length of the square. The shackle is lapped with cordage to
prevent the cable from chafing. When hempen cables are
used in her Majesty’s service, one length of bower chain
cable called a ganger, is bent to the spare anchor, and the
hempen cable united with Admiral Elliott’s shackle.
The arms make an angle of about 56° with the shank.
ANCHOR.
Anchor. They are made either round or polygonal like the shank,
about half their length. The remainder of the arm consists of
three parts, the blade, the palm, and the bill, Plate XXXIX.
fig. 1, and in another view at fig. 2. The blade is merely the
continuation of the arm in a square form. The palm or fluke
is a broad, flat, triangular plate, fixed on the inside of the
blade, the use of which is, by exposing a broad surface, to
take a firmer hold of the ground. The bill is the extremity
of the arm, where it is tapered nearly to a point, for the pur¬
pose of penetrating more readily into the soil. In some
cases the arm is made quite straight from the crown to the
bill ; in others, and particularly in small anchors, the inte-
terior half is made with the arch of a circle. The whole
length of the arm is nearly half the length of the round part
of the shank. It tapers slightly from the throat to the blade,
where it is about the same thickness with the small round
of the shank. The palm is about one-third of this in thick¬
ness, and the breadth of its base is nearly equal to its length.
The stock of the anchor, represented at fig. 3, is made of
oak, consisting of two beams embracing the square, and
firmly united by iron bolts and hoops. The length of the
stock is rather greater than that of the shank, the thickness
in the middle about one-twelfth of its length, and tapering
to about the half of this at the extremities, the taper being
all on the under surface next the arms, and the other quite
straight. The taper is not quite regular. It commences
at about half the breadth of the stock from the shank, and
continues in one straight line to the extremity. The beams
of the stock are hooped close together at the extremities,
but gradually open towards the centre, that, in case of the
wood shrinking, the hoops may be driven farther in, fig. 4.
Of late years the stock has frequently been made of wrought
iron, the same as the anchor; and this plan is now very
generally followed in anchors up to sixty cwt. It has this
advantage, that the stock can be at any time taken out and
laid parallel with the anchor, which is very convenient for
stowage. The iron stock, fig. 10, consists merely of a long
round bar, about half the diameter of the anchor at the
square. Instead of embracing the anchor, like the wood, it
goes through a hole in the square, which is swelled out to
receive it. It has a shoulder in the middle, which rests
against the square, and a key driven through a hole in the
stock on the other side keeps it fast. When the stock is to
be taken out of its place, the key is driven out: the stock
then slides through the hole in the shank, and by means of
a bend at its extremity, it is laid parallel with the shank.
117
I he operation of the anchor is easily understood. Being Anchor.
et down by means of the cable, the weight of the arms ^ 
throws them downwards, and keeps the whole in a vertical
position until ,t reaches the ground, where it lights upon the
crown; and then falling over, the position of the stock at
ngit angles to the arms, and its length and height, together
with the weight of the cable, are sure to throw it with one
of the arms pointed into the ground, if it does not take this
situation of itself. 1 his effect is aided by the anchor de¬
scending quickly—and hence it must be allowed to descend
freely; for which purpose, in throwing or casting the anchor
the cable is arranged, one end being attached to the anchor
and the cable bitted on deck, and the inner end removed
below. Everything being prepared, the lashing of the anchor
is castoff, and the men stand ready to let go; and when this
word is given by the person in command, the fastenings are
all cast off, and the anchor, falling into the sea, descends with
rapidity. When the anchor, again, is to be removed from its
situation and drawn up into the vessel, the operation is termed
weighing; which requires often a very heavy purchase,
particularly at starting. This is obtained by means of the
windlass or capstan, round which the cable is wound, and
a number of hands applied to work it. With cables which
are too large to be wound round a windlass, a smaller rope
or chain is used, termed a messenger, which, being attached
to the cable at different points, and wound round the cap¬
stan, serves to bring the cable forward. But since the
introduction of chain-cables this contrivance is not so much
required.
When the anchor is brought above water, a tackle from
the cathead, called the cat, is hooked on to the shackle of the
anchor, and hoisted up ; the cathead stopper is then passed,
viz., one end of it is fastened round the cathead, and the
other is brought through the shackle of the anchor, then
over the stopper-cleat, and is belayed round a timber head;
the cat is then unhooked, and another tackle called the fish
is hooked on just within the flukes, and the arms are hove
up so as to lie upon the gunnel, or bill-board; the stock is
then made vertical by hauling upon another tackle, called the
stock-tackle, in which position the anchor is secui'ed by the
stock-lashing for sea. In the event of bad weather, and
before commencing a long voyage, the cathead stopper and
shank painter is doubled.
The following table contains the dimensions of the parts
of anchors of different weights. The letters g. l. denote the
greatest and least diameters or breadths.
Cwt.
2J
n
8
28J
49J
73f
90f
94
100
SHANK.
Sizes.
Length
ft. in.
4 8
7 1
7 5
11 3
13 6
15 4
16 5J
16 8i
17 1
Throat.
3U
61
9*
12B
13-f|
13#
13#
5#
5#
St's
9#
11
1H
114
HE
Trend.
8v<r
10*
HE
19 9
1-TB
12#
12*
2#
A 9
A^ 3
7 9
' TIT
8ft
10Ti
10#
10?
10’
4 8
4#
11*
Hi
1 1 7
3#
63
7 9
'IF
8*
9y
9*
9#
SQUARE.
Sizes.
Length.
ft. in.
1 0
1 6J
1 7J
2 ££
2 11
3 3§
3 7
3 7|
Breadth
at the
Root.
2#
4*
9*
10i
10*
10#
5f
6*
7f
8*
Hole
from
End.
Shackle.
Ex¬
treme
Diam.
ft. in.
0 8
i n
i n
1 7i
1 10
2 0J
2 2
2 2|
2 3
Diam
of
Iron.
A 9
5*
ARMS.
Sizes.
Length.
ft. in.
1 6#
2 4|
2 5£
3 9
4 6
5 If
5 5f
5 6f
Throat.
in.
3*
5|
64
a*
l Ol 1
13*
13f
134
3*
5i
5$
8*
94
11
HI
HI
Hii
Small.
4*
4f
10f
10*
11*
11*
2f
3f
94
PALMS.
Length
ft. in.
0 8f
1 If
1 24
1 94
2 If
2 4|
2 7
2 7f
Breadth
ft. in.
0 8
i 04
1 74
l 114
2 2J 2J
Thickness.!
Mdle. Edge, j
14
i*
ifl
24
if
14
2 44
2 54
2f
24
14
2
2
24
118
ANCHOR.
Anchor. Besides anchors of the common construction, there are
various others of different forms occasionally in use. Small
vessels often employ what are termed grapnels, which are
merely common anchors with four or more arms instead of
two, as shown in fig. 6. Following out the same principle,
we have the mushroom anchor, fig. 7, much employed in
the East Indies, to secure the vessels which they term grabs.
In this the arms are continued in one segment of a sphere
all round; it hence requires no stock, as it takes the ground
in any direction. Attempts have frequently been made to
introduce anchors with only one arm, but hitherto without
any decisive result. A patent for an anchor of this kind, as
represented at Plate XXXIX. fig. 8, was taken out by Mr
Stuard, which has attracted some notice. “ In order,” says
he, in the specification of his patent, “that this anchor may be
sure to fall the right way with the fluke downwards, I would
have the shank very short, whereby, when suspended by
the cable, it will cant the most, and when it has hold in the
ground, the ship will ride safer; as a long shank has more
power to loosen and break the ground, and is more likely to
be bent or broken from its hold. Let the form of the shank
and arm of the anchor be as A A, fig. 8 ; and, that the parts
may be stronger than if made separately and shut together,
I would have the bars which compose them in one length,
so that there be no weld or joining in the whole length of
the shank and arm. The hole B is to receive the ring for
the cable, and the hole C is for the stock, which is composed
of a wrought-iron bolt, as A, fig. 8, covered with cast-iron
at its ends, BB. The palm to be in shape as D, fig. 8, made
either entirely of cast-iron, or cast-iron shell filled with lead,
which is of much more specific gravity than iron. The back
of the palm to be formed either with concave surfaces or flat
surfaces, making angles at the centre. The anchor is also
to have a small shackle, fixed on the bend of the shank and
arm, as at E, fig. 8, for the buoy-rope to be made fast to.
The shank may be made without the hole C, and the hole
B made octagonal; or if round, it should have a small fillet
projecting from the stock, and a small cavity on one side
of the hole B to receive it, thus to prevent the stock from
turning round; and instead of a ring for the cable, to have
a shackle fitted on the stock, on each side of the shank; and,
that the shackle may not turn on the stock and fall too low,
a stop is to be fixed on each side at the upper end of the
shank.”—See Repertory of Arts, &c., vol. v.
New moor- Mooring Anchors are those which are fixed in certain
ing anchor, situations in harbours or roadsteads, and to which any of
the vessels frequenting the place may be secured. As these
are no way limited as to weight like portable anchors, they
often consist merely of a large block of stone, such as at
fig. 9, with an inner ring fixed in the middle of the upper
side ; or several such stones may be fastened together so as
to act as one mass. Mooring anchors are also often made by
choosing one of the largest anchors used for first-rate ships,
weighing 80 cwt., and by bending one of the arms close
down upon the shank, to prevent it catching hawsers when
transporting ships, nets of fishermen, fouling, &c. These an¬
chors are lowered down into the water with a very strono- iron
mooring chain fastened to the ring, to which the ships are
fastened. they are usually made from such as are damaged
in one of the flukes or arms. A new kind of mooring anchor
of cast-iron was described by Mr Hemman of Chatham, to
the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, fyc., in 1809
for which he obtained a silver medal from the society. Fig!
5, Plate XXXIX., represents the palm or heavy part of the
anchor, made very massive of cast-iron, and of considerable
breadth, so that the edge B, or part which enters the ground,
may have a great hold; the shank C is made also of cast-
iron, and fixed firmly to the head bypassing through it, and
has a small ring at a, where the buoy-rope is fixed; the other
end of the shank goes through the stock dd, which is formed Anchor
of two large wooden beams hooped together in the same
manner as the stocks for common anchors ; the end of the
shank projects through the stock, and has a strong wrought-
iron shackle E fixed to it by a bolt passing through both,
and with this the mooring chain is connected. The great
advantage of this over the common mooring anchors arises
from its great weight and breadth of edge to act against the
ground, and being made of cast-iron. A pair of these anchors,
weighing 150 cwt. each, will, with the mooring chains, cost
about L.874 less than a pair of the common anchors, which
with their chains, cost L.2472.—See Transactions of the
Society for the Encouragement of Arts, fyc., vol. xxviii.
This is the name given to a sort of anchor which has often Floating,
been proposed, but never reduced to practice, for prevent- anchor.0
ing a vessel from drifting, in cases where the great depth of
the sea precludes the use of the cable and ordinary anchor.
The plan suggested by Dr Franklin seems the most rational.
This anchor consisted of two cross bars, secured together
in the middle, and having sailcloth fastened to them in the
shape of a parallelogram. To the centre of these bars the
cable was attached, and being thrown overboard, it was
thought the resistance of so large a surface would at least
check the rapidity of the ship’s motion.
The following is Mr Aylen’s plan for anchoring in deep
water out of soundings, to prevent vessels from drifting in a
calm when in a tide-way, or if disabled :—Hoist out imme¬
diately one of the boom-boats, let go the kedge anchor, and
veer out 40 or 50 fms. over the bow, and stop it to the ring
in the bow and stern of the boat, then veer out from the ship
from 70 to 80 fms.
Much attention has been paid of late to the improvement
of the manufacture of anchors, and several specimens were
sent by the makers to the Royal Exhibition in 1851.
A committee, consisting of five shipowners of London,
Liverpool, and Glasgow, with five nominated by the Lords
of the Admiralty, was appointed to test the relative merits
of these. After trying, on the parade ground of Sheerness
dockyard, on the beach at Garrison point, at Biackstakes in
the River Medway, and at the Nore, those that were sub¬
mitted for competition, viz., Admiralty, Aylen’s (a modi¬
fied Admiralty), Honiball (or Porter’s), Isaacs’ (United
States), Lenox’s, Mitcheson’s, Rodgers’, and Trotman’s (an
improved Porter’s), they reported in 1853 that, taking into
consideration the results of all the trials to which the an¬
chors had been subjected, they thought it best to record
their opinions in the following tabulated forms :—
Table showing the relative order in which the several an¬
chors stand with regard to each of the properties essen¬
tial to a good anchor: the names arranged alphabeticalh/.
(Plate XL.)
ANCHORS.
Admiralty 
Aylen   
Honiball (or Por- (
ter’s) /
Isaacs  
Lenox  
Mitcheson  
Rodgers
Trotman
s «
bed
1
6
Re-
fused
this
trial.
5
11
Anchor.
ANCHOR.
Note. This Table only prefessea lo W-toate^alue,. aad haS „„ pretensions to ntatboMatica!
ANCHORS.
Pa 2
S «
■& g u
Proportionate values)
of’the Qualities. j
Admiralty 
Aylen 
Honiball (Porter’s).
Isaacs 
Lenox 
Mitcheson,
Rodgers.
Trotman.
Totals
15
c Oh
80
10
2-07
1- 89
2- 33
2-63
1-92
Refused
this trial.
1- 94
2- 22
6-42
9-10
10-69
5-
9-56
14-10
10-69
14-44
1-82
1-82
•91
•45
1-36
•91
1-82
•91
o’
15
15-00
80-00
10-00
2-01
2-01
1- 53
•59
2- 36
2-36
2-36
1-77
o'
P< o
S^
10
14-99
•89
•45
•67
•89
•67
•45
•67
•31
5-00
•65
•65
1-85
1-85
Ml
1-39
•64
1-85
9-99
•95
•95
•29
•29
•71
•57
•95
•29
^ .e S
pC ."S rC
03 £ A
.2
bp £ C
P I 0)
ie m £
10
*65
•65
•52
•26
•87
•65
•87
•52
5-00 4-99
1-98
1-98
•55
•55
1*32
•88
2*19
•55
10-00
•73
•44
•60
•81
•73
•52
•73
•44
160
5-00
The following is a recapitulation of the order in which the
anchors were ranked by the committee, together with their
relative per-centage of inferiority or superiority to the Admi¬
ralty anchor, the value of which, as given in the foregoing
table (18-17), was taken as the standard or unit.
Trotman 1*28 or 28 per cent.
18- 17
19- 94
19- 94
13-32
20- 61
21- 83
22- 86
23-30
159-97
Superior to Ad¬
miralty Anchor.
Rodgers 1-26 or 26 ’ do.
Mitcheson 1-20 or 20 do.
Lenox M3 or 13 do.
Honiball P09 or 9 do.
Aylen 1-09 or 9 do. I
Admiralty 1- the standard.
^s^cs  "73 or 27 per cent, inferior to Admiralty.
Mr Jonathan Aylen’s temporary anchor, Plate XXXIX.,
made from a broken bower, a stream, and kedge anchor, was
completed in four hours (without removing the broken an¬
chor from the bows), on board H.M.S. Hastings of 74 guns,
in the Bay of Beyrout in October 1840. That ship having
parted the small bower cable, and broken the shank of the
best bower anchor, after having previously supplied a ship
with one of her spare anchors, was left with only one bower
anchor.
Mr Aylen when in command of H.M.S. Rhadamanthus
avmg lost two bower anchors, in Dingle harbour on the
west coast of Ireland, rode out a heavy gale in 1847, with his
temporary bower anchor.
Supposing both the flukes, and about two feet of the
s lank and crown of the anchor is gone (invariably the place
w icre all anchors break), the weight of the broken part would
be about half the weight of the original, say
Cwt.
Bower anchor for the Hastings class 74 cwt., half 37
Stream anchor and stock for the above ship, 22
Kedge and stock for do. .) 11
In making anchors in the Royal dockyards, the different
parts are forged by the steam hammers. In the first place,
aige slabs or pieces are made about five feet long, and three
o em put together, soundly welded, and drawn out of suf-
cien ength for the shank; the arms and palms are forged
nearly in the same way; the palms are welded on to the
arms, and then the arms welded on to the shank, and the
shackle is rivetted on to the shank, the anchor then beino-
complete.
The following is a more particular account of the opera¬
tions of the anchor-smith on a large scale. The hearth A A of
the anchor-smith’s forge, see fig. 6, Plate XXXVIIL, is built
of brick-work raised about 6 or 9 inches above the ground,
and 6 or 7 feet square; in the centre is a large cavity to
contain the fire; at the back of the hearth a vertical brick
wall B is erected, supporting and forming one side of the
chimney, which is little more than a dome placed over the
hearth, and opening at the top with a low chimney to carry
off the smoke. Behind the wall the bellows CD are placed;
the noses of the pipes being about the level of the hearth,
and coming through the wall, which at that part is defended
from the action of the fire by a facing of fire-stone. In this
fire-stone the tue-iron is fixed; it is a tube made of wrought
iron, and very thick in the substance, that it may not burn
away in the fire: the pipes of the bellowrs are inserted in the
tue-iron, and thus convey the stream of air into the centre
of the fire.
The bellows are not like those which ordinary smiths make
use of; but two large pairs of single bellows CD are placed
horizontally by the side of each other, the pipes of both being
inserted into the same tue-iron, and directed to blow to the
same focus in the centre of the fire: these bellows are ex¬
actly like those in use for domestic purposes, which only
throw out air when the upper board is pressed down. The
two are worked alternately by means of chains c d attached
to the ends of the upper boards, and united to the end of the
working levers HI, placed over each pair of bellows. From
the opposite extremities of these levers other chains ef are
extended to the opposite side of a long lever GG, which
moves upon the pivots of a vertical axis E, and is loaded at
the ends by heavy weights, to give it momentum. Now,
two or more men pushing in opposite directions can give it
a motion backwards and forwards, and by the communica¬
tion of the chains and upper levers HI, they will alternately
lift up the upper boards CD of the bellows, which being suf¬
ficiently loaded, will subside themselves, and force their con-
ANCHOR.
tents of air into the fire. The men who work the lever G
are aided by six or eight more, who place themselves upon the
board of one pair of bellows, and as soon as it subsides, they
step upon the other pair, which also sinks, and then they
return: they have ropes suspended from the roof to enable
them to lift themselves, and mount from one bellows upon
the other with more ease. The common tue-iron, which is
simply a cone of wrought-iron, set with clay into fire-stone,
composing the back of the hearth, is very soon burnt by the
great heat. The most improved forges, therefore, are now
furnished with what is called the water tue-iron, which is
made hollow, and water introduced into it to keep it cool.
For this purpose two cones are formed of thick iron plate,
each with a small aperture at the vertex; these, when put
one into the other, are welded together at their bases and
their points, so as to form one cone, which is hollow, with a
small space all round; two pipes communicate with the
hollow, one bringing a continual supply of cold water, and
the other conveying away that which is heated by the fire.
By this means the tue-iron is kept cool, and can never ac¬
quire such a degree of heat as to be burned away : this tue-
iron is set with fire-clay into a frame of cast-iron, built up in
the brick-work of the wall B.
The anvil K is only a cubic block of cast-iron, placed on
the ground much lower than the ordinary smith’s anvil; be¬
cause, as the anchor-smiths always strike by swinging their
hammers over their heads, at arms’ length, they have more
force vvhen the work lies low on the ground than if raised
up. At a distance of eight or nine feet from the hearth A A
a strong crane-gib LM is erected, so as to turn freely upon
the vertical post M. It has no tackle, but the upper beam
L, which must be horizontal, has a large iron loop n hung
upon it, with a roller o, which admits it to run freely back¬
wards and forwards upon the beam: the lower end of the
loop suspends the anchor; therefore, by moving the rollers
along the beam of the gib, and by turning the gib round on its
pivots, the anchor can be placed in any position in the fire
or upon the anvil. To give motion to the roller o, a rackp
is connected with it; and this is moved by a pinion upon
the axis of the wheel t, which has an endless rope hanging
down, so that a labourer can reach it, and thus remove the
anchor nearer or farther from the centre, however great its
weight may be. The workmen employ scarcely any other
tools than their sledge-hammers, and a few large punches,
cutting chisels, and sets or prints, which, when urged by the
hammers, will give any particular figure to the work: the
hammers are of the largest kind, and weigh from 14 to 18
pounds, according to the strength of the workmen. In the
Royal dockyard great use is made of a stamping machine,
which the workmen call Hercules, and which is very similar
to the machine for driving piles. A heavy iron weight N,
guided like the ram of the pile engine, is drawn up by the
strength of several men, and let fall upon the anchor, to weld
the bars, in the same manner as by a forge-hammer. The
machine is erected on a large block of stone, which supports
the anvil O : two square iron bars PP are fixed on each side
of the anvil, in a vertical position, the angles of the bars
being placed towards each other. These vertical bars are
eight or nine feet high, and are fixed at the top to a beam
in the roof of the building in which the machine is placed.
The ram N, which weighs cwt., is fitted to slide up and
down between the bars P, having notches in its sides, which
rtcene the angles of the bars i it is drawn up by a rope pass¬
ing over an iron pulley Q, mounted upon pivots above the
top of the vertical bars; and the rope has eight or ten small
ones R spliced into it, for as many men to act together (which
they do by a motion similar to that of ringing), to elevate
the ram, and let it fall upon the iron placed upon the anvil
O. The Hercules is placed in the same sweep of the crane
as the anvil K, so that the iron can be conveyed to either Anchor,
with equal ease.
The first step in making the different parts of the anchor
is to assemble or faggot the bars. For the centre of the
mass which is to make the shank, four large bars are first
laid together; then upon the flat sides of the square so
formed smaller bars are arranged, to make it up to a circle.
The number is various, but in large anchors six or eight
bars are laid on every side. This circle is surrounded hy a
number of bars arranged like the staves of a cask ; as many
as 36 are often used, and they form a complete case for the
others. The ends are made up by short bars to a square
figure. The faggot is finished by driving iron hoops upon
it at sufficient distances ; see W in the figure ; and it is
suspended from the crane in such a manner that it can be
moved and turned in any direction, by only one or two
men, even when it weighs three tons. For this purpose an
iron pulley h is hooked to the iron loop n of the crane;
and a short endless chain l passed over the pulley suspends
the faggot in its loop. In this manner the weight of the
iron is in reality borne by the pivot of the pulley k, and the
mass can be easily turned round upon its centre to bring
any side upwards. To give a power to the man who guides
it, one of the four central bars is double the length of the
faggot, and projects, see g, to form a long lever, by which
it is steered ; and two holes are made through the end of
this bar to insert a cross lever k, by which the faggot is
turned or rolled round upon its centre. As the faggot
hangs very nearly on a balance in the loop of the chain l,
the man, by weighing on the end of the long bar g, can
easily raise up its end from the anvil K, and, swinging the
crane on its pivots, move it into the fire, which is made up
hollow like an oven. To effect this form, the fireman first
spreads the coals evenly upon the hearth, and with his
shovel or slice makes a flat surface about the level of the
tue-hole : he then arranges some large cinders or cakes
round in a circle upon this surface, and by other cinders builds
it up like an oven or dome, leaving a mouth to introduce
the iron. The oven is adapted in size to the magnitude of
the mass of iron, and must be brought forwards upon the
hearth, to leave a space between its interior cavity and the
orifice of the tue-iron ; in which space a passage is made
from the tue-hole to the fire, and filled up with large lighted
coals, and then covered up by small coals. The blast from
the bellows passes through these hot coals, in order that
the cold air may not enter the fire at once and blow on
the iron, but be first converted into flame, which is urged
forcibly into the oven, and reverberated from the roof and
sides upon the iron placed in the centre. As the floor of
the oven is nearly upon a level with the tue-hole, the flame
from the coals between it and the fire also plays upon the
bottom, and thus heats the iron on all sides. The outside of
the dome is covered over with a considerable thickness of
small coals, which cake together, and, as the inside of the
oven consumes, settle down into a dome again, which the
smith aids by striking the outside with the flat of his slice.
If the fire breaks out at any place in the roof, the smith im¬
mediately repairs the breach with fresh coals, and damps
them with water, that they may not burn too fast; for if the
inside of the oven burns very fiercely, the flames will not be
reverberated so forcibly as when it is in the state of burn¬
ing cake. Care must likewise be taken to prevent the fire
from burning back to the tue-iron. The mouth of the oven
should be made no larger than to admit the work; and,
that as little heat as possible may escape by the iron, the
mouth is filled round it with coals. F is an iron screen
hung on hinges, to swing before the mouth of the fire when
the iron is withdrawn, that the workmen may not be scorched
by the heat.
ANCHOR.
Anchor
All the men unite to assist in blowing the bellows, which
they work in the manner already described, from half an
hour to an hour, according to the size of the anchor, until
they have raised the iron to a good welding heat. The
mouth of the fire is opened occasionally to inspect the pro¬
cess, and the faggot is turned in the fire if it is not found to
be heating equally in every part. Eight men, and some¬
times more, are employed to forge an anchor : six of them
strike with the hammers, one is stationed at the guide-bar,
and the eighth, who is master or foreman, directs the others'
and occasionally assists to guide the anchor. When the
whole of that part which is in the fire comes to a good
welding heat, the workmen leave the bellows and take up
their hammers \ the coals are removed from the iron, which
is swung out of the fire by the man who guides it, assisted
by others, and the hot end placed on the anvil; during
which time one or two labourers with birch brooms sweep
off the coals which adhere to it. 1
The smiths now begin hammering, one half the number
standing on one side, and the other half on the other : they
use large sledges weighing from sixteen to eighteen pounds,
and faced with steel, striking in regular order, one after the
other, swinging the hammers at arms’ length, and all strikino-
nearly at the same place. The foreman places himself near
the man who guides, and with a long wand points out the
part he wishes them to strike, and at the same time directs
and sometimes assists the guide to turn the faggot round, so
as to bring that side uppermost which requires to be ham¬
mered. 1 his is continued as long as the metal retains suffi¬
cient heat for welding. This process is exceedingly labori¬
ous for the workmen, and is much more effectually per¬
formed by means of the Hercules, which strikes such power¬
ful blows upon the iron as to consolidate the bars much
more than the strokes of small hammers can do, however
long they may be continued. The iron is now returned to
the fire, another mouth being opened on the opposite side
of the oven, to admit the end or part which has been welded
to come through, that a part farther up the faggot may be
heated ; and when this is done the welding is performed in
the same manner as before. Thus, by repeated heatings,
the faggot is made into one solid bar of the size and length
intended. It is then hammered over again at welding heats
to finish it, and make an even surface ; and in this second
operation the workmen do not leave off hammering as soon
as the iron loses its full welding heat, but continue till it
turns almost black. This renders the surface solid and hard,
and closes all small pores at which the sea-water might
enter, and by corroding the bars, expand them, and in time
split open the mass of iron.
The shank for an anchor is made larger at the lower end,
where the arms are to be welded to it, and is of a square
figure. A sort of rebate or scarf, s, is here formed on each
side of the square, in order that the arms may apply more
properly for welding. This scarf is made in the original
shape of the faggot, and finished by cutting away some of
t e metal with chisels whilst it is hot, and using sets or
punches, properly formed, to make a square angle to the
shoulder of the scarf. The upper end of the shank is like¬
wise square ; • and the length between these square parts is
worked either to an octagon or round, tapering regularly
from the lower to the upper end. The hole to receive the
ring of the anchor is pierced through the square part at the
upper end, first by a small punch, and then larger ones are
used till it is sufficiently enlarged. The punch is made of
steel; and when it is observed to change colour by the
neat, it is struck on the opposite end to drive it out, and is
instantly dipped in water to cool it, and another driven in.
lie projecting pieces or nuts, which are to keep the stock
or wooden beam of the anchor, and its place on the shank,
vol. in. r ’
121
a e welded on. To do this the shank is heated, and Anchor
the A™e,a- ,thick bar is tested in another forge:
the end of tins .s laid across the shank, and the men ham-
off bv tWh s°l l“ 10 !.he Shank; d1611 the Pie“ is cut
off by the chisel, and another piece welded on the opposite
Whilst this process of forging the shank is going on the
smiths of another forge, placed as near as convenient £ the
former, are employed in making the arms, which are made
from faggots m the same manner as the shank, but of less
size and shorter, they are made taper (see X), one end of
each being smaller than the other: the larger ends are
made square, and cut down with scarfs, r, to correspond
with those, s, at the lower end of the shank. The middle
parts of the arms are rounded, and the outer extremities
are cut away as much as the thickness of the flukes or palms
m, that the palms may be flush with the upper sides when
they are welded on. The flukes are generally made at the
iron-forges in the country, by the forge-hammer; but in
some yards they are made by faggoting small bars, leaving
a long one for a handle. When finished, they are welded
to the arms, which have then the appearance of X. The
next business is to unite the arms to the end of the shank;
and in doing this particular care is necessary, as the good¬
ness of the anchor is entirely dependent upon its being
effectually performed. In so large a weld, the outside is
very liable to be welded, and make a good appearance, while
the middle part is not united. To guard against this, both
surfaces of the scarfs should be rather convex, that they
may be certain to touch in the middle first. When the
other arm is welded, the anchor is complete, except the
ring, which is made from several small bars welded together
and drawn out into a round rod, then bent to a circle, put
through the hole in the shank, and its ends welded together.
If the shank or other part is crooked, it is set right by heat¬
ing it in the crooked part, and striking it over the anvil, or
by the Hercules. After all this the whole is heated, but
not to a white heat, and the anchor hammered in every part,
to finish and make its surface even. This is done by
lighter hammers, worked by both hands, but not swung
over the head. This operation renders the surface of the
metal hard and smooth ; and if very effectually performed,
the anchor will not rust materially by the action of the sea¬
water.
The iron from which anchors are made ought to be of the
best quality: that kind of it which is called red short will
not bear sufficient hammering to weld the bars ; and cold
shoi t, from its brittleness, is not to be depended upon when
the anchor is in use. A good anchor should be formed of
the toughest iron that can be procured.
The most extensive establishment for fabricating anchors,
&c., is that at Woolwich dockyard, where the Admiralty
anchors are made. There the blowing apparatus, the work¬
ing of the lift and tilt hammers, &c., is all done by a steam-
engine of from 14 to 16 horse power. (j. A.)
To steer the ship to her Anchor, is to steer the ship’s
head towards the place where the anchor lies when they are
heaving in the cable, or laying in a strong tideway, that the
cable may thereby enter the hause with less resistance, and
the ship advance towards the anchor with greater facility.
Ships often prevent collision by attention to the helm.
Anchor Ground is a bottom which is neither too deep,
too shallow, nor rocky; as in the first the cable bears too
nearly perpendicular, and is thereby apt to jerk the anchor
out of the ground; in the second, the ship’s bottom is apt
to strike at low water, or when the sea runs high, by which
she is exposed to the danger of sinking ; and in the third,
the anchor is liable to hood the broken and pointed ends of
rocks, and tear away its flukes, whilst the cable, from the
Q
122 A N C
Anchor same cause, is constantly in danger of being cut through as
II it rubs on their edges.
Anclam. Anchor, in Architecture, is a sort of carving somewhat
resembling an anchor. It is commonly placed as part of
the enrichment of the boultins of capitals of the Tuscan,
Doric, and Ionic orders, and also of the boultins of bed
mouldings of the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian cornices, an¬
chors and eggs being carved alternately through the whole
buildings.
ANCHUSA, a genus of plants of the natural order of
Boraginece. The most noted are A. officinalis, once used in
medicine as a demulcent, and A. tinctoria, or alkanet, in¬
digenous in the south of Europe, with a root that yields a
fine red to alcohol, wax, and all sorts of oils.
ANCHYLOSIS or Ancylosis (dy/aiAos), a term in sur¬
gery, implying an immovable state of a joint arising from
disease.
ANCIENT Demesne, in English Law, is a tenure
whereby all manors belonging to the crown in the times of
William the Conqueror and St Edward were held. The
numbers, names, &c., were entered by the Conqueror in the
record called Doomsday Book; so that such lands as by that
book appeared to have belonged to the crown at that time
are called ancient demesne.
ANCIENT Y, in some ancient statutes, is used for elder¬
ship or seniority. The elder sister can demand no more
than her other sisters, beside the chief mesne, by reason of
her ancienty. This word is used in the statute of Ireland,
14th Henry HI.
ANCILE, in Antiquity, a shield believed to have fallen
from heaven, in the reign of Numa Pompilius ; at which
time, likewise, a voice was heard declaring that Rome should
be mistress of the world as long as she should preserve this
holy buckler. It was kept with great care in the temple of
Mars, under the direction of 12 priests ; and, lest any should
attempt to steal it, 11 others were made so like as not to be
distinguished from the sacred one. These ancilia were car¬
ried in procession every year round the city of Rome.
ANCILLARIA, or Ancilla, a Lamarckian genus of
minute univalve marine shells, allied to Olivce. See Con-
CHOLOGY.
ANCILLON, Johann Peter Friederich, a celebrated
historian, and one of the most distinguished members of
the Royal Academy of Sciences of Prussia, was born at
Berlin in 1766, and died in that city, after a short illness,
on the 19th April 1837. His theological studies were com¬
menced at Berlin, and completed at Geneva; and soon after
he visited Paris, about the commencement of the revolution,
when he became acquainted with Mirabeau. On his return
to Berlin he was appointed professor of history in the Royal
Military Academy, and a minister of the Reformed Church,
in which latter capacity he speedily became distinguished
for the eloquence of his style. In 1806 was published his
Tableau des Revolutions, or a sketch of the revolutions of
the political system of Europe from the close of the fifteenth
century to the eighteenth, which is perhaps the ablest and
most philosophical work on that subject that has appeared.
The merits of Ancillon were not overlooked. He was ap¬
pointed tutor to the Prince Royal of Prussia, and received
various appointments from the government. In 1814 he
attended his royal pupil to Paris, where he became ac¬
quainted with MM. Guizot and De Broglie, and other per¬
sons of eminence. He was also much employed by his
government in diplomatic affairs, and was made a counsellor
of state. His other writings are as follows: Melanges de Lit¬
ter atureetde Philosophic; Essais Philosophique, §c.; Essais
de Philosophic, de Politique, et de Litterature; Sermons, §c.
See Preliminary Dissertation, No. I. of this work.
ANCLAM. See Anklam.
A N C
ANCONA, a maritime city of Italy, in the States of the Ancona
Church, and capital of a delegation of the same name. It II
is pleasantly situated on the shores of the Adriatic, occupy- Accy1obIe-
ing a slope between two hills, on one of which stands a v Pharop-
cathedral, and on the other a citadel; but the streets are
generally narrow and irregular. It possesses some fine
buildings, such as the exchange, town-house, and lazaretto ;
is the seat of a bishop, has a court of appeal, and a public
library of nearly 10,000 volumes. Its port, which is the
best on the Adriatic, is defended by several forts, and pro¬
tected by two moles. A magnificent triumphal arch of
white marble adorns the ancient mole. It was erected in
honour of the emperor Trajan, who greatly embellished the
city, and built this mole. An arch, dedicated to pope Be¬
nedict XIV. decorates the new mole, which has at its ex¬
tremity a lighthouse with a revolving light. The principal
manufactures of Ancona are silk, sail-cloth, paper, leather,
and wax candles ; the exports are corn, wool, wax, bacon,
and tallow; and the imports consist of colonial goods, drugs,
and metals. Ancona has been a free port since 1732. The
number of vessels that entered its port in 1842 was 1522,
with an aggregate burthen of 109,813 tons. It has commu¬
nication by steam with Trieste, Corfu, Patras, Syra, Athens,
Smyrna, Constantinople, and Alexandria. Pop. 32,000,
including many Greeks, and about 5000 Jews. Long.
13. 30. 35. E. Lat 43. 37. 42. N.
This city was founded about b. c. 380 by Greek colo¬
nists, who had fled from Syracuse to escape the tyranny of
the elder Dionysius. It rose rapidly into importance, and
became celebrated for its purple dye. The exact time of
its subjection to the Romans is uncertain ; but it was taken
possession of by Caesar immediately after he crossed the
Rubicon. Of its celebrated temple of Venus no traces re¬
main, but it is supposed to have occupied the site of the
present cathedral. In the middle ages it was an indepen¬
dent republic, and continued such until 1530, when Pope
Clement VII. took possession of the town, and built the
citadel under the pretext of defending it against the Turks.
In 1798 Ancona was taken by the French, and in the fol¬
lowing year it surrendered to the combined forces of the
Austrians, Russians, and Turks, after a long and gallant
resistance, under the direction of General Meunier. The
French captured it a second time in 1801 ; but in the fol¬
lowing year restored it to the Pope.
It afterwards formed part of the kingdom of Italy, till 1814,
when it was again united to the papal dominions. In 1832
a party of French landed unexpectedly and took possession
of the citadel, which they refused to evacuate so long as any
Austrian troops remained within the Papal States: and this
demand having been complied with, the French troops with¬
drew in 1838.
ANCOURT, Florent Carton d’, an eminent French
comic writer and actor, was born at Fontainbleau, on the
1st November 1661. He died on the 6th December 1726,
being 65 years of age. The plays which he wrote were all,
with one exception, comic. They have been frequently re¬
printed, and form, in the best edition, namely, that of 1760,
a collection of 12 vols. 12mo.
ANCUS Marcius, the fourth king of the Romans, suc¬
ceeded I ullus Hostilius 640 years before Christ. He de¬
feated the Latins, subdued the Fidenates, conquered the
Sabines, Volsci, and Veientines, enlarged Rome by joining
to it Mount Janiculum, and made the harbour of Ostia. He
died about 617 years before the Christian era. In his reign
many of the conquered Latins were incorporated with the
Roman state, and not receiving the full franchise, formed
the first elements of the Roman plebs.
ANC\ LOBLEPHARON (from dy/cvAo?, bent, and /?Ae-
cfrapov, an eyelid), a disease of the eye, which closes the eyelid.
AND
^ncylo- ANCYLOGLOSSUM (from dy/cvAos, crooked, and
glossum yXwo-cra the tongue'), a contraction of the ligaments of the
Vndafucia tongue- Some have tIlis imperfection from their birth, others
, ^ from some disease. In the first case, the membrane which
f supports the tongue is too short or two hard; in the latter,
an ulcer under the tongue, healing and forming a cicatrix,
is sometimes the case. These speak with some difficulty.
Those who have this imperfection by nature are late in ac¬
quiring the power of speech ; but having acquired it, they
soon speak properly. Such persons are commonly called
tongue-tied.
ANCYRA. See Angora.
ANDALUCIA, an extensive region in the south of
Spain, on the Mediterranean Sea. It is divided into eight
provinces, viz., Almeria, Granada, Jaen, Malaga, Cadiz,
Cordova, Huelva, and Sevilla. Though its surface is very
unequal, and its soil and climate vary with the elevations of
the land, it must be considered the most rich and delightful
of all the divisions of the peninsula.
The geographical denomination should strictly be confined
to the ancient kingdoms of Sevilla and Cordova, divided into
High and Low Andalucia; but the name is now generally ex¬
tended so as to include also the kingdoms of Jaen and Gra¬
nada. This will comprehend all the beautiful and picturesque
south of Spain, from Lat. 30.42. to Lat. 36. N., and between
Long. 1.45. and Long. 7.15. W. It is bounded on the north
by the chain of the Sierra Morena; on the east by the Sier¬
ras of Segura and Cazorla, and partly by the Mediterranean ;
on the south by the Mediterranean, the Straits of Gibraltar,
and the Atlantic; and on the west by Portugal. Its area
is computed at 3283 square leagues. It is divided into nume¬
rous valleys of varied extent by mountain arms that traverse
it in many directions. Some oi these are shaggy with wood,
others are denuded of vegetation, while some of the loftier
mountains are partially covered with perennial snow, which
is a luxury highly prized by the inhabitants during their fervid
summers. On many occasions we have found the heat in the
shade ranging from 86° to 96° Fahr.; but this temperature
is abated by refreshing sea breezes along its extensive coasts.
I he winter is so mild that the nightingale continues its song
in the groves throughout the year, and if ever a flake of snow
descends on the plains, it melts almost on touching the
ground. Many of the less elevated mountains are clothed
with vines, which produce an abundant supply of delicious
wines; or they are covered with excellent pasture.
In the bowels of the mountains the Carthaginians and the
Romans sought for silver, and found gold in some of the
streams. Valuable mines of argentiferous galena, and some
copper ores are now wrought; and no country abounds
more in beautiful marbles and serpentines. These are much
used in the decorations of the churches.
1 he principal river of Andalucia is the Guadalquiver, with
its numerous affluents. It rises in the Mountains of Jaen
on the confines of Murcia, and traverses Andalucia in a
south-west direction, passing by the cities of Andujar, Cor¬
dova, Palma, and Sevilla, and falls into the sea at San
Lucar.
Its principal affluents have various names, as the Rio
uelva, Rio Biar, and Rio Guadiato, from the north-west;
rom t ie south-east the Darro and the Genii, which water
the lovely Vega or plain of Granada; while the Rio Gaudix,
luo Lmardal, Rio Guadalimar, and Rio Corbones, flow into
ie Huadalquiver in other directions. Besides these, the
frontiertream 1,16 Guadiana waslles a Part °f its western
The minor rivers of this fine province that flow directly
°,?.e r^a are as follows, commencing on the west side:
u io into, falling into the sea at Huesca; Rio Guada-
Jete, at banta Maria; Rio Barbate, into the Bay of Trafal-
A N D
123
nSr fcbGenfT„Urin,r,heBay0fGibratar' R1»V^And«,„oi.
al™ a Mo n’. T "ear MaIaSa; Ri° '
aipo, at Vlotnl, Rio Adra, Rio Almeria, and Rio Alman
zora falling mto the Mediterranean.
he mountains in Andalucia are the Sierra Bermeia and
its branches, which, with Siprra Tti™ -n permeja and
Ca-la; Sa„°af
When the traveller descends from the table-land of New
Castile mto Andalucia, he suddenly feels that he has en¬
tered a very different climate. The temperature of the air,
the total change in vegetable forms, almost indicate a tro¬
pical region, especially as he approaches the coast. The
more common European plants there give place to the wild
olive, the caper bush, the aloe (agave), the cactus, the ever-
green oak, and fragrant groves of orange and lemon trees;
while the place of furze and heaths is supplied by the
astragalus hgnosus, and the prickly palmated leaves of
chammrops humilis; and in a few places he may behold the
graceful form of the date-palm depicted on a sky of the
serenest blue. On the coasts of the Mediterranean, about
Marbella and Malaga, the sugar-cane is successfully culti¬
vated ; and no inconsiderable quantity of silk is produced in
the same regions. The sides of the hills are often covered
with extensive vineyards ; and the ill-cultivated and gene¬
rally umnclosed plains wave with luxuriant crops of wheat
or are green with immense fields of melons cultivated with
the plough. The horses and bulls of Andalucia are cele¬
brated all over Spain ; sheep and swine are extensively
bred, and game is abundant.
The general statistics of Andalucia will be best seen by
reference to the two adjoined tables, drawn up by Don
Pascual Madoz, for his Diccionario Geografico-Hstadistico-
Histonco de Espana, a valuable and laborious work pub¬
lished at Madrid in 1847. r
By this table the population of all Andalucia amounts to
2,305,950: the “ratable riches” to about L.3,706,000 ster¬
ling, and the contributions levied on it to L.933,000.
I he natives of Andalucia are a lively people, given to plea¬
sure, and of a very ardent imagination, superstitious, boastful,
and unwarlike, but ready-witted and good-humoured. Their
forms are not tall, but they are vigorous and well-made, o-ene-
rally with jet black hair, dark eyes, and a skin less fair°than
the natives of Aragon and the north of Spain. The women
are considered as the handsomest in all the peninsula, with
most brilliant eyes, and very graceful figures. The dialect
spoken in Andalucia is said by Castilians to retain something
of the Arabesque, in the use of certain words that are not
reckoned pure Castilian or Spanish, and in a greater pro¬
fusion of gutturals than is used in the central provinces;
circumstances not to be wondered at, when we reflect that
for seven centuries the Arabians were the dominant race in
Andalucia.
The original population of this region is supposed to have
been from Mauritania. We know that its advantageous
position for commerce, its general products, and its mines,
early attracted the adventurous merchants of Tyre and Car-
thage to its shores; and it became an important possession
to the Phoenicians and Carthaginians until it was wrested
from the latter by the Romans. Before that period it had
many flourishing cities; as Gades, Emerita, Hispalis, Cor-
duba, Malaca, and Carteia. From the Romans it passed
successively to the Visigoths, the Arabs, and the present
Spanish race.
For the civil history of this province, see Spain.
ANDAMAN ISLANDS.
124
Andaman
Islands.
Table of the Captain-Generalships, Audiencias, Provinces, Judicatories, Municipal Councils, Population,
Electoral Bodies, Army Recruits, fyc., in Andalucia.
Andaman
Islands.
Granada....
Andalucia
Granada
Se ilia... ■
Almeria
Granada
Jaen 
Malaga..
Cadiz....
Cordova.
Huelva..
Sevilla...
Total....
47
49
96
103
205
98
110
516
292
808
Population.
Families. Persons,
63,216
81,681
64,959
86,186
296,042
68,660
76,690
34,520
7,685
267,555
563,597
252,952
370,974
246,639
338,442
1,209,007
286,316
306,760
136,564
367,303
1,096,943
2,305,950
25,549
37,738
27,913
33,067
124,267
19,522
28,740
16,817
31,603
96,682
220,949
23,847
37,666
25,469
29,369
116,341
18,276
26,100
15,762
24,995
85,135
201,474
s 2
<5 <u
13,893
21,637
14,471
19,437
69,439
18,121
16,100
8,657
20,258
63,136
132,574
® P in'
g* £
SH S 's
H3 °
492
790
570
701
2553
645
674
261
769
2349
4902
a
o a .3
I "I
OJ
35,206,923
41,382,138
25,210,634
66,833,019
168,632,714
38,759,322
70,799,492
20,033,644
58,581,126
188,173,584
356,806,298
o £
•■3 .5-3
^5 T) *>
4,762,749
8,214,369
10,697,539
11,598,837
35,273,494
18,774,206
11,786,657
2,970,457
20,732,279
54,263,599
89,537,093
Maritime Statistics of Andalucia, including the Canaries, as to Foreign Trade, of which Cadiz is the centre,
divided between the Provinces and Departments of—•
Cadiz 
Motril 
San Lucar
Algeciras.,
Almeria...
Huelva....
Malaga 
Sevilla and
Canaries....
Pilots.
618
Officials.
237
Cap¬
tains.
1291
Super¬
annu¬
ated.
35
Mariners.
Able-
bodied.
3318
Ordin¬
ary.
1714
Stran¬
gers em¬
ployed
4499
Carpenters.
Skilful.
2135
Ordin¬
ary.
373
ANDAMAN Islands. These islands, which are situ¬
ated on the eastern side of the Bay of Bengal, are a con¬
tinuation of the archipelago which extends from Cape Ne-
grais to Atchein Head, stretching from Lat. 10. 32. to 13.
40. N., and from Long. 90. 6. to 92. 59. E. They are called
the Great and the Little Andaman. The Great Andaman,
which is the northernmost, is 140 miles in length, and only 20
in breadth. It was formerly supposed to be one island; but
two straits have been discovered, which open a clear pass¬
age into the Bay of Bengal, and divide the Great Andaman
into three islands. The Little Andaman, which lies 30 miles
south of the Great Andaman, is 28 miles long and 17 broad.
It does not afford any good harbour, though tolerably safe
anchorage may be found near its shores. These islands have
an extremely moist temperature. They are situated in the
direct current of the south-west monsoon 5 and the central
mountains, some of the lofty peaks of which, as Saddle Peak
in the Large Andaman, rise to the height of 2400 feet, in¬
tercept the clouds, which, for about eight months in the
year, pour down incessant torrents of rain on the plains be¬
low. According to a meteorological table kept by an officer
resident on the island, 98 inches of water appear to have
fallen in the course of seven months. On the whole, how¬
ever, the temperature is milder than in Bengal, and the
heat not so intolerable.
The island is totally uncultivated, and the savage inhabi¬
tants glean a miserable subsistence from the spontaneous
produce of the woods, in which the researches of the Euro¬
peans have hitherto found little that is either palatable or
nutritious. The principal trees are the banyan-tree, the
almond-tree, the oil-tree, which grows to a great height and
yields a very useful oil; the poon, the dammer, the red
wood, which for furniture is little inferior to fine mahogany;
the ebony, the cotton-tree, the soondry, chingry, and beady;
the Alexandrian laurel, the poplar, a tree resembling satin-
wood, bamboos, cutch, the melon, aloes; the iron-tree of
stupendous size, whose timber almost bids defiance to the
axe of the wood-cutter. There are many other trees well
adapted for the construction of ships; and, as in all the
equatorial forests, there are numberless creepers and ratans,
which surround the stems of the trees, and are so firmly
interlaced together, that the forests are impervious, except
a road be previously cut through them.
The only quadrupeds seen on the island are hogs, rats, and
the ichneumon ; also the iguana of the lizard tribe ; all which
are very destructive to poultry. There are several species of
snakes and scorpions, by which the labourers employed by the
British in clearing away the underwood were frequently stung;
but in no instance did. the sting prove mortal. The patient was
frequently affected with violent convulsions, which gradually
yielded to the operation of opium and eau-deTuce.
Fish abound on the shores, and are caught in great num¬
bers during the prevalence of the north-east monsoon, when the
weather is mild: gray mullet, rock cod, skate, and soles, are
among the best. There are, besides, various other species,
such as guanas, sardinas, roe-balls, sable, shad, prawns,
shrimps, cray-fish, a species of whale, and sharks of an enor¬
mous size. Shell-fish are in great plenty, and oysters of an
excellent quality. The shores abound in a variety of beautiful
i
Andelys.
AND
Andante shells, such as gorgonias,madreporas, murex, and cowries, with
11 many other sorts equally beautiful.
Birds are not numerous, and they are extremely shy. Doves,
' parroquets, and the Indian crow, are the most common. Hawks
from the neighbouring continent are sometimes seen hovering
over the tops of trees; and a few aquatic birds, such as the
king-fisher, a sort of curlew, and the small sea-gull, frequent
the shores. Within the caverns and recesses of the rocks are
found the edible birds’ nests so highly prized among the Chi¬
nese, and now occasionally brought into Britain.
The whole population of the islands does not exceed 2000 or
2500, and they are probably the most uncivilised people on
the face of the globe. They are far below the ordinary scale
of barbarism ; and in their modes of subsistence, and in their
dwellings, they rise very little above the brute creation. They
wear no clothes, and seem insensible to any feeling of shame
from the exposure of their persons. The woods supply them
with little in the way of food. They are provided with no pot
or vessel that can bear the action of fire, and they cannot there¬
fore derive much advantage from such esculent herbs as the
forests may contain. The cocoa-nut, which thrives so well in
the neighbouring islands, is not found in the Andamans, though
the natives are extremely fond of it. The fruit of the man¬
grove is principally used by them. Their principal food con¬
sists of fish, in quest of a precarious meal of which they climb
over the rocks, or rove along the margin of the sea, often with¬
out success during the tempestuous season ; but they eagerly
seize on whatever else presents itself, such as lizards, iguanas,
rats, and snakes. Their diseased and extenuated figures suffi¬
ciently testify that they have no abundant or wholesome nourish¬
ment. In stature the inhabitants of the Great Andaman seldom
exceed five feet; their limbs are disproportionably slender,
their bellies protuberant, their shoulders high, and heads large;
and, what is singular and unaccountable, they have all the cha¬
racteristic marks of a degenerate race of negroes, with woolly
hair, flat noses, and thick lips ; their eyes are small and red,
their skin of a deep sooty black, while their countenances ex¬
hibit a mixed expression of famine and ferocity. Lieutenant
Alexander describes the inhabitants of Little Andaman as far
from being a puny race. When he landed in a boat he counted
sixteen strong and able-bodied men, many of them very vigorous.
The ingenuity of these savages is principally seen in the fabri¬
cation of a few simple weapons on which they depend for their
subsistence. These are a bow from four to five feet long, with
arrows of reed, headed with fish bone or wood hardened in the
fire, a spear of heavy wood sharply pointed, and a shield made
of bark.. With these implements they shoot and spear the
fish, which abound in their bays and creeks, with surprising
dexterity. I he settlement of these islands, with their negro in¬
habitants, so widely different in their appearance not only from
all those of the Asiatic continent, in which the Andamans are
embayed, but also from the natives of the Nicobar islands, pre¬
sents a curious problem, which has never been satisfactorily
explained. It is supposed, however, by Symes, that the ori¬
ginal stock must have been settled on the island by the acci¬
dental shipwreck of some Arab slave-ship. The English made
a settlement on the larger Andaman in the year 1793. Their
object was to procure a commodious harbour on the east side of
the Bay of Bengal, to receive and shelter ships of war during
the continuance of the north-east monsoon ; also to provide a
place of reception for convicts sentenced to transportation from
Bengal. But the settlement, proving unhealthy, was aban¬
doned in 1796.. These islands, together with the Nicobar and
other smaller islands, were included by Ptolemy in the general
appellation of Insulce Bonce Fortunes, and were supposed by
him to be inhabited by a race of anthropophagi, though there
are no proofs of the modern inhabitants being addicted to can¬
nibalism. (Symes’ Embassy to Ava; Alexander’s Travels from,
India to England, comprehending a Visit to the Burman
Empire, dec.; Hamilton’s Gazetteer.) (d.b-n.)
AND
125
ANDANTE, in Music, signifies a movement moderately
slow, between largo and allegro.
ANDEGAVI, a Gallic tribe, whose chief town was Ju-
iiomagus, now Angers.
AN DELI S, Les, an arrondissement in the department of
250 840 arrpr / i e*tends over 392 square miles, or Andena
dfvidpd ? M mded lnto six cantons, which are sub- II
t 1mtCOn-TneS’ and in 1851 contained 64,717 Anderson-
inSSnf; I * t6f t0T’ °f thG Same name> had 5°69
RadwaT Th!, 18 fT mi 68 fr°m the Paris and Rouen
nets, &c. manUfkCtUreS are fine cloths> cotton> bon-
ANDENA in Old Writings, denotes the swath made in
the mowing of hay, or as much ground as a man could stride
over at once.
ANDENNE, a town of Belgium, capital of a canton of
the same name, arrondissement and province of Namur on
the right bank of the Meuse, ten miles east of Namur. It is
famous for its manufactures of porcelain and tobacco-pipe*
In the neighbourhood are beds of pipe-clay, quarries of mar¬
ble, and mines of iron and lead. Pop. in 1850. 5316
ANDERAVIA. See Inderabia.
ANDERNACH (the ancient Antunacum), a town in
the Prussian province of the Lower Rhine and district of
Coblenz, ten miles north-west of that town. It is situated
on the Rhine, and was once strongly fortified, but its walls
are now in ruins. It has tin and leather works; and ex¬
ports mill-stones and pounded tufa, used as a cement, which
hardens under water, and is much used by the Dutch in
constructing their dikes. Pop. in 1849, 3785. Lone. 7. 4 E
Lat. 50. 57. N. 8
ANDERSON, Adam, was born in Scotland in 1692. He
was a clerk for forty years in the South Sea House in Lon¬
don, where he published a large work entitled Historical
and Chronological Deduction of the Origin of Commerce,
containing a History of the Great Commercial Interests of
the British Empire, &c., which is voluminous and heavy;
but he seems to have anticipated in some of his speculations
the opinions of later times. It was first published in 1762,
in two vols. fol. A third edition appeared in 1797-9, in four
vols. 4to, the last volume being an appendix and continu¬
ation by the editor, Mr Walton. Anderson died in 1765.
Anderson, Alexander, a very eminent mathematician,
who flourished in the early part of the seventeenth century.
He was born at Aberdeen, but passed over to the Continent,
and settled as a private teacher or professor of mathematics
at Paris, where he published or edited, between the years
1612 and 1619, various geometrical and algebraical tracts,
which are conspicuous for their ingenuity and elegance. It
is doubtful whether he was ever acquainted with the famous
Vieta, master of requests at Paris, who died in 1603; but
his. pure taste and skill in mathematical investigation had
pointed him out to the executors as the person most proper
for revising and publishing the valuable manuscripts of that
illustrious man, who had found leisure, in the intervals of a
laborious profession, to cultivate and extend the ancient
geometry, and, by adopting a system of general symbols, to
lay the foundation and begin the superstructure of algebrai¬
cal science. Anderson did not come forward, however, as
a mere editor; he enriched the texts with learned comments,
and gave neat demonstrations of those propositions which
had been left imperfect. He afterwards produced a speci¬
men of the application of geometrical analysis, which is dis¬
tinguished by its clearness and classic elegance.
Of the time of this able geometer’s birth and death wre
are ignorant. His brother David Anderson, a small pro¬
prietor in Aberdeenshire, but engaged in business, had
likewise a strong turn for mathematics and mechanics,
wdiich, joined to great versatility of talent, made him be
regarded ^ by his neighbours at that period as a sort of
oracle. The daughter of this clever and active burgess was
married to John Gregory, minister of Drumoak, in that
county, father to the celebrated James Gregory, inventor
of the reflecting telescope ; and is supposed to have com-
ANDERSON.
126
Anderson, municated to her children that taste for mathematical learn-
ing which afterwards shone forth so remarkably in the family
of the Gregorys.
The works of Anderson amount to six thin 4to volumes,
which are now very scarce. (j. l.)
Anderson, Sir Edmund, a younger son of an ancient
Scottish family settled in Lincolnshire. He was some time
a student of Lincoln College, Oxford, and removed from
thence to the Inner Temple, where he applied himself dili¬
gently to the study of the law, and became a barrister. In
1582 he was made lord chief-justice of the common pleas,
and in the year following was knighted. He held his office
to the end of his life in 1605. His works are, 1. Reports of
many principal Cases argued and adjudged in the time of
Queen Elizabeth in the Common Bench, Lond. 1644, fol.;
2. Resolutions and Judgments on the cases and matter agi¬
tated in all courts of Westminster in the latter end of the
reign of Queen Elizabeth, Lond. 1655, 4to.
Anderson, James, LL.D., was born at the village of
Hermiston, in the county of Edinburgh, in the year 1739.
His parents were in humble life, and had possessed a farm
for some generations, which he was destined to inherit and
to cultivate. At an early age he lost his parents: his educa¬
tion, however, was uninterrupted ; and conceiving that an
acquaintance with chemistry would promote his professional
success, he attended a course of lectures on that science,
then delivered by Dr Cullen.
Enlarging the sphere of his employments, Anderson for¬
sook his first possession, and rented in Aberdeenshire a farm
of 1300 acres, which was then nearly in a state of nature.
But previous to this he became known to men of letters, by
some essays on planting, which, under the signature “ Agri¬
cola,” he ventured to commit to the world through the me¬
dium of the Edinburgh Weekly Magazine, in 1771.
After withdrawing from his northern farm, where he re¬
sided above 20 years, he settled in the vicinity of Edinburgh.
His agricultural speculations were still continued; and when
a parliamentary grant was about to be proposed to Mr Elk-
ington for a particular mode of draining land, he reclaimed
the discovery as having been made by himself many years
anterior. In 1791 Dr Anderson projected a periodical pub¬
lication called The Bee, consisting of miscellaneous original
matter, which attained the extent of 18 volumes in octavo.
It was published weekly, and a large proportion of it came
from his own pen. From this period till 1803 he gave to
the world a number of publications chiefly on agricultural
subjects, which had no small influence in advancing national
improvements. He has the great merit of being the first
w'ho satisfactorily unfolded the true theory of rent. He
showed by an original and able analysis that rent is not the
recompense of the work of nature, nor a consequence of land
being made private property, but that it depends on the
various degrees of fertility of land, and on the circumstance
of its being impossible to apply capital indefinitely to any
quality of land, without receiving from it a diminished re¬
turn.
Dr Anderson remained in his retreat, enjoying the culti¬
vation of his garden ; and after a gradual decline, partly
occasioned by the over-exertion of the mental energies, he
died in the year 1808, aged 69. He was twice married;
first, to Miss Seton of Mounie; secondly, to an English lady.
By his first marriage he had thirteen children, six of whom
survived him. During a period of overstrained political fer¬
vour, certain papers formed part of the periodical works al¬
ready referred to, which were thought to contain a libel on the
government. Although Dr Anderson’s principles were noted
for attachment to the existing administration, he was called
upon to give up the author of the obnoxious compositions,
which he steadily refused, and, even in the face of the civil
magistrates, charged his printers not to violate their fidelity Anderson
to him and the author in betraying his name. The business
terminated here, until a factious individual insinuated to the
same magistrates that the compositions had proceeded from
one of the supreme judges, whose party politics were avowedly
hostile to those of government. Dr Anderson having learned
the reproach, hastened to relieve the object of it by divulg¬
ing the name of the real author, who, to the universal sur¬
prise of the public, proved to be none other than the traducer
himself.
Anderson, James, W.S. This learned and indefatigable
antiquary was the son of the Rev. Patrick Anderson, one of
the many victims whom the tyranny of the government of
his country condemned in 1678 to imprisonment on the
Bass Rock, for attending a conventicle. This son was born
at Edinburgh in August 5. 1662, and was educated to the
legal profession, in which he became Writer to the Royal
Signet, a station in Scotland which may be considered as
equivalent to an Attorney and Notary Public.
His character and acquirements stood so high, that just
before the Union the Scottish parliament entrusted him
with preparing for publication what remained of the public
muniments of the kingdom; and in their last session sup¬
plied him with L.1940 sterling for defraying the expenses
of that great undertaking. At this work he laboured for
many years with great judgment and perseverance; but it
was not completed at his death in 1728. The work was
published under the care of the celebrated Ruddiman ; who
in an excellent preface laments the death of his learned
countryman, and adds, “tantumque non ad umbilicum pro-
duxerat 6 -irdvv Jacobus Anderson.” This work is the great
“Diploma'!’a et Numismata Scotia-:,” “ a publication,” says
the sagacious but often too caustic Pinkerton, in his En¬
quiry, “ never to be excelled in elegance, and scarcely in
exactness.” The labour of preparing this great national work
had impaired his health and his fortune, notwithstanding the
parliamentary aid; and soon after his death, the numerous
plates, engraved by Sturt, were sold for L.530; but these
plates are now lost, and the book has become exceedingly
scarce. After the union of the crowns, Anderson was ap¬
pointed in 1715 Postmaster-General for Scotland, as some
compensation for his valuable labours; but in the political
struggles of 1717 he was ungraciously deprived of this office;
and never again obtained any reward for his important ser¬
vices to his country. (T. s#
Anderson, John, professor of natural philosophy in the
University of Glasgow, was born in the parish of Roseneath
in Dumbartonshire in 1728. He finished his education in
that University, where he first became professor of oriental
languages in 1756, but in 1760 was appointed to the chair
of natural philosophy, a subject more suited to his tastes
and acquirements. In this department he laboured assi¬
duously to apply scientific knowledge to the improvement
of the mechanical arts. For this purpose he studied their
processes in the various workshops of the city, and thus
acquired an intimate acquaintance with those operations,
which fitted him in an eminent degreee for the great object
which seems to have been his chief aim, the scientific in¬
struction of the operative mechanic. He is, in fact, to
be considered the father of those Mechanics’ Institutions
which have since been so widely disseminated in this and
other countries. He soon began to open classes for their
instruction in the principles of their arts, in which his fami¬
liar extempore discourses were illustrated by appropriate
experiments. 4 he working mechanic received every en¬
couragement from this eminent man to attend his courses,
at which they were received in their working dresses.
His anxiety for the improvement of the humble mechanic
was not confined to his personal exertions. Shortly before
AND
Anderson, his death in 1796, he bequeathed the whole of his property
to 81 trustees, for the purpose of founding an institution for
educational purposes in Glasgow. He had seemingly in¬
tended it as a sort of rival to the university in which he was
himself a professor; for his will mentions the founding of
four halls or colleges with nine professors in each, for the
faculties of arts, medicine, law, and theology! But the
trustees found the funds entrusted to them utterly inadequate
to so gigantic a scheme; and they contented themselves with
founding what is now called the Andersonian Institution,
or sometimes less correctly University.
It was opened in 1797, by the appointment of Dr Thomas
Garnett as professor of natural philosophy, who commenced
with a popular course of lectures, which was attended by a
considerable audience of both sexes. In 1798 a professor
of mathematics and geography was appointed; and the in¬
stitution has since had the aid of several able teachers. In
1799 Dr Garnett was succeeded by Dr Birkbeck, who had
the merit of introducing in the institution a system of scientific
instruction annually to 500 operative mechanics, free of all
expense to the pupils. On the removal of this excellent man
to the London Royal Institution, he was succeeded by Dr
Andrew Ure in 1804 ; and Dr Ure by Dr William Gregory.
This institution still flourishes; and has been of vast benefit
to the humbler classes of the citizens of Glasgow, (t. s. t.)
Anderson, the fourth son of William Anderson,
and of Margaret Melrose his wife, was born at Carnwath, in
Lanarkshire, on the 7th of January 1750. His father was
afeuar, that is, a person who possessed some small parcels
of real property by the tenure of a perpetual lease. His
first destination was for the church: in the year 1767 he
was sent to the university of Edinburgh, and in due time
was enrolled among the students of divinity. His school¬
fellow, James Graeme, who had entered the university at
the same time, and with the same views, died of consump¬
tion in 1772, in the 23d year of his age ; and, after a short
interval, his faithful friend published a collection of Poems
on several occasions, by James Greeme. Edinb. 1773,
12mo. About this period he relinquished the study of di¬
vinity, and betook himself to the study of medicine. He
was for a short time employed as surgeon to the dispensary
at Bamborough Castle in Northumberland; and in a neigh¬
bouring town he then formed connections which had no
small influence on his future destiny. On the 25th of Sep¬
tember 1777, he married Anne, the daughter of John Gray,
Esq. of Alnwick, who was related to the noble family of
that name. Returning to Scotland he took the degree of
M.D. at St Andrews on the 20th of May 1778, after hav¬
ing been duly examined by the professor of physic. He
now began to practise as a physician at Alnwick; but his
general habits were rather those of speculation than exer¬
tion, and a moderate provision, acquired by his marriage,
had emancipated him from the necessity of professional la¬
bour. In 1784 he finally returned to Edinburgh, w here he
continued to reside for the period of 46 years, in a condition
of life removed from affluence, but perfectly compatible with
genuine independence and comfort. His amiable and affec-
tionate wife died of consumption on the 25th of December
1785, in the 39th year of her age. In 1793, after having
remained a widower for eight years, he married Margaret,
the daughter of Mr David Dali, master of Tester school in
the county of Haddington.
For several years his attention was occupied with his edi¬
tion of The Works of the British Poets, with Prefaces Bio¬
graphical and Critical, which was published at Edinburgh,
and extends to 14 large octavo volumes. The earliest vo-
u™e’ which is now the second in the series, was printed in
i92-3 ; the 13th was printed in 1795, and another volume
was added in 1807. He was frequently solicited to revise
AND
hn, •he P°ntS’ ^ Publish *em in a separate form,
t after having collected some materials for such a work,
published deSign; In the mean time he had
pubhshed T/ie JForfe of Tobias Smollett,
« t of his Life and Writings. Edinb.
1796, 6 vols. 8vo. But the most able and elaborate of his
p’oductionsisthetlurd edition of his Life of Samuel Johnson,
tqi'/T O Wlth !,fltlcal Observations on his Works. Edinb
i P6 SaT6 Service Which he rendered to Dr
Smollett he afterwards extended to Dr Moore, having pub-
hshed 7%e Works of John Moore, M.D., ivith Memoirs of
his Life and Writings. Edinb. 1820, 7 vols. 8vo. At an
earlier period he had published The Poetical Works of Ro¬
bert Blair ; containing the Grave, and a Poem to the Me¬
mory of Mr Law: to which is prefixed the Life of the Au-
„ London’ 1794> 8vo- And his latest publication was
1 he Grave and other Poems, by Robert Blair ; to which
are prefixed some Account of his Life, and Observations on
his Writings. Edinb. 1826, 12mo.
Dr Anderson contributed his ready aid to many different
publications, and was always influenced, not by the love of
money but by the love of literature. With many eminent
men in England, Ireland, and America, he maintained a lite¬
rary correspondence ; and having survived most of his let¬
tered contemporaries, he enjoyed the esteem and considera¬
tion of a second and even of a third generation. No part of
his character was more conspicuous than his uniform and un¬
abating zeal to promote the success of young men who disco¬
vered any promise, however moderate, of literary talent; and
some of the more distinguished writers of our own age and
nation \vere not without their obligations to his disinterested
friendship. Mr Campbell dedicated to him his earliest and
most popular publication, The Pleasures of Hope. Thomas
Brown, John Leyden, and Alexander Murray, who all died
at too early an age, were among the most eminent of his
young friends. For Dr Brown, who became professor of
moral philosophy in the university of Edinburgh, he enter¬
tained a very cordial esteem, which suffered no abatement
or interruption. Another prominent feature of his mind
was his ardent regard for the civil and religious liberties of
mankind. This characteristic he displayed from the first
years of manhood till the last day of his earthly existence.
His bodily frame had never been robust; but the uni¬
form temperance and regularity of his habits contributed to
prolong a life which was marked by cheerfulness and bene¬
volence. His faculties, mental and corporeal, betrayed few
or no symptoms of old age. During the greater part of his
last winter he was confined to his own house by what was
considered as a common cold, and was attended by his
friend and contemporary Dr Hamilton. Of the immediate
prospect of death, he spoke, not merely with resignation,
but even with cheerfulness; with the subdued but confi¬
dent hope of one who had long and habitually reposed on
the assurances of the Christian faith. He died on Saturday,
the 20th of February 1830, after having completed the
80th year of his age; and, according to his own directions,
his remains were interred in Carnwath churchyard. His
eldest daughter, Anne Margaret, was married in 1810 to
David Irving, LL.D., and died in 1812, leaving an only
His second daughter, Margaret Susannah, lived to
127
Andes.
deplore the loss of a parent whose declining years she had
soothed by the most exemplary attention to all his wants
and wishes. (d. i.)
ANDES. The Andes form a mighty mountain chain
running nearly parallel to the western coast of South Ame¬
rica. The central ridge extends in an undivided chain from
the Rio Atrato, at the Isthmus of Darien, in Lat. 8. N., to
the Cordilleras of Vilcanoto and Cuzco, in Lat. 15. 50. S.,
where it separates into western and eastern ridges, that in-
128
ANDES.
Andes, close the extensive and elevated valley of Desaguedero, and
—^ exhibit some stupendous peaks that almost rival the altitude
of the Himalayas of the East. After running parallel to
each other to Lat. 19. 30. S., they again coalesce, and con¬
stitute one central chain to the Straits of Magellan, in Lat.
53. The Andes of South America then have a range of
about 4200 miles. The most western of the two longitu¬
dinal ridges runs parallel to the Pacific, and is called the
Cordillera of the Coast; the eastern chain is generally
termed the Cordillera of the Interior, and its northern pro¬
longation Cordillera Real. The valley of Desaguedero
extends from Lat. 15. 5. to Lat. 19. 30. S., with a varying
breadth from 35 to 60 miles, presenting an area of 16,000
square geographical miles. It contains the celebrated Lake
of Titicaca, the cradle of Peruvian civilisation. It was on
the shores of this lake that Manco Capac, the first Inca,
was miraculously discovered by the Quichu, the ancestors
of the Peruvians.
The Andes send out, nearly at right angles from their co¬
lossal ridge, between the latitudes of 14° and 20° south, three
dependent branches, called by the Spaniards also Cordilleras.
Of these secondary chains, the first and most northern is
that of the coast of Venezuela, which is likewise the highest
and narrowest. With an irregular altitude, it bends east¬
wards from the Atrato, forming the Sierra of Abibe, the
mountains of Cauca, and the high savannahs of Folu, till it
reaches the stream of Magdalena, in the province of St Mar¬
tha. It contracts as it approaches the Caribbean Sea, at
Cape Vela; and thence extends to the mountain of Paria,
or rather the Galley Point, in the island of Trinidad, where
it terminates. This secondary chain attains its greatest
known elevation where it rears the snowy summit, or Sierra
Nevada, of St Martha and of Merida, the former being
nearly 14,000 and the latter above 15,000 feet in altitude.
These insulated mountains, covered so near the equator
with eternal snow, yet discharging boiling sulphurous water
from their sides, are higher than the Peak of Teneriffe, and
can be compared only with Mont Blanc. In their descent
they leave the Paramo or lofty desert of Rosa and of Mu-
cachi; and on the west side of the Lake Maracaibo they
form long and very narrow vales, running from south to
north, and covered with forests. At Cape Vela the moun¬
tain chain divides into two parallel ridges, which form three
confined valleys ranging from east to west, and having all
the appearance of being the beds of ancient lakes. These
ridges, of which the northern is the continuation of the
Sierra Nevada of St Martha, and the southern the extension
of the snowy summits of Merida, are united again by two
arms which seem to have been placed by the hand of nature
as dikes to confine the primeval collections of water. The
three valleys thus inclosed are remarkable for their eleva¬
tion above the sea, rising like steps one above another the
eastmost, or that of the Caraccas, being the highest. This
plain was found by Humboldt to be elevated 2660 feet
while the basin of Aragua was only 1350 feet in height’
and the Llanos, or reedy plains of Monai, spread within 500
or 600 feet above the level of the shore. The lake of the
Caraccas appears to have forced a passage for itself through
the quebrada or cleft of Tipe, while that of Aragua has
been gradually dissipated by a slow process of evaporation
leaving some vestiges of its former existence in pools
charged with muriate of lime, and in the low islets called Apa-
recidas. The medium height of the Cordillera of the coast
is about 4000 or 5000 feet; but its loftiest summit, next to
the Sierra Nevada of Merida, is the Silla (or saddle) of the
Caraccas, which was visited by Humboldt, and ascertained
from barometrical measurement to have an elevation of
8420 feet. Farther to the eastward the mountain chain
becomes suddenly depressed, especially its primitive rocks ;
the beds of gneiss and mica slate meeting as they advance
with accumulations of secondary calcareous substances
which envelope them completely, and rise to a great eleva¬
tion. The incumbent mass of sandstone, with a calcareous
base, extending from Capelluari, forms a detached range of
mountains in which no trace of primitive rock is found.
The second branch, which stretches from the Andes across
the American continent, and exhibits a chain of primitive
mountains, is named by Humboldt the Cordillera of the
Cataracts of Orinoco. This very enterprising traveller
surveyed it over an extent of upwards of 600 miles, from
the Black River to the frontiers of the Great Bara ; but the
rest of the chain is very little known, running through un¬
explored wilds and regions almost inaccessible, occupied by
fierce and independent tribes of savages. It leaves the
great trunk between the 3d and 6th degree of southern la¬
titude, and runs eastward from the Paramo or high desert
of Tuquillo and St Martin, and the sources of the Guaviari,
rearing the lofty summits of Umama and Canavami, and
pouring forth the large rivers Meta, Zama, and Ymerida,
which form the roudals or tremendous rapids of Ature and
Maypure, the only openings existing at present between
the interior of the continent and the plain of the Amazon.
Beyond these cataracts the chain of mountains again ac¬
quires greater elevation and breadth, occupying the vast
tract inclosed between the rivers Caura, Cavony, and Pa-
damo, and stretching southward to the boundless forests
where the Portuguese settlers gather that valuable drug
the sarsaparilla. Farther eastward this chain is not traced,
no European or civilised Indian having ever explored the
sources of the Orinoco; all access in that quarter being
prevented by the ferocity of the Guaicas, a dwarfish but very
fair and warlike race, and by the valour of the Guajaribos,
a most desperate tribe of cannibals. Beyond these recesses,
however, we are made acquainted with the continuation of
the chain of the cataracts, by the astonishing journey per¬
formed by Don Antonio Santos, who, disguised like a savage,
his body naked, and his skin stained of a copper colour, and
speaking fluently the several Indian dialects, penetrated from
the mouth of the Rio Caroni to the Lake of Parime and the
Amazon. The range of mountains sinks lower, and con¬
tracts its breadth to 200 miles, where it assumes the name
of Serrania de Quimeropaca and Pacaraimo. A few de¬
grees farther eastward it spreads out again, and bends south
to the Canno Pirara along the Mao, near whose banks ap¬
pears the Cerro or hill of Ucucuamo, consisting entirely of
a very shining and yellow mica slate, which has therefore
procured from the credulity of early travellers the magnifi¬
cent appellation of Dorado or Golden Mountain. East
from the river Essequibo this Cordillera stretches to meet
the granitic or gneiss mountains of Dutch and French
Guiana, inhabited by confederated bands of negroes and
Caribs, but giving birth to the commercial streams of Ber-
bice, Surinam, and Corentin.
The chain of the cataracts of Orinoco has only a mean
height of about 4000 feet above the level of the sea. The
greatest elevation occurs where the mountain of Duida rears
its enormous mass from the midst of aluxuriant plain, clothed
with the tropical productions of palms and ananas, and dis¬
charges from its steep sides, about the close of the rainy
season, volumes of incessant flames. No one has yet had
t e resolution or perseverance to climb through the tangling
an rampant bushes to its peak, which, measured trigono-
metncally, gives an altitude of 8465 feet above the sea.
I he whole mountain group which forms this Cordillera is
distinguished by the abrupt descent of its south flank; nor
is it ess remarkable for containing no rock of secondary
ormation, or exhibiting any vestige of petrifactions and or¬
ganic remains. It contains only granite, gneiss, mica slate,
Andes, and hornblende, without any casing or admixture of sand-
stone or calcareous matter.
The third great branch sent out from the trunk of the
Andes is that of the (yhir^uttos^ which province it traverses
making a sort of semicircular sweep between the parallels
of 15 and 20 degrees south latitude, and appearing to con¬
nect the colossal heights of Peru and Chili with the moun¬
tains of Brazil and Paraguay. It supplies the rivers that
feed tlm Maranon on the one side, and the Plata on the
other. The structure and disposition, however, of the Cor¬
dillera of the Chiquitos still remain almost unknown.
These grand chains of mountains divide the southern
continent of America, from the latitude of 19 to that of 52
degrees, into three immense plains, which on the west side
are shut up by the enormous ridge of the Andes, but are
all open on the east, and towards the Atlantic Ocean. The
most northern is the     •
A D E S.
most northern is the valley of die Orinoco conristin" of *n?losA^ometimes cinnabar and coal; and another mostly
savannahs or level trac, covered^S ^
savannahs or level tracts covered with reedy herbage and
scattered palms. The next is the plain of the Maranon
which is entirely covered with dense, impenetrable forests.
1 he third and southernmost valley is the Pampas, a dead
fiat of most prodigious expanse, clothed, like that of the Ori¬
noco, with a coarse, rank herbage, and abandoned to the oc¬
cupation of countless herds of wild cattle.
Of these immense plains, the subsoil resembles the com¬
position of the neighbouring mountains. In the valley of
the Orinoco, the primitive rock is generally wrapt in a coat
of sandstone, with calcareous cement, or covered with cal¬
careous concretions, which betray the vestiges of recent
organic remains, but show none of the older impressions,
such as the belemmtes and ammonites, so common in Eu-
rope. The woody plain of Maranon is distinguished by the
thinness of its soil, and the total absence of any calcareous
ingredients, the granite approaching close to the surface,
which is in some places left quite bare over an extent of
many furlongs. But the Pampas of Buenos Ayres are
covered to a great depth with beds of alluvial deposits, in
which the powers of vegetation, fomented by the rays of a
hurning sun, luxuriate in wanton profusion.
I he lake of Titicaca covers a surface of 4000 square
miles, being in some places 120 fathoms deep. It has an
elevation of 12,795 feet above the sea, and terminates at
the mountain Potosi, which rises to 16,000 feet, and is yet
covered with the ruins of the ancient Peruvian civilisation.
Near this centre the volcano of Arequipa stands, at the
height of 18,373 feet, while the double peak of the Nevados,
Z Z™1 lI l‘!nan1’ tower to the enormous elevations of
•f2 ?And 24,450 feet: or about 3000 feet above the sum¬
mit of Chimborazo, which was long regarded as the loftiest
pinnacle of our globe. But, in the northern extension of
the Cordillera, Sorata rears its snowy head, at the stupen-
of Penriand°n 25,200 feet’ according to the observation
In those tropical regions cultivation ascends to very near
"l118, 0t l)erPetual snow. Various prolific crops, and
daloid ;,ha1ndSSnof°the Teri™'pOTDl'r1’’ ,|ll(0"'e<i,,hy
flanked against those primary’rocks bedstf the 0r
stone begin to annpar wPn 5- , D, ot the older hme-
andcalcareous sandstone,follo^d bya suitTof m^’
ing indications of organic remains Th 7mfalS bear‘
which Humboldt did not meet with in his^ T y .formatl01ns
were those of chalk, roestone gmywacke tor:Ve
the compound of serpentine with granukr 15 P ! rock’and
occurs in Asia Minor. The grand ridt oHf T
everywhere covered with porphyry, bafalt phonoh^8 !l
greenstone ; which being often broken into columns appear
at a distance like ruined castles, and produce a very strik
mg effect. Near the bottom of that enormous chain two*
different sorts of limestone occur; one with a silicious base
inclosing sometimes cinnabar and coal; and another mostly
calcareous, and cementmcr tho  -n, ^
particularly wLTanTp '^s, ^oVn™ heTSof ^ - * South Se^
the level of ,he°se,
14,000 feet above the level of the sea. A considerable
?SpTSed in towns or vdlagcs, occupy tracts
i laglier, and enjoy health and vigour in a
been atmosphere, twice as rare as at the level of the sea.
VJ Peravians had worked some gold mines at the
vast altitude of 17,000 feet.
Ilimiboklt has shown in his interesting essay, S'ur le
ran men Roches, the agreement of the geognostic ar-
mngement of rocks in the Old and New Worlds. Granite
ipuu* in both regions the lowest discoverable material of
°- L * 1° ^ succeeds the laminated species, or gneiss ;
with l'!!!)':1 raite’ containing garnets; next primitive slate,
vo! \° a ums ate’ now slate mixed with hornblende;
. 7  wit ocv^uiiuctry rOCKS. 1
mations are of enormous thickness and elevation. “ Beds
W°ail arC f°,lT tbe neighbourhood of Santa Fe, 8650
14 ym°Ve thTT eve of the sea; and even at the height of
14,700, near Huanco m Peru. The plains of Bogota al¬
though elevated 9000 feet, are covered with gypsum sand
Slone, shell-limestone and even in some pS wUh “ek
salt. Fossil shells which in the Old continent have not
b m dl^°Iered higher than the summits of the Pyrenees
or 11,700 feet above the sea, were observed in Peru near
&iTfa20aVheAhtfht °f 'i2’800 feet; and aSain at
that of 14,120, beside Huancavehca, where sandstone also
appears. The basalt of Pichincha, near the city of Quito
has an elevation of 15,500 feet, while the top of the Schnee-
koppe in Silesia—the highest point in Germany where that
species of rock occurs, is only 4225 feet above the sea. On
the other hand, granite, which in Europe crowns the loftiest
mountains, is not found in the American continent above
the height of 11,500 feet. It is scarcely known at all in
the provmces of Quito and Peru. The frozen summits of
Chimborazo, Cayambe, and Antisana, consist entirely of
flank8J0f the forms a
of 10,000 or 12,000 feet m depth. The sandstone near
Cuenqa has a thickness of 5000 feet, and the stupendous
mass of pure quartz on the west of Caxamarca measures
perpendmularly 9600 feet. It is likewise a remarkable fact,
that the porphyry of those mountains very frequently con-
tams hornblende, but never quartz, and seldom mica.
The central Andes are rich beyond conception in all
the metals, lead only excepted. One of the most curious
ores m the bowels of those mountains is the pacos, a com¬
pound of clay, oxide of iron, and the muriate of silver with
native silver. The mines of Mexico and Peru, so long the
objects of envy and admiration, far from being yet ex¬
hausted, promise, under a liberal and improved system to
become more productive than ever. But nature has blended
with those hidden treasures the active elements of destruc-
tion. The whole chain of the Andes is subject to the most
teinble^ earthquakes. From Cotopaxi to the South Sea no
• i, , ,  uunmig ; some or
them, especially the lower ones, ejecting lava, and others
discharging the muriate of ammonia, scorified basalt, and
porphyry, enormous quantities of water, and especially moi/a,
or clay mixed with sulphur and carbonaceous matter. Eter¬
nal snow invests their sides, and forms a barrier to the ani¬
mal and vegetable kingdoms. Near that confine the torpor
ot vegetation is marked by dreary wastes.”—(Edin. Review,
vol. xv. p. 233.)
We may subjoin that, near Quito, the liquid mud ejected
y the volcanoes often involves myriads of small dead fish
ifc Cyclopum), and, in some parts, the mountains, like
the fabled cave of iEolus, seem at times to let out their im-,
prisoned air, and produce such furious gusts of wind as to
R
ANDES.
130
Andes, sweep every thing before them to avast distance. In other
districts, the efforts of the contending elements are betrayed,
especially during the rainy season, by a doleful moaning noise,
or hollow and portentous groans, enough to cast a darker
shade on the gloom of superstition, and to fill the imagina¬
tion of the remotest settler with secret awe and dread.
A person who for the first time climbs the mountains of
Switzerland is astonished to witness, in the space perhaps of
a few hours, so rapid a change of climate, and such a wide
range of vegetable productions. He may begin his ascent
from the midst of warm vineyards, and pass through a suc¬
cession of chesnuts, oaks, and beeches, till he gains the ele¬
vation of the hardy pines and stunted birches, or treads on
Alpine pastures, extending to the border of perpetual snow.
But within the tropics every thing is formed on a grander
scale. The boundary of permanent congelation is 7500 feet
higher at the equator than at the mean latitude of 45 degrees.
Under a burning sun ananas and plantains grow profusely
near the shore; oranges and limes occur a little higher;
then succeed fields of maize and luxuriant wheat; and the
traveller has actually reached the high plain of Mexico, or
the still lofter vale of Quito, before he finds a climate ana¬
logous to that of Bordeaux or of Geneva. Now only com¬
mences the series of plants which inhabit the central parts
of Europe.
But the very magnitude of the Andes appears to have the
effect of diminishing the impressions of awe and wonder which
the sight of them so powerfully excites. The country on
which they rest is heaved to such a vast altitude above the
sea, that the relative elevation of their summits becomes di¬
minished in comparison with that of the surrounding amphi¬
theatre. The majestic forms of Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, and
Antisana, though 6000 feet higher than Mont Blanc, and
clothed, like it, with eternal snow, seem to a traveller scarcely
more sublime from the plains of Riobomba and Quito, than
that celebrated mountain when viewed from the vale of
Chamouni. It requires some time for his imagination to ex¬
pand itself to the new scale of grandeur.
The central Andes, with all their magnificence, want a
feature which, in the higher latitudes, contributes so much
to the beauty and sublimity of the Alpine scenery. They
have no vestige whatever of glaciers, those icy belts drop¬
ping from the limits of congelation, and spreading in con¬
crete sheets, or hanging in disjointed columns fantastically
thrown, which occur alike in the heart of Switzerland and on
the northern shores of Norway and Lapland. This defect
is evidently owing to the almost uniform temperature which
prevails near the equator. In those torrid regions the days
are constantly of the same length, and the sun shines through
the whole year with very nearly equal force. The limit of
perpetual congelation is hence marked on the sides of the
mountains of Quito with singular precision. The tempera¬
ture decreases regularly in proportion as one ascends them,
till at a certain altitude it comes to the point of freezing,
where the permanent field of snow begins to appear, defined
with an almost unvarying border. But in the higher lati¬
tudes the sun remains during the summer so long above the
horizon, and shines with such augmented force, that the heat
of the atmosphere, and consequently of the surface of the
ground, suffers a wide alteration in the different seasons. To
the general investure of snow is therefore annexed every
winter a zone of considerable breadth, which again softens
and partly melts away during the continuance of the sum¬
mer months. This alternate thawing and freezing occasions
the production of glaciers, by converting successively the
lower detached masses of snow in the precipitous flanks of
the mountains, into a collection of broken and intermingled
pillars of translucid ice.
For the same reason, the Andes, though torn by flaming
volcanoes, and convulsed by frequent and terrible earth- Andes,
quakes, are exempt from those avalanches and eboulements
which in Switzerland and other mountainous parts of Europe
often bury the helpless traveller in a torrent of snow, and
batter down whole villages by the sudden discharge of a
shower of rocks. Under the equator the variation of tem¬
perature throughout the year is so small as not to disturb
the solidity of the vast collections of snow ; but on the flanks
of the Alps or Pyrenees, as the heat of the summer increases,
portions of the upper field of snow become loosened, and,
sliding down, put other masses likewise in motion, till spread¬
ing wider, and gaining accelerated force, the whole tide pre¬
cipitates itself to the plain, sweeping all before it. Such
is the accident of an avalanche ; but the occurrence of an
eboulement, though less frequent, is more tremendous. When
the alternation of frost and thaw detaches a mass of rock, it
rolls down the side of the mountain with resistless fury,
shivering into fragments and tearing everything opposed to
it, overwhelming men, cattle, and houses, in one common
heap of ruins.
But the Andes are distinguished from the chains of the
European mountains by frightful quebradas ox perpendicular
rents, which form very narrow vales of immense depth, whose
terrific walls, fringed below with luxuriant trees and shrubs,
seem to lift their naked and barren heads to the distant skies.
The noted crevices of Chota and Cutaco are nearly a mile
deep, the former measuring 4950, and the latter 4300 feet,
in a vertical descent. The task of crossing such tremendous
gullies is often a work of infinite toil and extreme danger.
In those mountainous countries travellers are accustomed to
perform their journeys sitting in chairs fastened to the backs
of men called cargueros or “ carriers.” These porters are mu-
lattoes, and sometimes whites, of great bodily strength and
activity, who will climb along the face of precipices, bearing
loads of twelve and fourteen, or even eighteen stone. The
cargueros lead a vagabond life, exposed to incredible fatigue,
but recommended to them by its irregular course. Often do
those wretched men toil over mountains for the space of
eight or nine hours every day, till, like beasts of burthen,
their backs become chafed and raw with the load. In this
deplorable condition they are not unfrequently abandoned by
unfeeling travellers, and left alone to sicken, pine, or die in
the forests. Yet their earnings would appear inadequate to
such violent and overpowering exertions, since they receive
scarcely three guineas for performing the journey from Ibague
to Cartago, which requires fifteen, and perhaps twenty-five or
thirty days.
The Icononzo, remarkable for its natural bridges, is a
small quebrada or cleft of the mountains, through which
flows the river of the Summa Paz, descending from the
highest upland desert. The rocks consist of two different
kinds of sandstone, the one extremely compact, and the other
of a slaty texture, divided into their horizontal strata. The
rent was probably caused by an earthquake, which the harder
portion of the stony mass had resisted, and now connects the
upper part of the chasm. This natural arch is 50 feet long,
40 broad, and 8 feet thick at the middle. Its height is about
300 feet above the surface of the torrent, which has a me¬
dium depth of twenty feet. About 60 feet below the natu¬
ral bridge another smaller arch occurs, composed of three
slanting blocks of stone wedged together, which had pro¬
bably fallen from the roof at the same instant of time, and
struck against the sides of the crevice in their descent.
The natural bridge of Icononzo has perhaps no counter¬
part in the Old World ; but the writer of this article had the
pleasure of seeing, in early life, a similar phenomenon
scarcely inferior to it in the United States of America. We
allude to the famous arch described by Mr Jefferson, which
crosses the Cedar creek in Rockbridge county, about a
>
ANDES.
Andes.
hundred miles beyond the Blue Ridge, in the higher dis-
trict of Virginia. The divided rock is a pure limestone,
leaving a chasm about 90 feet wide, of which the walls are
230 feet high, sprinkled with verdant bushes, and enamelled
with gay flowers, among which the aquUegia is conspicuous.
This bridge, viewed from a little distance below, has all the
appearance of a Gothic arch ; and is of such solidity, that
loaded waggons used formerly to pass along it, till a more
convenient line of road was formed.
In some places the natives of Peru connect the clefts of
their mountains by pendulous bridges thrown fearlessly
across, and suspended from both sides of a gap. They are
composed of ropes made of the tough fibres of the agave,
hanging in a gently sloping curve, and covered with reeds
or canes, with occasionally a narrow border of basket-work.
The intrepid Indian, regardless of the horrors of the un¬
fathomed abyss which yawns from below, commits himself
to his frail and floating arch, and swiftly glides along its
bending curvature, till he gains the opposite bank.
The Andes likewise give rise to waterfalls of immense
height and amazing force. The cataract of Tequendama,
considered in all its circumstances, rivals any other in the
known world. I he basin which feeds its streams is the
vast plain of Bogota, 7465 feet above the level of the sea,
encircled completely with lofty mountains, except where
the water, aided probably by the concussion of an earth¬
quake, has cut for itself a narrow passage. 4 he river
Funcha, swelled by numerous feeders, gradually contracts
its channel to the breadth of about 40 feet, and then ga¬
thering augmented force, dashes at two bounds from a per¬
pendicular height of near 600 feet into a dark gulf. Owing
to the excessive rapidity and depth of its current, it must
discharge a prodigious volume of water, which quite stuns
the ear by the roar of its crash; while it raises enormous
clouds of thick spray and vapour, that continually bedew,
and perhaps quicken, the vegetation of the adjacent grounds’.
Every thing conspires to exalt the beauty and grandeur of
the scenery. “ Independent of the height and mass of the
column of water,” says Humboldt, “ the figure of the land¬
scape, and the aspect of the rocks, it is the luxuriant form
of the trees and herbaceous plants, their distribution into
thickets, the contrast of those craggy precipices, and the
freshness of vegetation, which stamp a peculiar character on
these great scenes of nature.” The transition from a tem¬
perate to a warm climate is rapid and surprising. The plain
of Bogota bears rich crops of wheat, then succeed oaks and
elms, intermingled with aralias, bigonias, and the yellow-
bark trees ; but immediately below the cataract a few palms
appear, as if to mark the advance to a sultry soil.
A lively idea of the character and grand features of the
Andes may be conceived from the account which the cele¬
brated Humboldt has given of his journey across that ma¬
jestic chain. Our reader’s will be glad to peruse it in the
author’s own words.
“ The mountain of Quindiu, in the latitude of 4° 36', is
considered as the most difficult passage in the Cordilleras of
the Andes. It is a thick uninhabited forest, which, in the
finest season, cannot be traversed in less than ten or twelve
days. Not even a hut is to be seen, nor can any means of
subsistence be found. Travellers, at all times of the year,
urnish themselves with a month’s provision, since it often
lappens that, by the melting of the snows, and the sudden
swell of the torrents, they find themselves so circumstanced
that they can descend neither on the side of Cartago nor
that of Ibague. The highest point of the road, the Garito
e raramo, is 11,500 feet above the level of the sea. As
the foot of the mountain, towards the banks of the Cauca,
is only 3150 feet, the climate there is generally mild and
temperate. The pathway, which forms the passage of the
131
SlelranT,’ In 7? ’? ? 15 ““ ln bre“*1'> and has the Aata.
to die skv ’ Tn lera p ac<;s\of a gallery dug and left open ^ ,,—
Other f-Eo* i • IS parj t^le Andes, as almost in every
other, the rock is covered with a thick stratum of clay. The
streamlets which flow down the mountains have hollowed
are Ml olmnTth ^ ifP' A0"Sthese crevices, which
are full of mud, the traveller is forced to grope his passage
the darkness of which is increased by the thick vegetation
that covers the opening above. The oxen, which Ire the
beasts of burden commonly used in this country, can
scarcely force their way through these galleries, some of
which are more than a mile in length ; and if perchance the
traveller meet them in one of these passages, he finds no
means of avoiding them but by turning back and climbinff
the earthen wall winch borders the crevice, and keeping
himself suspended by laying hold of the roots which pene-
tiate to this depth from the surface of the ground.
“We traversed the mountain of Quindiu in the month
of October 1801, on foot, followed by twelve oxen, which
carried our collections and instruments, amidst a deluge of
rain, to which we were exposed during the last three or
four days, in our descent on the western side of the Cor¬
dilleras. The road passes through a country full of bogs,
and covered with bamboos. Our shoes were so torn by the
prickles which shoot out from the roots of these gigantic
gramina, that we were forced, like all other travellers who
dislike being carried on men’s backs, to go barefooted.
This circumstance, the continual humidity, the length of
the passage, the muscular force required to tread in a thick
and muddy clay, the necessity of fording deep torrents of
icy water, render this journey extremely fatiguing; but,
however painful, it is accompanied by none of those dangers
with which the credulity of the people alarms travellers.
The road is narrow, but the places where it skirts the pre-
cipices are very rare.
“ When travellers reach Ibague, and prepare to cross the
forests of Quindiu, they pluck, in the neighbouring moun¬
tains, several hundred leaves of the vijao, a plant of the
family of the bananas, which forms a genus approaching to
the Thalia, and which must not be confounded with the
Heliconia Bibai. These leaves, which. are membranous
and silky, like those of the Musa, are of an oval form, two
feet long and 16 inches broad. Their lower surface is a
silvery white, and covered with a farinaceous substance,
which falls off in scales. This peculiar varnish enables
them to resist the rain during a long time. In gathering
these leaves, an incision is made in the middle rib, which is
the continuation of the foot stalk; and this serves as a hook
to suspend them when the movable roof is formed. On
taking it down, they are spread out, and carefully rolled up
in a cylindrical bundle. It requires about an hundredweight
of leaves to cover a hut large enough to hold six or eight
persons. When the travellers reach a spot in the midst of
the forests where the ground is dry, and where they propose
to pass the night, the cargueros lop a few branches from the
trees, with which they make a tent. In a few minutes this
slight timber-work is divided into squares, by the stalks of
some climbing plant, or the threads of the agave placed
in parallel lines 12 or 13 inches from each other. The
vijao leaves meanwhile have been unrolled, and are now
spread over the above work, so as to cover it like the tiles
of a house. I hese huts, thus hastily built, are cool and
and commodious. If, during the night, the traveller feels
the rain, he points out the spot where it enters, and a leaf is
sufficient to obviate the inconvenience. We passed several
days in the valley of Boquia, under one of those leafy tents,
which was perfectly dry amidst violent and incessant rains.”
For further information relative to the structure of the
Andes, see the various sketches given by Humboldt, and
132 AND
Andes particularly an abstract of his geological observations in-
II serted in the Journal de Physique, vol. liii. for 1801. See
Andover, likewise by the same author, a memoir on the Geographic
v'—v—' and Geognostic labours of M. Pentland. in the Nouvelles
Annales des Voyages et des Sciences Geographiques for
October, November, and December, 1829. (j. l.)
Andes, the birth-place of Virgil, was a village in the
vicinity of Mantua. The modern village of Pietola, about two
miles from that city, is supposed to occupy its site.
ANDOCIDES, son of Leogoras, an Athenian orator and
soldier, who was implicated with Alcibiades in the charge
of mutilating the Hermce of the city, and went into exile for
a time. He returned to Athens when Thrasybulus restored
liberty to his country. Four orations attributed to him re¬
main ; but the authenticity of the one against Alcibiades
is disputed.—See Bekker’s Attic Orators.
ANDORRE, or Andorra, Republic of, a small state of
about 190 square miles in extent, occupying a valley on the
Spanish side of the Pyrenees. It is a hilly district, with
. some good pasture for sheep, and several mines of iron,
which are worked by the numerous rapid streams that pass
through the district in their course towards Catalonia. It is
divided into six parishes, viz., Andorra la Vieja, San-Julian-
de-Loria, Encap, Canillo, Ordino, and Masana. Pop. in
.1846, from 5000 to 6000. The capital is Andorra, the prin¬
cipal parish of the valley. The Andorrans are a robust and
well-proportioned race, of an independent spirit, and simple
and severe in their manners. All the inhabitants capable of
bearing arms are reviewed once a year. Though each parish
has a school, education has made little progress among them.
They speak the Catalan language. Their religion is the Ro¬
man Catholic. This small state has preserved its indepen¬
dence since the time of Charlemagne, who, about the year
790, declared it a free state in reward for the services the in¬
habitants had rendered him in assisting his passage through
the defiles of the mountains of Catalonia when he was
marching against the Moors in Spain. Louis le Debon-
naire ceded to the bishop of Urgel a part of the rights over
Andorra which Charlemagne had reserved to himself and
his successors; and in virtue of this right the bishop still
exercises a spiritual jurisdiction over the country. In civil
affairs its nominal protector is France, to which it pays an
annual tribute of 960 francs for the privilege of importing
from that country, free of duty, a stipulated quantity of cer¬
tain specified articles, the produce of the country being in¬
sufficient for the wants of the inhabitants. The Andorrans
manfully resisted the invasion of the Spaniards ; and, during
the wars of the Pyrenees, they rendered to France every
assistance in their power. The government is composed of
a supreme council of twenty-four members, of whom each
parish elects four. The council chooses a syndic, whose
office is for life, and who exercises the executive power.
Justice is administered by two judges; one nominated by
Franee, the other, who must be an Andorran, by the bishop
of Urgel. The former is usually the justice of peace for the
canton of Ax. The expenses of government are defrayed
by a species of rent paid by owners of flocks to the com¬
munity for the use of the pasture land.
ANDOVER, a market and borough town in the hundred
of the same name, in Hampshire, on the river Anton, and
63 miles from London, on the great road to the west of
England. It is well built, and has some trade in shags for
silk hats, and in malt. The church is a spacious structure,
and existed in the time of William the Conqueror. Ando¬
ver was a Roman station, and remains of their encamp¬
ments are still to be seen in the neighbourhood. It returns
two members to parliament. A canal connects it with
Southampton and the sea. Pop. in 1851, 5395.
Andover, a town in the state of Massachusetts, United
AND
States, North America, 21 miles north of Boston, in a plea- Andrada
sant site, on the south banks of the river Merrimac. It has II
some manufactures ; but is chiefly noted for its literary in- -^ndr«.
stitutions, especially its theological seminary, which was
founded in 1807. It has a president and four professors,
and a library containing above 20,000 volumes. Tuition
and apartments are free to all; and the very indigent re¬
ceive further aid. There is also Philip’s academy for the
learned languages, which has a principal master, and three
assistants. The number of pupils is limited to 130.
ANDRADA, Diego de Payva d’, or Andradius, a
learned Portuguese, born at Coimbra in 1528, who distin¬
guished himself at the council of Trent, where he was sent
by King Sebastian as one of his divines. He wrote several
volumes of sermons, and other pieces; one of which, Be
Conciliorum Autoritate, was highly esteemed at Rome on
account of the great extension of authority which it gave to
the pope. He died in 1575.
ANDRADA E SYLVA, Bonifacio Joze de, a distin¬
guished Brazilian naturalist and statesmarq was born in 1765
anddiedin 1838. HetookaprominentpartintheRevolutionof
Brazil, and in 1831 was recalled from his banishment in France
to accept the charge of the young emperor’s education, but
after two years, political hostility again drove him into retire¬
ment. His works consist chiefly of memoirs relative to mines.
ANDRE, John. This accomplished and unfortunate
man was born in London in 1751. Accident led him to
Buxton in 1759, where he became acquainted with and
deeply enamoured of Miss Honora Sneyd ; but her friends
disapproving of the match, induced her to discontinue her
correspondence with him, and after some years persuaded
her to give her hand to Mr Lovell Edgeworth. In the
meantime, Andre, in the hope of improving his circum¬
stances, had engaged in the service of a considerable mer¬
cantile house in London; but on the marriage of Miss
Sneyd, he determined on abandoning his profession, and
soon obtained a commission in a regiment destined for Ame¬
rica, the theatre at that time of the war of Independence.
In this new sphere, his talents and acquirements gained him
rapid promotion, and in the year 1780 he was a major in the
army, adjutant-general of the British forces in America, and
aid-de-camp to General Sir Henry Clinton, their com¬
mander-in-chief.
When in this situation, the American general, Arnold,
who had displayed much energy in the cause of the colonies,
conceiving himself injuriously treated by his colleagues, made
a proposition to the British to betray to them the important
post of West-Point, the key of the American position. This
seemed a favourable opportunity of concluding the war, and
Major Andre was appointed to negotiate with Arnold. For
this purpose he landed from a vessel bearing a flag of truce,
and had an interview with Arnold ; but before the negotia¬
tions were finished, an American fort had fired on the ves¬
sel, and forced her to drop down the river. Andre there¬
fore could not return by the way he came, and it was neces¬
sary to go to New York by land: in the meantime, his
guide brought him, without his knowledge, within the
American lines, where he was provided with a plain dress
instead of his British uniform, and a passport under the
name of John Anderson, in which disguise he set out on
horseback for headquarters. After passing the outposts
undiscovered, he was stopped by three militiamen of the
enemy and carried back a prisoner. Washington sent him
before a court-martial, and notwithstanding a spirited de¬
fence, and the remonstrances of the British general, who
did all he could to save him, Major Andre was executed at
lappan as a spy a sentence perhaps justified by the ex¬
treme rigour of martial law, as he had been in disguise
within the lines of the enemy ; but the traitor Arnold,
i
AND
.ndrea. through the address of poor Andre, escaped by timely flight
the punishment he justly merited.
Besides courage, and distinguished military talents, Major
Andre possessed a well-cultivated mind. He was a profi¬
cient in drawing and in music, and showed considerable poetic
talent in his humourous Cow-chase, which appeared in three
successive parts at New York ; the last on the very day of
his capture. One of his last letters gives an affecting inci¬
dent relating to his first love. When stripped of every¬
thing by those who seized him, he contrived to retain the
portrait of Honora, which he always carried on his person,
by concealing it in his mouth. He was not aware that this
lady had breathed her last some months before. A mural
sculptured monument to the memory of Major Andre was
erected in Westminster Abbey by the British Government,
when his remains were brought over in 1821, and there in¬
terred. (t. s. t.)
ANDREA Del Sarto, see Vannuchi.
Andrea, Giovanni, a celebrated canonist, born (says
Tiraboschi) at Bologna, towards the end of the thirteenth
century, of parents who were natives of Mugello near Flor¬
ence. His father kept a grammar school at Bologna; but
eight years after the birth of his son, having obtained the
living of Sta Maria de’ Galluzzi, he took orders, and rebuilt
that church at his own expense. Andrea studied civil law
under Martino Sulimans and Ricardo Malombra, and canon
law under Guido da Baijo. The words Sub cujus umbra
quiesco, et doctor sedeo, in the beginning of his Decretals,
are supposed to have reference, not as commonly asserted
to pecuniary assistance from Baijo, but to the professorship
which through his interest Andrea obtained at Bologna,
whither he removed from Padua where he had previously
kept a school. In 1328 he was introduced by Cardinal Ber-
trando to Pope John XXH. at Avignon. Four years after¬
wards, when popular fury obliged the cardinal to leave
Bologna, Andrea accompanied him to Florence, where he
cannot have remained long, for in 1337 he was sent from
Bologna on an embassy to Venice and Padua. He was a
member of the general council of Bologna in 1340 ; and if
he ever was professor at Pisa, as commonly supposed, it was
probably after that period, as no mention of him occurs again
until 1348, when it is recorded that he died at Bologna of
the plague, and was buried in the church of the Dominicans.
Ihe aspersions on the character of this eminent man, must
be ascribed to the malevolence of those who envied his
great reputation : the titles of rabbi doctorum, lux, normaque
morum, bestowed on him, prove the public estimation of his
learning, and his morals; and R. Volterrano and Filippo
Villani testify to his vigils, fasting, and mortification. The
story that his accomplished daughter Novella occasionally
supplied her father’s place in the lecture room, concealed by
a curtain lest her beauty should distract the attention of the
pupils, appears to rest on very slender foundation ; and
equally improbable is the common opinion that he named
the decretals of Gregory “Novella” in honour of her, that
title having probably been given after the example of Jus¬
tinian in his supplement to the Corpus Juris. Andrea wrote
the following works:—Gloss upon the Sixth Booh of the De¬
cretals; Glosses upon the Clementines; Commentary on the
Rules of Sextus. His additions to the Speculum of Durando,
aie taken literally from the (Jonsilia of Oldradus ; as also the
book De Sponsalibus et Matrimonio from J. Anguisciola.
Andrea, Giovanni, bishop of Aleria in Corsica, a de¬
scendant of die family of Bussi or Bossi, was born at Vige-
vano in 1417. He is celebrated in literary history as having
been highly instrumental in introducing printing into Rome,
and as the editor of the first editions of several classical
authors printed in that city by Svveyheim and Pannartz.
1 lie merit of Andrea was the greater, that in early life he
AND
133
had to contend against the disadvantages of extreme poverty. Andrea
He died in 1475. Trithemius, De Script. Eccles. 11
Andrea of Pisa. See Pisano. Andreossy.
ANDREAl, Johann, archivist to the counts of Nassau,  7
about the commencement of the seventeenth century. His
voluminous history of that house, which is preserved in MS
m the Walram archives, contains citations from many curi¬
ous historical documents that were afterwards lost during
the thirty years’ war. h
ANDREANI, Andrea, a celebrated engraver on wood,
in chiaroscuro, born at Mantua about 1540. He brought
the art to great perfection. His outline is fine, and with a
few touches he gives great expression to the heads. His
largest work is the Triumph of Ccesar, after the cartoons of
Andrea Mantegna, now at Hampton Court: perhaps his
masterpiece is Christ retiring from the judgment-seat of
Pilate, in which the Roman Governor is represented as
washing his hands. He died at Rome in 1623.
ANDREAS, or Andre, St, a market-town on the
Danube, in the circle of Pilesch, and palatinate of Pesth, in
Hungary. It contains one Roman Catholic and seven
Greek churches, 1040 houses, and 7980 inhabitants, who
trade very extensively in the wine produced in the vicinity.
In the Danube, opposite to the town, is an island of the
same name, which is fourteen miles in length and one in
breadth, and remarkable for its fertility.
ANDREASBERG, the capital of the bailiwick of the
same name, in the principality of Grubenhagen, kingdom
of Hanover. It is 1915 feet above the level of the sea, on
the declivity of the Hartz mountains, and contains 4400
inhabitants, who subsist chiefly by mining, the females being
employed in making lace. In its vicinity are mines of iron,
cobalt, copper, and silver. Eat. 51. 43. N. Long. 10. 31. E.
ANDREINI, Giovanni Battista, born about 1578,
was the son of Francesco and Isabella Andreini, both highly
celebrated on the Italian stage towards the close of the six¬
teenth century. Their son is only noticed here as having
been the author of a sacred drama, entitled Adamo, which
was supposed by Voltaire to have suggested to Milton the
outline of his Paradise Lost, though the original has in
reality so little merit that Ginguene sarcastically observes
—“ C’estfaire trop d'honneur d un tel ouvrage”
ANDRELINI, Publio Fausto, born at Forli in Italy.
He was a long time professor of poetry and philosophy in
the university of Paris. Louis XII. of France made him his
poet laureate, and Erasmus tells us that he was likewise poet
to the queen. His pen was not wholly employed in mak¬
ing verses, for he wrote also moral and proverbial letters in
prose, which were printed several times. Some of his poems,
which are chiefly in Latin, are inserted in vol. i. of the De-
licice Poetarum Italorum. He died in 1518.
ANDREOSSY, Antoine-Fran^ois Comte d’, a very
distinguished officer of artillery in the service of France, was
born in Languedoc in 1761. His family had originally been
Italian. He early joined the revolutionary party, was a lieu¬
tenant of artillery, and served with distinction in Italy and in
Egypt under Buonaparte. In Egypt, he was an active mem¬
ber of the Institute of Cairo, in whose Transactions are se¬
veral of his memoirs, especially on The Valley of the Natron
Lakes, and on The Lake Menzaleh. He was selected by
Buonaparte as one of his companions on his unexpected re¬
turn to Europe ; and served with approbation in his subse¬
quent campaigns. Andreossy was appointed ambassador to
London during the short peace of Amiens. When Napo¬
leon assumed the title of Emperor, Andreossy was advanced
to be inspector-general of artillery, and to the title of Count
of the empire. After various military services, he was ap¬
pointed ambassador to Austria, where he remained until
the rupture with France in 1809 ; and when the fatal battle
134 AND
Andres of Wagram prostrated Austria, he became the temporary
|| governor of Vienna. He was long Napoleon’s representa-
Andrews. (;ive at Constantinople, where he acquired the good opinion
of Franks and Mahometans. In 1814 he was recalled by
Louis XVIII., who sent him, however, the decoration of St
Louis. Andreossy then retired into private life, till the
escape of his former master from Elba once more drew him
forth. After the decisive battle of Waterloo he wholly
withdrew from public life, and amused his retirement with
preparing for publication different memoirs on scientific sub¬
jects, especially his excellent work Sur le Bosphore de
Thrace, comprenant le systeme des eaux qui abreuvent Con¬
stantinople, 8 vo, 1818.
His Histoire du Canal de midi ou de Languedoc is in¬
teresting ; but having claimed for his ancestor Francois
Andreossy the principal merit of this undertaking, he was
involved in a controversy with the descendants of the en¬
gineer Riquet, to whom it has been generally attributed.
The decision of the best judges, however, had pronounced
in favour of the latter. Andreossy died at Montauban in
September 1828. (t. s. t.)
ANDRES, Juan (1740-1817), a native of Valencia.
He is the author of a work entitled DelV Origine, dei Pro-
gressi e dello Stato Attuale d’ Ogni Letteratura, in 7 vol¬
umes 4to, the labour of upwards of twenty years, and full of
erudition. It has passed through several editions. A just esti¬
mate of its merits w ill be found in Hallam’s Introduction to
the Literature of Europe, vol. i., and in Sismondi’s Literature
of the South of Europe (by Roscoe 1843), vol. i., p. 12, note.
ANDREW, St, the apostle, born at Bethsaida in Gali¬
lee, brother to Simon Peter. He had been a disciple of John
the Baptist, and followed Jesus upon the testimony given of
him by the Baptist. (John i. 35, 40, &c.) He was the first
person whom our Saviour received as his disciple. Andrew
introduced his brother Simon, and they passed a day with
Christ, after which they went to the marriage in Cana
{ibid, ii.), and at last returned to their ordinary occupation.
Some months after, Jesus meeting them while they wrere
both fishing together, called them to him, and promised to
make them fishers of men. Immediately they left their
nets, followed him (Matt. iv. 19), and never afterwards se¬
parated from him. I radition assigns Scythia, Greece, and
Thrace, as the scenes of St Andrew’s ministry : he is said
to have suffered crucifixion at Patrse in Achaia, on a cross of
the form called Crux decussata ( x ), and commonly known
as “ St Andrew’s cross.” His relics, it is said, were after¬
wards removed from Patrae to Constantinople. An apocry¬
phal book, bearing the title of The Ads of Andrew, is men¬
tioned by Eusebius, Epiphanius, and others. It is now com¬
pletely lost, and seems never to have been received ex-
cept by some heretical sects, as the Encratites, Origenians,
&c. Ihis book, as well as a Gospel of St Andrew, was
declared apocryphal by a decree of Pope Gelasius (Jones
Un the Canon, vol. i. p. 179, et seqf)
Andrew, or Knights of St Andrew, an order of knights,
more usually called the Order of the Thistle.
Knights of St Andrews also an order instituted by Peter
the Czar of Muscovy in 1698, the badge of which is a
golden medal, on one side whereof is represented St An
drew’s cross, with these words, Czar Pierre, monarque de
toute la Russie. This medal being fastened to a blue ribbon
is suspended from the right shoulder.
St' Andrew’s Bay, a festival among certain religious de¬
nominations, celebrated on the 30th ol November in honour
of the apostle St Andrew.
u.,fNPREWS’.ST’ a <% of Scotland, in the county of
bile, pleasantly situated on a rocky promontory, nearly fifty
feet above the level of the sea, in a spacious bay of the Ger¬
man Ocean, into which flow the river Eden, the small rivu-
A N D
let of Kinness, and several other streams. It was formerlv St
a place of much greater extent and importance. At pre- Andrews
sent it is about a mile and a half in circuit, and consists of
three leading streets, intersected by a considerable number
of smaller streets and lanes. The principal street is well
built, is straight and broad, and of late years its appearance
as w ell as that of the city generally, has been much improved!
Several new streets and terraces have been recently formed
towards the west, and many elegant and commodious houses
erected. The streets are either substantially paved or mac¬
adamised, and are furnished throughout with foot-pavement
of a superior description ; so that, perhaps, no town in Scot¬
land presents a neater or more cleanly appearance. The
view of the city, with its many towers and turrets, from the
rising ground on the south, or from the level plain on the
west, is highly beautiful and picturesque. St Andrews is
now much frequented as a summer residence, the principal
attractions, in addition to its salubrious air and pleasant
walks, being sea-bathing, and the favourite game of golf, of
which it may be considered the headquarters in Scotland.
The baths have been lately enlarged and greatly improved,
and afford every accommodation for cold and warm bathing!
St Andrews contains many interesting memorials of anti¬
quity. Of the splendid cathedral, which was founded by
Bishop Arnold in 1159, and attained to its highest magni¬
ficence in 1318, parts of the east and west ends, and of the
south side, are all that now remain. The length of this
edifice from east to west was 358 feet within the walls; that
of the transept 180 feet. This whole pile of building, which
it took 160 years to complete, was in June 1559 demolished
in a single day by the iconoclastic fury of the Reformers.
About 40 yards to the south-east is the chapel of St Regu-
lus, the tower of which is a lofty square prism, the side of
the base being 20 feet, and the height 108. The walls of
the chapel to the east of the tower, which was the principal
one, still remain ; but of a small chapel to the west, which
appears to have formerly existed, there is now no trace.
The arches of the windows and doors are round, and the
figure of some of them is more than half of the circle, which
is an undoubted proof of their antiquity. The history of
this ancient structure, which was undoubtedly a place of
Culdee worship, is involved in great obscurity. The ma¬
jority of antiquaries assign its erection to a date prior to the
ninth century, while some carry it back to the latter part of
the fourth century.
Ihe Priory, which wras founded by Robert, bishop of St
Andrews, during the reign of Alexander I. in 1120, was of
great extent, and richly endowed. The prior had precedence
ot all abbots and priors, and on festival days had a right to
wear a mitre and all episcopal ornaments. The wall of the
precinct is all that now remains to mark the vast extent of
this edifice. 1 his magnificent wall, which surrounded the
cathedral and adjacent ecclesiastical edifices, was built by
Prior John Hepburn, and was begun about 1516. It is
nearly a mile in circuit, about 20 feet in height, and about
4 in breadth.
Part of the top of the great altar towards the east end of
the cathedral was discovered half a century ago, in conse¬
quence ot an excavation made in the hope of finding con-
cealed treasure. At a much more recent period, the soil,
which had for ages been permitted to accumulate, having
been removed, part of the pavement was laid open, and
seveial shafts of two rows of pillars parallel to each other,
by which it is supposed that galleries in the inside of the
walls had been supported. 1 he other religious houses were,
that of the Dominicans, founded in 1274 by Bishop Wishart;
another of Observantines, founded by Bishop Kennedy, and
finished by his successor Patrick Graham in 1478; and, ac¬
cording to some, the Carmelites had a fourth. Immediately
>
AND
St above the harbour stood the collegiate church of Kirk-
ndrews. heugh, originally founded by Constantine III., who, retiring
from the world, became here a Culdee. From its having
been first built on a rock, it was styled Ecclesia Sanctce
Mamie de Rupe.
On the north-east side of the city are the remains of the
castle, on a rock overlooking the sea. This fortress was
founded about the year 1200, by Roger, one of the bishops
of St Andrews, and was repaired towards the end of the
fourteenth century by Bishop Trail, who died in it in 1401.
He was buried near the high altar of the cathedral, with
this singular epitaph:
Hie fait ecclesise directa columna, fenestra
Lucida, thuribulum redolens, campana sonora.
The castle was the residence of Cardinal Beaton, who,
after the cruel execution of the celebrated reformer George
Wishart in front of it, was afraid of the fury of the people;
and his knowledge of this, joined to his apprehension of an
invasion from England, induced him to strengthen the for¬
tifications, with a view of rendering the castle impregnable.
In this fortress he was surprised and assassinated by Nor¬
man Lesley, aided by fifteen others. Early in the morning
of May 29. 1546, they seized on the gate of the castle,
which had been left open for the workmen who were finish¬
ing the fortifications; and having placed sentinels at the
door of the cardinal’s apartment, they awakened his nume¬
rous domestics one by one, and, turning them out of the
castle, without violence, tumult, or injury to any other per¬
son, inflicted on Beaton the death he justly merited. The
conspirators were immediately besieged in this castle by the
regent, Earl of Arran; and although their strength consisted
of only 150 men, they resisted his efforts for five months,
owing more to the unskilfulness of the attack than the
strength of the place; for in 1547 the castle was reduced
and demolished, and its picturesque ruins serve as a land¬
mark to mariners. The entrance to the castle, and the
window out of which it is said Cardinal Beaton leaned to
witness the cruel martyrdom of George Wishart, are still
pointed out.
The parish church, situated in South Street, is a spacious
structure, 162 feet in length by 63 in breadth, and is large
enough to accommodate 2500 persons. It contains a lofty
monument of white and black marble, erected in honour
of Archbishop Sharpe, who, in revenge for his oppressive
conduct, was murdered by some of the exasperated refor¬
mers of that day. On this monument is a piece of sculpture
representing the tragical scene of the murder. In North
Street stands the college church, which belongs to the
united college of St Salvator and St Leonard. It was
founded in 1458 by Bishop Kennedy, and contains a beau¬
tiful tomb of its founder, who died in 1466; which is a fine
specimen of the Gothic architecture of that period. About
the year 1683, on opening this tomb, six highly ornamented
silver maces were discovered, which had been concealed
there in times of trouble ; three of which are still preserved
in the university, and three were sent to the other univer¬
sities of Scotland. On the top of one of them is represented
our Saviour; around are angels with the instruments of his
passion.
St Mary’s church, also connected with the Establishment,
was erected in 1839. It is a plain but neat building, and
seated for about 630 persons.
4 he Episcopal chapel, the Free church, and the United
Fresbyterian church, are situated in North Street, and are
elegant and commodious structures. The Congregation-
alists and Baptists have also places of worship in the city.
In the United College are shown some silver arrows, with
arge silver plates affixed to them, on which are inscribed the
arms and names of those who were victorious in the annual
and
135
competitions of archery, which were regularly held until
within these few years Golf is now the reigning game.
at sport, and foot-ball, were formerly prohibited by an
act of parliament passed in the reign of James II. in 1457
as interfering too much with the acquisition of dexterity in
archery, an accomplishment in those days of much conse¬
quence to the safety of the state. The statute has been
long obsolete, and the inhabitants, and the students who
attend the university, have full permission to enjoy this
elegant amusement. J :
HMhu c^rated u^ersity of this city was founded in
1411 by Bishop Wardlaw. It consisted formerly of three
colleges. 1. St Salvator’s was founded in 1458 by Bishop
Kennedy. This was a handsome building, with a court or
quadrangle, 230 feet long by 150 wide, and a gateway sur¬
mounted by a spire 156 feet high. On one side was the
church ; on another the library; the third contained apart¬
ments for students ; the fourth was unfinished. 2. St Leo¬
nard’s College was founded by Prior Hepburn in 1512.
This is now united with the last, and the buildings have been
sold, and converted into private houses. 3. New or St
Mary’s College was established by Archbishop Hamilton
in 1552. This is said to have been the site of a celebrated
school long before the establishment even of the University,
where several eminent clergymen taught gratis the sciences
and languages; but it was called the New College, because
of its late erection into a college by the archbishop. The
buildings of this college have been substantially repaired,
and with great taste.
The United College was constituted in 1747 by the union
of St Leonard’s and St Salvator’s, and occupies the site of
the latter. The buildings connected with this college being
in a state of great decay, a grant was made by government
for erecting a new structure, which is now completed, and
is in a high degree elegant and commodious. It is beauti¬
fully situated, overlooking the bay of St Andrews and the
opposite coast of Angusshire, with the Sidlaw and Gram¬
pian hills in the distant north. It is enclosed on three sides
by a high wall, and on the south by the College chapel.
In front is a spacious area or quadrangle, 215 feet long by
160 feet wide, and behind is a garden neatly laid out in
walks and planted with suitable shrubs. A cloister has been
erected on the north side of the chapel, as a place of shelter
and retirement for the students. Besides ample accommo¬
dation for the various classes, the new structure contains a
large hall for general meetings of the students, and other
academic purposes, and a Museum of Natural History and
Antiquities. This museum is connected with the St An¬
drews Literary and Philosophical Society, which took its
rise in 1838, and is principally composed of the professors
of the University, and gentlemen resident in the city, who
take an interest in the advancement of literature and science.
I here is also a valuable Anatomical Museum in the College.
The university, which is composed of the members of
the United College and St Mary’s College, is governed
by a chancellor,—an office Avhich it was originally intended
should be permanently exercised by the Archbishop of St
Andrews. Subsequent to the Revolution, the chancellor
has been elected by the two principals and the professors of
both colleges.
The rector is the next great officer, to whose care are
committed the privileges, discipline, and statutes of the
university. The colleges have their principals, and profes¬
sors of different sciences, who are indefatigable in their
attention to the instruction and the morals of the students.
The place possesses, in its retired situation, its pure and
salubrious air, its extensive grounds for exercise, and its
excellent and cheap accommodation for students, very great
advantages for the education of youth. In the United Col-
St
Andrews.
136 AND
St lege are taught the languages, philosophy, and the sciences.
Andrews. St Mary’s, which stands in a different part of the town, is
" ^ reserved exclusively for theology. The classes and disci¬
pline of the two colleges are quite distinct, each having its
respective principal and professors. They have a common
library, containing nearly 60,000 volumes, and which was
formerly entitled to a copy of all new books entered in
Stationers’ Hall; but, by an act of parliament passed in the
year 1837, that right was abolished, and in lieu of it the
library receives from the treasury the sum of L.630 annually
for the purchase of books. By judicious management it is
believed that this arrangement will prove more beneficial to
the institution than the privilege it formerly enjoyed.
Eighty-six bursaries or endowments belong to the univer¬
sity, and are conferred on the students. Of these 65 belong
to the United, and 21 to the New College. The foundation
bursaries in the United College, 20 in number, are disposed
of by comparative trial; the remaining bursaries are at the
disposal of private patrons.
The Madras College was established in the year 1833,
by the late Dr Andrew Bell, a native of St Andrews, and
inventor of the monitorial system of education which bears
his name, who bequeathed the munificent sum of L.50,000,
in three per cent, stock, for its establishment. The build¬
ing stands on the site of the Blackfriars’ monastery. The
system of education pursued comprises the classics, the
English and other modern languages, writing, arithmetic,
mathematics, and drawing. The fees being low, and in
many cases not exacted, the institution has been very suc¬
cessful, the number of scholars averaging of late years about
a thousand. Dr Bell also left a fund, which yields an an¬
nual revenue of upwards of L.300, to be expended on per¬
manent improvements of the city, and educational and re¬
ligious purposes.
The trade of St Andrews was once very considerable.
So late as the reign of Charles I. it had thirty or forty trad¬
ing vessels, and carried on a considerable herring and white
fishery, by means of busses, in deep water, which had for ages
been a most profitable branch of commerce, and a source of
wealth. During the troubles which followed the death of
this monarch, this whole coast, and St Andrews in particu¬
lar, became a scene of murder and rapine ; and every town
suffered in proportion to its magnitude and opulence. St
Andrews was required to pay a contribution of L.l 000, which
the inhabitants, after being plundered, were not able to raise:
a composition of L.500 was accepted, which was raised by
a loan at interest, and has remained a burden upon the cor¬
poration, it is believed, ever since.
The harbour of St Andrews is artificial, and is guarded
by piers. It has been greatly improved within these few
years, and is now pretty safe and commodious; but it is
difficult of access, having a narrow entrance, and being ex¬
posed to the east winds, which raise a heavy sea on the
coast. There is a light on the pier-head, showing green to
the west, red to the south-east, and white to the north-east.
A turret-light has also been recently erected on the north
wall of the cathedral, which, from its elevated position, is of
great service to vessels approaching the harbour at night.
The shore of the bay is low; and, in the storms of winter,
vessels are liable to be driven on it and lost.
St Andrews had a manufactory of sail-cloth to some ex¬
tent, but it is now discontinued. The game of golf bein«-
much practised here, there is a manufactory of golf-balls
which, after supplying the home consumption, used to send
about 9000 annually to other parts; but the recent intro¬
duction of gutta-percha balls has greatly diminished this
source of industry. The shipping of the port consists of a
few vessels, which are employed in the coasting trade. St
Andrews is a royal burgh, and unites with Cupar, Easter
AND
and Wester Anstruther, Pittenweem, Crail, and Kilrenny, Andrew
in returning a member to parliament. The town-council W. 8
consists of 29 members, including the provost and four
bailies. The number of registered voters in 1853 was up¬
wards of 237, and the amount of poor-rates L.l290.
According to early traditions, St Andrews owes its ori¬
gin to a Greek monk, Regulus, who, having been warned in
a vision to visit Albion, was shipwrecked in the bay about
the end of the fourth century. He was hospitably received
by the king, who eventually was influenced to establish
here the first Christian priests of the country, called Cul-
dees. He also directed that the cross of St Andrew should
become the badge of the country. In 818, after the con¬
quest of the Piets, he removed the episcopal see to St An¬
drews, and the bishop was styled maximus Scotorum epis-
copus. In 1474 it was erected into an archbishopric by
Sextus IV. at the intercession of James III. In 1606 the
priory was suppressed ; and in 1617 the pouter of election
was transferred to eight bishops, the principal of St Leonard’s
College, the archdeacon, the vicars of St Andrews, Leuchars,
and Cupar. This see contained the greater part of Fife'
with a part of the counties of Perth, Forfar, and Kincardine’
and a great number of parishes, churches, and chapels in
other dioceses.
The town of St Andrews was erected into a royal burgh
by David I. in the year 1140, and its privileges afterwards
confirmed. The charter of Malcolm IV., written on a small
bit of parchment, is preserved in the tolbooth. Here also
are kept the silver keys of the city, which, according to tra¬
ditionary usage, are to be delivered up to the sovereign on
occasion of a royal visit. In this place, likewise, is to be
seen the enormous axe with which, in 1646, Sir Robert Spots-
wood and other distinguished loyalists were beheaded. The
town underwent a siege in 1337, at which time it was pos¬
sessed by the English and other partisans of Baliol; but the
loyalists, under the Earls of March and Fife, made them¬
selves masters of it in three weeks, by the help of their bat¬
tering machines.
St Andrews is nine miles east of Cupar, and 39 N.N.E.
of Edinburgh, and is connected with the Edinburgh, Perth,
and Dundee railway by a branch line to Leuchars. The
population of the parliamentary burgh, according to the
census of 1851, was 5084 ; and of the parish 6716. Long.
2. 50. W. Lat. 56. 19. 33. N. The History of St Andrews,
by the Rev. C. J. Lyon, contains a detailed account
of the city, of its ecclesiastical antiquities, and of the uni¬
versity. (w. p.)
Andrews, James Pettit, an English historian and mis¬
cellaneous writer, was the younger son of Joseph Andrews,
Esq. of Shaw-house, near Newbury, Berks, where he was
born in the year 1737. He was educated privately, and is said
to have discovered an early taste for literature and the fine arts.
The most extensive work undertaken by Mr Andrews
was his History of Great Britain, connected with the Chro-
nology of Bur ope; with Notes, &c. The first volume, which
commences with Caesar’s invasion, and ends with the depo¬
sition and death of Richard II., was published in 1794, in
4to. A second volume, in which the history is continued
from the deposition and death of Richard II. to the acces¬
sion of Edward VI., appeared in 1795. The plan of this
work is new, and in some respects singular; a certain por¬
tion of the history of England is given on one page, and a
corresponding portion of the contemporaneous history of
Europe on the one opposite. The notes consist of a variety
of curious and amusing particulars, not immediately con¬
nected with the main story. Appendixes are also added at
proper intervals, containing an account of the state of litera¬
ture, science, religion, government, manners, &c., at differ¬
ent periods. 1 he author, however, did not live to complete
4
AND
Andrews this curious and extensive work, no more of it having ap-
N peared than the two volumes above mentioned. In 1796
C^-hc published a continuation of Henry’s History of Britain
in one volume 4to and two volumes 8vo, and died at Bromp-
ton the following year. He was the author of various other
miscellaneous works.
Andrews, Lancelot, bishop of Winchester, was born at
London in 1555, and educated at Cambridge. After seve¬
ral preferments he was made bishop, first of Chichester, then
of Ely, and in 1618 was raised to the see of Winchester.
This very learned prelate, who was distinguished by his
piety, charity, and integrity, may be justly ranked with the
best preachers and scholars of his age. He appeared, how¬
ever, to much greater advantage in the pulpit than he does
now in his works, which abound with Latin quotations and
trivial witticisms. He died at Winchester house in South¬
wark, September 25. 1626, on the anniversary of his birth
and was buried in the parish church of St Saviour’s, where
his executors erected to him a handsome monument of
marble and alabaster, with an elegant inscription in Latin
written by one of his chaplains. His most popular works are
ms Sermons, his Lectures on the Ten Commandments, and
his Orphan Lectures, each forming a folio volume. There
is a collection by Felix Kyngston of some other pieces writ¬
ten by him, which was published in 4to in 1629.
ANDBIA, a city and a bishop’s see in the territory of
Ban, kingdom of Naples, situated in a spacious plain, four
miles from the Adriatic. It has a fine cathedral, and a royal
college. Pop. 14,600. It derives its name from the caverns
m its vicinity. Long. 16. 17. E. Lat. 41. 14. N.
ANDRIANTES, in Grecian Antiquity, statues erected
in honour o the victors at the public games, a custom which
appears to date from the 58th Olympiad. (Paus. vi. 18, S 5.)
According to Pliny, it was necessary to have been thrice a
victor, to be honoured with a statua iconica, or actual like¬
ness. (Hist. Nat. xxxiv. 9.)
ANDRIEU, Bertrand, a celebrated engraver of medals
born in 1/65 at Bordeaux, where his father was a vintner’
He is considered as the restorer of the art in France, which
had declined after the time of Louis XIV.; and was so highly
esteemed, that during the last twenty years of his life he
was entrusted by the French government with the execu¬
tion of every work of importance. Many of his medals are
figured in the Medallic History of Napoleon. He died in
lo22.
ANDRISCUS, a man of mean extraction, who, pretend¬
ing to be the son of Perseus, last king of Macedonia, took
upon himthe name of Philip, for which reason he was called
Pseudo-Philippas, the False Philip. After a complete
victory over Juventius, the Roman praetor, who was sent
against him, he assumed kingly power, but exercised it with
great cruelty. At last the Romans obliged him to fly into
hrace, where he was betrayed and delivered into the hands
of Metellus, B.c. 148. This victory placed Macedonia once
more in the power of the Romans, and gained for Metellus
the name of Macedonicus, but cost the Romans 25,000 men.
Andriscus adorned the triumph of Metellus, walking in chains
oetore the general’s chariot.
AND RO CL US, a Roman slave who used to lead about
ie streets a lion which had forborne to injure him when
turned loose in the circus. The story is related, on the
authority of an eye-witness, by Aulus Gellius (v. 14), who
states that Androclus had taken refuge from the severities
0 ns master in a cave in Africa, and that while there, a lion
entered the cave and presented to him his swollen paw, from
w “c“ Androclus extracted a large thorn,
i • EOGEOS, in Fabulous History, the son of Minos,
King of Crete, was murdered by the Athenian youth and
ose o Megara, who envied his being always victor at the
vol. in. ° J
and
137
^lige^Rie8,inhabit 1t°SthaVinf taken Athens ancI Megara, Androides.
seven « men T ^ him an annual tribute of'
the Minotaur FW as many virgins, to be devoured by
Theseus. ' 1 nS tn^ute t^leywere delivered by
ANDRCHDES (dvyp and eTSos), a human figure which
by certain springs or other movements, is candle of ner’
forming some of the natural motions of a living man The
motions of the human body are more complicated and con!
sequently more difficult to be imitated, than those of anv
ot er creature; whence the construction of an androides
m such a manner as to imitate any of these actions with
tolerable exactness, is justly supposed to indicate a greater
whatever?16011811108 ^ anj °ther pieCe of workmanship
A very remarkable figure of this kind appeared in Paris
the year 1738. It represented a flute-player, and was
capable of performing different pieces of music on the Ger¬
man flute; which, considering the difficulty of blowing that
instrument, the different contractions of the lips necessary
to produce the distinctions between the high and low notes
WT)nderfiflmpllCated m0ti°ns oft,ie fingers, must appear truly
This machine was the invention of M. Vaucanson, mem¬
ber of the Royal Academy of Sciences; and a particular
description of it was published in the Memoirs of the Aca-
demy for that year.
The figure itself was about 5£ feet in height, situated at
t m end of an artificial rock, and placed upon a square pedes¬
tal 4f feet high and 3£ broad. The air entered the body bv
three pipes separated one from the other. It was conveyed
to them by nine pairs of bellows, three of which were placed
above and six below. These were made to expand and con¬
tract regularly in succession by means of an axis of steel
turned round by some clockwork. On this axis were dif¬
ferent protuberances at proper distances, to which were fixed
cords thrown oyer pulleys, and terminating in the upper
boards of the bellows, so that, as the axis turned, these boards
were alternately raised and let down. A contrivance was
also used to prevent the disagreeable hissing fluttering noise
usually attending the motion of bellows. This was by making
the cord by which the bellows was moved press, in its de¬
scent, upon one end of a smaller lever, the other end of which
ascending, forced open the small leathern valve that admitted
the air, and kept it so till, the cord being relaxed by the de¬
scent of the upper board, the lever fell, and the air was forced
out. I hus the bellows performed their functions constantly
without the least hissing, or other noise by which it could be
judged in what manner the air was conveyed to the machine.
t upper boards of three of the pairs of bellows, were pressed
down by a weight of 4 lb., those of three others by a weight
of 2 lb., and those of the three remaining ones by nothing but
their own weight.
1 he three tubes by which the air entered terminated in
three small reservoirs in the trunk of the figure. There
they united, and, ascending towards the throat, formed the
cavrty of the mouth, which terminated in two small lips
adapted in some measure to perform their proper functions.
ithm this cavity also was a small movable tongue, which,
by its play, at proper periods admitted the air, or inter¬
cepted its passage to the flute.
• Pn^ers’ PPS’ an^ fongue? received their proper direc¬
tions by means of a steel cylinder turned by clockwork. It
was divided into 15 equal parts, which, by means of pegs
pressing upon the ends of 15 different levers, caused the
other extremities to ascend. Seven of these levers directed
the fingers, having wires and chains affixed to their ascend¬
ing extremities, which being attached to the fingers, caused
them to ascend in proportion as the other extremity was
138 AND
AND
Androides. pressed down by the motion of the cylinder, and vice versa.
Thus the ascent or descent of one end of a lever produced
a similar ascent or descent in the corresponding finger,
by which one of the holes of the flute was occasionally
opened or stopped, as by a living performer. Three of the
levers served to regulate the ingress of the air, being con¬
trived so as to open and shut, by means of valves, the three
reservoirs of air above mentioned, so that more or less
strength might be given, and a higher or lower note pro¬
duced as occasion required. The lips were, by a similar
mechanism, directed by four levers, one of which opened
them, to give the air a freer passage; the other contracted
them; the third drew them backward; and the fourth pushed
them forward. The lips were projected upon that part of
the flute which receives the air; and, by thecMerent motions
already mentioned, modified the tone in a proper manner.
The remaining lever was employed in the direction of the
tongue, which it easily moved so as to shut or open the
mouth of the flute.
Thus we see how all the motions necessary for a flute-
player could be performed by this machine ; but a consider¬
able difficulty still remains, namely, how to regulate these
motions properly, and make each of them follow in just suc¬
cession. This, however, was effected by the following simple
method : the extremity of the axis of the cylinder was ter¬
minated on the right side by an endless screw, consisting of
twelve threads, each placed at the distance of a line and a
half from the other. Above this screw was fixed a piece of
copper, and in it a steel pivot, which, falling in between the
threads of the screw, obliged the cylinder to follow the
threads, and instead of turning directly round, it was con¬
tinually pushed to one side. Hence, if a lever were moved
by a peg placed on the cylinder in any one revolution, it
could not be moved by the same peg in the succeeding re¬
volution, because the peg would be moved a line and a half
beyond it by the lateral motion of the cylinder. Thus, by
an artificial disposition of those pegs in different parts of the
cylinder, the statue was made, by the successive elevation
and depression of the proper levers, to exhibit all the dif¬
ferent motions of a flute-player, to the admiration of every
one who saw it.
The construction of machines capable of imitating even
the mechanical actions of the human body shows exquisite
skill; but what shall we say of one capable, not only of
imitating actions of this kind, but of acting as external cir¬
cumstances require, as though it were endued with life and
reason ? This was supposed to have been accomplished by
M. de Kempelen of Presburg in Hungary, who constructed
an androides capable of playing at chess! Every one who
is in the least acquainted with this game must know that
it is so far from being mechanically performed, as to require
a greater exertion of the judgment and rational faculties than
is sufficient to accomplish many matters of greater impor¬
tance. The inventor came over to Britain in 1783, where
he remained above a year with his automaton.
It was a figure as large as life, in a Turkish dress, sitting
behind a table, with doors of three feet and a half in length,
two in depth, and two and a half in height. The chair on
which it sat was fixed to the table, which ran on four wheels.
The automaton leant its right arm on the table, and in its
left hand held a pipe : with this hand it played after the pipe
was removed. A chess-board of 18 inches was fixed before
it. This table, or rather cup-board, contained wheels, le- Androle
vers, cylinders, and other pieces of mechanism, all which sia
were publicly displayed. The vestments of the automaton II
were then lifted over its head, and the body was seen full Andro'
of similar wheels and levers. There was a little door in its v meda'
thigh, which was likewise opened; and with this, and the
table also open, and the automaton uncovered, the whole
was wheeled about the room. The doors were then shut
and the automaton was ready to play; and it always took
the first move.
At every motion the wheels were heard; the image moved
its head, and looked over every part of the chess-board.
When it checked the queen it shook its head twice, and
thrice in giving check to the king. It likewise shook its head
when a false move was made, replaced the piece, and made
its own move ; by which means the adversary lost one.
M. de Kempelen remarked that the most surprising cir¬
cumstance attending his automaton was, that it had been
exhibited at Presburg, Vienna, Paris, and London, to thou¬
sands, many of whom were mathematicians and chess-play¬
ers, and yet the secret by which he governed the motion of
its arm was never discovered. He prided himself solely in
the construction of the mechanical powers, by which the arm
could perform ten or twelve moves. It then required to be
wound up like a watch, after which it was capable of con¬
tinuing the same number of motions.
The automaton could not play unless M. de Kempelen or
his substitute wrere near it to direct its moves. A small square
box, during the game, was frequently consulted by the ex¬
hibitor ; and herein consisted the secret, which he said he
could in a moment communicate. He who could beat M.
de Kempelen was, of course, certain of conquering the
automaton. It was made in 1669. His own account of it
was, “ C’est une bagatelle qui n’est pas sans merite du cote
du mechanisme: mais les effets n’en paroissent si merveilleux
que par la hardiesse de 1’idee, et par 1’heureux choix des
moyens employes pour faire illusion.” 1 See Automaton.
ANDROLEPSIA, avhpoXrjxpia, in Grecian Antiquity,
a legal procedure allowed by the Athenians against a com¬
munity harbouring or protecting persons guilty of murder.
Certain officers were empowered to seize three men in the
city or house concealing the malefactor till he should be
surrendered, or satisfaction be made in some way or other
for the murder.
ANDROMACHE, the wife of Hector, the mother of
Astyanax, and daughter of Eetion king of Thebes in Ci¬
licia. She is one of the noblest female characters in the
Iliad. After the death of Hector and the destruction of
Troy she became the property of Pyrrhus, and afterwards
married Helenus the son of Priam, with whom she reigned
over part of Epirus.
ANDROMEDA, in Astronomy, a northern constellation
behind Pegasus, Cassiopeia, and Perseus. It is supposed
to represent a female, and has been named in memory of
Andromeda, daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, and wife
of Perseus, by whom she had been delivered from a sea-
monster, to which she had been exposed to be devoured for
her mother’s pride in boasting that the beauty of Andromeda
surpassed that of the Nereids—(Ovid. Met. v.) Minerva
translated her into the heavens.
Linnaeus gave the name of Andromeda to a genus of
northern Heaths.
i When the automaton chess-player was last exhibxted in Britain, in the present century, it was obvious to the writer of this note,
that a man was concealed m the apparatus The ostentatious display of all the wheels and levers was never made simultaneously, but
one door of the compartments containing them was shut before another was opened; and thus a sufficient space was always allowed for
he concealment of a small person ; who after the apparatus was finally closed, could assume a more convenient position in the figure of
the Turk, see through its glass eyes and ffirect its arms to make the different moves. The writer knows that a diminutive person
always accompanied the exhibitor, who was tn secret always during the performance, was an excellent chess-player and when the exhi¬
bition was over, appeared from his perspiration and exhaustion as if he had been breathing a confined atmosphere —Ed
»
AND
\ndroni- ANDRONICUS I. CoMNENus, emperor of the East
cu8. vvas the son of Isaac, and grandson of Alexius Comnenus’.
Naturally active, martial, eloquent, and licentious, both his*
virtues and vices soon recommended him to the favour of his
cousin Manuel, the reigning emperor ; and he was appointed
to an important command in Cilicia. Afterwards engaging
in a treasonable correspondence with the emperor of Ger¬
many and the king of Hungary, he was arrested and thrown
into prison. After a confinement of about twelve years, and
repeated attempts at escape, he at last effected his purpose,
and fled for refuge to the court of the great duke of Russia.
The cunning of Andronicus soon found means to regain the
favour of the emperor ; for, having exerted all his influence,
he succeeded in persuading the Russian prince to engage to
join his troops with those of Manuel, in the invasion of Hun¬
gary. After having obtained a free pardon from the em¬
peror, he again fell under his displeasure by refusing to take
an oath of allegiance to the prince of Hungary, his intended
son-in-law, presumptive heir to the crown, and was dismissed
to his former command in Cilicia. Here his insinuating
address captivated the heart of Philippa, daughter of the
Latin piince of Antioch, and sister to the empress Maria;
and in her company he spent his time in all the amusements
that country could afford, till the emperor’s resentment put
a stop to their correspondence. He now collected a band
of adventurers, and undertook a pilgrimage to the Holy
Land, where he so far succeeded in gaining the favour of
the king and clergy, as to be invested with the lordship of
Berytus, on the coast of Phoenicia. In this neighbourhood
lived Theodora, the beautiful widow of Baldwin, kin0- of
Jerusalem. The personal accomplishments and address of
Andronicus captivated her heart, and she became the next
victim of his artful seduction, and lived publicly as his con¬
cubine. Still pursued by the emperor with unabating re¬
sentment, he was forced to take refuge in Damascus, and
elsewhere, till at length he settled in Asia Minor. While
residing there he made frequent incursions into the province
of Trebizond, and seldom returned without success. At
length Theodora was made captive by the governor of Tre¬
bizond, along with her two children, and sent to Constan¬
tinople. Andronicus implored and obtained pardon, but was
banished to Ginoe, a town on the Euxine coast.
In the year 1180 Manuel died, and was succeeded by his
son Alexius II., a youth about twelve or fourteen years of
age, without wisdom or experience. The ambition of An¬
dronicus was now again called into action. A civil war
occasioned by the misconduct of the empress in Constanti¬
nople, directed the public mind towards Andronicus, as the
only person whose rank and accomplishments could restore
the public tranquillity. Incited by the patriarchs and patri¬
cians, he marched towards Constantinople, which he entered
took possession of the palace, assumed the office of protector,'
and consigned the empress, her minister, and many persons
of distinction, to death. By the voice of his adherents, he
was soon after proclaimed emperor and colleague of Alexius.
1 his conjunction of the royal power was soon dissolved bv
the murder of the unfortunate Alexius. The dead body
^nt0. ^le Presence of Andronicus, striking it
wi i is oot, he said, “ I hy father was a knave, thy mother
a iai og and thyself a fool.” Having arrived at the dignity
o so e emperor, a.d. 1183, he continued to sway the sceptre
W a f lxt"re of justice and bounty towards his subjects at
ge; but those whom he feared or hated were treated with
. ni,?.* crue) tyranny. The noble families that were either
W ^,eXl ed by him were al] al,ied to the Comneni.
w- l ^ in£aoed in revolt; and the public calamity
invasion of the Sicilians, in which they
" Sacbed Thessalonica. A rival without merit, and
1 1 t without arms, at last overturned his throne. A
and
139
Andros.
WWlurbefo firSt f f™8 in thG femaIe Hne’ named Androni-
to his crueltv ’fW] t” f,'ng ?d 0l!t by Andronicus as a victim cus
efuge Several oVhL ^ Sophk’ and there took "
bv the n ,w hlS frlends- W was instantly raised
by the populace from a sanctuary to a throne. On the ar
rival of Andromcus, who was at ftns time ab^nt from Con
stantinople, he found himself deserted by all, and was seized
n ragged in chains before the new emperor. All his
eloquence was of no avail. Isaac delivered him into the
hands of those whom he had injured, and for the space of
thiee days he had to endure all the insults and torments that
could be inflicted by a populace exasperated by his crimes.
At last two Italians, plunging their swords into his body put
a period to his life. His death, in the 73d year of hil’Ze
terminated the dynasty of the Comneni, a.d. 1185. 8
Andronicus II., Palaologus, emperor of Constantinople
was assisted in 1303 by a body of adventurers from the west
°, Europe, against the Ottomans, who were defeated; but
the Greek Emperor found his allies not less destructive than
his Asiatic enemies. By using bribes, threats, and force, he
got rid of his troublesome friends. He was not, however
permitted to hve m peace. His grandson Andronicus re¬
belled in 1320; and after a succession of contests, the elder
competitor was forced to abdicate in 1328. During those
disgraceful struggles, the common enemy, the Ottomans
completed the conquest of Bithynia, and advanced within
till 1341 ConstantinoPle' Tlle younger Andronicus lived
-^NMON/ctTs of Cyrrha, a Greek astronomer, about B.c.
100, built at Athens an octagon tower, with figures carved
on each side, representing the eight principal winds. A
brazen Triton at the summit, with a rod in his hand, turned
round by the wind, pointed to the quarter from whence it
blew. From this model is derived the custom of placing
weathercocks on steeples. A considerable portion of this
tower still exists, and, instead of “ tower of the winds,” it
should be called horologium, the name by which it is desig¬
nated by Varro. °
Andronicus of Rhodes, a peripatetic philosopher, to whom
has been attributed the arrangement of the works of Aris-
totle, after the manuscripts had been brought to Rome by
bulla. 1 yranmon the grammarian placed them in his hands,
and certain commentaries on the works of Aristotle have
been ascribed to him. Andronicus lived about b.c. 60.
ANDROPHAGI, in Ancient Geography, the name of
a nation whose country, according to Herodotus, was ad¬
jacent to Scythia. Their name, compounded of two Greek
words, signifies man-eaters. See Anthropophagi.
ANDROS, now Andro, one of the ancient Cyclades,
lying between Tenos and Eubcea, one mile distant from the
former, and ten from the latter. It had formerly a city of
great note, bearing the same name, and situated very ad¬
vantageously on the brow of a hill which commanded the
whole coast. In this city, according to Strabo and Pliny,
stood a famous temple dedicated to Bacchus. Near this
temple Mutianus, as quoted by Pliny, tells us there was a
spring called the gift of Jupiter, the water of which had the
taste of wine in the month of January, during the feast of
acchus, which lasted seven days. The Andrians were
the first of all the islanders who joined the Persians when
Xerxes invaded Greece; and therefore Themistocles, after
the victory at Salamis, resolved to attack the city of Andros,
and oblige the inhabitants to pay large contributions for
the maintenance of his fleet. Having landed his men on
the island, he sent heralds to the magistrates, acquainting
them that the Athenians were coming against them with
two powerful divinities, Persuasion and Force, and they
must therefore part with their money by fair means or foul.
The Andrians replied that they likewise had two mighty
140 A N E
Andry- deities, who were very fond of their island, viz., Poverty and
chow Impossibility, and therefore could give no money. The-
II mistocles, not satisfied with this answer, laid siege to the
Anemone. town^ ^ut was unable to take it. It afterwards, however,
became subject to the Athenians ; and, as we are informed
by Plutarch, Pericles, a few years after, sent thither a colony
of 250 Athenians. It was soon retaken by the Persians;
and, on the overthrow of their empire by Alexander the
Great, submitted to him, along with the other islands. On
his death it sided with Antigonus, who was driven out by
Ptolemy. The successors of the last-mentioned prince held
it till the time of the Romans, when Attalus, king of Per-
gamus, besieged Andros at the head of a Roman army, and,
having taken it, was by them put in possession of the whole
island. Upon the death of Attalus the republic claimed
this island, as well as his other dominions, in virtue of his
last will.
Andro contains a town of the same name with 5000 in¬
habitants, and a great many villages. It is the most fruit¬
ful island in the Archipelago, and yields a great quantity of
silk. The population has been estimated at about 15,000.
When visited by Tournefort, Andro contained seven mon¬
asteries, a great number of churches, and a cathedral for the
bishops of the Roman Catholic persuasion ; but most of the
inhabitants were of the Greek communion. It now forms
part of the kingdom of Greece. It is about 21 miles long
and 8 broad. Long. 24. 50. E. Lat. 37. 50. N.
ANDRYCHOW, a city in the circle of Myslenicze, in
the Austrian province of Galizia, on the river Wieprzowka,
with a castle, and 3000 inhabitants. It has several manu¬
factories of fine damask and other table-linen.
ANDUJAR, a city of Spain, in the province of Jaen, in
Andalucia. It is situated near the mouth of the Jandula,
on the south side of the Sierra Morena, which defends it
from the cold winds of the north. There is an old bridge
over the Guadalquiver at this place. The surrounding coun¬
try is well watered, and yields abundant harvests of wheat,
barley, oil, and wine; and numerous hives of bees furnish
abundant supplies of honey and wax. From a whitish clay
found here, they manufacture a kind of jars called alcar-
rasas, which are highly esteemed for their property of keep¬
ing water cool in the hottest summer weather. It contains
a castle, five churches, several monasteries, a theatre, and
10,000 inhabitants. Long. 4. 1. W. Lat. 38. 1. 32. N.
ANDUZE, a town of France, in the department of the
Gard, seated on the river Gardon. It carries on a consi¬
derable trade in serges and woollen cloth, hats, silk, and
leather. Long. 3. 42. E. Lat. 43. 39. N. Pop. 4412.
ANECDOTES (dve/<SoTa), a term used by some authors
for the titles of Secret Histories ; but it more properly de¬
notes a relation of detached and interesting particulars. The
Greek word signifies things not yet published, compounded
of a privative and eKSiSw/u. Procopius gives this title to a
book which he published against Justinian and his wife
Theodora. Anecdotes is also an appellation given to such
works of the ancients as have not yet been published; in
which sense Muratori gives the name Anecdota Grceca to
several writings of the Greek fathers, found in the libraries,
and first published by him. Martene and Durand have given
a Thesaurus novus Anecdotorum, in 5 vols. folio.
ANEL, Dominique, an eminent French surgeon, born
at Toulouse in 1679. He is celebrated for his successful
treatment of aneurism and fistula lachrymalis ; and was the
inventor of the probe and syringe still known by his name.
He appears to have died about the year 1722. His works
have been published.
ANEMONE (dvqiiwvij), a genus of plants belonging to
the natural order of Ranunculaceae. The name was coven
from the supposition that these plants opened to the blow-
A N G
ing of the wind (dve/ios). See Botany, and Horticul- Anemo-
TURE. meter
ANEMOMETER, and Anemoscope, machines for mea- il
suring the force, and indicating the course, of the wind. v ^nSe1'
See Physical Geography.
ANEMUR, or An amour, the most southern point of
Asia Minor, on the south coast of Caramania. The castle
of Anemur stands six miles east of the cape, on the edge of
the sea, and extends about 800 feet by 300. Its citadel is
placed on a small rocky eminence, and is in a ruinous state.
Long. 32. 50. E. Lat. 36. 1. N.
ANEROID BAROMETER. See Barometer.
ANET, a handsome town of France, nine miles north¬
east of Dreux. It has the ruins of a castle, built for Diana
of Poictiers by Henri II., and destroyed in the revolution of
1792. Pop. 1421. Near it is the plain of Ivry, where
Henri IV. defeated the armies of the League under May-
enne, in 1590.
ANEURISM, a term in surgery for a dilated artery.
ANGAR, Angan, or Hindsham, a barren and uninha¬
bited island on the Arabian shore of the Persian Gulf, on
the south side of the island of Kishma, about 12 miles in
circuit. It must have been formerly inhabited, as it con¬
tains the ruins of a considerable town, and many reservoirs
of water. It has also two wells, and a stream of good water,
which unfortunately become dry in the hot weather. It is
covered with pits of salt and metallic ores, and a soft rocky
substance resembling lava. The hills, which are overspread
with shells of oysters and other fish, abound in wild goats,
rabbits, and partridges.
ANGARA, Upper and Lower, two rivers of Asiatic
Russia, in the government of Irkutsk. The former rises in
the mountains of Nertchinsk, and after a westerly course
of about 300 miles, falls into Lake Baikal. The latter
has its rise in Lake Baikal, near its southern extremity, and
passing the town of Irkutsk, falls into the Jenisei after a
course of above 1100 miles, forming several waterfalls in
its progress.
ANGARI, or Angarii, in Antiquity, public couriers
appointed for the carrying of messages. The ancient Per¬
sians had their ayyapelov, which was a set of couriers on
horseback, posted at certain stages or distances, always in
readiness to receive the royal dispatches from one, and for¬
ward them to another, with wonderful celerity, answering to
what the moderns call posts (positi), as being posted at cer¬
tain places or stages. The angari were also called by the
Persians astandce. This system of couriers was adopted by
the Roman emperors, and the supplying of the horses and
their maintenance was a burden from which the emperor
alone could grant exemption.
ANGARIA. See Angari.
ANGAZYA, one of the Comoro Islands, which lie be¬
tween the north end of Madagascar and the coast of Zan-
guebar in Africa, from Lat. 11. to 13. S. It is inhabited by
Moors, who trade w ith several parts of the continent, in cattle,
fruits, and various commodities of the island, which they ex¬
change for calicoes and other cotton cloths.
ANGEIOl OMY, in Surgery, implies the opening of a
vein or artery, as in bleeding; and consequently includes
both arteriotomy and phlebotomy.
AN GEL, a spiritual being, the first in rank and dignity
among created intelligences. The word angel in Greek,
(ayyeXos), signifies a messenger: the Hebrew signi¬
fies the same thing. The angels are called in Daniel, chap,
iv. ver. 13, &c., D’tJU, or watchers, from their vigilance:
for the same reason, in the remains we have of the prophecy
atti ibuted to Enoch, they are named Egregori ; which word
imports the same in Greek.
1 he term Angel therefore, in the nrouer signification of
Angel
A N G
the word, does not import the nature of any being, but only
II an office ; in which sense angels are called the ministers of
snesfus* an(l ministering spirits. That there are such beings,
51 _fj invisible and imperceptible to our senses, endued with un-
^ derstanding and power superior to those of human nature,
created by God, and subject to him,—ministering to his
divine providence in the government of the world,—are
truths fully attested by Scripture.
The Romans thought the tutelar genii of those who at¬
tained the empire to be of an eminent order, on which ac¬
count they had great honours shown them. Nations and
cities also had their several genii. The ancient Persians so
firmly believed in the ministry of angels, and their superin¬
tendence over human affairs, that they gave their names to
their months, and the days of their months, and assigned
them distinct offices and provinces : and it is from them the
Jews confess to have received the names of the months and
angels, which they brought with them when they returned
from the Babylonish captivity; after which, we find they
also assigned charges to the angels, and in particular the
patronage of empires and nations ; Michael being the prince
of the Jews, as Raphael is supposed to have been that of the
Persians.
Although the angels were originally created perfect, yet
some of them sinned and kept not their first estate, but left
their habitation, and so, from the most blessed and glorious,
became the most vile and miserable of all God’s creatures.
They were expelled the regions of light, and cast down to
hell, to be reserved in everlasting chains under darkness
until the day of judgment.
Angel, a gold coin first used in France, and introduced
into England in the reign of Edward IY. It varied in value
from that period till the time of Charles I., from 6s. 8d. to
10s. It was impressed with St Michael and the dragon;
whence the name.
ANGELICA, a genus of plants of the natural order of
the Umbelliferae. See Horticulture.
ANGELICI, in Ecclesiastical History, an ancient sect
of heretics, supposed to have received this appellation from
their excessive veneration of angels; or from their main¬
taining that the world was created by angels.
ANGELICS, the name of an order of knights, instituted
in 1191, by Angelus Flavius Comnenus, emperor of Constan¬
tinople : also, of a congregation of nuns, founded at Milan
in 1534, by Lousia Torelli countess of Guastalla, who ob¬
serve the rule of St Augustine.
ANGELO, Michael. See Michael Angelo Buona-
ROTTI.
Angelo, St, the name of several towns and castles in
Italy, and particularly the castle of St Angelo at Rome.
ANGELUS SILESIUS, a German philosophical poet,
was born in 1624 at Glatz, and died at Breslau in 1677. His
real name was Johann Scheffler, but he is generally known
under the assumed name which marks the country of his
birth. Brought up a Protestant, and at first physician to the
Duke of Wurtemburg, he afterwards embraced the Roman
Catholic faith and took orders as a priest.
His peculiar religious faith, founded on his early study of
the works of Tauler and Bohme, as expressed in his hymns
(Cherubinisches Wanderbucli), is a mystical pantheism
founded on sentiment. The essence of God he held to be
love: God, he said, can love nothing inferior to himself:
but he cannot be an object of love to himself without going
out, so to speak, of himself, without manifesting his infinity
in a finite form; in other words, by becoming man. God
and man are therefore essentially one. The following are
some specimens of his sayings :—“ Nothing exists but thou
(God) and I; and when we both exist not, God is no more
God, and the heavens fall in.” “ God was not slain for the
A N G 141
first time on the cross, for behold he lies there in Abel al- Anger
ready slain. “ I am nothing without God, and God were no- II
t nng without me. The following lines contain sentiments Anger¬
less startling and paradoxical. munde.
The wise man never lacks an aim, an end he can fulfil,
He ever has a guiding star, to wit, God’s holy will
* * * J
The rose needs not a Why—it blooms because it can,
Considers not itself, and asks no praise from man.
A selection of his hymns, which are very popular in Ger¬
many, was published in 1820, by Varnhagen Von Ense.
ANGER, a painful feeling of the mind, excited by the
receipt of an injury or affront, and accompanied with a dispo¬
sition to retaliate on the author of the injury. Bishop Butler
observes that anger is far from being a selfish passion, since
it is produced by injuries offered to others as well as to our¬
selves, and was designed by the Author of nature not only
to excite us to act vigorously in defending ourselves from
evil, but to interest us in the defence or rescue of the in¬
jured and helpless, and to raise us above the fear of the
proud and mighty oppressor.
The same author makes an important distinction, as
Dr Reid observes (Active Powers, Essay 3), “between
sudden anger or resentment, which is a blind impulse
arising from our constitution, and that which is deliberate.
The first may be raised by hurt of any kind; but the last
can only be raised by injury, real or conceived. Both
these kinds of anger or resentment are raised whether
the hurt or injury be done to ourselves or to those we are
interested in.”
Physicians and naturalists have recorded instances of
extraordinary cases produced by anger. Borrichius cured
a woman of an inveterate tertian ague, which had baffled
the art of physic, by putting the patient into a furious fit of
passion. Valeriola made use of the same means with suc¬
cess in a quartan ague. The same passion has been equally
salutary to paralytic, gouty, and even dumb persons; to
which last it has sometimes given the use of speech. Et-
miiller gives instances of very singular cures wrought by
anger: among others, he mentions a person laid up by the
gout, who being provoked by his physician, flew upon him,
and was cured. It has often, on the other hand, been pro¬
ductive of fatal effects. We meet with several instances of
princes to whom it has proved mortal, e.g. Valentinian the
First, Wenceslaus, Matthias Corvinus king of Hungary,
and others. There are many instances where it has pro¬
duced epilepsy, jaundice, cholera, diarrhoea, &c.
ANGERBURG, a circle in the government of Gumbin-
nen, and province of East Prussia, formerly a part of Poland.
It extends over 374 square miles, or 239,360 acres. It is
watered by the Angerap, which rises in several lakes, with
which the district abounds. Population in 1849, 31,310,
engaged in raising corn and flax, and in fresh-water fishing.
The females are all employed in spinning linen yarn. Its
capital bears the same name, and contained 240 houses and
3451 inhabitants.
ANGERMANNLAND, an old province of Sweden,
now forming a part of the province of West Nordland.
ANGERMUNDE, a circle in the government of Pots¬
dam, and province of Brandenburg, in Prussia. It extends
over 503 square miles, or 321,920 acres; comprehends six
cities, two market-towns, 64 villages; and in 1849 contained
5006 dwellings, and 55,640 inhabitants. The river Oder
washes its eastern boundary, and receives the several smaller
streams by which it is watered. The borders of the rivers
present some excellent meadow-land, on which many cattle
are pastured. It produces good corn, tobacco, flax, and
abundance of garden fruit. There is much wood land, and
several lakes which yield fish in great plenty. The capital,
142 A N G
Angerona of the same name, has three churches; and in 1849 con-
11 . tained 373 houses, and 4501 inhabitants, whose chief occu-
Angitia. patjon js maJ<xng snuff and tobacco.
ANGERONA, or Angeronia, in Mythology, the name
of a mysterious deity whom the Romans prayed to for the
cure of the quinsy, in Latin angina. Pliny calls her the
goddess of silence and calmness of mind, who banishes all
uneasiness and melancholy. She is represented with her
mouth covered, to denote silent patience. Her statue was
erected in the temple of the goddess Volupia, to show that
a patient enduring of affliction leads to pleasure.
ANGERS, the ancient Juliomagus, a fortified city of
France, capital of the arrondissement of the same name, and
of the department of Maine and Loire. It is situated on
the Mayenne, five miles from its junction with the Loire,
and 48 miles E.N.E. of Nantes. It is the seat of a bishop,
and of a royal court of justice. Among its buildings may
be noticed a fine old cathedral in which Margaret of Anjou
was buried, an ancient castle once the residence of the
Dukes of Anjou, and the court-house. It has also three
parish churches, an academy, a school of arts and trades, a
library with 35,000 volumes, a picture gallery, a botanic
garden, a museum of natural history, a theatre, &c. The
upper and lower town are separated by the River Mayenne.
Though lately much improved, it is an ill-built city, and has
an air of meanness. It has sailcloth and cotton factories;
sugar and wax refineries; tanneries; and a considerable
trade in wine, corn, and slates. In its neighbourhood are
extensive slate quarries, which give employment to about
3000 workmen. Pop. in 1846, 40,628. Lat. 47. 28. N.
Long. 0. 33. W. The arrondissement of the same name is
divided into 9 cantons and 88 communes, and by the census
of 1846 the population amounted to 152,406.
ANGERSTEIN, John Julius, a distinguished patron
of the fine arts, was a native of St Petersburg, but of Ger¬
man extraction, and settled in Londonlabout the year 1749,
where he became one of the most eminent merchants of
that period. On Mr Angerstein’s death in 1822, his cele¬
brated collection of pictures, consisting of about forty of the
most exquisite specimens of the art, was purchased for the
use of the public by the English Government, for the sum
of L.60,000. This collection was exhibited for some time
at the house of the late proprietor in Pall Mall; and became
the nucleus of the magnificent collection in the National
Gallery, where it was exhibited on the opening1 of that in¬
stitution in 1837.
ANGH/BERT, St, secretary and prime minister of
Charlemagne, was the most distinguished poet of his age.
After filling the highest offices under that monarch with abi¬
lity and distinction, and receiving the hand of his daughter
Bertha in marriage, he retired in 790 to the monastery of
Saint Riquier, of which in 794 he was made abbot. He
left this retreat from time to time when the king required
fos services, and in 800 assisted at Rome at his coronation.
He died in 814.
Angilbert was called by Charlemagne the Homer of his
time, but with what justice we cannot say. A poem of his
in 68 elegiac verses, addressed to Pepin king of Italy on his
victory over the Huns, exists in the collection of Duchesne •
another m 30 verses devoted to the praises of St Eloi and
St Riqmer is to be found with the poems of Alcuin of
whom Angilbert was a pupil and correspondent.
ANGINA PECTORIS, among Physicians, is used to
signify an anomalous or spasmodic affection of the chest
commonly connected with a diseased state of the heart or
great bloodvessels.
. ANGITIA, or Anguitia (from Anguis) an Italian divi¬
nity, was believed to have once been a mortal woman and
to have taught the people the use of antidotes for the poison
A N G
of serpents. After death she received divine honours from Anghier
the Marsians and Marrubians about the shores of lake Fuci- |] *
nus. She has also been identified with Medea.—Virg. Angle.
AEneid. vii. 759; Serv. ad AEn. vii. 750; Sil. Ital. viii. 50o!
ANGHIERA, or Angera, a beautiful town of Austrian
Lombardy, 38 miles north-west of Milan. It stands on a
height on the eastern side of the Lago Maggiore.
ANGLE. This term is, owing to the poverty of lan¬
guage, employed to signify very different things. In
Plane Geometry, it means the opening or separation of
two straight lines which meet in a point; but in Solid
Geometry, it variously denotes the deviation of a straight
line from a plane, the divergence of one plane from ano¬
ther at their line of junction, or even a cluster of plane
angles terminating in a common summit. This diversified
application of the same word is not likely, however, among
mathematicians, to occasion any misconception. But it
would be more perspicuous, and certainly more philo¬
sophical, to imitate the practice of naturalists in framing
a set of cognate words to express the several transitions
of meaning.
The word angle was drawn from common discourse into
the vocabulary of science. Its primitive sense, in all the
languages in which it can be traced, is merely a nook or cor¬
ner ; but it has acquired a more precise and extensive appli¬
cation in its transfer to geometry. In its simplest form, it
now denotes generally the divergence or difference of direc¬
tion between two concurring straight lines. Yet a learner
still experiences some difficulty in seizing the correct idea
of its nature, which has always baffled the attempts of
authors to reduce to the terms of a strict definition.
Apollonius, at once the most elegant and inventive of the
Greek geometers, was satisfied with representing an angle
as a collection of space about a point,—a description which
is not only extremely loose, but which intimates quite a
different conception. Euclid, the great compiler of the
Elements, has defined an angle to be the xX/tf/;, or mutual
inclination of two straight lines that meet. But, in strict
language, this definition should apply only to the acute
angle, in which one of the sides leans towards the other,
and deflects from the perpendicular. Without an exten¬
sion of the meaning of the term inclination, it will not in¬
clude the obtuse angle, and far less comprehend angles
in general; which, since they are capable of repeated
additions, must evidently, as much as lines themselves,
be susceptible of all degrees of magnitude.
It is indeed impossible, by any combination of words, to
express completely and accurately the primary notions
which form the ground of geometrical science. The more
profitable task is to trace the process by which the mind,
refining on external observation, comes to acquire such
abstract ideas. We seem to get the idea of length, or of
linear extension, by viewing progressive motion; and the
enlarged conception of angles, or of angular magnitude, is
easily attained, from the contemplation of revolving motion.
In opening, for instance, the legs of a pair of compasses,
we perceive that their difference in direction gradually
increases, keeping pace with the turning at the joint.
I he quantity of this opening properly constitutes the mea¬
sure of an angle; and an entire revolution, which brings
the moving side of the angle back to its first position, fur¬
nishes a standard of reference. The bisected revolution
marks the divergence of a directly opposite position, or
that of two segments of a straight line at their point of
separation; and the half of this, again, or the divergence
o a me proceeding from the same point, and turned equal-
y aside from both segments, is the right angle, which,
therefore, being constant, serves to measure all the rest.
Suppose an inflexible straight line AB to turn from right
angle.
Anfjie. to left, about the point or vertex A. It first comes to the
position AC, then to AD, next to AE, and now returning
it reaches AF, and lastly it
gains its original site AB. The
angles thus formed at the
point A arise from the combi¬
nation of successive openings.
The angle BAD is composed
of BAG and CAD ; the angle
BAE, or that of direct oppo¬
sition, is compounded of BAC,
CAD, and DAE; and the en¬
tire circuit is made of the ac¬
cumulated angle BAC, CAD, DAE, EAF, and FAB. This
circuit, being quartered by the straight lines BE and DF, is
divided at the vertex A into four right angles. By compa¬
rison, therefore, the angle BAC is acute, and CAE obtuse.
But the side AB can attain the direction AC either by
moving onwards, or by turning backwards through the
points F, E, and D. The angle compounded of the open¬
ings BAF, FAE, EAD, and DAC, may hence be termed
appropriately the reverse of BAC. The defect of an angle
from a right angle is called its complement, the defect from
two right angles its supplement, and the defect from four
right angles, or the entire circuit, might be conveniently
named its cxplement. Thus, CAD is the complement of
the angle BAG, CAE is its supplement, and the reverse
angle BAC its explement.
S- equa ’ Sln,ce theyare both of them halves
of the same reverse angle AOC. Yet, in demonstrating
the ohZp C.°rf0llar* E“clid is constrained todividf
h»?v2 nf g * P°rtl0ns which are to be the
alves of corresponding angles at the centre. For the
same reason he finds it necessary to give a distinct de-
monstration of the celebrated proposition, that “the angle
contained in a semicircle is a right angle.” But this nro
perty ought likewise to be considered fs a mere corollary;
for if the ladii OA and OC were supposed to extend m
one straight line, and thus form the diameter of the circle,
their angle AOC would become equal to two right andes
and consequently ABC, its half, would be one right aSgle’
oee Leslie s Geometry. (j l >
Angle of Incidence, in Optics, the angle which a rav of
light makes with a perpendicular to that point of the sur¬
face of any medium on which it falls; though it is some¬
times understood of the angle which it makes with the
surface itself.
Angle of Refraction now generally means the angle
which a ray of light, refracted by any medium, makes with
a perpendicular to that point on the surface of which it
was incident; but has sometimes been understood of the
angle which it makes with the surface of the refracting’
medium itself.
Angle, Trisection of. The attempts of the Greek ma¬
thematicians to Double a Cube, and to Trisect an Angle,
were their first steps beyond the limits of elementary
geometry. They soon perceived that such problems can
If we consider attentively the formation of angles about A„c<y SUon perceived tnat sued problems can-
a point, we shall be convinced that two concurring straight not be solved by any combination of mere straight lines or
indpfinhp 0t T, T m®rely a slnSle anSle’ but Evolve an circles. To this conclusion they were led directly by the
nrphpnd *1M1 ude ln short> that theT com- application of geometrical analysis, a beautiful instrument
prehend all the revolutions and parts of a revolution by of discovery which Plato had recently invenled or im-
V.? thl 0ne ue would successively attain the direction proved. Their investigations pointed at some curves of a
t e other. Hence AB will, after describing repeated higher order than the circle, and opened to them a wide
revolutions, always return into the same position AC. and interesting field of research. P
Ihus, if A represent the measure of an angle, and C that The analysis of the trisection of an angle conducted
angtewiuSdeH^^^^^ 2 tW° in the construction of
r A-f-siy,, A-f-dL, A + 4C, the a complex curve which was first nronosod hv
^.nuedfor ever. Of those successive angles, A,A+^ Niconredes. As /e subject is veTy'urious.lTthro^
oLf f A + &c. the sines, tangents, and great light on the theory of angular magnitude we shall
8~e S?veralIy the same > and so are the versed here not only give both the ancient methods of investiga-
mes, the cosines, cotangents and cosecants. This ex- tion, but subjoin a third which is due to the saglc tv of
tension of the doctrine of angles is of the greatest impor- Newton. sagacity ot
tfdnnf^r^nnl!181?- hr[fches, of geometry in the applica- 1. Let it be required to trisect the angle BAC or the
of trigonometrical formulae, and in algebraical analysis, arc BC. Suppose the thing already donef and the angle
Euclid, in the course of his reasoning, has frequent oc- BAD to be the third part of the given angle From Bie
fiwTA C7!lme ang!f together; and yet he never ven- point C draw CE parallel to Aof meetinf the extended
beyond the consideration of those angles which are diameter in E, and cutting the circumference of the cir-
ess than two right angles. Had he composed his Die- g cumrerence ot tne cir-
me?its after the science of trigonometry came to be culti¬
vated, he could not have failed to take more enlarged
views of angular magnitude. In consequence of his nar¬
row conception of the constitution of angles, the Greek
geometer is not a little cramped sometimes, and obliged
to adopt a circuitous mode of demonstration. For instance,
in the 20th prop, of his third book, that “ the angles at
the circumference are the halves of those at the centre
standing on the same arc,”
he quite overlooks the case
of obtuse angles at the cir¬
cumference. But, in the
annexed figure, the angle
ABC is clearly the half of
the reverse angle AOC at
the centre, which is subtend¬
ed by the large arc AEG.
It hence follows that the ob¬
tuse angles ABC and ADC
contained in the same seg-
cle in the point F; join FD and FA. It is obvious that
the angle BAD is the half of DAC, the remaining part of
the whole angle, and therefore equal to the angle DFC
at the circumference. But AD and EC being parallel,
the angle BAD is equal to AEF, which is hence equal to
DFC ; and consequently FD is parallel to EB. Wherefore
the arc BD is equal to GF, and the angle BAD equal to
GAF. The angle AEF is thus equal to EAF, and hence
the side EF is equal to AF, the radius of the circle.
ANGLE.
To solve the problem, therefore, it would be requisite
to inflect from C a straight line CFE, such, that the por¬
tion FE, intercepted between the circumference and the
diameter, or its extension, should be equal to the radius of
the circle. The radius AD, drawn parallel to this inflect¬
ed line CE, would cut off an angle BAD, which is the
third part of the given angle BAG.
But elementary geometry will not in general furnish
the means of inflecting CE, according to the required
conditions. This must be done either tentatively, that
is, by repeated trials, or by the application of a curve, so
constituted that every straight line drawn from the poh
C to the directrix BG shall have the portion EF, inter¬
cepted by the curve, equal to AB. This curve is, from
its general shape or resemblance to a conch or shell, named
the conchoid: it consists of two branches, one above the di¬
rectrix called the interior conchoid, and the other below it
called the exterior conchoid. The conchoid being describ¬
ed, will, by its intersection with the circumference of the
circle, give the point F, and consequently the position of the
trisecting line AD'. But such a complex curve must cut the
circumference in more points than one, and consequently
the problem of angular trisection, viewed in its genera¬
lity, admits of several answers. In fact, there are always
three distinct positions of the inflected line CE, which
will fulfil the conditions of the problem.
It is curious to examine these different positions of the
inflected line. Draw AD' parallel to the second position
CE', and join D'F, AD', and AF'. Because AF' is equal
to E'F', the angle E'AF' is equal to AE'F'; and, conse¬
quently, the exterior angle AF'C is the double of either
of these. But CAF' being an isosceles triangle, AF'C is
equal to ACF', which again is equal to the alternate angle
CAD'; wherefore CAD' is the double of the angle AE'F';
and being likewise the double of CF'D' at the circumfer¬
ence, the angles CF'D' and AE'F' are equal, and, conse¬
quently, F'D' and E'A parallel. Now the angle CAD'
being double of E'AF' or D'AG, and the angle CAD
double of DAB, the arc DCD' is double of the arcs
D'G and DB, which serve to complete the semicir-
cumference ; wherefore this arc DCD' is two third parts
of the semicircumference, or one third of the whole cir¬
cumference.
position AD" of the trisecting line, draw
CF parallel to it, and join AF" and D"F". The isosceles
triangles D"AF" and AF"E" have equal vertical angles;
and, consequently, the angles at their base are likewise
equal; wherefore AP'D" is equal to the alternate angle
F AE , and the chord D"F" parallel to the diameter BG.
But the reverse angle CAD" standing on the arc CD'D"
is double of the angle CF"D" at the circumference, and
therefore double of BE"F" or of BAD"; and the angle
CAD being by the first construction likewise double of
BAD, the reverse angle CAD", together with CAD, must
be double of BAD" and BAD, or the arc CD'GD" is dou¬
ble of DBD", which completes the circumference. Hence
the arc DD'D" is two thirds of the circumference.
It thus appears that the construction of the problem
assumes three different aspects, and that the trisecting An le
lines, to which a close analogy conducts us, mutually di-'^--^v>
vide the whole circuit into equal portions. These results
are perfectly conformable with the theory of angular
magnitude. For if A denote the arc BC, and C the whole
circumference, this arc will be generally expressed by A,
A + C, A + 2C, &c.; consequently, the third part will be
expressed by ^A, ^A + ^C, ^A + fC, &c., which evidently
correspond to BD, BD' and BD". But any farther exten¬
sion of this progression only brings the trisecting line
back into its former positions.
To solve completely, therefore, the problem of the tri¬
section of an angle ; from the pole C, on either side of the
directrix BG, with a measure equal to the radius of the
circle, describe the exterior and the interior or nodated
conchoid; draw CF, CP, and CF" to the three points of
intersection with the circumference, and the radii AD,
AD', and AD" parallel to these will mark the triple sec¬
tion of the angle BAG.
It may be perceived that the exterior branch of the
conchoid cuts the under semicircle in another point be¬
sides F. This occurs in the extension of the radius CA,
or where the diameter passing through C, the extremity
of the original arc, meets the opposite circumference ; the
portion of the inflected line, intercepted below BG by the
conchoid, being evidently equal to the radius. The fourth
intersection, however, affords no real solution, but only
exhibits the amount of repeated division, as completing
the arc itself.
2. But another analysis leads to a similar result. Let the
angle BAD, as before, be the third part of BAG ; draw BC
perpendicular to AB, and CE parallel to it, meeting AD
produced in E. The right angle DCE would be contain¬
ed in a semicircle having DE for its diameter ; join C with
the centre H, and the triangle CHE being isosceles, the
exterior angle CHA is double of CEH, or of the alternate
angle BAD, and therefore equal to the remaining portion
CAD of the divided angle BAC. Whence the triangle
ACH is isosceles, and the side CA equal to HC, or the
diameter DE must be double of AC.
The construction of the problem is thus reduced to the
drawing from the vertex of the given angle a straight line
ADE, such, that the part DE, intercepted between the per¬
pendiculars BC and CE, shall be equal to the double of
AC. I his can only be done by describing a conchoid
from the pole A to the directrix BC, and with the double
of AC as the measure ; the intersection of the curve with
the perpendicular CE will determine the position of the
trisecting line ADE. The exterior branch of the conchoid
will cut the perpendicular in the point E, and the interior
or nodated branch will meet and cross it at the two points
E' and E". The radiating lines AE, AE', and AE", or its
extension Ae", will indicate the complete trisection of the
angle BAC. These lines will be found, as in the first
construction, to make angles with each other that are equal
to the thirds of an entire circuit. It may be worth while
to examine the several cases.
ANGLE.
145
Angie.
In the second position D'AE' of the trisecting- line, draw
CH' to the middle point. Because the triangle E'EPC is
isosceles, its exterior angle CH'A is double of CE'H', or
of the angle BAD'; but H'CA being also an isosceles tri¬
angle, CH'A is equal to CAH', and consequently double
of BAD. Add CAD, which is double of BAD, and the
compound angle DAE' is double of DAD', which would
complete two right angles; whence DAE' is two thirds
of two right angles, or one third of a whole circuit.
In the third position, AE"D" of the trisecting line, or
rather its extension Ae", draw CH" to bisect E"D". The
triangles CH"D" and ACH" are then isosceles, and conse¬
quently the angle CAD" or CH"A is double of CD"A;
but CAE is likewise double of CEA, and therefore the
combined angle D"AE is double of the angles CD"A and
CEA. Now this angle D"AE, together with the two
angles CD"A and CEA, is evidently equal to the exterior
angle DC"E or a right angle. Whence D"AE is two
thirds of a right angle, or one third of two right angles,
and therefore the adjacent angle DAe" is two thirds of
two right angles, or one third of a whole circuit.
3. The simplest and most elegant solution of the tri¬
section of an arc was indicated by Pappus, and is given in
Castillon’s Commentary on Newton’s Universal Arithmetic.
The problem is there reduced to the combination of the
circle with a certain kind of hyperbola. But the general pro¬
perty of the directrix, which belongs to all the conic sec¬
tions, or the lines of the second order, affords the readiest
mode of investigation. Let the arc BD be the third part
of BDC. Complete the circle, and draw the chords BD,
BC, and CD. The arc CD is evidently double of BD,
and therefore the angle CBD is double of BCD. Bisect
the angle CBD by the straight line BH, let fall the ex¬
tended perpendicular, and draw the parallel DK. The
triangle CHB is evidently isosceles, and HI bisects the
base CB. But the triangle CBD having its vertical
angle at B bisected, the side CB is to BD as the seg¬
ment CH of the base to HD; that is, since the triangles
CHI and DHK are similar, as Cl to KD; wherefore, CB
being the double of Cl, BD is likewise double of DK.
The ratio of the distances BD and DK is thus given,
while the point B is given, and the straight line IH given
in position. Whence, from the theory of lines of the
Second Order, the locus of the point of section D is an hy- Angle.
perbola, of which B is a focus, and IH a directrix, with thev-^v^^
determining ratio of two to one. Let this construction be
made, and the arc CDB
is trisected in D. For
since BD is, from the
property of the curve,
double of DK, it is evi¬
dent that BC is to Cl as
BD to DK ; and the tri¬
angles CIH and KDH
being similar, and Cl to
CH as DK to DH, it
follows that BC is to
CH as BD to DH, or al¬
ternately BC is to BD
as CH to DH. Where¬
fore the vertical angle
CBD is bisected by BH,
or the angle CBD is
double of CBH or of
BCD, and consequently
the arc CD is double of BD, or BD itself is the third part
of the whole arc CDB.
But the opposite branch of the hyperbola, which passes
through C, also comes into play; and the intersection of
these two branches with the circle assigns three different
positions of the point D, separated from each other by
intervals equal to the third of the whole circumference.
Thus, in the second position D', produce the perpendicu¬
lar D'K' to the opposite circumference L; and since BD'
is double of D'K, it must be equal to the chord D'L, and
consequently the arc BDCD' is equal to LD"MD'. Where¬
fore the double of BDCD', together with the interval BL
or CD', is equal to the whole circumference; that is, the
double of DCD', with the double of BD and CD', is equal
to the whole circumference; and since the double of BD
is DC, the triple of the arc DCD' must complete the cir¬
cumference. In the third position D", produce the per¬
pendicular D"K" as before: the double of this, or the chord
MD", is hence equal to D"B, and the arc BLD" equal to
DM: consequently the double of BLD", with the com¬
pound arc BDCM, completes the circumference; but
D"M being parallel to BC, the arc BLD" is equal to
CD'M, and therefore three times the arc BLD", with the
arc BDC, or the triple of BD, will fill up the circum¬
ference, or the arc DBD" is a third part of it.1
The trisection of innumerable arcs described on the
same chord is rendered very conspicuous by combining
the separate branches of two hyperbolas that have the
determining ratio of two to
one, and their foci situate in
the extremities of the given
line. Thus, let the chord BC
be trisected at the points N
and O, and from B and C, as
distinct foci, and in the deter¬
mining ratio of two to one,
describe branches of inde¬
pendent hyperbolas. All the
arcs erected on BC are each
of them divided by those
curves into three equal por¬
tions. These arcs, as they
flatten, approach to the tri¬
sected chord CNOB on the
VOL. HI-
1 For more illustration of this subject, see Leslie’s Geometry of Curve Lines.
X
146 A N G
Angle one hand; and as they become enlarged, they constantly
II tend, on the other, to the complete circumference which
Angling. lhe aSymptotes of the hyperbola, making angles on each
side of the axis equal to two thirds of a right angle, would
themselves trisect.
It may be observed in general, that the section of an
arc or angle admits of as many different answers as the
number of divisions proposed. Thus, the quadrisection
would give four distinct re¬
sults, and a quinsection would
involve no fewer than five se¬
parate products. Nay, the
bisection itself of an arc,
though within the limits of
the most elementary geome¬
try, yet brings out a double
result. Thus, the arc CDB is
bisected by the perpendicular
or diameter DID', which not
only gives BD for the half of
that arc, but also BDCD', or
the same half-arc augmented by a semicircumference.
These conclusions agree with the results derived from
the general theory of equations. The expression for the
sine of a multiple arc is always an equation of corre¬
sponding dimensions, which therefore admits of as many
distinct roots as the index contains units.
The ancient geometers were only acquainted with the
original division of the circumference into two, three, or
five equal portions. The only subdivisions were obtained
from the differences of those arcs or their continued bi¬
section. But the very ingenious Professor Gauss has
discovered a series of more complex regular polygons,
which may be inscribed in a circle by elementary geo¬
metry. The expression 2n -f 1, when a prime number,
will represent the sides of the figure: for the general
equation of a cosine of the section can be decomposed
into quadratics of the simplest kind, which can be con¬
structed by the repeated application of circles and straight
lines. A polygon of 17 sides is the first that occurs after
the pentagon; and then follow the polygons of 257,
65537, &c. (J. L.)
ANGLES, an ancient German nation, originally a branch
of the Suevi; who, after various migrations, settled in that
part of Denmark now called Schleswig. (A district in Hol¬
stein still bears the name of Angeln.) Here they were
known, even in the time of Tacitus, by the name of Angli.
The origin of this name is variously accounted for. Ac¬
cording to Saxo Grammaticus, they were called Angli, from
one Angulus, son of Humblus king of Denmark. Goropius
A N G
derives their name from the Saxon word Angel or Engel, Angles^
signifying a fish-hook; the Angles, like the other Saxon na- ||
tions, being greatly addicted to piracy, and on that account Ogling
being so named by the neighbouring nations; as if, like
hooks, they caught all that was in the sea. To this nation
the British ambassadors are said to have applied when soli¬
citing succours against the Scots and Piets. The Angles,
therefore came over in greater numbers than any other
Saxon nation, and accordingly had the honour of giving the
name of Anglia to England.
ANGLESEA, or Anglesey, an island of North Wales,
forming the county of that name. It is divided from the
main island of Great Britain by the narrow armlet of the
sea called the Straits of Menai. Over this water a magnifi¬
cent suspension bridge was completed in January 1826. Still
more recently, in 1850, a railway has been carried across the
strait through a stupendous tubular bridge, constructed of
iron. See Menai Strait, and Tubular Bridges. The
extent of the county is about 271 square miles, or 173,440
acres. The soil is but moderately fertile; but in average
years it yields more barley and oats than the consumption
requires. The surplus generally finds a market in Liverpool.
A number of horned cattle, sheep, and hogs, are annually
sent over the Menai. The most valuable product of the
island arises from the mines. The chief of these, the
Parys mine, was once the most abundant in copper ore of
any mine in the world; and even in the water lodged be¬
neath the bed of ore, quantities of nearly pure copper are
obtained by exposing it to iron. A mine of lead, but rich
in silver, has been discovered near the same mountain.
Quarries of various kinds of marble, and mines of asbestos,
also are found on the island. Coal is obtained at Maltreath
in considerable quantities. The mines have, however, of
late greatly diminished in productiveness, especially those
of copper. The herring fishery in some years gives em¬
ployment to a portion of the inhabitants.
The island has been celebrated in the most remote periods
as the seat of the druidical pontiff’, and the great nursery of
the instructors in that kind of religion or superstition, of
which but little has been handed down by any other mode
than by tradition, and which is attended with the doubts
and uncertainty naturally arising from that mode of com¬
munication. See the article Druid.
At present the Welsh language, of the northern dialect,
is almost the exclusive language of the peasantry; but in
the towns, especially at Holyhead, English is very gene¬
rally understood. The county is divided into 6 hundreds
and 76 parishes. The number of inhabitants in 1841 was
50,891; and in 1851, 57,327. The county returns one mem¬
ber to parliament, and one is also returned by the boroughs
of Beaumaris, Holyhead, Amlwch, and Llangefni.
ANGLING.
ANGLING, or the art of fishing with rod and line, in¬
cludes those branches of the piscatorial trade which are
usually followed, not so much for profit, as for pleasant re¬
creation. That the practice of “ casting angles into the
brook” had its origin in necessity, the mother of so many
inventions, can hardly be doubted; but it is equally clear
that the refined skill exhibited in this pursuit at the pre¬
sent day has been derived from leisure and the love of
sport, aided by the more delicate gear which modern
ingenuity has invented for the deception of the finny
race.
The comparative merits of angling, and of the kindred
occupations of the fowler and the huntsman, are not likely
to be determined by any portraiture which a lover of
these exciting amusements might draw of their various
excellencies, but must depend on the tone and temper of
mind possessed by different persons, and their greater or
less accordance with individual tastes. This much, how¬
ever, may be safely stated as a general and admitted
truth, that the value of a pursuit increases in proportion
as it becomes attainable by the mass of our fellow-crea¬
tures ; and as angling is a much cheaper and more con¬
venient pleasure than either hunting or shooting, it may,
in so far as regards those advantages, claim a decided pre¬
ference. Be it remembered that Dr Johnson’s descrip¬
tion of a rod with a fly at one end and a fool at the other
i
ANGLING.
Angling, is not admitted among the memorabilia of the lovers of
old Izaak Walton.
The recreation of angling has been followed by many
of the best and wisest of men in modern ages. Sir Henry
Wotton found from experience, that after prolonged study
or worldly occupation, it was “ a rest to his mind, a cheer-
er of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of un¬
quiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of
contentedness; and, besides the immediate excitement
of the sport itself, few occupations yield so much plea¬
sure to the lovers of rural scenery and the admirers of
the picturesque. Phe most beautiful scenes in nature
usually adorn or consist of the banks of lakes and rivers;
and the composition of a perfect landscape, whether in na¬
ture or art, is incomplete without the accessory of either
tranquil or flowing waters. The pursuits of the artist
and the angler are therefore peculiarly compatible, and
each lends an interest to the other.
147
The lofty woods, the forests wide and long,
Adorn’d with leaves and branches fresh and green,
In whose cool bowers the birds with many a song’
Do welcome with their quire the summer’s queen ;
The meadows fair, where Flora’s gifts amono-
Are intermixed with verdant grass between ;
The silver scaled fish that softly swim
Within the sweet brook’s crystal watery stream :
All these, and many more of Hrs creation.
That made the heavens, the angler oft doth see ;
Taking therein no little delectation,
To think how strange, how wonderful they be;
Framing thereof an inward contemplation,
To set his heart from other fancies free ;
And whilst he looks on these with joyful eye,
His mind is rapt above the starry ‘sky.
Markham, in hh Country Contentments, describes not only
the outward apparel, but the inward qualities, of an angler.
He must be generally accomplished in all the liberal
sciences, and, as a grammarian, ought to be qualified to
write and discourse of his art in true and fitting terms.
He must be possessed of sweetness of speech to entice
others to so laudable an exercise, and of strength of ar¬
gument to defend it against envy and slander. “ Then
must he be strong and valiant, neither to be amazed with
storms, nor affrighted with thunder; and if he is not tem¬
perate, but has a gnawing stomach that will not endure
much fasting, but must observe hours, it troubleth the
mind and body, and loseth that delight which only mak-
eth pastime pleasing.” “ He must be of a well-settled
and constant belief, to enjoy the benefit of his expecta¬
tion ; for then to despair, it were better never to be put
in practice: and he must ever think when the waters are
pleasant, and any thing likely, that there the Creator of
ml good things hath stored up much of plenty; and
though your satisfaction be not as ready as your wishes,
yet you must hope still, that with perseverance you shall
reap the fulness of your harvest with contentment. Then
he must be full of love both to his pleasure and his neigh¬
bour—tp his pleasure, which otherwise will be irksome
amt tedious—and to his neighbour, that he never give of-
ence m any particular, nor be guilty of any general de¬
struction : then he must be exceeding patient, and neither
• X, nor excrucuite himself with losses or mischances, as
,LTng ,the pr^ when h is almost in the hand, or by
n]paJdg ffS t0°ls ^ ignorance or negligence; but with
mstnfpdfSUff!rauCe amend errors’ and think mischances
instructions to better carefulness.”
bv somf tnt^thf:-antiqi!itX °f anS,ing’ has been traced
taimht if t r16 time °f 8eth’ who is averted to have
the knowWl 'S rf 5 and 80 h[8hly have others esteemed
m • »e tlle art, as to maintain that its rules and
maxims were engraven on those pillars by which an ac¬
es of useful Tn i , 5 he mathematics, and other branch- Angling,
es of useful knowledge, was preserved bv Gods appoint-
ment from extinction in the days of Noah It is fre-^^
quenUy alMed to the holy Scriptures; as in Isaiah,
x x. 8, The fishers also shall mourn, and all they that
cast angle into the brooks shall lament, and they ha
spread nets upon the waters shall languish-” so fn the
prophet Habbakuk, i. 15, “ They take up ’all of them
with the angle, they catch then, in their net, and gather
them m their drag; therefore they rejoice and areglad!”
We deem unnecessary to multiply quotations from an-
cient tmthors, whether sacred or profane; but shall rest
satisfied with pointing out, at the close of this article the
principal works on angling which have appeared in our
own language, and in relation to the practice of the art
in British streams.
As expert angling never was and never will be success¬
fully taught by rule, but is almost entirely the result of
assiduous and long-continued practice, we purpose being
very brief in our disquisition on the subject. We shall
commence by stating our belief that fly-fishing, by far the
most elegant and interesting branch of the art, ouMit not
to be regarded exclusively as an art of imitation. It no
doubt depends on deception, which usually proceeds on
the principle of one thing being successfully substituted
in the likeness of another; but Bacon’s distinctive defini¬
tions of simulation and dissimulation place the subject in
a truer light. As simulation consists in the adoption or
affectation of what is not, while dissimulation consists in
the careful concealment of what really is—the one being a
positive, the other rather a negative act—so the great ob¬
ject of the fly-fisher is to dissimulate in such a manner as
to prevent his expected prey from detecting the artificial
nature of his lure, without troubling himself by a vain effort
to simulate or assume, with his fly, the appearance of any
individual or specific form of insect life. There is, in
truth, little or no connection between the art of angling
and the science of entomology ; and therefore the success
of the angler, in by far the greater proportion of cases,
does not depend on the resemblance which subsists be¬
tween his artificial fly and the natural insect. This state¬
ment is no doubt greatly at variance, as well with the
punciples as the practice of all who have deemed fishing
worthy of consideration, from the days of Isaiah and Theo¬
critus, to those of Carrol and Bainbridge. But we are not
the less decidedly of opinion, that in nine instances out of
ten a fish seizes upon an artificial fly as upon an insect
or moving creature sui generis, and not on account of its
exact and successful resemblance to any accustomed and
familiar object.
^ be askp4 upon what principle of imitative art
the different varieties of salmon-fly can be supposed to
beai the most distant resemblance to any species of dragon¬
fly, to imitate which we are frequently told that they are
intended ? Certainly no perceptible similarity in form or
aspect exists between them, all the species of dragonfly,
with the. exception of one or two of the sub-genus Calep-
terix, being characterized by very clear, lace-like, pellucid
wings, entirely unadorned by those fantastic and gaudy
colours, borrowed from the peacock and other “ birds of
gayest plume, which are made to distinguish the suppos¬
ed resemblance. Besides, the finest salmon-fishing is in
mild weather during the colder seasons of the year, and
in early spring, several months before any dragonfly has
become visible on the face of the waters, as it is a sum¬
mer insect, and rarely makes its appearance in the perfect
state till the month of June. If they bear no resemblance
to each other in form or colour, how much more unlike
must they be, when, instead of being swept down the cur¬
rent, as a real one would be, the artificial fly is seen cross-
148 ANGLING.
Angling, ing and recrossing every stream and torrent, with the
agility of an otter, and the strength of an alligator ? Now,
as it is demonstrable that the artificial fly generally used
for salmon bears no resemblance, except in size, to any
living one ; that the only tribe which, from their respec¬
tive dimensions, it may be supposed to represent, does not
exist in the winged state during the period when the
imitation is most generally and most successfully practis¬
ed ; and if they did, that their habits and natural powers
totally disenable them from being at any time seen under
such circumstances as would give a colour to the supposi¬
tion of the one being ever mistaken for the other; may
we not fairly conclude that, in this instance at least, the
fish proceed upon other grounds, and are deceived by an
appearance of life and motion, rather than by a specific
resemblance to any thing which they had previously been
in the habit of capturing ? What natural insect do the
large flies, at which sea-trout rise so readily, resemble ?
These, as well as gilse and salmon, frequently take the
lure far within the bounds of the salt-water mark; and yet
naturalists know that no such thing as a salt-water fly
exists, or at least has ever been discovered by their re¬
searches. Indeed no true insect inhabits the sea. What
species are imitated by the palmer, or by three fourths of
the dressed flies in common use ? An artificial fly can, at
the best, be considered only as the representation of a natu¬
ral one which has been drowned, as it is impossible to
imitate the dancing or hovering flight of the real insect
over the surface of the stream; and, even with that re¬
stricted idea of its resemblance to nature, the likeness
must be scarcely perceptible, owing to the difference of
motion, and the great variety of directions in which the
angler drags his flies, according to the nature and special
localities of the current, and the prevailing direction of
the wind.
The same observations apply, with almost equally few
exceptions, to bait-fishing. The minnow is fastened upon
swivels, which cause it to revolve upon its axis with such
rapidity, that it loses every vestige of its original appear¬
ance ; and in angling with the par tail, one of the most
killing lures for large trout, the bait consists of the nether
half of a small fish, mangled and mis-shapen, and in every
point of view divested of its natural form.
Fly-fishing has been compared, though by a somewhat
circuitous mode of reasoning, to sculpture. It proceeds
upon a few simple principles, and the theory is easily ac¬
quired, although it may require long and severe labour to
become a great master in the art. Yet it is needless to
encompass it with difficulties which have no existence in
reality, or to render a subject intricate and confused,
which is in itself so plain and unencumbered. In truth,
the ideas which at present prevail on the matter degrade
it beneath its real dignity and importance. When Plato,
speaking of painting, says that it is merely an art of imi¬
tation, and that our pleasure arises from the truth and
accuracy of the likeness, he is surely wrong; for if it
were so, where would be the superiority of the Roman
and Bolognese over the Dutch and Flemish schools ? So
also in regard to fishing: The accomplished angler does
not condescend to imitate specifically, and in a servile
manner, the detail of things; he attends, or ought to at¬
tend, only to the great and invariable ideas which are in¬
herent in universal nature. He throws his fly lightly
and with elegance on the surface of the glittering wa¬
ters, because he knows that an insect with outspread
gauzy wings would so fall; but he does not imitate (or if
he does so, his practice proceeds upon an erroneous prin¬
ciple), either in the air or on his favourite element, the
flight or the motion of a particular species, because he
also knows that trouts are much less conversant in ento¬
mology than M. Latreille, and that their omnivorous pro- Angling,
pensities induce them, when inclined for food, to rise with
equal eagerness at every minute thing which creepeth
upon the earth or swimmeth in the waters. On this fact
he generalizes,—and this is the philosophy of fishing.
We are therefore of opinion that all, or a great pro¬
portion, of what has been so often and sometimes so well
said about the great variety of flies necessary to an angler,
—about the necessity of changing his tackle according to
each particular month throughout the season,—about one
fly being adapted solely to the morning, another to noon¬
day, and a third to the evening,—and about every river
having its own particular flies, &c. is, if not erroneous, at
least exaggerated and misconceived. That determinate
relations exist between flies of a certain colour and parti¬
cular conditions of a river, is, we doubt not, true; but
these are rather connected with angling as an artificial
science, and have but little to do with any analogous re¬
lations in nature. The great object, by whatever means
it is to be accomplished, is to render the fly deceptive;
and this, in fact, we believe to be more frequently effect¬
ed when fishing with flies which differ in colour and ge¬
neral appearance from those which are upon the water.
When a particular fly prevails upon a river, an artificial
one in imitation of it will never resemble it so closely as
to appear the same to those below (i. e. the fish); on the
contrary, a certain degree of resemblance, without any
thing like an exact similitude, will only render the finny
tribe the more cautious through suspicion; while a differ¬
ent shape and colour, by exciting no minute or invidious
comparisons, would probably have been swallowed with¬
out examination. Indeed, it seems sufficiently plain, that
where means of comparison are allowed, and where exact
imitation is at the same time impossible, it is much better
to have recourse to a general idea, than to an awkward
and bungling individual representation. How often has
it been asserted, with all the gravity of sententious wis¬
dom, that the true mode of proceeding in fly-fishing is to
busk your hook by the river-side, after beating the shrubs
to see what colour of insect prevails. A very expert
angler, who perhaps carried the opposite theory rather
too far (although he always filled his pannier), was in
the habit of stirring the briars and willows to ascertain
what manner of fly was not there, and with that he tempt¬
ed the fishes.
It is admitted, that during mid-summer, when the wea¬
ther is calm, the sky clear, and the river low, and when
what is called fine fishing is necessary, a close imitation
both of the appearance and motions of the natural fly
may frequently be tried with advantage; in which case
the tackle may be allowed to drop gently down the
stream: but it more usually happens, from the style of
fishing practised during the vernal and autumnal states of
a river, that the hook is not deceptive from its appearing
like a winged fly which has fallen from its native element,
but from its motion and aspect resembling that of some
aquatic insect. When the end of the line first falls on
the surface of the water, the fish may be deceived by the
idea of a natural fly; and it is on that account that the
angler should throw his tackle lightly and with accuracy,
and it is on that account also that we would advise the
more frequent throwing of the line: but so soon as the
practitioner begins to describe his semicircle across the
river, the character of the lure is changed, and the trout
then seizes the bait, not as a drowning insect, but as a
creature inhabiting its own element, which had ventured
too far from the protection of the shallow shore or the
sedgy bank. That this is the case, a subsidiary argument
may also be drawn from the fact, that in most rivers the
greater number and the finest fish are generally killed by
ANGLING.
Angling, the drag-fly, which, during the process of angling, swims
“^^^an inch or two under water.
Nevertheless, as these opinions of ours may not accord
with the practice of other anglers, we shall proceed some¬
what more methodically to explain a few of the principles
of the art as usually received and followed.
The great secret in fly-fishing, after a person has ac¬
quired the art of throwing a long and a light line, is perse¬
verance,—that is, constant and continuous exertion. Fish
are whimsical creatures, even when the angler, with all
appliances and means to boot, is placed apparently under
the most favourable circumstances. Let him, however,
commence his operations with flies which, upon general
principles, he knows to be good,—for example, a water-
mouse body and dark wing, hare-ear and moorfowl wing,
red hackle and teal or mallard wing. It may frequently
happen that for an hour, or even two hours, he will kill
nothing; but then it will as often happen that for another
couple of hours he will pull them ashore with a most
pleasing celerity.
Awake but one, and, lo, what myriads rise !
Next comes a pause of another hour or more, during
which little or nothing is obtained, so that if the inter¬
mediate period is frittered away, success is doubtful or
impossible. We believe that the appetites and motions
of the finny tribes are regulated and directed by certain
(to us) almost imperceptible changes in the state of the
atmosphere, with which, as they do not proceed from any
determinate or ascertained principles of meteorological
science, it is not easy for the angler to become acquaint¬
ed ; and therefore the only method to remedy the des-
agrement thus arising, is to fish without ceasing as long
as he remains by the “ pure element of waters.” The
art of angling, if worthily followed, and with an observant
eye, will probably one day or other be the means of
throwing considerable light on the science of electricity,
at present one of the most obscure, though at the same
time the most important and influential, of all the subjects
of physical learning.
The best natural flies, either to use fresh, or to serve
as models for the artificial kinds, are, first, the different
sorts of stoneflies (Phryganea and Limnephilus), which
are usually found by the water-side. Their common co¬
lours are various shades of brown ; they have pretty long
feelers or antennae, which, in a state of repose, are bent
over their shoulders and along their sides; their wings
are held decumbent, or close to the sides. They fly
heavily, and are produced from aquatic larvae called caddis
or case-worms, remarkable for their curious dwelling-
places, which are hollow tubes composed of sand, small
shells, and pieces of wood, agglutinated together, and
made heavier or lighter, according to circumstances, that
they may the more easily sink or swim. They are open
at either end, and the worm crawls along the stones and
gravel, by protruding its legs at the anterior extremity.
They disencumber themselves from their aquatic habita¬
tions, and assume the winged state in spring and the ear¬
lier part of summer. Secondly, The different kinds of May
flies {Ephemerae), called green drakes, &c. are also pro¬
duced from larvae, which, for a long time previous to their
appearance as perfect insects, have inhabited the waters.
149
There are many species of this genus, all of which are Angling,
greedily sought for by trout. They are easily known by
their tapering abdomens, veined wings, short antennae,
and the long slender setae or hairs which terminate their
bodies. They chiefly abouflid from May to mid-sum¬
mer. Thirdly, The small black or ant-fly, is the winged
female of the common black ant, and occurs in the nests
or hills of that insect during the summer and autumnal
months.
There is scarcely any season of the year, excepting the
winter months, in which an experienced angler may not suc¬
cessfully ply his trade.1 In the mid-summer season, when
the pools are very clear and shallow, and the streams al¬
most dried up, little can be done without a stirring breeze ;
so also after a heavy summer flood, immediately ensuing a
continuance of dry weather, when the mountain torrents
are a sheet of dingy foam, and the crystal depths of the
river are converted for a time into an opaque flow of
muddy water, the fly-fisher’s occupation’s gone. But when
the turmoil ceases, and the soft south wind begins to
disperse or break in upon the dense array of clouds, so as
to chequer the streams, and rocks, and “ pastoral melan¬
choly” of the green mountains with the enlivening beams
of the returning sun, with what pleasure does the angler
approach the banks of a favourite and accustomed river !
How various and delightful are his sensations! Custom
cannot stale their infinite variety:—on the contrary, the
longer and more assiduously the pleasure is pursued, the
greater the immediate enjoyment, and the more extended
the train of agreeable remembrances for after-days. How
exciting the first cast into a breeze-ruffled pool, when the
unwetted gut still lies in rebellious and unyielding circles
on the surface, and yet almost at the same moment the
sounding reel gives notice that these circles have been
instantaneously stretched into a straight and tightened
line ! Then comes the long and continuous vibration of rod
and reel, indicating the secure hooking of a goodly fish ;
or that sullen and pulse-like tug, by which a still good¬
lier one, when hooked in a deep pool, frequently manifests
a desire to dig its way to the bottom ; or that more inter¬
rupted music which results from the fantastic leaps of
some whimsical individual, which skims and flounders on
the top of the water like a juvenile wild-duck.
The ordinary rules for fly-fishing are, to be most assi¬
duous when the streams are somewhat disturbed and in¬
creased by rain,—when the day is cloudy, and the waters
moved by a gentle breeze, especially from the south. If
the river contains long placid pools, then a steady stirring
breeze is very desirable, as angling in such situations re¬
sembles lake-fishing, where nothing can be achieved upon
a glassy surface. If the wind is low and the weather
clear, of course the best angling is in the swiftest streams,
and in those curling and perturbed eddies which head
the smoother depths. In fishing the smoother pools of
no great depth, be careful that the shadows of neither
rod nor angler come upon the surface; but if a person is
skilful in other respects, he need not fear his own sha¬
dow in a broad river, but wade boldly down the centre of
the stream, fishing its various depths and currents before
him and on either side. In clear rivers the flies should
be small and rather slender-winged; but when the waters
are muddy or increased by rain, a larger lure may be
1 Although Izaak Walton, that “ great master in the art of angling,” informs us that no man should in honesty catch a trout till
the middle of March, yet the grayling is in best condition during the winter season. “ I do assure you,” says Charles Cotton, in
the second part of the Complete Angler, “ which I remember by a very remarkable token, I did once take, upon the sixth day of
December, one, and only one, of the biggest graylings, and the best in season, that ever I yet saw or tasted ; and do usually take
trouts too, and with a fly, not only before the middle of this month, but, almost every year, in February, unless it be a very ill spring
indeed; and have sometimes in January, so early as new-year’s tide, and in frost and snow, taken grayling in a warm sun-shine day
tor an hour or two about noon; and to fish for him with a grub it is then the best time of all.”
150
ANGLING.
Angling made use of. When the streams are brown with rain, an
orange-coloured fly is good ; in very clear weather a light-
coloured one ; and a dark fly is advisable for troubled wa¬
ters.
Though a great deal no doubt depends on a quick eye
and an active and delicate hand, we are no great advo¬
cates for what is called striking a fish. If a large trout
rises in a deep pool, it may be of advantage so to do; and
this will be sufficiently accomplished by inclining the rod
quickly aside, so as to draw out a few inches of the line;
for if the reel is not allowed to run, this operation is apt
to snap the gut, or otherwise injure the tackle. But if a
trout, whether great or small, rises in a current or rapid
stream, the sudden change in its position, immediately
after it has seized the fly, is generally quite sufficient to
fix the barb, without any exertion on the part of the
angler.
A variable state of the atmosphere is bad for angling;
but neither is a uniformly dull gloomy day the most fa¬
vourable. It is scarcely possible to lay down any general
rules on this branch of the subject. We have half filled
a pannier during an electric hail-storm, when “ sky low¬
ered and muttered thunder,” and the aspect of the day
was such as to deter more experienced though less zealous
sportsmen from leaving the shelter of their homes. If the
river is not too low, we always prefer what in ordinary
language might be called a fine cheerful day, more parti¬
cularly if there is a fresh breeze. And what we would
more particularly press upon the notice of the angler, as
soon as he becomes master of the line, is, that he should
cast his flies more frequently than is the usual practice,
and, generally speaking, fish rapidly. This should be
more especially attended to in streams where the trout
are numerous and not large.
Before enumerating and describing the different kinds
of artificial flies in greatest repute, we shall mention a
few of the principal materials used by the fly-fisher. The
articles which he employs in common with those who pro¬
secute the other branches of the trade, are of course rods,
hair and gut lines, reels and hooks, panniers and land-
ing-nets ; but in addition to these he must be provided
with a great variety of feathers, such as the slender
plumes called hackles, from the necks and backs of com¬
mon poultry, and the wings of a considerable number of
birds, such as woodcocks, snipes, rails, plovers, ducks,
grouse, partridges, and others. The furs of quadrupeds
are also indispensable; and of these the most useful are
hares, squirrels, moles, martens, mice, and water-rats.
The most esteemed hackles are the duns. The red,
striped down the centre with black, and the red with a
blackish root, are likewise useful, and more easily ob¬
tained. Since the introduction of Spanish poultry (by
which name are designated the black breed with white
tops), black hackles are now more common than for¬
merly. The proper time for plucking hackles is about
Christmas. The feathers of the ostrich and peacock are
of frequent service; and for salmon and sea-trout the
gaudy plumes of parrots and other brilliantly attired fo¬
reign species, however unlike the generality of our north¬
ern insects, ought to be collected by every fly-fisher.
The silks commonly used by the angler are of three
kinds :—lst, Barbers’ silk, used double, for splicino- the
top-pieces of rods ; 2dlg, a more delicate kind, for fasten¬
ing on the rings through which the reel-line runs; 3dlu,
fine netting silk for whipping hooks and dressing flies!
When we mention a pair of small pliers, fine-pointed scis¬
sors, needles, and wax, we have noted the principal mate¬
rials for the angler’s trade.
In regard to rods, their length and formation are so
much matters of individual taste, that few general rules
can be laid down upon the subject. According to Da- AMu,
niel, the wood should be cut about Christmas, and allowed'^v^,
to season for a twelvemonth. Hazel is very generally
used, especially that from the cob-nut, which grows to a
great length, and is for the most part very straight and
taper. The but-end should rather exceed an inch in dia¬
meter, and the shoots for stocks, middle pieces, and tops,
should be as free from knots as possible. The tops are
made from the best rush ground shoots. All these pieces
should be kept free from moisture till the ensuing autumn,
when such as are required to form a rod are selected;
and, after being warmed over a gentle fire, they are set
as straight as possible, and laid aside for several days.
They are then rubbed over, by means of a piece of flannel,
with linseed oil, which produces a polish, and brings oft' the
superfluous bark : they are then bound tight to a straight
pole, and kept till next spring, by which time they will be
seasoned for use. They are then matched together in due
proportions, in two, three, or more parts, according to the
desired length, or the opinion of the maker as to the num¬
ber of pieces of which a rod should be composed. A well-
constructed spliced rod of no more than two pieces casts a
line with fully as much force, neatness, and accuracy as
any other; but it is inconvenient to a traveller, or to any
one whose dwelling is not close upon a stream. If the
pieces are not ferruled, they must be spliced so as to join
each other with great exactness. The principal object
to be kept in view in the formation of rods in general is,
that they should taper gradually and bend regularly. A
frequent defect is their bending too much in the middle,
owing to that part not being sufficiently strong.
We have said that the length of a rod is rather a mat¬
ter of taste than of established rule. It must, however,
bear a relation to the size of the river and the nature of
the expected capture. A trouting rod is usually made
from 12 to 14 feet in length, though some prefer them of
greater extent, as giving more command over lakes and
spreading pools. It should be made as light as is con¬
sistent with strength and durability, as a heavy rod is
cumbersome, fatiguing, and unwieldy; and a light one
gives a more ready power in casting under hollow banks,
or among trees or bushes. For pike and barbel a proper
length is 16 feet; for perch, chub, bream, carp, eels,
and tench, a shorter rod may be used; and 8 or 10 feet
is sufficient for dace, gudgeon, ruff, bleak, &c. The port¬
ability of a rod depends of course on the number of
joints; but its excellence being almost in the inverse ra¬
tio, care must be taken not to sacrifice its goodness mere¬
ly for the sake of a convenient form.
According to Mr Bainbridge, the best rods are made
from ash, hickery, and lance-wood; ash for the bottom
piece, hickery for the middle, and lance-wood for the top-
joints. If real bamboo can be procured of good quality,
it is preferable to lance-wood. Ilose-wood and partridge-
wood ti om the Brazils may also be used for the top-pieces.
I he extreme length of the top-piece is usually composed
of a few inches of whalebone. The rings for the reel¬
line may be made by twisting a piece of soft brass-wire
lound a tobacco-pipe, and soldering the ends together.
ey ought to diminish in size as they are made to ap-
proach the top, and must form a straight and regular line
with each other when the rod is put up for use.
In finishing a rod the usual varnish is copal varnish, or
Indian rubber dissolved over a slow fire in linseed oil. It
may be stained by a dilution of nitric acid or oil of vitriol.
When rods are stored for the winter, after use, they ought
to be rubbed over with tallow or salad oil. As few anglers
require to make their own rods, we deem it unnecessary
0 entt’1 int° a Ml detail of a mechanical practice which
can only be sufficiently executed by an individual of pro-
angling.
151
Angling, fessional experience. We shall merely mention, that, in and from three in thn
addition to the woods already named, elder, holly, yew, breeze is of advantae-e- nn 1 ti v! sunset. 'A moderate Angling
mountain ash, and briar, all of which are indigenes to Anrd, May, and Ju^ Tit ’^l best mol’t 's “re March,
this country, furmsh materials to the makers of rods. the angler as the king of fish; and0whefweycoSfr tl'S
As lines may be purchased from the tackle-makers at a upewa?droT70po!rnXUwVmay conMilrf'''’ Tf!;''Ygl'
cheaper rate than they can be made by an amateur whose capture and hoiv valuable a nrL thev snmef d‘fficuk a
time and labour are of value for any other purpose, we The most successful bait, as well as the mM 3* ’IT'1'
shall not here enter into a detail of their formation. The the usage, is the artificialfiv This i. ,l t's'cealde in
best hair is procured from the tail of a well-grown stallion, both of dragonflies and butterflies of various'kiiidl'Tut
Black hair is generally strong, but the colour ,s not very the principles which we have already endeavoured t’o IT
serviceable. Jransparent and almost colourless hair is tablish at the commencement of this article make i 1
the most approved; and it ought to be round, regular, and necessary to describe the natural species. Even hose
free from blemishes. In the formation of lines each hair who most warmly advocate the necessity of imiLting ex
in a link should be equal, round, and even, winch proper, isting insects in the formation of their lures admXat'
lions the strength and prevents single hairs from break- the salmon is so capricious as frequently to rise at an ar
mg, and thus weakenmg the others. Chesnut or brown- tificial fly which bears no resemblance to any natural form
coloured hairs are best for ground angling, especially in
muddy water. Some anglers stain their lines a pale green
for fishing in weedy waters. Black is occasionally used in
streams which flow from mosses, and are themselves of an
unusually dingy hue.
The following are some of the methods used by anglers
for dyeing their lines, whether of hair or gut.
For a pale watery green.—To a pint of strong ale add
half a pound of soot, a small quantity of walnut leaves,
and a little powdered alum; boil these materials for half
or three quarters of an hour, and when the mixture is cold
steep the gut or hair in it for ten or twelve hours.
For a brown.—Boil some powdered alum till it is dis¬
solved ; add a pound of walnut-tree bark from the branches
of insect life.
The following are the descriptions of six artificial flies
which have been found very successful in raising salmon.
No. 1 (see Plate XLI. fig. 1) is recommended as a
spring fly, and is composed of'the following materials;
Wings of the dark mottled brown or blackish feather of a
turkey; body of orange camlet mixed with a little mohair;
and a dusky red or bright brown cock’s hackle, plucked
from the back where the fibres are longest, for the legs.
I he hook should be of the same size as represented in
the plate; and it has been observed that all large salmon-
flies should be dressed upon two or three lengths of gut
twisted together, and that the silk in dressing be brought
beyond the shank of the hook, and wrapped four or five
i ,i • • n * , , , ^ outline ui lug uuuk, dim wrapped lour or nve
JyniT TCJ7hpSi;n !T °ir th? buds,’ 0r J16, unri.pe times round the Sut> 80 that it may not be speedily cut by
ru.t. Let the liquid stand till nearly cool, and skim it; the sharpness of the steel.1 This same fly dressed with
then put in the gut or hair, and stir it round for about a *u-- - ^ , . , • , ^ - •y’ - 1
minute, or till it appears to have imbibed the desired tint.
It ought not to be strongly tinctured, as it is apt to rot
"'hen too dark. For a bluish watery tint the above ingre¬
dients are also used, with the substitution of logwood0in¬
stead of walnut.
For a yellow.—The inner bark of a crab-tree boiled in
water, with some alum, makes a good yellow, excellent for
staining tackle used among decayed weeds, the colour of
which it closely resembles.
A tawny hue is obtained by steeping hair among lime
and water for four or five hours, and then allowing it to
soak for a day in a tan-pit. In the absence of other ingre¬
dients, both gut and hair may be easily stained by being
left for twenty-four hours in strong tea, either with or
without a few log-wood scrapings.
I he hair to be dyed ought to be selected from the best
white. Silken or hempen lines may be tinted by a decoc-
the wings of a somewhat brighter shade, and with the
addition of a little gold wire or thread wrapped round the
body at equal distances, will also serve for a more ad¬
vanced season of the year. No. 2 (see Plate XLI. fig. 2)
is of smaller size, and may sometimes be dressed upon
very strong single gut. Any feather of a coppery or
dingy yellow colour, if not too coarse in the fibres, will be
suitable for the wings; the body is of lemon-coloured mo¬
hair, mixed with a small portion of light brown fur or
camlet, with a pale dusky ginger hackle over the whole.
The chief object to be attended to in dressing this fly is
to produce that uniform hue, devoid of gaudy colouring,
from which it has received the name of the quaker Jly.
Of No. 3 (see Plate XLL fig. 3) the wings are made
from the plumes of a cormorant, or from the mottled fea¬
thers of a dark mallard : the body is of dark sable, ribbed
with gold wire, over which a dusky red hackle is thickly
wound: the mottled feathers of a drake are used for the
i , , i • i • •, J " v. muLLicu iccuneiui ci uraxe are used ror tne
tion of oak bark, which is said to add to the durability of tail; and previous to fastening off, a small portion of flos
these materials.
We shall now proceed to consider the subject in relation
to the different species of fish which form the principal
objects of the angler’s art.
silk should be unravelled and fastened at the extremity of
the hook. This fly, though, like the preceding, of a some¬
what sombre cast, is frequently used with success in
summer. No. 4 (see Plate XLL fig. 4) belongs to the
gaudy class of lures, “ which,” says Mr Bainbridge,
“ however fanciful or varied in shade or materials, will
j-c- .• r  v-.iccicn-i-ciiaL.u frequently raise fish when all the imitations of nature
uisunctions of fishes will be given at length under the ar- have proved unsuccessful; indeed so fastidious and whim-
• . -Ichthyology in thl.s work> we shall not here enter sical are the salmon at times, that the more brilliant and
tlip c escilPtI(^n of either the structure or habits of extravagant the fly, the more certain is the angler of di-
„utiConhne ourselves for the present almost version.” In this, of course, we perfectly agree. The
wings of the fly in question are formed of the extreme
end of a Guinea fowl’s feather, not stripped, but having the
The Salmon. (Salmo Salar.)
As the natural history, classification, and characteristic
    uuiocives iui me present aimos
entirely to such points as are most essential to the prac
tical knowledge of the angler.
Tim fi GLari • . . cnu ui a urumea iowi s reamer, not stripped, nut naving me
best f ■ ine' 8,1 C ^ ^ots in large and rapid rivers. It bites fibres remaining on both sides of the middle stem. A blood-
mm six in the morning till eleven in the forenoon, red hackle is fastened on with the wings, and so arranged
1 llainbridge’s Fly-Fisher's Guide, p. 96.
152 A N G
Angling, as to extend beyond them: the dyed feathers used by
military men will suit, if another showy biped, the scarlet
maccaw, is not accessible. The green feather which
forms the eye of the peacock’s tail should be fastened at
the head, and left hanging downwards, so as to cover the
body for the space of half an inch ; and a few filaments of
the same part of the feather may be fastened at the tail.
No. 5 has the wings formed from the darkish brown
speckled portion of a bittern’s wing stripped off from the
stem : the head ought to be of the same colours as the
body, which is formed of the reddish brown part of a
hare’s fur, and deep copper-coloured mohair; a bittern’s
hackle is put over the body for legs, and a forked tail is
added, made of a pair of single filaments of the same fea¬
ther as the wings. Of No. 6 the wings are formed of
the mottled feathers of a peacock’s wing, intermixed with
any fine plain dusky red ; the best mixture for the body
is the light brown inner hair from a bear’s skin, sable fur,
and gold-coloured mohair; gold twist, a large black cock’s
hackle, and a red one a little larger, with a bit of deep
red mohair for the head. In addition to these, we might
enumerate the brown fly, the blue fly, the king-fisher, the
prime dun, the great palmer, the golden pheasant, the
gray mallard, and many others ; but such as are above de¬
scribed will suffice for the purposes of the present trea¬
tise. Fig. 6 of Plate XLI. represents an excellent spring
fly; and an approved summer kind is shown on the same
plate, fig. 5.
It may be stated at once, that so far from imitating na¬
ture, the maker of salmon flies can scarcely form them in
too unnatural and extravagant a manner. Let him call in
the aid of fancy at all times and places, at least in this
country; for the cold and cloudy clime of Scotland assur¬
edly furnishes nothing resembling the lures most frequent¬
ly and most successfully used. The superabundant use of
gold and silver wire ought, however, to be avoided, as it
not only causes the fly to sink too much in the water, but
prevents its being neatly or lightly thrown. Spring flies
for salmon are usually made of a larger size, though not
so gaudily dressed as those of summer.
A salmon rod is generally proportioned to the size of
the river which the angler frequents; but it ought not to
be less than 15 feet in length. The reel ought to be large
enough to contain 80 or 90 yards, so as to admit of abund¬
ance of line being given out when required; for many fish,
when struck, run out to a great distance, and with such
immense rapidity as to prevent the possibility of the
angler’s moving in the proper direction with sufficient
quickness. A salmon, for the most part, darts violently
up the stream; and, as the command and direction of the
fish is more easily kept with a short than a long line, it is
advisable to prevent his getting too far ahead, by keeping
the rod well back in the opposite direction, and by run¬
ning towards him along the margin of the stream. When
he gains the head of the current, a salmon frequently
throws himself several times out of the water, on which
occasions the angler must yield him freely a little of the
line,, but during his general and less violent manoeuvring,
he will of course be the sooner exhausted the more firmly
he is held. When he appears to be making for some safe
haunt or secret sheltering place, the great object is to
turn him towards safer ground, either by relying on the
soundness of the tackle, or, if he proves very powerful
as well as very obstinate, then a pebble or two may be
thrown, so as to fall a little in advance of his position, and
he will probably turn himself round. Some fish become
very sulky, and will lie after being hooked, for a long
time, motionless near the bottom. In this case also the
pebbles must be had recourse to; for the more a fish is
kept in motion, the sooner he becomes exhausted. When
LING.
he begins to show his side, and exhibits other unequivocal Anriin
symptoms of exhaustion, a favourable landing-place should
be looked for; and when the proper time arrives, which
can only be learned by the (sometimes dearly bought)
lessons of experience, then is he to be drawn by degrees
to the gravel bank, or the gaff applied, and the prize
secured.
When feeding, salmon are usually found at the foot of
a strong stream, terminating in an eddy or whirlpool
“ And first,” says our father Walton, “ you shall observe
that usually he stays not long in a place, as trouts will,
bat, as I said, covets still to go nearer the spring-head.”
When the water is either too much discoloured for the
use of the artificial fly, or, running into the opposite ex¬
treme, becomes (especially in very still weather) too clear
and bright, salmon may be successfully angled for with the
worm. In this case trolling tackle is sometimes used.
In trolling with minnow or other small fish, the foot
lengths ought to be about three yards long, and furnished
with one or two swivels, to prevent the line from twisting,
as well as to enable the bait to play freely. A lead or shot
proportioned to the strength of the stream should be fastened
to the line, about a foot above the bait. The top of the rod
should be stiffer than that used for fly-fishing; and when
the hook is baited, it ought to be thrown first across, and
then drawn up the stream.
The spawning process, with salmon, commences late in
autumn, and continues through the winter months, the exact
period varying with the sexual condition of individual pairs.
The ova are hatched after the lapse of from 90 to 120 days,
the period depending on the temperature of the stream;
that temperature varying according to the locality, or the
character of the season. The young usually remain in their
native river (under the name of par) for a couple of years,
after which they are transmuted into smolts,—small fishes
of a silvery hue, with but slight vestiges of the coloured
spots and bars by which they had been previously charac¬
terised. In this state they make their way in spring into
the sea, where the rapidity of their growth is extraordinary,
and has not yet been explained or accounted for. In a
few months (sometimes even in a few weeks) they again
seek their native streams, having, during a very short so¬
journ in the sea, increased from the weight of a few ounces
to that of several pounds. Without discussing the distinc¬
tions of salmon trout, whitlings, grilse, and salmon, suffice
it here to say, that all these migratory fish, usually charac¬
terised by their small number of spots, their silvery colour,
and the superiority of their flesh, may be angled for with
much larger and more gaudily plumed flies than those used
in the capture of river-trout.
The Common Fresh-water or Fiver Trout. (Salmo Fario.)
This species varies greatly in size and colour, in accord¬
ance probably with the nature and abundance of its food,
the strength and depth of the river in which it occurs, and
the physical properties of soil and climate. Fish seem,
more than most animals, to depend on peculiar and unap-
preciable circumstances, for the full and characteristic de¬
velopment ot their characters ; and they consequently exhi¬
bit great contrariety of aspect among individuals of the
same species. If a canal or reservoir, or any other great
accumulation of water, is formed by the hand of man,
where the hand of nature had from time immemorial recog¬
nised only some small and solitary streamlet, the lapse of
even a few months produces large and heavy fish, where
none but trouts of the most trifling size had ever been
seen before. I he writer of these observations kept a
minnow little more than half an inch long in a glass
tumbler for a period of two years, during which time
there was no perceptible increase in its dimensions.
angling.
ruling. Had it continued in its native stream, subjected to the
fattening influence of a continuous flow of water, and a
consequent increase in the quantity and variety of its
food, its cubic dimensions would probably have been 20
times greater; yet it must have attained, prior to the lapse
of a couple of years, to the usual period of the adult state.
In regard to birds and quadrupeds, the individuals of the
same species are not distinguishable from each other by
any peculiarities either of form or colour, at least within
the limits of a restricted locality; but it appears to be
otherwise with several species of fish, more especially
trouts. Those of the Clyde and Tweed, although both
rivers draw their primary sources almost from the same
mountain, present a constant and well-marked difference
in their external aspect; and a corresponding dissimilarity
exists among the characteristic varieties of almost every
river and lake in Scotland; “ which I tell you that you
may the better believe that I am certain, if I catch a
trout in one meadow he shall be white and faint, and very
like to be lousy; and as certainly, if I catch a trout in
the next meadow, he shall be strong, and red, and lusty,
and much better meat. Trust me, scholar, I have caught
many a trout in a particular meadow, that the very shape
and the enamelled colour of him hath been such as hath
joyed me to look on him; and I have then with much
pleasure concluded with Solomon, ‘ Every thing is beau¬
tiful in his season.’ ” 1
No fish affords the angler more varied or more constant
spoit than the trout, tor nine months in the year, under
favourable circumstances, fly-fishing may be practised for
it with success. Westerly and southerly winds are the
most favourable, especially in spring; but during warm
and cloudy summer weather, the point from which the
wind blows is of slight consequence. “ He who considers
the wind, says Solomon, “ will never sow;” and the same
remark is not inapplicable to angling. Whoever desires
to become a successful practitioner in the art, must angle
in all weathers, and under every variety of circumstances,
however unpropitious the prospect may be. Trout are
generally supposed to rise more freely during a dark and
lowering day, following a clear bright night, as brilliant
moonshine detains them in their lurking-places; and on
the ensuing day they are consequently more inclined for
food. On the other hand, after a gloomy or darkish night
they are less easily tempted, having glutted themselves
with moths and other nocturnal insects, which, during the
summer months, are abundant on the waters. In throw¬
ing the line the angler should endeavour to make his
gear fall as lightly as possible on the surface, and his flies
should drop opposite, or somewhat above his own position,
and then be played gently and neatly downwards and
across the stream. W hen a trout is seen to rise at a na¬
tural fly or other insect, the artificial one should be of-
ered him by being thrown, not directly over him, but
about a yard higher up the stream; and, if he is inclined
to rise again, he will probably meet it half-way. When a
hsh, on being hooked, descends beneath the surface, and
struggles in the depths below, it is a pretty sure sign that
e is well secured ; but when he flounders on the surface,
or leaps occasionally into the air, more care is necessary,
as m that case the hook will frequently be found to be
only skin-deep. In playing and landing a large trout the
same precautions are necessary as in salmon-fishing, al-
oug i in regard to smaller fish, if the angler is standing
in e centre of a stream, and finds it inconvenient to
wa e requently ashore, a few additional turns will ex-
naust the capture, which may then be drawn rapidly and
153
rat0 W 1!fnd’ ;™d secured by a firm grasp behind Angling.
thod of landing even tolerably sized fish, which, though
it cannot always be effected, is, when possible; a great
saving of time. If, from the moment the trout is struck
le is prevented from redescending in such a manner that
the upper part of his head and eyes are retained above or
on a level with the surface, he will for the space of a good
many seconds be so much astonished as to be incapable of
any active exertions, and will frequently allow himself to
be drawn in that position, and without resistance, straight
I he following flies are in repute among anglers. The
black gnat appears about the end of April. The body is
formed of a black strip from an ostrich feather, and ought
to be dressed thick and short; the wings of a pale star¬
ling’s feather, or dressed as a hackle with a pale dun.
The March brown or dun drake is frequently visible bv
the middle of March. Ihe wings are made from the
mottled feathers of a partridge’s tail, and the body of hare-
ear fur, intermixed with a little yellow worsted; a grizzled
hackle for legs.
. The hazelJhj is of a_ round form, and difficult of imita¬
tion. It is a killing fly in May and June, especially where
bushes abound. The body is composed of ostrich harl of
two colours, black and purple twisted together; the wings
of the sandy-coloured feathers from under the wings of’a
thrush, or the reddish plumes of a partridge’s tail; a bluish
hackle, twisted pretty full, serves both for the under wings
and legs. °
The great dark dun, according to Mr Bainbridge, is one
of the earliest flies which appear upon the water, and mav
be used in February, if the weather is mild. The wings
are formed from the dun feathers of a mallard’s wing; the
body of mole-fur, mixed with a little dark brown mohair;
a dark grizzled hackle for legs. Salmon frequently rise at
this fly, which may be used with success early in the
morning during the whole fishing season.
The wrens tail has no wings: the body is of sable fur,
with a little gold-coloured mohair, and a feather from the
tail of a wren.
The grouse hackle is also wingless : the mixture for the
body is dark olive, dusky yellow, and a little gold-coloured
mohair. It is formed ot a fine mottled grouse’s feather of
a reddish brown, running a little dusky towards the but-
end of the stem, and the downy portion, if any, plucked
away.
The stonefiy is found along the edges of streams, and
is a favourite article of food among trout. It is a species
of Phryganea, and springs from a caddis or aquatic larva.
The wings lie flat, and are imitated by the mottled fea¬
ther of a hen-pheasant or peahen. The body is com¬
posed of dark brown fur from a bear’s skin, or the deeper
part of a hare’s ear, mixed with yellow camlet or mohair;
a longish grizzled hackle is wrapped under the wings.
I he mealy brown or fern fly is excellent for grayling in
May. Its wings should be formed from the under part of
a throstle or fieldfare’s wing, especially from such feathers
as have a yellowish tinge. Its body is of a dusky orange,
from the light brown fur of a fox’s breast, with a pale dun
hackle for legs.
The orange fly has four wings made of the blue feather
of a mallard-teal. The head is of the dark fur from a
hare s ear; the body gold-coloured mohair mixed with
orange-camlet and brown fur, a small blue cock’s hackle
for legs. This is said to be an alluring fly to young
salmon.
VOL. in.
1 Walton’s Complete Angler, p. 128, edit. 1823.
U
154
ANGLING.
Angling The hares ear is chiefly used as a drop-fly. The wings
are from the light part of a starling’s wing feather, and
the body of dark hare-ear fur. According to Daniel, when
the streams are deep, the same body winged with a rail¬
wing’s feather and a red hackle is very killing during the
summer season.
The yellow dun is used in the morning and evening
during the months of April and May, and again in Sep¬
tember. The body is made of yellow yarn unravelled, or
with marten’s fur, and mixed with a little pale ash-colour-
ed fox-cub fur; the wings are formed upright, from the
under part of a snipe’s wing, with a pale dun hackle for
legs.
The hawthorn fly is in use from the middle of April to
the end of May, from ten o’clock till three. It has trans¬
parent wings, which may be imitated with the palest fea¬
ther of a snipe or mallard’s wing; horn shavings, or the
membranous substance found in the core of an apple, serve
the same purpose ; the body is of black ostrich harl, with
a black hackle for legs.
The summer dun has a thicker form than most of the
dun flies, and is dressed upon a short-shanked hook.
Mole-fur ribbed with ash-coloured silk is employed for
the body; the wings are from the wood-pigeon, with an
ash-coloured hackle for legs.
The black-hackle fly is an approved lure during warm
weather, early in a summer morning. The body is form¬
ed of a thin-dressed ostrich harl, cut close; the wings,
four in number, are from the pale feather of the starling’s
wing.
The red spinner is used as a dropper. The wings are
formed of the grayish feather of a drake, tinged with
reddish yellow; the body a red hackle, with a twist of
gold. This fly is eagerly taken by chub in the evenings
of July.
The little yellow May or willow fly resembles the green
drake, on a small scale. The body is formed of yellow fur
from the marten’s neck, or of yellow worsted unravelled,
and mixed with a very small portion of hare-ear fur; the
wings are of mallard’s feather dyed yellow. This fly ap¬
pears early in May, and may be used till the appearance
of the green drake, of which it is the usual precursor.
The broivn dun is made of otter’s fur mixed with le¬
mon-coloured mohair; the wings are from the fieldfare,
with a ginger hackle for legs. This is an excellent fly
towards the approach of twilight.
The green drake or May fly appears about the second
or third week of May, and continues about a month. The
body is made of hog’s down, or light bear’s hair, inter¬
mixed with yellow mohair; or of barbers’ yellow silk only,
warped with pale flos silk, and a small strip of peacock's
harl for the head : a bittern s hackle is the best imitation
of the legs and dark stripes of the body; with the long
hairs of the sable or polecat for the tail. The rayed
feathers of a wild mallard, dyed of a greenish yellow, suf¬
fice for wings.
The blue blow is a very small fly used during the sum¬
mer months, and for the first fortnight in August. It is
made of a lapwing’s top, or any dark blue fur, dressed on a
very small hook. The wings are of thistle-down or bluish-
white hackle.
The black midge is also a small species, the body of
which is dressed with brownish-black silk, and a blue
cock’s hackle. It is taken freely after a shower in the
summer evenings.
The gray drake follows the green of the same name,
although they sometimes occur together. It is an excel¬
lent afternoon fly for large trouts. The body is formed
of a dirty-white ostrich harl, dressed with flesh-coloured
silk, and ribbed with a dark-grizzled cock’s hackle; the
head is made of peacock’s harl, like that of the green An V
drake; the wings from a mottled mallard feather, or that'^v<
of a mallard-teal, and the tail of sable or polecat’s hair.
The cinnamon fly has four wings, large in proportion to
the body. They are made from the pale reddish-brown
feathers of a hen, dressed full; the body of dark brown
fur, with a ginger hackle for legs. This fly, according to
Mr Bainbridge, is excellent for the Welsh rivers durino-
the months of August and September.
The sandfly forms an excellent lure, and may be very
generally used from April to September. The wings are
formed from the sandy-coloured feathers of the landrail’s
wing, with a ginger hackle for legs ; and the bright sandy-
coloured fur from the neck of a hare, mixed with a little
orange mohair for the body. If dressed as a hackle, the
feathers from under the thrush’s wing resemble the na¬
tural hue of the wfings of the insect.
The great black ant makes its appearance in sultry
weather, from the middle of June to the latter end of Au¬
gust. The wings are made of the pale-blue feathers from
beneath a snipe’s wing, or from a tomtit's tail. The body is
of black ostrich harl, made thick towards the tail and be¬
neath the but of the wings; the legs of a reddish-brown
hackle.
The great red ant is nearly contemporaneous with the
preceding, which it resembles in size and form. The
wings are made of a light starling’s feathers; the body of
gold-coloured mohair, or copper-coloured peacock’s harl,
with a ginger hackle for legs.
Among the preceding flies will be found some which
will assuredly suit for any river, or for any period of the
fishing season. The angler who places implicit confidence
in the generally received opinion, that in every stream,
and at each season, there is one particular fly in much
more special request than any other, will do well to pre¬
pare for an unknown river, by making ready a couple of
lines, each with three flies all of different kinds. For
example, a March brown at the end of the line, a dun
hackle, with a lighter or darker body to suit the weather
or complexion of the stream, for the first dropper, and a
red hackle with peacock body for the second dropper ; or,
2rf/y, a sand fly at the end, with a grouse hackle or wren’s
tail, with orange body, for the first dropper; and a pale
yellow or cream-coloured hackle over a bluish body, or
one of the ant flies, as the second dropper. These are
promising flies for most seasons of the year, though, like
the others, they require to be changed according to the
circumstances of time and place, or the varying caprices
of the finny tribes.
As night fishing is a favourite amusement with many
anglers, we shall describe a few of the flies in most repute
for the practice of nocturnal sport.
The white moth, with wings made from the feathers of
a white owl, the body of white ostrich harl, with a white
cock’s hackle over it.
Ihe brown moth is winged from the feathers of a brown
owl, or the back feathers of a brown hen; the body is of
dark bear’s hair, covered with a brown cock’s hackle.
The mealy cream is made from the tawny feathers of a
white owl for the wings, with some soft fur of the same
colour, and a pale yellow hackle for the body.
The following selection has been recommended by an
experienced angler, in relation to the alleged succession
of flies during several of the principal months of the
fishing season. ls£, For March, a dun fly, made of dun
wool, and the feathers of a partridge wing; or the body
made of black wool, and the feathers of a black drake:
Sc?, For April, a stonefly, the body made of dark wool, dyed
yellow under the wings and tail: 3<f, For the beginning of
May, a ruddy fly, made of red wool, and bound about
angling.
r.gling. with black silk, with the feathers of a black cock hanging
dangling on his sides next his tail: \th. For June, a green¬
ish fly, the body made of black wool, with a yellow list
on either side, the wings taken off the wing of a buzzard,
bound with black broken hemp : bth, The moorish fly, the
body made of dusky wool, and the wings of the blackish
mail of a drake: 6^/<, The tawny fly, in great repute till
the middle of June; the body made of tawny wool, the
wings contrary, one against another, composed of the
whitish mail of a white drake: lih, For July, the wasp
fly, the body made of black wool, cast about with yellow
silk, and the wings of drakes’ feathers: 8^, The steel fly,
approved in the middle of July; the body made with
greenish wool, cast about with the feathers of a peacock’s
tail, and the wings made of those of a buzzard: 9^, For
August, the drake fly, the body made with black wool
cast about with black silk, the wings of the mail of a
black drake, with a black head.
When rivers are very low and clear, from a long conti¬
nuance of summer drought, it has been recommended to
use a pair of wings made from the feather of a landrail,
or the mottled feather of a teal, with a well-cleaned gen¬
tle fixed upon the hook. During a similar condition of
the water, even when no wind is stirring, and the sun
shining in its greatest lustre, trouts may be taken with a
small wren's tail, grouse, smoky dun, or black hackles, the
angler fishing straight down the water, by the sides of
streams and banks, and keeping well out of sight, with as
long a line as can be neatly managed, and the foot-lengths
very fine. At these times the fish may be often seen with
their dorsal fins above water, and with skilful manage¬
ment may be made to snap at the above-named flies.
When one is hooked, the rest dart off; but if the angler
keeps concealed, they will return again in a very short
time; and thus several fish may be taken even in summer
from the clearest pools. Another plan has also been re¬
commended as likely to prove successful when the wea¬
ther is bright and the water low: Take a line of about a
yard in length, and fix it to a short, stiff rod, and having
baited the hook with a natural fly, such as the stonefly,
or the gray or green drake (Ephemerae), drop it between
bushes over steep hollow banks, or under the projecting
roots of trees.
In fishing a river with which the angler has no previous
acquaintance, the most approved practice is to try the
eddies which are frequent at the corners of streams, and
where the circular movement of the current throws out a
frequent sustenance for the finny race. There the larger
trout often lie; and it must consist with the experience
of every angler, that an excellent capture is sometimes
made repeatedly from some small spot behind or beside a
particular stone, where from day to day one well-sized
fish seems to succeed another in the favourite feeding
ground. In this knowledge of peculiar localities consists
the chief advantage of a previous acquaintance with the
water. The smaller fish are found in most abundance in
the widely spread and shallow streams, as well as in the
extended parts of pools of no great depth. As a general
rule, the angler may be advised to fish with the wind on
his back and the sun in front, which not only gives him
a greater command of his line, but prevents himself or
his shadow from being so distinctly perceived. A strict
adherence, however, to this plan is by no means advisable,
as the angler’s position in relation to sun and wind must
frequently vary with the natural course of the river, the
obstruction of overhanging wood, and the greater or less
commanu of pool and stream presented by the varying
form of the adjoining shore.
As bait-fishing for trout, though regularly followed by
some, is less generally admired and practised than the
155
more elegant use of the artificial fly, fewer words will suf- Angling,
flee. When the streams are swollen and discoloured, fine
trout may be taken with a running line without float, and
so leaded that it shall touch the ground without resisting
the force of the stream. The lead should be fixed about
eight or ten inches above the hook'; and the best baits are
well-scomed earthworms. The dew, the garden, and the
lob worms are one and the same in species, although they
vary considerably in form, size, and colour, according to
age, and season, and the nature of the soils. The lob¬
worm, according to Daniel, is of two sorts, the old, knotted,
the young, without knots, which some for distinction call
maiden lobs, and others red worms. The latter kind, with
a red head, a streak down the back, and a broad tail, are
the most esteemed. By some they are called squirrel-
tails. These and other worms, it need scarcely be ob¬
served, are easily obtained in fields and gardens, espe¬
cially where there has been any recent mixture of veget¬
able or animal remains. They may be preserved for a
considerable period, and even improved in their texture
and condition, by being kept in damp moss, changed
from time to time, and occasionally wetted with a little
new milk. In dry weather, when worms are difficult to
be obtained, they may be procured by emptying a few
buckets of water in situations where they were known to
occur during a moister season. The brandling worm is
streaked from head to tail in alternate circles of a red and
yellow hue, and is darker at its anterior than posterior
portion. They occur in old dunghills, in heaps of rich
vegetable mould, and among rotten tan bark. They have
this advantage over the others, that they may be used
without preparation or scouring. Though the choice of
worms does not seem a very suitable subject for poetry,
it has been thus versified by Mr Gay in the Rural Sports:
You must not every worm promiscuous use,
Judgment will tell thee proper baits to choose :
The worm that draws a long immod’rate size,
The trout abhors, and the rank morsel flies;
And if too small, the naked fraud’s in sight,
And fear forbids, while hunger does invite.
Those baits will best reward the fisher’s pains,
Whose polish’d tails a shining yellow stains;
Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting gloss
Cherish the sullied reptile race with moss ;
Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native soil.
The preceding rhymes apply chiefly to the kind called
gilt-tails. Gentles are the larvae of different kinds of car¬
nivorous winged flies. They may be kept in a mixture
of oatmeal and bran, and are readily produced in a piece
of liver, or any other flesh or fish, exposed in an earthen
vessel to prevent their escape when grown to a proper
size. All kinds of maggots, as well as those called gen¬
tles, serve admirably for the more delicate kinds of bait¬
fishing. The caddis worms, before alluded to as the larvae
of the Phryganea or stonefly, when taken out of their
cases, are a favourite bait for trout; and different kinds of
grasshoppers are likewise used with great success. The
creeper or water cricket, an aquatic larva, found under
stones within the water-mark, ought also to be attended
to by the natural bait-fisher.
The palmer worms or wool beds are the hairy caterpil¬
lars of certain nocturnal moths. Though refused by al¬
most all birds except the cuckoo, they are swallowed by
trouts, and may be preserved alive for many weeks in a
box with damp earth, strewed over with the leaves of the
tree or bush on which the species was observed naturally
to feed.
The young brood of wasps and bees are useful to the
angler; and for eight or ten days after their first appear¬
ance in summer there is no better or more killing bait
156
angling.
Angling, than a small reddish beetle called the bracken clock in the
north of England, the Melolontha horticola of naturalists.
Salmon roe is greatly lauded by Barker, who appears to
have been the first to discover its merits. “ I have found
an experience of late which you may angle with, and take
great store of this kind of fish. First, it is the best bait
for trout that I have seen in all my time, and will take
great store, and not fail if they be there. Secondly, it is
a special bait for dace or dare, good for chub, or bottlin,
or grayling. The bait is a roe of a salmon or trout. If it
be a large trout, that the spawns be any thing great, you
must angle for the trout with this bait as you angle with
the brandling, taking a pair of scissors and cut so much
as a large hazel-nut, and bait your hook; so fall to your
sport,—there is no doubt of pleasure. If I had known it
but twenty years ago, I would have gained a hundred
pounds only with that bait: I am bound in duty to di¬
vulge it to your honour, and not to carry it to my grave
with me. I do desire that men of quality should have it,
that delight in that pleasure. The greedy angler will
murmur at me, but for that I care not.”
Many kinds of pastes are prized by the bait-fisher.
They may be used for chub, carp, and bream in Septem¬
ber and during all the winter months, and may be made
up about the size of a hazel-nut; if for roach and dace,
the bigness of a pea will suffice. All pastes are improved
by being mixed up in the making with a little cotton
wool, which makes them firmer and more tenacious, and
hang better on the hook. They suit well for fishino- in
quiet places, with a small hook and quill float. We sliall
here subjoin a few recipes for the making of fishing pastes,
which, although we introduce them under the head of the
river-trout, may be regarded as equally efficacious in the
capture of other kinds of fish.1
Minnow-fishing for trout is a favourite pastime with
many anglers, and the process is one by which very large
fish are frequently captured. The tackle used resembles
that for salmon, but is lighter and finer, with a single line of
gut at the bottom. The hooks vary in size according to the
general dimensions of the trout angled for; and the middle-
sized and whitest minnows are the most esteemed. The
following were Walton’s directions for baiting, with a view
to this department of the sport. Put your hook in at his
mouth and out at his gill; then having drawn your hook twn a
or three inches beyond or through his gill, put it again
into his mouth, and the point and beard out at his ta 1
and then tie the hook and his tail about very neatly with
a white thread, which will make it the apter to turn Quirk
in the water: that done, pull back that part of your linr
which was slack when you did put your hook into thl
minnow the second time ; I say, says Walton, pull that
part of your line back so that it shall fasten the head Z
that the body of the minnow shall be almost straight on
your hook : this done, try how it will turn by drawing it
across the water or against a stream ; and if it do not turn
nimbly, then turn the tail a little to the right or left hand
and try again till it turn quick. We may add, that the
practice of fishing with the artificial minnow is justly dis
carded by all judicious anglers. For representations of
the minnow tackle, and hooks baited, see Plate XLI
fig. 12, 13, and 19. *’
The Great Lake Trout. (Salmo Ferox.f
It appears that the gray or great trout of the British
fresh-water lakes, though never described or characterized
as a distinct species, has at various times excited the at¬
tention of ichthyologists. Trout of enormous dimensions
are mentioned by Pennant as occurring in the Welsh
lakes; and Donovan gives Loch Neagh in Ireland as an¬
other locality. Very large trout have been killed in Ulls-
water in Cumberland, and still larger in Loch Awe in
Argyllshire The late Mr Morrison of Glasgow claimed
the merit of discovering these fish in the last-named lo¬
cality about 60 years ago; and the largest recorded to
have been killed there weighed 25 pounds. Mr Lascelles
a Liverpool gentleman, has also of late years been equally
assiduous and successful in their capture; and it appears
that any persevering sportsman is almost certain, with the
proper tackle, to obtain specimens in Loch Awe, of this
great fish, weighing from 6 to 12 pounds. The largest
we have lately heard of weighed 191 pounds. It is said
to be by far the most powerful of our fresh-water fishes
exceeding the salmon in actual strength, though not in
activity. The most general size caught by trolling ranges
from 3 to 15 pounds: beyond that weight they are of
uncommon occurrence. If hooked upon tackle of mode-
until tough. A Ldl^ulntTty1W,ith the whUe of>n eS& and worked with the hands
over the paste when pressed flat in the hand; it must be well kneadll ? 1 b? added’ toffefher with some cotton-wool spread equally
hon. A small piece of fresh butter will prevent it from becoming l2 anH™!* tbe.t0ttfm thoroughly; colour it with a little vermi-
of the same ingredients, omitting the vermilion; and Z/Hn ml n , Wll -?1??u ^ a week. White paste may be composed
Salmon paste.—Take one pound of salmon-snawn in 11 manner, with the addition of turmeric,
sufficiently mixed, with an ounce of salt and a quarter of an ounce of ? b<)l1 lt/lJ|0ut mini'tes, then beat it in a mortar until
s contamed, as it is disengaged from it; when beat to a nroner ^onsi^Sf1 f <:.are^uli-v P|ck out the membrane in which the spawn
down close, and it will keep good for many months. P P stence, put it into gallipots, and cover it over with bladders tied
°^™P^^If^etheirrrepetibonOV A baitS’ bUt 38 We believe their beneficial effects
now I shall tell you that which may be called a secret • T havt IfP « u-* A .S1Me extract from Izaak Walton will suffice. “ And
UttlVr uand Tlmon’ and have observed that he 'would usuaffv^akeTlf mth ^ °llVer Henle^ n°w with God, a noted fisher
attle box m his pocket, where he would usuallv let them conlinnl^lf v1”'86 °r four worms out of his bag, and put them into a
tW ^ TW !!inuhlS/eaS0^ and he has replied,he did but pick the best'orn^ °T m.°re be1fore he would bait his hook with them. I
with him beei? °hser.vedA both by others and mvself to catch more fish ri 6 T readiness against he baited his hook the next
^ltbb™,COulddo’ arid especially salmons; and I havTbeen old latelv hv 71 °r °ther bod^ that has ever gone a-fishing
tojK h6 7 h°Se worms. was anointed with a drop, or two or three ’ °f J'S TSt intimate and secret friends, that the box
told that by the worms remaining in that box an houi or a like time ti * ofj^-berries made by expression or infusion; and
th^t th!V7d0mFhhtl°f0rCta-ny cS.h Within the smdl them ^o bite ” We needds “C°7orated a kind of smell, that was irresistibly at-
that that admirable work is of higher value for the manner • u- i ® need scarcely remind the reader of the “ Complete Amrler ”
styie poetical sentiment, and picturesque illustration than forTh^ 119 fSU A,e,Ct is discussed, and the beautiful accessories of pure
simplicity and goodness of Izaik Walton’s nature to hwe inr^"1 ° ^ Practical information which it conveys The
with an accurate perception of the truth, and hence evervchanLr ai?d T* a £reater degree of credulity than was always consistent
critical days. As a useful work in relation to the mlr^an^I which oouldnot pass current fn theSe more
the general reader, and all who desire to refresh themselves hv » th* 1 ^ ^ d a hiSh rank, although it must ever delight
2 We are indebted for the principal materials Slhr tlZr7 he Pure wflj «f English undefiled.” k g
dine’s, with which we have been kindly favoured by the author ^It'fbrms thlSf infterestl.ng fish to a manuscript of Sir William Jar-
assiduous naturalist has been for some time past preparing ?or tJ'e press ^ °f " ^ °f Memoir* Fisttcs, which that
<
ANGLING.
Argling. rate strength, they afford excellent sport; but the gene-
■^"v^-'ral method of fishing for them is almost as well adapted
for catching sharks as trout; the angler being apparently
more anxious to have it in his power to state that he had
caught a fish of such a size, than to enjoy the pleasure of
the sport itself. However, to the credit of both parties, it
may be stated, that the very strongest tackle is sometimes
snapped in two by its first tremendous springs. The or¬
dinary method of fishing for this king of trouts is with a
powerful rod, from a boat rowing at the rate of from three
to four miles an hour, the lure a common trout from four
to eight inches in length, baited upon six or eight salmon
hooks, tied back to back upon strong gimp, assisted by two
swivels, and the wheel-line coarse and strong. Yet all this,
in the first impetuous efforts of the fish to regain its liberty,
is frequently carried away for ever into the crystal depths
of Loch Awe!
When in their highest health and condition, and in¬
deed during the whole of the time in which they are not
employed in the operation of spawning, these fish will
scarcely ever rise at a fly. At these periods they appear
to be almost entirely piscivorous ; so, with the exception of
night lines, baited also with trout, trolling is the only ad¬
visable mode of angling for them. The young, however,
rise very freely at ordinary lake-trout flies, and are general¬
ly caught in this way from one to one and a half pound
weight. They occur abundantly near the outlet of the lake.
These great trout are found in Loch Shin, Loch Assynt,
Loch Loyal, and other northern lochs. We have there
trolled for them successfully with salted sprats, the bright
silvery lustre of which seemed attractive in those dark
waters. Their spawning period corresponds to those of
salmon, that is, it commences in autumn, and continues
through the earlier portion of the winter; and at this time
their instinctive tendencies are so far changed, that they
will rise eagerly at large and gaudily dressed salmon-flies,
and may be either angled for from the banks, or trolled with
a cross line. They spawn in rivers, but do not ascend so high
as either salmon or sea-trout, and they never descend either
into or towards the salt water, although an occasional strag¬
gler has been taken in the Awe, at some distance down the
river. In Loch Shin, they ascend the streams which flow
into the loch, but are not known to enter that which flows
from it. When in good season, and in their strongest con¬
dition, they appear to roam indiscriminately through every
part of the loch, though there are certain spots which may
be more depended upon than others, and where an ex¬
perienced angler will have little difficulty in hooking one
of these fine fish. To their great strength we may ob¬
serve that they add unequalled rapacity ; and after at¬
taining to the weight of three or four pounds, they ap¬
pear to feed almost exclusively on smaller fish, and do
not spare even their own young. A small trout of this
species, not weighing more than H lb., will often dash at
a bait not much inferior to itself in size ; and instances
are recorded of larger fish following with eager eye, and
attempting to seize upon others of their own kind after
they had been hooked and were in the act of being land¬
ed by the angler. It is probably on account of this
strong manifestation of a more than usually predaceous
157
^sa/moferox ^ has named the species Angling.
When in perfect season, and full-grown, it is a very
handsome fish, though the head is always too large and
long to be in accordance with our ideas of perfect sym-
metry m a trout The body is deep and thickly formed,
and all the members seem conducive to the exercise of
great strength. The colours are deep purplish brown on
the upper parts, changing into reddish gray, and thence
into fine orange-yellow on the breast and belly The
whole body, when the fish is newly caught, appears as if
glazed over with a thin tint of rich lake-colour, which
fades away as the fish dies, and so rapidly, that the pro¬
gressive changes of colour are easily perceived by an at¬
tentive eye. The gill-covers are marked with large dark
spots ; and the whole body is covered with markings of
different sizes, and varying in amount in different indivi¬
duals. In some these markings are few, scattered, and of
a large size ; in others they are thickly set, and of small¬
er dimensions. Each spot is surrounded by a paler ring,
which sometimes assumes a reddish hue; and the spots
become more distant from each other as they descend
beneath the lateral line. The lower parts of these fish
are spotless. All the fins are broad, muscular, and ex¬
tremely powerful; and it is from the number of their
bony rays that the specific characters which distinguish
this species from the common trout (sahno fario) are the
most easily and accurately evolved. The dorsal fin is of
the same colour with the upper part of the fish; it is
marked with large dark spots, and contains fifteen rays,
which number exceeds by three that which characterizes
the common trout. The caudal fin is much larger and
more fleshy. The pectoral, ventral, and anal fins, are
very muscular on their anterior edges, and of a rich yel¬
lowish-green colour, darker towards their extremities.
They contain respectively 14, 10, and 12 rays, whereas
the numbers in the corresponding fins of the common
trout are 13, 9, and 11. The tail is remarkable for its
breadth and consequent power. In adults it is perfectly
square, or might even be described as slightly rounded
at its extremity : in the young it is slightly forked, and
appears to fill up gradually as the fish advances in age.
In the common trout, on the contrary, the forked shape
of the tail is a permanent characteristic.
The flavour of this great lacustrine species is coarse
and indifferent. The colour of the flesh is orange-yellow,
not the rich salmon-colour of a fine common trout in good
season. The stomach is very capacious, and on dissec¬
tion (differing singularly in this respect from the salmon)
is almost always found gorged with fish.
We have bestowed a somewhat lengthened notice on
he species above described ; but we doubt not that the
obscurity of the subject will not only plead our excuse, but
render the information now given highly acceptable both
to the sportsman and the naturalist. It is certain that a
more attentive examination of the finny tribes which in¬
habit our lakes and rivers would bring to light several
new species, and more clearly illustrate the history of
others which are still involved in darkness.1
1 he gigantic species of the Swiss lakes, one of which,
wit I ti' > l'SC<i 68 once killed two trouts in Loch Laggan, which weighed 12 pounds each. These were probably of the same species
■ . ^ great trouts of Loch Awe. . In that magnificent chain of English lakes of which Windermere is the chief, and which in-
V.1 e,s r®ssmere and Jtydal, we think the species not synonymous with the salmo ferox of Jardine. The lake trouts, properly so
t , ^ ’ j! , lese beautiful waters, when full-grown, seem to range from three to five pounds, and have in one or two rare instances been
W-0 L 16 W v* • 1 S1X an(^ even e'ght pounds. Those of Ullswater, again, which does not belong to what we have denominated the
_ iiK ermere chain, correspond more nearly in size and other characters with the species found in the lakes of the Scotish Highlands.
e would particularly recommend to the attention of sportsmen the great fresh-water river trout, or bull trout as we believe it is
some imes called- Ihis is regarded by some anglers as an aged or overgrown individual of the ordinary kind [salmo fario); and by
o ers, especially when found in the autumn, as a lake trout which had left its more usual haunts for the purpose of spawning. The
curacy ot the latter opinion is, however, interfered with by the occasional occurrence of this variety in such unambiguous situ&-
158
ANGLING.
Angling, killed in the lake of Geneva, weighed 67 pounds, seem
y J closely allied to those of Loch A we, Ullswater, &c. Though
equal to salmon, both in size and strength, they differ in
their habits from those fish, and do not appear at any time
to seek the waters of the ocean. Indeed their existence in
the lake of Constance, the available communication of which
with the sea is cut off by the falls of Schaffhausen, demon¬
strates their independence of saline waters. It does not
appear, from any information which has reached us on the
subject, that these great continental lake-trouts ever rise at
the artificial fly.
In Loch Craggie there is a finely formed and beautiful
variety of the common trout, varying in its matured condi¬
tion from one and a half to three pounds in weight. It
affords excellent sport to the angler fishing from a boat a
few yards off the deeper parts of the shores. They rise
freely to small salmon or sea-trout flies, dressed after the
model of a gray or green drake.
The rich and varied supply of all kinds of tackle, which
may be obtained in the shops of the principal dealers in
our larger cities, induces us to abstain from any descrip¬
tion of the different hooks employed in minnow and other
bait-fishing, as such details are not very intelligible with¬
out the aid of numerous engravings. More knowledge
will be gained by a few minutes’ inspection of the articles
themselves in the hands of an intelligent workman, than
can be conveyed by the most elaborate treatise on the
subject.
Having described the characteristic modes of angling
for salmon and trout, the two species which so greatly
surpass all the others in the amusement yielded to the
angler, we shall now proceed to a briefer consideration of
some of the remaining subjects of our sport.
The Char or Case Char. (Salmo Alpinus.)
The Torgoch or Red Char. (Salmo Salvelinm.')
These fish, which, in a culinary point of view, are deserv¬
edly the most highly prized of all the permanently fresh¬
water species, are scarcely attainable by the angler’s skill.
Of late years they have risen more freely than in former
times in the meres of the north of England ; but the cap¬
ture of a char by rod and line is still regarded as an uncom¬
mon occurrence. They appear to retire during the warmer
months to the deepest of the still waters, as the fisher¬
men engaged in throwing their nets for pike, perch, and
trout, over the very grounds where, during the colder
season of the year, the char abound, never catch any of
these fish in summer. Although a good deal has been
written upon the subject, it does not appear that the dis¬
tinctive history of the two species above named has been
as yet made out. Both the case char and the red char
are found in Windermere; and the principal distinc¬
tion in their habits and history consists in this, that the
former ascends the rivers, where it spawns about Michael¬
mas ; whereas the latter deposits its ova along the shores
of the lake, and not till the end of December or the be¬
ginning of the year. In angling for char the same flies may
be used as those best adapted for the smaller-sized lake-
trouts; and as the latter occur wherever the former is found,
the sportsman has the better chance of making amends
for the probable disappointment which will attend his pur¬
suit of the one, by a more successful capture of the other.
The Grayling. (Salmo Thymallus.) Anglin?
This fish loves the clear streams of mountainous coun-^^^
tries. It is common in Lapland, where its intestine is used
as rennet, along with rein-deer milk, in the formation of
cheese. It is a bold and sportive fish, but more tender in
the mouth than the trout. It rises well to the camlet fly,
and to several of the other small-sized trout-flies. We
killed it readily in Switzerland with a moorfowl wing and
hare-ear body. They may also be taken with the caddis
worm and other ground baits. According to the Rev.
Mr Low, the grayling is frequent in the streams of the
Orkney Islands, though very rare in the rivers of the
mainland of Scotland.
The Pike. (Esox Lucius.)
This “ fell tyrant of the liquid plain” is not regarded
as indigenous to the waters of Britain, but is said to have
been introduced in the time of Henry VIII. That it
was well known in England at an earlier period is how¬
ever evident, both from the book of St Alban’s, printed by
Wynken de Worde in 1496, and from the account of the
great feast given by George Nevil, archbishop of York,
in the year 1466. There is in truth no evidence either of
its non-existence in this country at a remote period, or of
its importation during comparatively recent times.
The voracity of this fish is almost unexampled, even
in a class remarkable for their omnivorous propensities.
Goslings, young ducks, and coots, water-rats, kittens, and
the young of its own species, besides every kind of fresh¬
water fish, have been found in the stomach of the pike.
It is said to contend with the otter for its prey, and has
been known to pull a mule into the water by the nose.
This fish is in season from May to February, and is angled
for by trolling with a strong-topped rod. The hooks are
generally fastened to a bit of brass wire for a few inches
from the shaft, to prevent the line from being snapped.
Different methods are used in angling for pike. Troll¬
ing, in the more limited sense of the word, signifies catch¬
ing fish with the gorge hook, which is composed of two,
or what is called a double eel-hook; live bait-fishing is
practised with the aid of a floated line; and snap-fishing
consists in the use of large hooks, so baited as to enable
the angler to strike the fish the moment he feels it bite,
immediately after which he drags it nolens volens ashore.
Trolling for pike may be practised during the winter
months, when trout fishing has ceased; and the colder
season of the year is in fact more convenient for the sport,
owing to the decay or diminution of the weeds which
usually surround their favourite haunts. With the excep¬
tion of chub and dace, which bite pretty freely at the
bottom all winter, scarcely any other fish can be relied
upon for sport during the more inclement portion of the
year. To bait a gorge hook, take a baiting needle, and hook
the curved end to the loop of the gimp, to which the hook is
tied; see Plate XLI. fig. 20; then introduce the point of the
needle into a dead bait’s mouth, and bring it out at the mid¬
dle of the fork of the tail, by which means the piece of lead
which covers the shank of the hook, and part of the connect¬
ing wire, will lie concealed in the interior of the bait; the
shank will be in the inside of its mouth, and the barbs on
the outside, turning upwards. See Plate LXI. fig. 24. To
keep the bait steady on the hook, fasten the tail part just
tions as the Clyde above the falls, the waters of which have no communication with any lake. This species sometimes attains the
weight or 8, 10, or even 12 pounds; but it differs from the Loch Awe trout in being generally, if not exclusively found in rivers.
Those of many of the lesser Highland lakes, such as Loch Ard and Loch Chon, ascend the mountain streams in the autumn to spawn,
and in the ordinary practice of angling (with the artificial fly) are rarely caught above the weight of three pounds. In the year 1829 we
received some very singular trouts from a small loch called Lochdow, near Titmain, in Inverness-shire. Their heads were short and
round, and their upper jaws were truncated like that of a bull-dog. They do not occur in any of the neighbouring lochs, and have
not been observed above the weight of half a pound. Trouts of the ordinary shape likewise occur in Lochdow.
ANGLING.
Angling, above the fork to the gimp, with a silk or cotton thread;
■^or a neater method is, to pass the needle and thread
through the side of the bait, about half an inch above the
tail, so as to encircle the gimp in the interior. The baits
used vary in weight from one to four ounces, and the hooks
must be proportioned to the size of the fish with which
they are baited. The barbs of the hook ought not to pro¬
ject much beyond the sides of the mouth, because, as the
pike generally seizes his prey crosswise, and turns it be¬
fore it is pouched or swallowed, if he feels the points of
the hook he may cast it out entirely.
In trolling for pike, it is advised to keep as far from the
water as possible, and to commence casting close by the
near shore, with the wind blowing from behind. When
the water is clear and the weather bright, some prefer to
fish against the wind. “ After trying closely,” says Mr
Salter, “ make your next throw further in the water, and
draw and sink the baited hook, drawing it straight up¬
wards near to the surface of the water, and also to right
and left, searching carefully every foot of water; and draw
your bait with the stream, because you must know that
jack and pike lay in wait for food with their heads and
eyes pointing up the stream, to catch what may be com¬
ing down ; therefore experienced trollers fish a river or
stream down, or obliquely across; but the inconsiderate
as frequently troll against the stream, which is improper,
because they then draw their baited hook behind either
jack or pike when they are stationary, instead of bringing
it before his eyes and mouth to tempt him. Note.—Be
particularly careful, in drawing up or taking the baited
hook out of the water, not to do it too hastily, because you
will find by experience that the jack and pike strike or
seize your bait more frequently when you are drawing it
upwards than when it is sinking. And also further observe,
that when drawing your bait upwards, if you occasionally
shake the rod, it will cause the bait to spin and twist
about, which is very likely to attract either jack or pike.”1
These fish are partial to the bends of rivers and the
bays of lakes, where the water is shallow, and abounding
in weeds, reeds, water lilies, &c. In fishing with the gorge
hook, and the angler feels a run, he ought not to strike
for several minutes after the fish has become stationary,
lest he pull the bait away before it is fairly pouched. If
a pike makes a very short run, then remains stationary for
about a minute, and again makes one or two short runs,
he is probably merely retiring to some quiet haunt before
he swallows the bait; but if, after remaining still for three
or four minutes, he begins to shake the line and move
about, the inference is that he has pouched the bait, and
feels some annoyance from the hook within, then such
part of the line as has been slackened may be wound up,
and the fish struck. It is an unsafe practice to lay down
the rod during the interval between a run and the sup¬
posed pouching of the bait, because it not unfrequently
happens that a heavy fish, when he first feels the hooks in
his interior, will make a sudden and most violent rush up
the river or along the lake, and the line is either instantly
broken, or is carried, together with both the rod and reel,
for ever beyond the angler’s reach. “ When the pike
cometh, says Colonel Venables, “ you may see the water
move, at least you may feel him; then slack your line
and give him length enough to run away to his hould,
whither he will go directly, and there pouch it, ever be¬
ginning (as you may observe) with the head, swallowing
nit rst. Thus let him lye untill you see the line move in
159
the water, and then you may certainly conclude he hath Angling.
pouched your bait, and rangeth about for more;      
with your trow wind up your line till you think you have
it almost streight, then with a smart jerk hook him, and
make your pleasure to your content.”2
The fresher and cleaner the bait is kept, whether for
trolling, hve-bait, or snap-fishing, the greater is the
chance of success.
As pike, notwithstanding their usual voracity, are some¬
times, as the anglers phrase it, more on the play than
the feed, they will occasionally seize the bait across the
body, and, instead of swallowing it, blow it from them re¬
peatedly and then take no further notice of it. The skil¬
ful and wily angler must instantly convert his gorge into
a snap, and strike him in the lips or jaws when he next
attempts such dangerous amusement. The dead snap
may be made either with two or four hooks. (See Plate
XLI. fig. 21.) Take about twelve inches of stout gimp,
make a loop at one end, at the other tie a hook (size No.
2), and about an inch farther up the gimp tie another
hook of the same dimensions; then pass the loop of the
gimp into the gill of a dead bait-fish, and out at its mouth,
and draw the gimp till the hook at the bottom comes just
behind the back fin of the bait, and the point and barb
are made to pierce slightly through its skin, which keeps
the whole steady: now pass the ring of a drop-bead lead
over the loop of the gimp, fix the lead inside the bait’s mouth,
and sew the mouth up. (See Plate XLI. fig. 22.) This will
suffice for the snap with a couple of hooks. If the four-
hooked snap is desired (and it is very killing), take a piece
of stout gimp about four inches long, and making a loop at
one end, tie a couple of hooks of the same size, and in the
same manner as those before described. After the first two
and the lead are in their places, and previous to the sewing
up of the mouth, pass the loop of the shorter gimp through
the opposite gill, and out at the mouth of the bait; then
draw up the hooks till they occupy a position correspond¬
ing to those of the other side: next pass the loop of the
longer piece of gimp through that of the shorter, and pull
all straight: finally, tie the two pieces of gimp together
close to the fish’s mouth, and sew the latter up.
Some anglers prefer fishing for pike with a floated line
and a live bait. When a single hook is used for this pur¬
pose, it is baited in one or other of the two following ways:
Either pass the point and barb of the hook through the
lips of the bait, towards the side of the mouth, or through
beneath the base of the anterior portion of the dorsal fin.
(See Plate XLI. fig. 25.) When a double hook is used
take a baiting needle, hook its curved end into the loop of
the gimp, and pass its point beneath the skin of the bait
from behind the gills upwards in a sloping direction, bring¬
ing it out behind the extremity of the dorsal fin; then
draw the gimp till the bend of the hooks are brought to
the place where the needle entered, and attach the loop
to the trolling line. (See Plate XLI. fig. 23.) Unless a
kind of snap-fishing is intended, the hooks for the above
purpose should be of such a size as that neither the points
nor the barbs project beyond either the shoulder or the
belly of the bait.
Snap-fishing is certainly a less scientific method of ang¬
ling for pike than that with the gorge or live bait; for
when the hooks are baited the angler casts in search,
draws, raises, and sinks his bait, until he feels a bite. He
then strikes with violence, and drags or throws his victim
on shore; for there is little fear of his tackle giving way,
mo T?'!r by T. F. Salter, Lond. 1820. In the work above quoted will be found a full account of the necessary imple-
n^s, and the most approved practice, in this department of the art.
I he Experienced Angler, p. 36. Third edit. Lond. 1668.
160 ANGLING.
Angling, as that used in snap-fishing is of the largest and strongest
kind. “ This hurried and unsportsman-like way of taking
fish,” it is observed in the Trailer s Guide, “ can only
please those who value the game more than the sport af¬
forded by killing a jack or pike with tackle which gives
the fish a chance of escaping, and excites the angler’s
skill and patience, mixed with a certain pleasing anxiety,
and the reward of his hopes. Neither has the snap-fisher
so good a chance of success, unless he angles in a pond or
piece of water where the jack or pike are very numerous
or half starved, and will hazard their lives for almost any
thing that comes in their way. But in rivers where they
are well fed, worth killing, and rather scarce, the coarse
snap-tackle, large hooks, &c. generally alarm them. On
the whole, I think it is two to one against the snap in most
rivers; and if there are many weeds in the water, the
large hooks of the snap, by standing rank, are continu¬
ally getting foul, damaging the bait, and causing much
trouble and loss of time.”
Pike sometimes rise at an artificial fly, especially in
dark, windy days. The fly ought to be dressed upon
a double hook, and composed of very gaudy materials.
The head is formed of a little fur, some gold twist, and
(if the angler’s taste inclines that way, for it is probably
a matter of indifference to the fish) two small black or
blue beads for eyes. The body is framed rough, full, and
round, the wings not parted, but made to stand upright
on the back, with some small feathers continued down
the back to the end of the tail, so that when finished they
may exceed the length of the hook. The whole should
be about the bulk of a wren. The largest pike ever killed
in Britain was taken with a peacock-feather fly in Loch
Ken, near New Galloway. It weighed 72 pounds.1
During clear and calm weather in summer and autumn,
pike take most freely about three in the afternoon: in
winter they may be angled for with equal chances of suc¬
cess during the whole day: early in the morning and late
in the evening are the periods best adapted for the spring.
The Carp. (Cyprinus Carpio.)
This fish, like the preceding, is asserted to have been
introduced into England by Leonard Mascal, a gentleman
of Sussex, early in the 16th century; and in good com¬
pany, if there is truth in the old distich,
Turkies, carps, hops, pickerell, and beer.
Came into England all in one year.
The carp is, however, mentioned as a dayntous fysshe,
though scarce, by Juliana Barnes, in the year 1496. It
attains to a prodigious size in the waters of the south of
Europe, and in the Lake of Como is said sometimes to
weigh 200 pounds. It breeds more freely in ponds than
in rivers, although those of the latter are more esteemed.
Angling for carp requires, according to Walton, “ a very
large measure of patience.” The haunts of this fish in
the winter months are the broadest and least disturbed
parts of rivers, where the bottom is soft and muddy; but
in summer it usually lies in deep holes, near some scour,
under roots of trees, and beneath hollow banks, or in the
neighbourhood of beds of aquatic weeds. In ponds they
thrive best in a rich marl or clayey soil, where they have
the benefit of shade from an overhanging grove of trees.
Small carp bite eagerly, but the larger and more experi¬
enced fish are deceived with difficulty. The rod should
be of good length, the line strong, furnished with a quill
float, and ending in a few lengths of the best silk-worm
gut. The hook is proportioned to the size of the bait, and
a single shot is fixed about 12 inches above it. “ Three
rods,” says Daniel, “ may be employed; one with the bait Anglinu
at mid-water, another a foot or less from the bottom, and^"v~v_
the third to lie upon it when the line and lead are not
discovered, as in the two former; the places intended to
be fished in should, the night before, be ground-baited with
grains, blood, and broken worms, incorporated together
with clay, the hook baits should be red worms taken out
of tan, flag or marsh-worms, green peas so boiled as to
soften, but not to break the skin, and throwing some in now
and then. When this bait is used (which should be with
one on the hook to swim a foot from the ground), in case
of a bite, strike immediately; a large carp, upon taking
the bait, directly steers for the opposite side of the river
or pond.”2 During hot weather, when these fish are about
to spawn, and whilst lying among the weeds near the sur¬
face, they may be angled for with a fine line, without
either sink or float. The hook may be baited with a red
worm, a pair of gentles, a caterpillar, or a cad bait, and
thrown lightly as in fly-fishing, and then drawn towards
the angler. If it can be made to fall first upon the leaf of
some water plant, and then dropped upon the surface, the
chance of success will be increased. The best months are
May, June, and July, and the most advisable times of the
day are from sunrise to eight in the morning, and from
sunset during the continuance of twilight, and onwards
through the night. It is the opinion of many, though we
cannot trace the origin of the idea, no doubt an erroneous
one, that the 10th of April is a fatal day for carp.
The Bream. {Cyprinus Brama.)
This fish breeds both in deep, slow-running rivers, and
in ponds. It prefers the latter. The most enticing bait
is a well-conditioned earthworm, although the angler also
uses paste made of bread and honey, wasp grubs, grass¬
hoppers, Ac. Boiled wheat serves well for ground-baiting
the spot on the preceding nights, and some fasten a num¬
ber of worms to a piece of turf, and sink it to the bottom.
When the ground has been thus prepared, and the tackle
put in order, the angler should commence his labours by
three or four in the morning. Let him approach the
place with caution, so as not to be perceived by the
fish, and cast his hook neatly baited with a live and mov¬
ing worm, in such manner that the lead may lie about
the centre of the prepared ground. The bream is a strong
fish, and runs smartly when first struck; but after a few
turns he falls over on his side, and allows the angler to
land him without much trouble. He is by no means so
lively as the carp. The best hours for bream are from
four till eight in the morning, and from four in the after¬
noon till eight in the evening. In the river Trent, near
Newark, there are two kinds of bream. The common
species is that called the carp bream, from its yellow
colour; and it sometimes attains the weight of eight pounds.
The other species or variety, regarded by Mr Revett
Shepherd as a nondescript, never exceeds a pound in
weight. It is of a silvery hue, and is known by the name
of white bream.3 The bream, though rare in Scotland,
occurs in Loch Maben.
The Tench. {Cyprinus Tinea.')
This species is a lover of still waters, and his haunts
in rivers are among weeds, or pools well screened by
bushes. Tench are found spawning from June till Septem¬
ber, and they are in the best condition from the latter
month till the end of May. The tackle should be strong,
with a swan or goose-quill float for ponds, and a piece of
cork for rivers. The hook (in size from No. 4 to 6) should
1 Daniel’s Rural Sports, vol. ii. p. 275.
* Ibid. p. 257.
J Linn. Trans, vol. xiv. p. 587-
♦
angling.
The Dace. ( Cyprinus Leuciscas.')
This fish is of gregarious habits, and haunts the deeper
iters near thp» m Ioc   i i , , _ r'
\ngling. be whipt to sound silk-worm gut, with two or three shot
fixed to it at the distance of a foot. The bait should float
about a couple of feet from the surface, and should be t °  ^ “,,u **^uuis me ueeper
drawn occasionally gently upwards, and allowed slowly to tu rS near fle P,1, es °P bridges, shady pools, and beneath
sink again. Small marsh worms, middle-sized lobs, or the 6 masses ® collected foam caused by eddies. In the
red species found in rotten tan, are to be recommended. „i-iarr|ner ^ri ° • ^ 16 ^ear a^so congregate in the
 fe.” savs Walton. “ at a naste made nf Lrnwn a.0^*' . ey rise a variety of flies, and are lik^wico
“ He will bite,” says Walton, “ at a paste made of brown
bread and honey, or at a marsh-worm, or a lob-worm : he
inclines very much to any paste with which tan is mixed,
and he will bite also at a smaller worm with his head
nipped off, and a sod-worm put on the hook before that
worm; and I doubt not but that he will also in the three
hot months, for in the nine colder he stirs not much, bite
at a flag-worm, or at a green gentle: but can positively
say no more of the tench, he being a fish that I have not
often angled for; but I wish my honest scholar may, and
be ever fortunate when he fishes.”
The Barbel.
( Cyprinus Barbus.)
In a culinary point of view this is one of the worst of
the fresh-water fishes. It is gregarious, and roots among
the soft banks with its nose, like a sow. The angling
season commences in May, and continues till September.
The most approved hours are from daylight till ten in the
morning, and from four in the afternoon till about sunset.
The line should be strong and rather heavily leaded, so
that the bait may float about half an inch from the ground.
Considerable caution is required in playing this fish, as
he is apt to run oft’ when struck, with great violence, to¬
wards some stronghold, and in so doing sometimes breaks
both rod and line. He is rather nice in his baits, which
must be kept clean and sweet, and untainted by musty
moss. “ One caution,” says Mr Daniel, “ in angling for
barbel, will bear repetition: never throw in the bait far¬
ther than enabled by a gentle cast of the rod, letting the
plumb fall into the water with the least possible noise. It
is an error to think that large fish are in the middle of the
river: experience teaches the fallacy of this opinion : they
naturally seek their food near the banks, and agitating
the waters by an injudicious management of the plumb
will certainly drive them away. It is incredible the quan¬
tities of barbel sometimes caught by this method. Per¬
sons of great veracity have asserted that upwards of one
hundredweight have been taken in one morning.”
The Chub. (Cyprinus Cephalus.)
The rivers of England are stored with a much finer
variety of fresh-water fish than those of Scotland. The
chub occurs in the Annan. It is however a fish but
lightly esteemed, either for sport or the table. He is a
dull fish on the hook, bites eagerly, and is soon tired.
Caution is requisite on the part of the angler, as the chub
is naturally fearful, and sinks towards the bottom of the
stream on the slightest alarm. The baits used are mag¬
gots, beetles, grasshoppers, salmon-roe, &c. Black and
dun flies gaudily dressed, and ribbed with gold or silver
twist, are well adapted to take them in streams. They
likewise rise at the red-spinner. But perhaps the best
way to secure this fish is by dibbing with a grasshopper.
As chub are often seen in some favourite haunt lying near
t le surface of the pool, the angler, concealing himself as
much as possible, ought to move his rod cautiously over
the spot, and drop his bait gently upon the water, a few
inches in advance of the fish’s head. The landing net is
particularly necessary in angling for chub, as the best
spots are generally encumbered by trees or bushes, which
prevent the fish from being drawn to hand, or pulled
angled for with red worms, brandlings, &c. Above Rich¬
mond, as soon as the weeds begin to rot, a grasshopper
used as an artificial fly is found very successful in hot
weather among the shallows. This mode can only be
practised in a boat, with a heavy stone to serve as an an¬
chor, fastened to a few yards of rope. The boat drifts
gently down the stream, and the stone is dropped when¬
ever the angler considers himself in the neighbourhood
of a likely place. Standing in the stern, he first throws
directly down the stream, and then to the right and left •
and after trying for about a quarter of an hour in one
spot, he again weighs anchor, and proceeds to another
station.
The Roach. ( Cyprinus Rutilus.)
The carp has been named the “ water-fox” on account
of his subtlety, and the roach the “ water-sheep,” by rea¬
son of his silliness. This fish makes good soup, though
very bony, and otherwise not much esteemed. The sea¬
son for roach fishing in the Thames, where it attains to a
larger size than elsewhere, commences about the end of
August. “ Next let me tell you,” says Walton, “ you
shall fish for this roach in winter with paste or gentles, in
April with worms or caddis, in the very hot months with
little white snails, or with flies under water; for he sel¬
dom takes them at the top, though the dace will. In
many of the hot months roaches may be also caught
thus :—Take a May-fly or ant-fly; sink him with a little
lead to the bottom, near the piles or posts of a bridge, or
near to any posts of a wear—I mean any deep place
where roaches lie quietly—and then pull your fly up very
leisurely, and usually a roach will follow your bait to the
very top of the water, and gaze on it there, and run at it,
and take it, lest the fly should fly away from him.”1 Vast
shoals of this species ascend the streams in the parish of
Killearn, from Loch Lomond, and are caught by nets in
thousands. Their emigration from the loch, however,
continues only for the space of three or four days towards
the end of May.2
The Bleak. ( Cyprinus Alburnus.)
This small and active fish may be angled for with what
is called a pater noster line, which consists of half a dozen
fine hooks fastened about 6 or 8 inches from each other.
These may be baited with gentles, or more variously, to
increase the temptation, with a gentle, a small red worm,
a fly, &c. and thus several fish may be hooked at the same
time. In angling for bleak the tackle must be very fine.
In fresh streams they rise well at the black gnat, or any
other small sad-coloured fly.
The Gudgeon. (Cyprinus Gobio.)
Gudgeons are angled for near the ground with a small red
worm. They frequent the shallows during the hot months,
and retire before winter to the stiller and deeper waters.
As an article of food they are highly esteemed.
The Minnow. ( Cyprinus Phoxinus.)
This is the fish by means of which most youthful ang¬
lers commence their experience of the art. “ He is a
sharp biter,” says Walton, “ at a small worm, and in hot
VOL. in.
Complete Angler, p. 218.
* Statistical Account of Scotland, vol. xvi. p. 100.
X
ANGLING.
162
Angling, weather makes excellent sport for young anglers, or boys,
or women that love that recreation; and in the spring
they make of them excellent minnow-tansies ; for being
washed well in salt, and their heads and tails cut off, and
their guts taken out, and not washed after, they prove
excellent for that use; that is, being fried with yolks of
eggs, the flower of cowslips and of primroses, and a little
tansie. Thus used, they make a dainty dish of meat.”
The Loach. ( Cobitis Barbatula.)
The loach is entirely a ground fish, living in clear and gra¬
velly streams. It is an excellent bait for eels, and is also
a nutritious food for man, though of a slimy and somewhat
forbidding aspect.
The Eel. {Anguilla Vulgaris.)
This well-known and snake-like species has its favourite
haunts in the muddy bottom of the bays of lakes, among
weeds, under large stones, and in the clefts of the banks
of rivers. The habits of the eel are nocturnal, and the
largest and finest are usually caught with night-lines.
They are troublesome fish, from their great tenacity of
life, and the tortuous motions by which, in their endea¬
vours to disengage themselves, they entangle or destroy
the angler’s tackle. They afford little amusement to those
accustomed to the more elegant branches of the art.
The isle of Ely, according to some authorities, was so
called in consequence of its being the place from whence
the kings of England were anciently supplied with eels.
Indeed Cambridgeshire is still famous for this fish.1
The Perch. {Perea FluviatiUs.)
This gregarious fish is angled for with a worm or min¬
now. It is a bold biter during the warm months of the
year, though very abstemious in the winter season. When
a shoal is met with, great sport is frequently obtained. A
small cork float is used, and the bait is hung at various
depths, according to circumstances, a knowledge of which
can only be obtained by practice. In angling near the
bottom, the bait should be frequently raised nearly to the
surface, and then allowed gently to sink again. When
the weather is cool and cloudy, with a ruffling breeze
from the south, perch will bite during the whole day.
The best hours towards the end of spring are from seven
to eleven in the morning, and from two to six in the af¬
ternoon. In warm and bright summer weather, excellent
times are from sunrise till six or seven in the morning,
and from six in the evening till sunset.
The first printed work on angling in the English lan¬
guage is by Dame Juliana Barnes or Berners ( The Trea-
tyse of Fysshinge with an Angle), and forms part of the
Book of St Alban's, emprented at Westmestre by Wynken
de Worde, in 1496. Of this book there are various old
editions, and it has, we believe, been twice reprinted in
modern times. It is less useful to the angler than curious
in the eyes of the bibliographer. Hawking, Hunting,
Fouling, and Fishing, with the true measures of Blowing,
&c. now newly collected by W. G. Faukener. 4to, Lond.
1596. A Book of Fishing with Hooke and Line, and of all
other Instruments thereunto belonginge, made by L. M.
4to, Lond. 1590. This work contains remarks on the pre¬
servation of fish in pools, and some improvements on the
directions of the “ religious sportswoman” Juliana Barnes. Angli
L. M. signifies Leonard Mascall. A Neu Book of good^v>
Husbandry, very pleasaunt, and of great profite, both for
gentlemen and yeomen ; conteining the Order and Maner
of Making of Fish-pondes, with the Breeding, Preseruing,
and Multiplyinge of the Carpe, Tench, Pike, and Troute'
and diverse kindes of other Fresh Fish. Written in La-
tine by Janus Dubrauius, and translated into English at
the speciale request of George Churchey, Fellow of Lion’s
Inne, the 9th Februarie 1599. 4to, Lond. 1599. Certain
Experiments concerning Fish and Fruit, practised by
John Taverner, Gentleman, and by him published for the
benefit of others. 4to, Lond. 1600. The Secrets of Ang¬
ling ; teaching the Choicest Tooles, Baytes, and Seasons
for the taking of any Fish in Pond or River: practised
and familiarly opened in Three Bookes. By J. D., Esquire.
8vo, Lond. 1613. The author of this work is named in
the third edition of Walton’s Angler as one Jo. Davors;
but, from an entry in the books of Stationers Hall, as given
in the second volume of “ British Bibliography,” p. 355,
he is mentioned as John Dennys, Esquire. Large ex¬
tracts from this work are given by Sir Egerton Bridges, in
the last volume of his Censura Literaria. The poetry, of
which several passages are quoted by Walton, is remark¬
able for its beauty. As the volume is rare, we shall here
present the reader with a few stanzas.
You nymphs that in the springs and waters sweet
Your dwelling have, of every hill and dale,
And oft amid the meadows green do meet
To sport and play, and hear the nightingale,
And in the rivers fresh do wash your feet,
While Progne’s sister tells her wofull tale ;
Such ayd and power unto my verses lend
As may suffice this little work* to end.
And thou, sweet Boyd, that with thy wafr}* sway
Dost wash the cliffes of Deignton and of Week,
And through their rocks with crooked winding way
Thy mother Avon runnest soft to seek;
In whose fair streams the speckled trout doth play,
The roach, the dace, the gudgin, and the bleike;
Teach me the skill, with slender line and hook,
To take each fish of river, pond, and brook.
In comparing the amusement of angling with the ex¬
citement to be derived from gaming and other pleasures,
he adds—
O let me rather on the pleasant brinke
Of Tyne and Trent possess some dwelling place,
Where I may see my quill and corke down sinke,
With eager bite of barbel, bleike, or dace ;
And on the world and his Creatour thinke,
While they proud Thais painted sheet embrace ;
And with the fume of strong tobacco smoke
And quaffing round are ready for to choke.
Let them that list these pastimes then pursue,
And on their pleasing fancies feed their fill;
So I the fields and meadows green may view,
And by the rivers fresh may walke at wille,
Among the dazies and the violets blue,
Red hyacinth and yellow daffodil,
Purple narcissus like the morning raves,
Pale ganderglas, and azore culverkayes.
I count it better pleasure to behold
The goodly compasse of the lofty skie ;
And in the midst thereof, like burning gold,
The flaming chariot of the world’s great eye;
’ “ Here I hope I shall not tresspass upon gravity, in mentioning a passage observed bv the reverend professor of Oxford, Doctor
Pndeaux, referring the reader to him for the author’s attesting the same. When the priests in this part of the country would still
retain their wives in despight of whatever the pope or monks would doe to the contrary, their wives and children were miraculously
turned all into eels (surely the great into Congers, the less into Greggs j, whence it had the name of Eely. I understand him, a Lie
nr r.T?T s. flMillpr s 14/nrihins. i nmhrr/io-pshirp \
angling.
Ingling. The wat’ry clouds that in the ayre uprol’d
With sundry kinds of painted colours flie ;
And faire Aurora lifting up her head,
All blushing rise from old Tithonus bed.
The hills and mountains raised from the plains,
The plains extended levell with the ground,
The ground divided into sundry vains.
The vains enclos’d with running rivers round,
The rivers making way thro’ nature’s chains,
With headlong course into the sea profound;
The surging sea beneath the vallies low,
The vallies sweet, and lakes that lovely flow.
Then follow the two stanzas quoted at the beginning of
this article. Our next work on angling is The Pleasures
of Princes, or Good Men’s Recreations; containing a Dis¬
course of the General Art of Fishing with the Angle, or
otherwise, and of all the hidden secrets belonging there¬
unto; together with the Choyce, Ordering, Breeding, and
Dyetting of the Fighting Cocke ; being a worke never in
that nature handled by any former author. Lond. 1614,
4to. This work forms part of the second book of the
English Husbandman, by G. M. (Gervais Markham.) A
Briefe Treatise of Fishing; with the Art of Angling.
Lond. 1614, 4to. This work is little else than a reprint
from a portion of the Book of St Alban’s, and forms part
of the Jewell for Gentrie, by T. S. Cheap and Good
Husbandry, by Gervais Markham. 4to, Lond. 1616. This
work contains a chapter on Fish and Fish-Ponds. Country
Contentments ; or the Husbandman’s Recreations, by J. M.
In the fifth and sixth editions of this volume (4to, Lond.
1633 and 1639), will be found, the Whole Art of Angling,
as it was written in a small treatise in rime, and now, for
the better understanding of the reader, put into prose, and
adorned and enlarged. This work is a prose version, with
additions, of Davors’ Secrets of Angling. The Country
Gentleman’s Companion, 2 vols. 12mo, Lond. 1753, is a
reprint, without acknowledgement, of Markham’s work.
The Art of Angling; wherein are discovered many rare
secrets very necessary to be known by all that delight in
that recreation, written by Thomas‘, Barker, an antient
practitioner in the said art. 12mo, Lond. 1651. In an
epistle to the reader, prefixed to the first edition, and in
the dedication of the two last to Edward Lord Montague,
Barker speaks of himself as having practised angling
for more than half a century. He also says he was
born and educated at Bracemeall, in the liberty of Sa¬
lop, being a freeman and burgesse of the same city;
adding, “ if any noble or gentle angler, of whatever de¬
gree soever he be, have a mind to discourse of any of
these wayes and experiments, I live in Henry the 7th’s
Gifts, the next doore to the Gatehouse, in Westm. My
name is Barker, where I shall be ready, as long as please
God, to satisfye them, and maintain my art during life,
which is not like to be long.’’ See British Bibliography,
by Sir Eg. Bridges and Joseph Haselwood, vol. ii. p. 356.
I he Compleat Angler, or the Contemplative Man’s Recrea¬
tion ; being a discourse of Fish and Fishing, not unworthy
the perusal of most anglers. 12mo, Lond. 1653. This is
the first edition of Izaak Walton’s celebrated wrork. It
went through five editions during the author’s lifetime;
and in the course of its republication was enlarged and
improved. The fifth edition forms the first part of the
Universal Angler, by Walton, Cotton, and Venables, 12mo,
.Lona. 16/6 ; and is accompanied by a second part (written
t>y Cotton), which treats more fully of fly-fishing. The
sixth and seventh editions were published in 1750 and
j ’ 1 loses Browne, author of the Piscatory Eclogues
ant ot .er works. The eighth edition was published by Sir
< o in aw kins in 1760, and has been succeeded by many
° ler® since that period, of which the most recent and
most beautifully adorned is that by John Major, with an
?£°oduC^y^S*y™d illustrative notes. 8vo, Lond.
tt ’ p 6 v.ir eclltl0^ °f the Compleat Gentleman, by
Henry Peacham, 4to Lond. 1661, contains a chapter
concerning Ming. The Experienced Angler, or Ang¬
ling Improved; being a general discourse of Ano-ling.
Svo, Lond. 1662. This work, of which there are Seve¬
ral editions, is by Colonel Robert Venables. Its fourth
edition forms the third part of the Universal Wler
Angling Improved to Spiritual Uses, forms part of an
octavo volume entitled Occasional Reflections upon se¬
veral Subjects, by the Hon. Robert Boyle. 8vo, Lond
1665. In a volume called The Epitome of the Art
of Husbandry, by J. B. Gent. 12mo, Lond. 1669, are
brief experimental directions for the right use of the
angle. The author’s name was Blagrave. The Angler’s
Delight; containing the whole Art of Neat and Clean
Angling; wherein is taught the readiest way to take all
sorts of Fish, from the Pike to the Minnow, together with
their proper baits, haunts, and time of fishing for them,
whether in mere, pond, or river. As also the method of
fishing in Hackney River, and the names of all the best
stands there; with the manner of making all sorts of good
tackle fit for any water whatsoever. The like never be¬
fore in print. By William Gilbert, Gent. 12mo, Lond.
1676. The Compleat Troller, or the Art of Trolling, by
Robert Nobbes. Svo, Lond. 1682. There are several
editions of this work, of which the third and fourth are
appended to the Angler’s Pocket-Book. Gentleman’s
Recreations; treating of the Art of Horsemanship, Hunt¬
ing, Fowling, Fishing, and Agriculture. Fol. Lond. 1686.
Ihe Gentleman’s Recreation, in four parts, viz. Hunting,
Hawking, Fowling, Fishing. Svo, Lond. 1674. (By Ni¬
cholas Cox.) The Angler’s Vade Mecum, or a compen¬
dious yet full Discourse of Angling. By T. Cheetham.
8vo, Lond. 1681. Northern Memoirs, calculated for the
meridian of Scotland; wherein most or all of the Cities,
Citadels, Seaports, Castles, Forts, Fortresses, Rivers, and
Rivulets, are compendiously described ; to which is added,
the Contemplative and Practical Angler, by way of diver¬
sion ; with a Narrative of that dextrous and mysterious
Art experimented in England, and perfected in more
remote and solitary parts of Scotland; by way of Dia¬
logue : writ in the year 1658, but not till now made
publick. By Richard Franck, Philanthropus. Svo, Lond.
1694. Of this curious volume a reprint was published of
late years. The Gentleman Fisher; or the Whole Art of
Angling. Svo, Lond., second edition, 1727. The True Art of
Angling, by J. S. 24to, Lond. 1696. The Compleat Fisher,
or the True Art of Angling, by J. S., third edition, 1704.
The preceding work, revised and corrected by W. Wright
and other experienced anglers, was republished in 1740.
The Compleat Fisherman; being a large and particular
account of all the several ways of Fishing now practised
in Europe; by James Saunders, Esq. of Newton-Awbery,
upon Trent. 12mo, Lond. 1724. The Genteel Recrea¬
tion, or the Pleasure of Angling; a Poem: with a dia¬
logue between Piscator and Corydon. By John Whitney,
a lover of the Angle. 8vo, Lond. 1700. The School of
Recreation, or a Guide to the most ingenious Exercises;
by R. H. Svo, Lond. 1701. The Secrets of Angling, by
C. G. 12mo, Lond. 1705. The Angler’s Sure Guide, or
Angling Improved and Methodically Digested, by R. H.
Esq. 8vo, Lond. 1706. The Innocent Epicure, or the
Art of Angling; a Poem. Svo, Lond. 1697. The whole
Art of Fishing, being a Collection and Improvement of all
that has been written on this subject; with many new ex¬
periments. 12mo, Lond. 1714. The second edition of
this work is entitled The Gentleman Fisher, or the whole
Art of Angling. 8vo, Lond. 1727. A Discourse of Fish
and Fish-Ponds, by a Person of Honour. Svo, London-
164 ANGLING.
Angling. The author of this work was the Hon. Roger North. A
subsequent edition (of which there were more than one)
bears the date of 1713. It was also published as an ap¬
pendage to the Gentleman Farmer. 8vo, Lond. 1726.
The Country Gentleman’s Vade Mecum, by G. Jacob,
Gent. 8vo, Lond. 1717; and the Compleat Sportsman, by
the same author (1718), of which the 3d part relates to
Fish and Fishing. England’s Interest, or the Gentleman
and Farmer’s Friend, by Sir John Moore. 8vo, Lond. 1721.
The Gentleman Angler, Lond. 1726. Piscatory Eclogues
(by Moses Browne). 8vo, Lond. 1729. Of this work there
are several editions. Sportsman’s Dictionary, or the Gentle¬
man’s Companion in all Rural Recreations. 2 vols. 8vo,
1735. The British Angler, or a Pocket Companion for Gen-
tlemenFisherSjby John Williamson,Gent. 8vo,Lond. 1740.
The Art of Angling, Rock and Sea Fishing, with a Natu¬
ral History of River, Pond, and Sea Fish, by R. Brookes.
8vo, Lond. 1740. Of this treatise there have been various
reprints, at different periods, up to the year 1807. Ang¬
ling, a Poem. 12mo, Lond. 1741, 2d edit. The Art of
Angling improved in all its Parts, especially Fly-fishing,
by Richard Bowlker. 12mo, Worcester. Published some
time preceding the year 1759. There is a recent edition
(1806) by Charles Bowlker, Ludlow. The Angler’s Ma¬
gazine, or Necessary and Delightful Store House ; where¬
in every thing proper to be known relating to his art is
digested in such a method as to assist his knowledge and
practice upon bare inspection; being the completest
manual ever published upon the subject, largely treating
of all things relating to Fish and Fishing, and whereby
the angler may acquire his experience without the help
of a master. By a Lover of that innocent and healthful
diversion. 12mo, Lond. 1754. The Angler’s Eight Dia¬
logues, in Verse. 8vo, Lond. 1758. The Art of Angling,
eight Dialogues, in Verse. 8vo. The Universal Angler, or
that art Improved in all its Parts, especially in Fly-fishing.
8vo, Lond. 1766. The Complete Sportsman, or Country
Gentleman’s Recreation, by Thomas Fairfax. 8vo, London.
The Complete Fisherman, or Universal Angler. 8vo,
Lond. (2d edit.) Lond. 1778. The Angler’s Complete
Assistant, being an Epitome of the whole Art of Angling.
4th edit. 4to, London. The True Art of Angling. 12mo,
Lond. 1770. Translation of a Letter from the Hanover
Magazine, No. 23, March 21, 1763; giving an account of
a method to breed fish to advantage. 8vo, Lond. 1778.
The Angler’s Museum, or the whole Art of Float and Fly
Fishing, by Thomas Shirley. 12mo, Lond. 1784. The
Fisherman, or Art of Angling made Easy, by Guiniad
Charfey, Esq. 8vo, London. The North Country Ang¬
ler, or the Art of Angling as practised in the Northern
Counties of England. 8vo, Lond. 1786. A Concise Trea¬
tise on the Art of Angling, by Thomas Best, Gent. 8vo,
Lond. 1787. Of this work there have been published many
editions, of which the 9th is dated 1810. An Essay on
the Right of Angling in the River Thames, and in all the
other public Navigable Rivers. 8vo, Reading. A Letter
to a Proprietor of a Fishery in the River Thames; in
which an attempt is made to show in whom the right of
Fishing in public streams now resides. 2d edit. 8vo,
Reading, 1787. The Natural History of Fishes and Ser¬
pents, by R. Brookes; to which is added, an Appendix,
containing the whole Art of Float and Fly Fishing. 8vo,
Lond. 1790. The Young Angler’s Pocket Companion,
by Ralph Cole, Gent. 12mo, Lond. 1795. The Modern
Angler, being a practical Treatise on the Art of Fishing,
&c., in a series of Letters to a Friend; by Robert Salter,
Esq. 12mo, London. Angling in all its branches x-educed
to a complete Science, in three parts, by Samuel Taylor,
Gent. 8vo, London, 1800. Practical Observations on
Angling in the River Trent. 8vo, Newark, 1801. Every
Man his own Fisherman, by Thomas Smith. 24to, Lon- Anglic
don. The Driffield Angler, in two parts, by Alexander
Mackintosh of Great Driffield, Yorkshire. 8vo, Gains¬
borough. The Angler’s Pocket Book; to which is pre¬
fixed, Nobbes’ celebrated Treatise on the Art of Trolling.
8vo, Norw. The New and Complete Angler, or Univer¬
sal Fisherman, by Richard Pollard, Esq. of Clapton, Mid¬
dlesex. 8vo, Lond. 1802. Rural Sports, by W. B. Da¬
niel. 4to, Lond. 1802. Part of vol. ii. relates to fly-fish¬
ing, and the other kinds of angling. The Kentish Ang¬
ler, or the Young Fisherman’s Insti’uctor; showing the
nature and properties of Fish which are angled for in Kent.
12mo, Canterb. 1804. The Complete Angler’s Vade Me¬
cum, being a perfect Code of Instruction on the above
pleasing Science, &c., by Captain T. Williamson. 8vo,
London, 1808. The Angler’s Manual, or concise Les¬
sons of Experience, which the proficient in the delightful
recreation of Angling will not despise, and the Learners
will find the advantage of practising; containing useful
Instructions on every approved method of Angling, and
particularly on the management of the Hand and Rod in
each method. 4to, Liverpool, 1808. The Fisher’s Boy,
a Poem, by W. H. Ireland. 8vo, 1808. The Angler’s
Manual, or concise Lessons of Experience, &c. 8vo, 1809.
Practical Observations on Angling in the River Trent.
12mo, 1812. Daniel’s Rural Sports. Royal 8vo, 1812.
Howitt’s Foreign Field Sports, Fisheries, &c. 4to, 1814.
The Secrets of Angling, by J. D. (Davors); augmented
by W. Lawson. 8vo, 1814. The Angler’s Guide, by T.
F. Salter. 8vo, 1815. Art of Angling, by Charles Bowl¬
ker. 12mo, 1815. The Fly-Fisher’s Guide, by G. C.
Bainbridge. 8vo, 1816. W. H. Scot’s British Field
Sports. Royal 8vo, 1818. The Angler’s Vade Mecum,
by W. Carroll. 12mo, 1818. Sportsman’s Repository,
by J. Scott, 1820. The Troller’s Guide, a new and com¬
plete Practical Treatise on the Art of Trolling for Jack
and Pike ; to which is added, the Best Method of Baiting
and Laying Lines for large Eels. By T. F. Salter, author
of the Angler’s Guide. Small 8vo, Lond. 1820. Instruc¬
tions to Young Sportsmen, by Lieutenant-Colonel Haw¬
ker. Royal 8vo, 1824. Salmonia, or Days of Fly-Fishing.
By an Angler (the late Sir Humphry Davy). 12mo,
Lond. 1828. There is a recent edition (1852), with Notes,
by John Davy, M.D., F.R.S., See. Angler’s Souvenir, by P.
Fisher. 12mo. The Art of Angling, by Thomas Barker,
12mo. Angling Excursions, by Geoffry Green-drake. 12mo.
Letters on Angling, Shooting, &c.,by Robert Lascelles. 8vo.
Practical Fly-Fishing, with remarks on Fly Rods. 12mo.
The British Angler’s Manual, by T. C. Holland. 8vo, Lond.
1830; (revised by Jesse. 8vo, Lond. 1848.) Alphabet of
Scientific Angling, by James Rennie. 12mo, Lond. 1833.
Trout and Salmon Fishing in Wales, by G. A. Hansard.
12mo, Lond. 1834. Scenes and Recollections of Fly-Fish¬
ing, by Stephen Oliver. 12mo, Lond. 1834. Angler in
Wales, by Captain Medwin. 2 vols. 8vo, Lond. 1834.
Angler in Ireland, by Belton. 2 vols. post 8vo, Lond.
1834. The Art of Angling as practised in Scotland, by
Thomas Tod Stoddart. 12mo, 1835. Piscatorial Remi¬
niscences and Gleanings, by an old Angler. 12mo, Lon A
1835. The Angler’s Manual, or Fly-Fisher’s Oracle, by
John Turton. 12mo, Lond. 1836. Angler’s Rambles, by
Edward Jesse. Post 8vo, Lond. 1836. Notes on Nets,
&c., by Charles Bathurst. 12mo, Lond. 1837. Treatise
on the Art of Fly-Fishing, Trolling, &c., by William Ship-
ley. 12mo, Lond. 1838. Maxims and Hints on Angling, by
Richard Penn. 12mo, Lond. 1839. Northern Angler : Fly-
Fisher’s Companion, by John Kirkbride. 12mo, Lond. 1840.
Vade Mecum of Fly-Fishing for Trout, by G. P* Pul-
man. 12mo, Lond. 1840. 3d edit. 1851. The Moor and
the Loch, by John Colquhoun. 8vo, Edinburgh, 1840.
t
'
A N G
Anglo- Two Summers in Norway, by the author of Angler in Ire-
palvinists. land. 2 vols. post 8vo, Lond. 1840. Treatise on Salmon
and Trout Angling, by J. D. Dougall. 12mo, Lond. 1841.
River Dove, with some quiet thoughts on Angling. 12mo,
Lond. 1841. Fly-Fisher’s Text-Book, by Thomas Smith.
8vo, Lond. 1841. The Practical Angler, by Picarton.
8vo, Lond. 1842 and 1843. Art of Angling and Complete
System of Fly-Making and Dying of Colours, by W.
Blackie. 12mo, 1842. Days and Nights of Salmon Fish¬
ing, by William Scrope. Royal 8vo, 1843. True Enjoy¬
ment of Angling, by Henry Phillips. 12mo, Lond. 1843.
The Rod and the Gun, by James Wilson, F.R.S.E., and
by the author of The Oakleigh Shooting Code. 1st edit.
1840. 2d edit. 1844. Practice of Angling, particularly for
Ireland, by O’Gorman. 2 vols. post 8vo, Dublin, 1845.
The Art of Angling, &c., by Thomas Best. 32mo, Lond.
1846, 13th edit. Hints on Angling, Angling Excursions,
&c., by Palmer Hackle. 8vo, Lond. 1846. Trout Flies of
Devon and Cornwall, by G. W. Soltau. Post 8vo, Lond.
1847. The Angler’s Companion to the Rivers, &c., of
Scotland, by T. S. Stoddart. Post 8vo, 1847. 2d edit.
1853. Adventures of an Angler in Canada, Nova Scotia,
&c., by C. Lanman. Post 8vo, Lond. 1848. Angler’s As¬
sistant, by William Carpenter. 12mo, Lond. 1848. Ang¬
ling Reminiscences, by Thomas Tod Stoddart. 12mo,
Lond. 1848. The Handbook of Angling, by Ephemera
{i.e. Fitzgibbon). 12mo, Lond. 1848, 2d edit. Guide to
Norway, or Salmon Fisher’s Companion, by John Jones.
12mo, Lond. 1848. Edited by G. F. Tolfrey. Breeding,
Rearing, &c., by Gottlieb Boccius. 8vo, Lond. 1848. The
Rod and the Line, by Hewett Wheatley, Senior Angler.
12mo, 1849. Practical Fly-Fishing founded on Nature,
by Arundo. 12mo, 1849. Rocks and Rivers, or Flighland
Wanderings, by John Colquhoun. Post 8vo, Lond. 1849.
Fly-Fisher’s Entomology, by Alfred Ronalds. 8vo, Lond.
1849, 4th edit. Fish and Fishing in the United States, by
H. W. Herbert. 8vo, Lond. 1849. Spring-Tide, or the
Angler and his Friends, by T. Y. Akerman. ‘ 12mo, Lond.
1850. The Book of the Salmon, in two parts, by Ephe¬
mera, assisted by Andrew Young. Post 8vo, 1850. The
Erne, its Legends, and its Fly-Fishing, by Henry New-
land. Post 8vo, Lond. 1851. Fly-Fishing in Salt and
Fresh Water, with Plates. 8vo, Lond. 1851.
The preceding extensive list will probably suffice for the
instruction and guidance of the most studious angler.
Those who are curious in regard to bibliographical details
concerning the different editions of the earlier works may
consult a Catalogue of Books on Angling, 8vo, 1811, pub¬
lished by Mr Ellis of the British Museum, and originally
printed in the British Bibliographer. (j. w.)
Explanation of Plate XLI.
A N G
165
Fig. 1. Salmon-fly for spring. Fig.
2. Ditto ditto.
3. Ditto ditto.
4. Ditto for summer.
5. Ditto ditto.
6. Ditto for spring.
7. May-fly. '
8. Red-brown fly.
9. Green-drake fly.
10. Ditto.
11. Dun cut fly.
12. | Minnow-tackle
13. j hooks, baited.
14. Moth-fly.
15. Palmer-fly.
16. Ditto.
17. Ant-fly.
18. Hawthorn-fly.
19. Minnow-tackle.
20. Gorge-hook and bait¬
ing-needle.
21. Dead-snap, with four
hooks.
22. Dead-snap with two
hooks baited.
23. Live bait double hook,
baited.
24. Gorge-hook, baited.
25. Live bait single hook,
baited according to
two different me¬
thods.
ANGLO-CALVINISTS, a name given by some writers
° ie members of the Church of England, as agreeing
7“men°ther CalViniStS ‘n m0St P°ints ““P1 church «»- A»glo.
an aPP.ePat'on given to the language spoken II
y the English Saxons, in contradistinction to the true Saxon Ang°la-
as well as to the modern English. ^xon,
aSrnl1, Th°mas- See White, Thomas.
a .. OLA’ or DongOj a territory on the western
of Africa, between 8° and 10° south latitude. It has Cono-0
on the north ; the South Atlantic Ocean on the west • Ben-
guela on the south ; and the African States of the interior
on the east. It extends about 350 miles from east to west
and between 50 and 60 miles from north to south.
Angola is very mountainous, being destitute of plains ex¬
cept on the sea-shore, and some small plateaux on the sides
or in the gorges of the mountains. It is well watered, and
with the exception of the sandy plains on the coast, is very
fertile. Its principal rivers are the Coanza, which forms its
boundary on the south ; the Danda, which bounds it on the
north ; and the Benga. Here, as in all well-watered tro-
pical countries, vegetation is most luxuriant: palms, the
citron, orange, lemon, banana, cocoa, tamarind, mangrove,
sugar-cane, vine, and indeed every species of tropicarvege¬
tation, is found in great abundance. Nor is the animal
kingdom less prolific: all the animals common to inter-tro¬
pical Africa are found here, with some peculiar to this part
of the country. The sheep, cow, and horse, have been im¬
ported from Europe. Its birds are very numerous, and
among its reptiles are many of the most venomous. Of its
mineral productions, lead, sulphur, petroleum and iron, are
plentiful; gold and silver are found in the mountains, and
copper is said to exist in the interior. The heat is mode¬
rate, and the climate mild and salubrious. Its population is
estimated at between two and three millions.
The habitations of the natives are formed merely of straw,
or rather of dried leafy plants, cemented by a framework of
wooden stakes. Containing no aperture for the admission
of light, they form not so properly houses, as dark dens for
sleeping in, while the tenants spend the day and receive
company in an open space in front, covered with a slight
roof. The abodes of the grandees are in no respect superior,
except that they consist of a number of these hovels grouped
together, and inclosed by a hedge or earthen wall. A village
or town consists merely of a cluster of these inclosures, se¬
parated by narrow and winding footpaths, and leaving ex¬
tensive open spaces, which serve for markets or for scenes
of recreation. A town in this country at a little distance re¬
sembles a wood, from the multitude of trees with which it is
filled ; but on a near approach its nature is soon detected
by the fetid odour exhaling from its precincts.
Like other unenlightened tribes, the natives are deeply
addicted to superstition; and it is remarked as a singular cir¬
cumstance, that their idols do not present the negro visage,
but one more nearly approaching to the European. From
the slight description that is given, we should suspect the face
to be Copt; nor does it seem improbable that the supersti¬
tions of Egypt may have found their way throughout the
continent. 1 he priests pretend to bestow rain, favourable
winds, and various other blessings, upon those who have pro¬
pitiated them by liberal gifts. Much use is made in crimi¬
nal cases, of what our ancestors called “ the judgments of
God.” The accused is made to swallow poison, to plunge
into water, or to take in his hand burning coals, and, unless
he escapes unhurt from these trials, is at once pronounced
guilty. It seems reasonably concluded, that the priests who
administer these tests contrive to secure immunity to their
favourites, or to those who bestow upon them liberal dona¬
tions.
Vessels destined for the coast of Angola, after reaching
Cape Verde, have two routes by which they may proceed.
166
A N G
A N G
Angon They may take the short route by steering directly along
I! the African coast, through the Gulf of Benin. If favoured
Angostura.t>y winds and currents, they may make this voyage very
speedily; but in the event of these circumstances proving
adverse, they are liable to great detention ; and the naviga¬
tion has even occupied eleven months. The other, called
the long route, is performed by proceeding due south, and
even south-west, till they pass the 20th degree of latitude,
when a favourable wind and tide carries them directly east¬
ward to the African coast. This route necessarily occupies
a considerable time; but is liable to no vicissitude, and the
period may be calculated almost to a day.
Angola was discovered in 1484 by Diego Cam, a Portu¬
guese, and soon afterwards several settlements were esta¬
blished there by that government. When Portugal had
possession of Brazil, an active slave-trade was carried on
with this country; but at present the Portuguese derive
little or no benefit from the possession of Angola. They
have a governor at the chief town, St Paul de Loando, and
possess a few decayed forts in the interior, but have little
authority in the country. The principal exports are ivory
and gum. (See Bowdich, Account of the Discoveries of the
Portuguese in Angola, <3fc., 1824. G. Tams, Die Portu-
giesischen Besitzungen in Siid-West-Afrika. Hamburg,
1845.)
ANGON, in the Ancient Military Art, a kind of javelin
used by the French. They darted it at a considerable dis¬
tance. The iron head of this weapon resembled a fleur-de-
luce. It is the opinion of some writers that the arms of
France are not fleurs-de-luce, but the iron point of the
angon or javelin of the ancient French.
ANGORA, or Engtjri (the Ancyra of the ancients),
a town of Natolia, capital of a sandjak of the same name.
It stands on an eminence 140 miles north of Konieh, in Lat.
40. 2. N.; Long. 33.5. E. Its population is variously esti¬
mated at from 20,000 to 60,000, including Mahometans,
Armenians, Greeks, and Jews. There are still to be seen
remains of the celebrated Monumentum Ancyranum, a
temple of white marble erected by the inhabitants in honour
of Augustus, who improved and embellished the city. On the
walls of this temple is an inscription in Greek and Latin, a
great part of which is still legible, detailing the principal
events in the life of Augustus.—(See Hamilton!s Researches
in Asia Minor, &c., 1842.) Angora has long been cele¬
brated for its breed of goats, which annually yield about
<500,000 okes (11,200 cwt.) of hair for exportation. Among
its exports are also wheat, opium, gum, wax, and honey. In
its vicinity are many fine gardens.
Ancyra originally belonged to Phrygia, and afterwards
became the chief town of the Tectosages, one of the three
Gallic tribes that settled in Galatia about b.c. 277. In
B.c. 189 Galatia was subdued by Manlius, and in b.c. 25 it
was formally made a Roman province, of which Ancyra was
the capital. On the division of Galatia by Theodosius I.
or Valens, Ancyra became the capital of Galatia Prima.
It was the seat of one of the earliest Christian churches
founded probably by the apostle Paul; and a council was
held here in 315. In 1402 a great battle was fought in the
vicinity of Ancyra, in which the Turkish sultan Bajazet was
defeated and made a prisoner by Tamerlane, the famous
Tartar conqueror. In 1415 it was recovered by the Turks
under Mahomet I., and since that period it has always be¬
longed to the Ottoman Empire.
ANGORNO, a town of Bornou, in Central Africa, on the
south-west bank of Lake Tsad. It is said to have a popu¬
lation of 30,000, which is increased to thrice that number
during the weekly markets, when a great traffic is carried on
in cotton, amber, coral, metals, and slaves.
ANGOSTUR A, a city of South America, in the repub¬
lic of Venezuela. Lat. 8. 8. 10. N. Long. 63. 55. 20. W.
It stands on the south bank of the Orinoco, about 240
miles from its mouth. It is favourably situated for com¬
merce, being in a very fertile district, and the river is navi¬
gable for vessels of 300 tons up to the town. In the year
1841-2, 419 vessels entered and left its port, of the ag¬
gregate burthen of 29,863 tons. The value of its imports
for that year is said to have been L.63,353; of its exports
L.l 15,831. It has a large city hall, an hospital, and a col¬
lege, and is defended by a fort on the opposite side of the
river. Pop. in 1846, 10,000.
ANGOT, a considerable province in the southern part
of the kingdom of Abyssinia. See Abyssinia.
ANGOULEME (the Iculisma of the ancients), a city
of France, capital of an arrondissement of the same name,
and of the department of Charente. It stands on an elevated
plateau on the left bank of the Charente, 221 feet above the
river, and on the railway between Paris and Bourdeaux, 66
miles north-east of the latter. It is the seat of a bishop, a
court of assize, and a tribunal of primary jurisdiction ; and
has a public library, a royal college, an obstetric school, a
theatre, a museum of natural history, and a society of agri¬
culture, arts, sciences, and belles-lettres. Angouleme is, in
general, well built; but many of the streets in the old town
are narrow and crooked. It has numerous paper-mills, a
cannon foundry, an extensive powder-mill, manufactories of
linen, cloth, and porcelain, besides a considerable general
trade, particularly in wine and brandy. The chief public
buildings are an ancient castle, a cathedral, and a fine bridge
over the Charente. Pop. in 1846, 18,482. The arrondisse¬
ment of the same name is divided into nine cantons, and 143
communes ; and by the census of 1846 contained 136,653
inhabitants.
ANGOUMOIS, an old province of France, now forming
the department of Charente and part of that of Dordogne.
Its capital was Angouleme.
ANGOY, or Engoy, a small province in the country of
Congo, which nearly two centuries ago rendered itself in¬
dependent. It extends along the northern bank of the
Congo or Zaire, from its junction with the sea inwards. A
great proportion of the surface is covered writh forests and
swamps: cultivation has made little progress, and the popu¬
lation is thin. Bomangoi, in the interior, is stated to be the
capital; but Cabenda, near the mouth of the Zaire, is the
seat of trade, and dealt largely in slaves previous to the pro¬
hibition of that traffic.
ANGRA, a city of Terceira, one of the Azores; the
capital of that group, and the residence of the governor.
It is seated on the southern shore, and its harbour is the
only tolerable one in the whole island. It is in the form of
a crescent, the extremities of which are defended by two
high rocks, that run far into the sea, and render the en¬
trance so narrow as to be easily covered by the batteries on
each side. From this harbour the town is said to derive its
name; the word Angra signifying a creek, bay, or station
for ships. Here ships may ride in perfect safety during the
summer; but as soon as the winter begins, the storms are
so furious, that the only safety is in putting to sea with all
possible expedition. Happily these storms are preceded by
infallible signs, with which experience has made the in¬
habitants perfectly acquainted.
The town is well built and populous, and forms the see of
a bishop, under the jurisdiction of the archbishop of Lisbon.
It contains five parishes, a cathedral, four monasteries, as
many nunneries, besides a bishop’s court, which extends its
jurisdiction over all the Azores. The fortifications have
lately been considerably extended. Pop. 13,000.
At Angra are kept the royal magazines for anchors, cables,
sails, and other stores for the royal navy, and occasionally
4
*
A N G
Angri for mercliant vessels in great distress. All maritime affairs
II . are under the inspection of the JDesembergador, an officer
I'laviT' W^° ^as subordinate officers and pilots for conducting ships
v ^aV1^ y into the harbour, or to proper watering places. The English,
v French, and Dutch, have each a consul residing at Angra,
though the commerce of these nations with the Azores is
very inconsiderable. Long. 27. 14. W. Lat. 38. 38. N.
ANGRI, a town in the province of Principato Citeriore,
kingdom of Naples, with 6400 inhabitants.
ANGUIER, Francois and Michel, two brothers, natives
of Normandy, were distinguished sculptors in the time of
Louis XIV. Michel, the younger of the two, executed the
sculptures of the triumphal arch at the Porte St Denis. A
marble group of the Nativity was reckoned his masterpiece.
ANGUILLA, or Snake Island, the most northern of the
Leeward group. Lat. 18. 14. N. Long. 63. 8. W. Its chief
productions are sugar, cotton, maize, tobacco, and salt. Pop.
about 3000.
ANGUILLARA, Giovanni Andrea dell’, one of the
most distinguished Italian poets of the sixteenth century,
was born at Sutri in Tuscany about the year 1517. His free
translation of the Metamorphoses of Ovid in ottava rima
still enjoys a high reputation in Italy, and some admiring
critics have even preferred it to the original.
ANGUINUM Ovum, a fabulous kind of egg, said to be
produced by the saliva of a cluster of serpents, and possessed
of certain magical virtues. The superstition in respect to
these was very prevalent among the ancient Britons, and
the traditionary belief on the subject still exists in Wales.
This wondrous egg seems to be nothing more than a bead
of glass, used by the Druids as a charm to impose on the
vulgar, whom they taught to believe that the possessor
would be fortunate in all his attempts, and that it would
gain the favour of the great.
ANGUS, the old name of the county of Forfar. It gave
the title of Earl to the Douglasses; and now to the Duke
of Hamilton. See Forfar.
ANGUSSOLA, or Angosciola, four sisters, named
Sofonisba, Lucia, Europa, and Anna Maria, distinguished
painters, who flourished in the latter half of the sixteenth cen¬
tury. They were members of a noble and ancient family
at Cremona. The merit of the younger sisters, though con¬
siderable, was eclipsed by that of Sofonisba, who ranks as
one of the best portrait painters of that period. She also
painted some small historical pieces, which are highly
esteemed. She was born in 1533, and was twice married.
In 1560, at the invitation of Philip II., she visited the Court
of Madrid, where her portraits elicited great commendation.
She was blind and infirm at the time of her death, which
happened at Genoa in the 93d year of her age. Vandyke
is said to have paid her the high compliment of declaring
that he had derived more knowledge of the true principles
of his art from the conversation of that blind woman than
from any other source. She painted several fine portraits
of herself, one of which is now at Althorp. (Vasari;
ruseh’s Pilkington; La?izi.)
ANGUS flCLAVIA, in Homan Antiquity, a tunica
worn by the equestrian order, having two narrow purple
stiipes inwoven parallel to each other, and extending from
t ie shoulders down its entire length. The Laticlavia
lUNlCA, worn by the senators, was loose at the waist, and
distinguished by one broad purple band which extended
perpendicularly from the neck down its centre. The Latus
, j rMf is said to have been introduced at Rome by Tullus
osti ms after his conquest of the Etruscans, and it appears
0 ilave j en worn in early times by all classes promiscu-
ous y. t seems that Augustus sometimes conferred the
pnvi ege of wearing the Latus Clavus on the children of
tques nans, as a prelude to entering the senate.
A N H
167
51 A33Hand 52 ^ 1ES °iVn Germany> lie between Lat. Anhalt
oi. 66. and 52. 7. N., and Long. 11. and 12. 36. E., and 11
comprise an area of 1017 square miles. They are almost Anlilt-
entiidy surrounded by the Prussian province^ of Saxony. Jiernbui'g-
The country is generally level, having few elevations ex-
The knd Vh^b1^2 Mu°TainS Pr°ject towards Bernburg.
t land, which is in a high state of cultivation, is very fer-
tile, and is watered by the Elbe and its tributaries the Mulde,
the Nuthe, and the Saale, which last receives here the
Vv 1PP<:r and the Bode- rPhe inhabitants are chiefly engaged
in agriculture and the rearing of sheep and cattle, for which
the extensive xorests and rich meadows are very favourable.
1 he productions of the country are corn, wine, tobacco, flax
hops, and fruits; and its manufactures linen, cotton and
woollen goods, metallic and earthen wares. These find a
ready exit by means of the Elbe and the Magdeburg-Leip-
zig, and the Anhalt-Berlin railways. Game and fish are
abundant, and the mountains are rich in minerals.
Anhalt still exists as a consequence of that ancient system
of hereditary succession in which the right of primogeniture
was not recognised, the younger children sharing also in the
heritage. Hence arose those petty kingdoms and princi¬
palities, of which several still exist in Germany. Whatever
advantages this system may have had, it certainly tended
much to retard the diffusion of civilisation and prosperity.
Bernhard, son of Albert surnamed the Bear, w7as the first
who obtained the title of Prince of Anhalt, which territory
he held, together with a great part of the Duchy of Saxony.
On his death in 1211 he was succeeded in the principa¬
lity of Anhalt by his son Henry 1.; while Albert, a younger
son, received his possessions in Saxony. On the death of
Henry in 1252, Anhalt w7as divided among his family into
three parts, which were afterwards united under Ernest
Joachim L, who reigned from 1570 to 1586. On his de¬
mise the country was again divided among his four sons
into Dessau, Bernburg, Coethen, and Zerbst. The Zerbst
family dying out in 1793, their possessions fell to the share
of the other three. By the death of Henry Duke of Anhalt-
Coethen in November 1847, that line became extinct, and
the affairs of the Duchy are now administered by the Duke
of Anhalt-Dessau, for behoof of himself and the Duke of
Anhalt-Bernburg. In 1807 the princes of Anhalt took the
title of dukes, and joined the Confederation of the Rhine.
In the Germanic Confederation the three duchies, in con¬
junction with Oldenburg and Schartzburg, have the fifteenth
vote in the ordinary diet; but each has a distinct vote in its
plenary assemblies. The population of Anhalt is almost
entirely Protestant.
Several of the princes of Anhalt have borne a conspicu¬
ous part in the affairs of Europe, and not a few of them have
been noted for their zeal in the cause of Protestantism.
Wolf or Wolfgang VI., Prince of Anhalt-Coethen, and
Joachim I., of Anhalt-Dessau-Zerbst, distinguished them¬
selves in the cause of the Reformation. They were present
at the diet of Augsburg in 1530, and Wolfgang was one of
those who presented the “ Confession” to the emperor.
Anhalt-Bernburg, the most western of the three
duchies, has an area of 339 square miles, and is divided into
two separate duchies. The upper duchy lies on the side and at
the foot of the Hartz Mountains, and though generally moun¬
tainous and woody, it has some fine valleys. The lower
duchy, situated on the Saale and Elbe, is generally flat, and
in some parts marshy. The climate of the lower duchy is
temperate and mild, while that of the upper is cold and
humid. The mines in the neighbourhood of the Hartz
Mountains yield copper, silver, iron, lead, sulphur, and gyp¬
sum. It is divided into nine amts or bailiwicks, each of which
has a chief town of the same name, viz., Bernburg, Plotz-
kau, Miihlingen, and Koswick, in the lower duchy; and Bal-
168 A N H
Anhalt- lenstedt, Hartzgerode, Giinthersberge, Gernrode, and
Coethen Hoym, in the upper. The revenue for 1851-2 amounted to
Jl 808,888 thalers, about L.121,333, and the expenditure was
Animal yo6,828 thalers, or L.121,024.
It has some mediatised possessions in the province of
Saxony. Pop. in 1849, 50,411; of whom 837 were Jews.
This duchy furnishes a contingent of 370 men to the Ger¬
manic Confederation, and has a standing army of 300 men.
The public debt amounts to 2,100,000 thalers, or L.315,000.
Anhalt-Coethen has an area of 318 square miles, and
consists of four distinct parts intermingled with the terri¬
tories of surrounding princes. The most compact part is
that which lies around the capital, and the most distant lies
on the right bank of the Elbe. It is generally a level plain,
with a sandy soil, but for the most part well cultivated and
very productive. It is divided into six amts, viz., Coethen,
Neinsdorf, Wulfen, Nienburg, Warmsdorf,. and Roslau.
Population in 1849, 43,120, almost all engaged in agricul¬
tural and pastoral pursuits. The possessions of this duchy in
Southern Russia comprise an area of 230 square miles.
The principality of Plesse in the Prussian province of Silesia,
which was held by the late duke, passed, at his death, to the
Count of Hochberg. The revenue and expenditure for the
year 1851-2, were respectively 449,888 thalers, or L.67,483.
It furnishes to the federal army a contingent of 325 men.
Anhalt-Dessau, the most eastern of the three duchies,
has an area of 360 square miles. It is intersected by the
Elbe and the Mulde. The greater part of it is very fertile
and well watered, and is well cultivated. Population in 1849,
63,700. Its mediatised possessions have an area of about
200 square miles, with 12,000 inhabitants. It is divided
into seven amts, viz., Dessau, Oramnibaum, Quellendorf,
A N I
Grobzig, Sandersleben, Alsleben, and Zerbst, each of which Anhoit
has a chief town of its own name. It furnishes a contingent II
of 529 men ; and its revenue and expenditure are equal, -primal
each being in 1851-2, 596,000 thalers, or L.89,400. An-
halt Dessau and Coethen have a standing army of 1000 men; ' ^
and a public debt of 3,500,000 thalers or L.525,000, of
which last rather more than two-thirds belongs to Coethen.
ANHOLT, a Danish island in the Cattegat, 32 miles
north-east of Greenoe, and 36 south-east from Lessoe. It
is a barren spot, scarcely affording subsistence to 200 inha¬
bitants, who, from their language, which is Celtic mixed with
a few Danish words, are supposed to be emigrants from the
Highlands of Scotland. Their chief pursuit is fishing. The
occupation of this island was a subject of contest with Eng-
land.during the war. It is surrounded by dangerous banks
of sand, for which reason a lighthouse is built on its most east¬
erly promontory, in Eat. 56. 44. 20. N. Long. 11. 38. 51. E.
ANIANI Breviarium. See Civil Law.
ANICHINI, Luigi, an engraver of seals and medals, born
at Ferrara in the sixteenth century. Michael Angelo pro¬
nounced his -Interview of Alexander the Great with the
High-Priest at Jerusalem “ the perfection of the art.” His
medals of Henry II. of France and Pope Paul III. are
greatly valued.
ANIELLO. See Massaniello.
ANIMAL. See Animal Kingdom.
Animal-Flower, a name applied to certain species of
the genus Actinia, remarkable for the brilliant colours which
ornament their tentacula, and which produce an appearance
resembling the variegated corolla of a plant. The name is
of vicious construction, and is falling into disuse. See Zoo¬
phytes.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
We embrace the earliest opportunity afforded by our
alphabetical arrangement to present a few introductory
observations in illustration of a science unrivalled in inte¬
rest, and not greatly surpassed in importance by any de¬
partment of human knowledge. Zoology, or the science
which treats of the nature and history of animals (from
an animal, and Xoyo;, a discourse), embraces so vast a held
of observation, that although it cannot be regarded other¬
wise than as a single and beautifully connected science,
its great extent of general doctrine, and multiplied va¬
riety of details, render necessary a subdivision into many
branches, each of which, if worthily followed, is in truth
more than sufficient to occupy the undivided attention of
the most zealous votary. If in voluminous works exclu¬
sively devoted to natural history a single department of the
science usually engrosses the entire attention of an author,
it is evident that, in the present publication, it would not
only be in vain to attempt a complete exposition of the sub¬
ject under a single head, but that even the various treatises
under which its different branches will be exhibited must
be presented in a very abridged and compendious form.
It shall be our endeavour, however, in the course of our
natural history treatises, so to select and methodize the
great leading facts of the science, as to enable our readers
to form an accurate idea of the present state of zoological
knowledge, even though certain minuter derails, hitherto
forming too conspicuous a feature of the subject, yet not
essential to its truthful representation, should in some
measure be curtailed.
With a view to obviate to a certain extent the inconve¬
nience arising from the disconnection of thedifferentparts of
the science, which the nature of an alphabetic encyclopaedia
necessarily occasions, we now propose, under the words
Animal Kingdom, to give, ls£, an exposition of such of
the general doctrines of zoology as, not pertaining more
to one department than another, may with the greater
propriety be separated from the history of particular
classes, and presented as a useful and appropriate intro¬
duction to the whole,—thus uniting the advantages of an
alphabetical and systematic arrangement; ‘idly, to pre¬
sent outlines of some of the prevailing systems of zoology,
so as to exhibit in a condensed form the general princi¬
ples of classification, and enable the student more clearly
to understand the relative connections which exist be¬
tween the scattered treatises in which the subjects (in
their alphabetical order) will be afterwards more fully
developed; and Sdly, to give a sketch of the arrangement
to be followed during the future progress of this work,
which will not only serve as a guide or general index to
the separate articles, but will, on the completion of the
Encyclopaedia, enable the attentive reader to methodize
these articles in such a manner as to form a complete
and consistent system of zoology.
It is by no means so easy as it may at first appear, to
define precisely what is meant by the term animal, be¬
cause, as we descend in the scale of beings, we find a
transition so gradual from those whose powers and pro¬
perties are strongly characterized, to others which, along
with a scarcely perceptible share of sensation and volun¬
tary motion, partake so greatly of the nature of plants,
that the most acute naturalists have varied in opinion re¬
garding the exact line of their demarcation. There are
also many plants which appear to differ less from certain
animals than they do from other plants of an opposite na¬
ture and construction. This connected series of orga¬
nized bodies, however, is not graduated after the mode
established by some vague writers on natural history;
I
1
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
169
Animal for it is not the most perfectly composed, but rather the the three kingdoms of nnt.,™ . « nt i
.ingdom. ]east complex plants, which follow the most simply orga- tables grow and livp • mLv. i ' ,.inera 8 8row‘’ vege- Ammal
-^nized animals. It has been said that nature follows^ con- o^character commor r he^T’ ^ The Kingdon,
tinuous and ascending chain, from the mineral to the the above defin^^ to^^
plant, and from the vegetable to the animal kingdom, the adding to previous bulk “ TheSvrWtthV-°r tc6 power„ ?f
apex of which is crowned by the most perfect work of is observed by the late bishop of LlandaffTnhifrr8’- 1
creation,—the human race. Certain minerals, such as Essays, “ hath been admitted bv manv V Chen?tcal
amianthus or asbestos, no doubt exhibit a fibrous or woody contended that minerals, as well ^ animals and veoen.M™
structure; and coral, which has a stony texture, a vege- spring from seed, the greatest beino- noinoht8^.
table form, and polypus inhabitants, has been adduced in pension of the parts of a minute grain of sand ” IW
dlustrat.on of the union of the three kingdoms.; But all neral bodies in truth cannot be said to grow ThevTe
such fanciful speculations are the result of partial and in- ceive by aggregation or superposition, by mechanical »
accurate observation. The calcareous basis of the coral is chemical agency, an increase of particles Tournrfor,
formed by a species ofpolypus and has no more principle of indeed, was of opinion that stalactites in caves actuall v
increase in itself than the she I of the oyster or the waxen increased by an internal growth or propulsfon like S
cells of the honey-bee. Its elegant branches are created of plants and animals. But it is known that these con
by the instinctive labours of the animal inhabitants, which cretions .add to their bulk by successive deposft „„s of
alone are possessed of life. The animal and vegetable stony particles contained in tfie water which bathes their
kingdoms are more correctly compared to two great py- sides or percolates through the canal by which Ae
Tm »dmoTe asVe"; asceml ^ bUt d,Vergi”8 “f-s are frequently perLated. They pLess no a«ri-
more ana more as tney ascend. bute which bears the slightest affinity to that internal
Ihe extraordinary beings which by their ambiguous life which propels the fluids or assimilates the nutritive
nature may be said to have thus blended two kingdoms juices in the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Minerals
into one, are called zoophytes- or animal plants. They then, are destitute of that active power'by which animals
were arranged by Tournefort among vegetables, and were and plants effect an individual appropriatL of such ma
at an after-period removed to the class to which they terials as conduce to their nourishment and increase “nd
really belong, chiefly on the authority and through the which is carried on, not by casual juxtaposition or’ the
abours ot Linnaeus and 1 alias. Ihese naturalists bore addition of similar particles previously prepared, but by
in m ml wlat few of their predecessors seem to have re- an admirable and elaborate process, through which the
membered, that locomotion, that is to say, the movement ponderous bullock, with its immense load of fleshy fibre
o a body fi om place to place en masse, though a general converts into its own muscular and sanguiferous system the
cl aracteristic, is not an essential or indispensable attn- sweet-smelling grass of the meadow; and through which
bate, of animality; for numerous animals of the mollus- also the size and flavour of our most delicious fruits are often
cous and radiated kinds are as permanently fixed to their primarily derived, from an addition to their natural soil
nw! r0CtS S Ta re,efs as t]ue “ostdeep'y r°oted of substances of a very different and less inviting nature
p ants are to the soil which gave them Dirth. Rome de Lisle has accurately observed that straight lines
wlrnl8 “S-atl0n and thf, pow?r ?f voluntary movement, in and plane surfaces are characteristic of mineraf bodies
whole or in part, are the principal characteristics of ani- but that animals and plants are composed of curved lines
mals, it is evident that the more these faculties become or rounded surfaces, resulting from diat central power of
developed, the greater will be their removal from the ve- life which dilates the internal organs in all directions, and
tends to produce spherical or cylindrical forms. The
seeds of plants, the eggs of birds, and the young of all
animals, are remarkable for the roundness of their out¬
lines.
The objects of natural history, however, are not now
divided into three kingdoms; for the characters which
connect together plants and animals on the one hand, and
distinguish both of these kingdoms from minerals on the
other, are so obvious and strongly marked, that the di¬
visions now established are those of ovganic and inovganic
bodies; the former including all animals and plants, the
latter all mineral substances. The definition of an ani¬
mal, given by M. Virey, is as follows: A. being, organized,
sensible, endowed with voluntary motion, and provided with
a central organ of digestion. And he thus defines a plant:
getable kingdom. The more perfect the plant, and the
more complicated the animal becomes, the greater dispa¬
rity will be perceived to exist between them. If, in dis¬
tinguishing the animal from the vegetable, nothing more
were required than to point out the differences between
an oak and an elephant, the line of demarcation would be
easily drawn, and the characters of the respective classes
could never more be confounded. But there are many
plants which, though less aspiring than the oak, lay claim
to a closer alliance to a higher kingdom ; and many ani¬
mals of a more carnivorous nature than the elephant are
much more nearly connected by their nature and attri¬
butes with the vegetable tribes. When we perceive a
living or animalized substance producing by suckers,
buds, or offsets from its own body,—when we see that
bv thp infliion™x • in • • . , u/yun uj uigtsLion. ivna ne mus aePnes a plant:
canable^ofre a^snml;Sht,fLir’ ^umidlty\lt ^ rendered A body, organized, insensible, not endowed with voluntary
En ri d^ r^1116 fufnCtl0ns10f vltahVftf a motion, nourished by external pores. To these he add's
Whfn W?asclrtffin m ?ran aPParent death’~ anotJher character, that the reproductive organs of plants
en we asceitain that it cannot live except in water, or are developed and thrown off every year, whereas those
be capable of p 7 thf altl?ough it may of animals are persistent. It is evident that the last
fixed for lif- , 'n fngUld and partial m]otlons’lfc 18 yet clause of his first definition—that which relates to the cen-
its nourisl nen0rahSinS e ^ SpaC?’ Where ^ denVeS ^ organ of digestion—if rigorously applied, would ex-
certainlv the d ^ °f exte™aK P,ores,—we have elude a number of the infusorial tribes from the animal
ceitainl) the description of an animal of the lowest order, kingdom,
Xtr h i /v H <■»»    a y O
which applies at the same time almost equally well to
vegetable life. J
1 he following were the dicta of Linnaeus in relation to
Perhaps the most efficient mode of distinguishing be¬
tween animals and plants is by having recourse to a cer¬
tain range of characters, derived from the study of their
VOL. m.
Virev, Mceurs et Instinct dcs .hrinwux.
J70 A NI M A L
Animal internal structure and organic functions: thus the pos-
Kingdom. session of nerves, muscles, and a stomach, with the con-
sequent attributes of sensation, voluntary motion, and di¬
gestion, will be found to separate animals properly so call¬
ed from all other organized matter. If these leading
characters are not common to all animals, they are at
least proper to them alone; and if the whole of these
characters are not always united in the same animal, we
invariably find at least one of the three. Thus certain
species of polypus, the sensibility and voluntary move¬
ments of which cannot be said decidedly to manifest
themselves, are obviously furnished with a digestive cavity
or stomach; and many of the infusory animals, of the
digestion of which we know nothing, are as perfect in re¬
gard to their varied powers of locomotion as any of the
higher classes. Numerous zoophytical species, indeed, are
of so simple a nature, that in them we cannot perceive
either a distinct tissue or a nourishing fluid; but we can
form some opinion of the nature of their elements from
the character of their properties. Irritability indicates
nerves, motion supposes the existence of muscles, and
the continued maintenance of life attests nutrition. Thus
the materials of animal life, so vaguely constituted in
these creatures, are detected by their general properties.
In relation to their chemical characters, animals may be
said to be principally composed of azote; and vegetables,
with the exception of cruciferae, of carbon. Animals ab¬
sorb oxygen, plants disengage it; the former reject car¬
bon, the latter become impregnated with it. An exchange
of principles is thus effected between the two great divi¬
sions of organized existence; but it has been observed
that plants merely fix or organize carbon, whereas animals
appear to transform into azote, both the air which they
respire, and the aliments by which they are nourished.
It has been asserted that a single mouth, or opening to
the digestive canal, sufficiently characterizes animals from
plants, as the latter always possess innumerable pores,
which with them are the representatives of the mouth,
and conduce to the same ends; but this distinction is in
fact inaccurate, as some species of Fasciola possess two
mouths, certain Tristomae three, and the genus called by
Cuvier Rhisostoma many more ; to say nothing of the in¬
fusorial tribes, many of which have no mouth at all, but
derive their nourishment by imbibition through the me¬
dium of external pores. Nutrition, or the power of de¬
riving nourishment from other bodies, is common alike to
plants and animals, and effects for organized and living
bodies that increase of bulk which inorganic or disorgan¬
ized substances can only attain through the medium of an
affinity of particles, or by mechanical aggregation. The
functions of nutrition, however, as manifested in the ani¬
mal and vegetable kingdoms, are very differently perform¬
ed in each. Fixed for ever to the soil which gave them
birth, plants are rendered incapable of searching after
nourishment by a voluntary change of place, but derive
their chief support from roots, the pores of which absorb
the nutritive portions from the humid soil, and by a uni¬
form and continuous action, which is only interrupted by
an absence of the necessary moisture. The generality of
animals, on the contrary, being possessed of the power of
locomotion, are also endowed with the capacity of trans¬
porting with themselves a supply of necessary nourish¬
ment ; for which purpose they are provided with an in¬
ternal cavity or stomach, the inward surfaces of which
are provided with absorbing pores, which Boerhaave ex¬
pressively named internal roots. “ The magnitude of this
cavity,” observes Cuvier, c< in a number of animals, per-
KINGDOM.
mits them to introduce solid substances into it. It was Animal
necessary then that they should have instruments for di-
viding those substances, and liquors for dissolving them. V^rv'v
In a word, with such animals nutrition does not immedi¬
ately commence upon the absorption of the substances
which the soil or the atmosphere furnishes. It is necessa¬
rily preceded by a vast number of preparatory operations,
the whole of which constitute digestion^1 The motion of
the nutritive fluid in plants, from the simplicity of their
structure, and the fixity of their position, seems to be
preserved by simple external agents. “ It appears to
proceed upwards by the effect of their spongy or capillary
texture; and the evaporation which takes place at their
top, and its motion in that direction, is the more rapid in
proportion as the evaporation is great. It appears also
that the motion of this fluid may even become retrograde,
when it ceases to flow in its usual course, or changes into
absorption by the coldness and humidity of the atmo¬
sphere.”2 In regard to animals, however, the case is dif¬
ferent. Being destined continually to change their locali¬
ties, and to live exposed to a variety of temperatures, they
require an active principle within themselves for the con¬
veyance of their nourishing fluid. This fluid is therefore
contained in a multiplicity of canals, which are ramified
from two trunks, communicating with each other in such
a manner that the roots of the one, called the venous
system, receive the contents which the other, known as
the arterial system, has propelled to the extremity of its
. branches, and restore them to the centre, from which
they are again driven forward. It is this rotation which
constitutes what is called the circulation of the blood. It
may be regarded as a function of a secondary order pro¬
per to animals, but not universal to that kingdom, as it
depends in a great measure on the existence of that cen¬
tral organ called the heart, of which some classes are en¬
tirely destitute. It is therefore less essential to life than
digestion, and not so intimately related to the faculties of
sensation and locomotion. In regard to respiration, ani¬
mals which are unprovided with a regular circulating sys¬
tem respire, like vegetables, over the whole of their surface,
or by various vessels which are placed at different points,
and convey the air to the interior of their bodies. “ No
animals,” saysCuvier, “respire by a particular organ, except
such as have a real circulation ; because in them the blood
coming from one common source, the heart, to which it
constantly returns, the vessels that contain it are so dis¬
posed that it cannot arrive at the other parts until it has
passed through the lungs. This, however, cannot take place
in vegetables, or in those animals in which this fluid is
everywhere diffused in a uniform manner, without being
contained in vessels.” Pulmonary or branchial respira¬
tion is therefore an animal function of a third order, in¬
variably connected with circulation, and one degree re¬
moved from such faculties as are essential to animal life.
When a vegetable dies of old age, it begins to decay in
the centre. We frequently see ancient willow-trees en¬
tirely dead, except in a few slender twigs, or in small por¬
tions of their superficial bark. An animal, on the con¬
trary', first dies in its extremities and circumference, whilst
the heart or central portion continues for a time to per¬
form, however languidly, its accustomed actions.
Among plants both sexes usually occur in the same
individual, or even on the same flower; but in a far
greater proportion of animals the two sexes are repre¬
sented by separate individuals. There is indeed no
genuine hermaphrodital union among mammiferous ani¬
mals, birds, reptiles, fishes, cuttle-fish, Crustacea, or in-
1 Lectures on Comparative Anatomy, lecture i.
* Ibid.
*
AiNIMAL KINGDOM.
171
Imrnal sects. Among many molluscous animals, however, such bark, while serpents and cray-fish cast ofF and reproduce Animal
i ngdom. as the oyster and other bivalves, both sexes are found on their scaly and crustaceous covering. To be produced Kingdom
. ' <-1 • «.« 4-1 iirk 1 ri i M 10 /^r\nco/inor^ f'lxr o nUt4- t +•  1 a • i ®
the same individual, which is consequently sufficient of it¬
self for the purposes of reproduction, and may be regard¬
ed as a genuine hermaphrodite. This singular order of
things is in fact indispensable to the nature of bivalve
testacea, which, being almost entirely deprived of the
power of locomotion, and destitute of eyes or other organs
by which to distinguish each other, require to possess
within themselves the power of reproduction, lest their
kind should cease. The species is both represented and
continued by a single individual. In the earthworm,
again, the same union of the sexes occurs, but modified
in such a way that the concurrence of two individuals is
required for the continuance of the race, and each acts in
relation to the other both as male and female. This is
also the case with slugs, and a great proportion of uni¬
valve and turbinated shells. Lastly, the zoophytical ani¬
mals are not distinguished by any sex, but are multiplied
by separation or excision of parts of their own bodies.
The law which establishes a perfect distinction and se¬
paration of the sexes in animals seems likewise to produce
a double and symmetrical structure, and is of great extent
in that kingdom ; whilst the circular or radiated form more
especially distinguishes plants, and is also characteristic
of those zoophytical tribes which, both by name and na¬
ture, claim an alliance to the vegetable world.
The grain, and the fruit or kernel, may be said to bear
the same relation to a vegetable as the egg or the embryo
does to an animal,—with this difference to be borne in
mind, that the concurrence of the sexes is necessary to
the formation of the vegetable egg, whereas in the animal
kingdom that circumstance is indispensable only to the
fecundation of the pre-existing germ. The perfection
of a plant, and the ultimate aim of its existence, if we
may use such a phrase to an inanimate structure, con¬
sist in the continuance of its kind. In such as are
named annuals especially, the term of whose existence is
limited in many instances to a small portion of the year,
the ripening of the seeds is speedily effected, and, after a
very brief period, death succeeds “ the bright consum¬
mate flower.” In numerous tribes of insects the same
fleeting existence is observable, though the ephemeral
nature of these last-named tribes is rather apparent than
real, as the wonderful metamorphoses to which they are
subjected conceal their identity from the eye of the un¬
initiated, and greatly interfere with a continuous tracing
of the same individual from the egg to the perfect form.
For example, many aquatic flies, such as the Ephemerae
and others, whose declared and more obvious existence
does not exceed a few hours, have, previous to their as¬
suming the winged state, spent months or even years in
the banks of rivers, and beneath the surface of the stream.
Even the mode of reproduction among the lower tribes
of the animal kingdom bears some analogy to that of ve¬
getables ; and as the vital principle in the smallest branch
or portion of a willow-tree is easily continued and increas¬
ed though separated from the parent stem, so in many
zoophytical animals a bud, branch, or other section, re¬
moved from the full-grown individual, suffers no injury
from such partition, but, on the contrary, acquires almost
immediately a complete and independent power of exist¬
ence within itself, and is ere long capable of exercising or
enduring a like division in favour of posterity. Animals
as well as plants are liaole to be affected by the revolu¬
tions of the seasons; for the period of flowering in the
one class is answered by the season of love in the other,
and the fall of the leaf is only analogous to the periodical
lenewal of the feathers of birds and the hair of qua¬
drupeds. Ihe platanus quits and renews its superficial
and nourished, to increase, to engender, and to die, are
characters common to every class of organized existence ;
but animals properly so called are alone endowed with in¬
stinct and voluntary motion,—they alone possess nerves,
muscles, digestive organs, and blood, with the faculties of
perception, &c. consequent on these attributes.
The preceding observations will serve to illustrate the
principal relations and analogies which exist between
animal and vegetable life. But there are other characters
proper to animals, the whole of which, however, are not
universally bestowed on that class, of which it will now be
proper to say a few words. The substance of which even
the most perfect animal is composed may be resolved
into four tissues,—the cellular, the muscular, the fibrous,
and the medullary.
The cellular tissue is the most extensively bestowed,
and forms, according to an expression of the French phy¬
siologists, the canvass of all the organs, and of every ani¬
mal. It is even common to vegetables, and serves at
once to compose, to unite, and to separate the organs.
Formed of laminae or plates interlacing each other in
every direction, and perforated by small cavities which
have intimate communication, it also sometimes presents
itself under the form of membranes, which, when they
assume a tunnelled or cylindrical shape, are denominated
vessels. It is in this tissue that the gelatine accumulates
for the formation of the cartilages, and the calcareous salts
for that of the bones. It is amongst its meshes that the
fat is amassed, the small vessels distributed, and warmth
developed. It forms the basis of the organs.
The muscular tissue is composed of fibrin, and its chief
property is that of contraction. It forms what are called
the fleshy parts of bodies. Bundles of this tissue crossing
each other compose the heart, and, under another aspect,
form the stomach and intestines. It is the agent of move¬
ment.
The medullary or nervous substance is composed of a
soft albuminous pulp, and is protected by powerful mem¬
branes. It enjoys the admirable faculties of perceiving,
comparing, judging, remembering, and willing; it gives
to the senses their special properties, to the muscles their
moving force, and is the seat of that mysterious union be¬
tween mind and body through which the intellectual fa¬
culties result or become manifested, and the exact nature
of which the most acute of metaphysical inquirers, and
the most accurate and thoughtful observers of nature,
have as yet sought in vain to illustrate. Sensation is the
attribute of the nerves.
The fibrous tissue, the most resistant and unfeeling of
all, fastens the bones to each other, and connects the
bones and the muscles. It forms the ligaments, the ten¬
dons, many vessels, and some resisting membranes em¬
ployed for the protection of the more important organs.
In composition it approaches the cellular tissue, but its
properties are dissimilar. Its character is resistance.
Each of these tissues is destined to the performance of
a special purpose: The cellular organizes, the muscular
moves, the nervous perceives, the fibrous attaches and
resists; but one and all are under the influence of that
nourishing fluid, so different in various animals, known by
the name of blood. This fluid is red, circulating, of a
high temperature, in animals of the superior classes—that
is, the mammalia and birds; less red, colder, and not so
charged with oxygen, in fishes and reptiles; colourless,
but still circulating, in the mollusca; without either co¬
lour or movement in insects; scarcely perceptible in cer¬
tain worms; and apparently wanting in zoophytes. It is
this fluid which animates all the organs, and presides over
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
172
Animal every function. Nutrition exhausts its principles, diges-
Kingdom. tion repairs them, respiration elaborates and renders it
perfect, and the action of the heart gives it circulation.
All these elements united and variously combined com¬
pose the different organs of animated beings, the harmo¬
nious action of which organs forms the essence of our
wellbeing, physically considered, in the present stage of
our existence. The human race possesses the attributes
of animal life in common with the brute creation; but we
must ever bear about with us a firm conviction that these
are “ the accidents, not the essentials of our nature j”1 and
that however proper it may be to mention them as the
technical statements of physiology, yet that they are to¬
tally inadequate to the description of a being who bears
about with him the germ of immortal life, and knows that
he was created “ but a little lower than the angels.”
“ Those persons,” says Buffon, “ who see, hear, or smell
imperfectly, are of no less intellectual capacity than others;
an evident proof that in man there is something more
than an internal sense. This is the soul of man, which is
an independent and superior sense, a lofty and spiritual
existence, entirely different in its essence and action from
the nature of the external senses.”
It is easy to perceive that one set of organs may be so
related to another as constantly to require its co-exist¬
ence. Thus, circumscribed respiratory organs are always
accompanied by a heart, which causes the blood to flow
through them ; and a brain is never found without nerves
and muscles, which serve it as faithful ministers and at¬
tendants. The brain receives impressions, and is enabled
to judge of them through the medium of nervous sensa¬
tions : this is the first mode of the functions of relation.
But the order is inverse so far as relates to the pheno¬
mena of the will as connected with the exercise of the
voice and the organs of movement. The brain wills or
commands, the nerves transmit the order, and the muscles
execute it.
There are other co-existences in the animal economy
as apparent as those above alluded to, the motives of
which are not, however, so easily comprehended. We are
still ignorant why the viscus called the liver should al¬
ways exist where there is a heart; and why all orthop¬
terous insects should have the forehead furnished with a
broad plate.
It will readily be conceived that the diversified circum¬
stances pf life in the various tribes of animals necessitate
an infinite variety of phenomena in their functions and
faculties. An animal which respires, and has its dwelling
in the waters, can neither feel nor move after the manner
of one which breathes in the pure air; and wherever there
are bianchiae or gills instead of lungs, we are sure also to
find oviparous generation, an incomplete circulation, an
absence of voice, and imperfect organs of hearing and
of smell. But the existence of lungs alters the relation
of the whole of these functions.
The same principle may be applied to the different
kinds of aliment. A carnivorous animal is endowed with
force and courage : it has a strait stomach, short intes¬
tines, and a lank or somewhat slender form. Herbivorous
animals, on the contrary, are usually mild and timid, dull
in action, of a sluggish nature, and unapt to self-defence :
their intestines are spacious, and their external forms
more or less massive. “ The disposition of the alimen¬
tary canal determines, in a manner perfectly absolute, the
kind of food by which the animal is nourished; but if the
animal did not possess, in its senses and organs of motion,
the means of distinguishing the kinds of aliment suited to
its nature, it is obvious that it could not exist. An animal Ani
therefore, which can only digest flesh, must, to preserve Kingdm,
its species, have the power of discovering its prey, of pur-
suing it, of seizing it, of overcoming it, and of tearino- it
in pieces. It is necessary then that this animal should
have a penetrating eye, a quick smell, a swift motion,
address and strength in the jaws and talons. Agreeably
to this necessity, a sharp tooth, fitted for cutting flesh, is
never co-existent in the same species with a hoof cover¬
ed with horn, which can only support the animal, but
with which it cannot grasp any thing : hence the law ac¬
cording to which all hoofed animals are herbivorous, and
also those still more detailed laws, which are but corol¬
laries of the first, that hoofs indicate molar teeth with
flat crowns, a very long alimentary canal, a capacious or
multiplied stomach, and several other relations of the
same kind.’2 In short, such harmony exists between the
different organs, according to the leading forms after
which they are modelled, that an experienced anatomist,
from an inspection of a very limited portion of a body’
can form an accurate opinion regarding the entire charac¬
ters of an animal. It is thus that Cuvier, combining pro¬
found knowledge of detail with a commanding power of
generalization, has, as it were, called back into existence
those long-extinguished races whose scattered and im¬
perfect remains attest the wonderful revolutions to which
our planet has of old been subjected.
The aid which natural history has derived from the
sister sciences of anatomy and physiology, is in nothing
more apparent than in the improved systems of modern
classification. It wras formerly the practice to adopt, as
the basis of arrangement, the modifications of some single
organ, chosen arbitrarily and at hazard. Of course it did
not follow that all the other organs would resemble each
other in all the animals in which the likeness of this one
organ might be preserved. Nothing, therefore, could be
affirmed respecting the other organs belonging to the
whole of a class or genus of animals, which we should
have attempted to distinguish by characters taken from
this unimportant organ. “ Suppose, for example,” says
Cuvier, “ that we had made three divisions of animals,
the aerial, terrestrial, and aquatic, as they were anciently
classed ; there would be included in the first class, besides
what are commonly called birds, some mammiferous ani¬
mals, such as bats—some reptiles, as the dragon—some
fishes, as the flying fish—and an infinite multitude of in¬
sects. Similar difficulties would occur, in a greater or less
degree, in the other two classes.” “ This example is well
calculated to show how important it is that the characters
of our divisions should be well chosen ; for, though in the
formation of methods and systems of natural history, er¬
rors so flagrant as the above are not now committed, se¬
veral naturalists, even in modern times, have adopted di¬
visions which, in the detail, tend to similar results.”3
It is both interesting and important to trace the dif¬
ferent systems of organs in the animal kingdom, from
their first feeble rudiments, through a gradual and long-
continued chain of increasing manifestation, to their com¬
plete development in some particular class or order, in
which the perfect exercise of a special function is indis¬
pensable to its wellbeing. It is in accordance with such
development that the improved classifications of recent
times have been established; and it is now admitted as
an axiom, that a natural and philosophical arrangement of
animals can have no other foundation than a knowledge
inore or less perfect of anatomical structure. It does not
follow from this that every naturalist must be a profound
1 Grinfield’s Letters to Laurence.
2 Lectures on Comparative Anatomy, vol. i. p. 56.
1 Loc. cit. p. 62.
Animal anatomist; for such is the multiplicity of details connect-
Kingdom. e{i with the history of the haunts and habits of species,
and with the discrimination and description of their ex¬
ternal characters, which in truth form the proper object
of the zoological inquirer, that a much longer period than
that allotted to the life of man would be required like¬
wise to ascertain the distinctions of internal structure,
were it necessary to apply anatomical science to all the
minor details, or even to the less important divisions, of
natural history. But the beauty and excellence of the
anatomical system consists in the admirable co-ordination
of characters which it exhibits, and through which, with
rare exceptions, we are able to arrange the subjects of in¬
vestigation in a natural manner, even according to their
external aspect, as soon as we have established certain
great leading principles of classification drawn from the
facts of anatomical science. The more essential and im¬
portant characters even of internal structure ai'e mani¬
fested externally by the influence which they exert over
more obvious though less dominating attributes; and thus,
even in the absence of a positive and direct knowledge
of general laws, these are indicated with wonderful cer¬
tainty, though somewhat empirically, by means of su¬
perficial observation. It is thus that, through the com¬
bined efforts of^ the naturalist and anatomist, the conve¬
nience and facility of application which characterize arti¬
ficial systems, and constitute indeed their sole value, may
be combined with that philosophical accuracy and con¬
sonance with the march of nature which results from
deeper and more substantial views.
The object of every good method, according to Cuvier,
is to i educe a science to its simplest terms, by reducing
the propositions it comprehends to the greatest degree of
generality of which they are susceptible. A good system
must thei efore be such as will enable us to assign to each
class, and to each of its subdivisions, some qualities com¬
mon to the greater part of the organs. This object is to
be attained by two different means, which may serve to
prove or verify one another. “ The first, and that to
which all men will naturally have recourse, is to proceed
from the observation of species to uniting them in genera,
and to collecting them into a superior order, according as
we find ourselves conducted to that classification by a
view of the whole of their attributes. The second, and
that which the greater part of modern naturalists have
employed, is to fix beforehand upon certain bases of
division agreeably to which beings, when observed, are
arranged in their proper places. The first method cannot
mislead us, but it is applicable only to those beings of
which we have a perfect knowledge ; the second is more
generally practised, but it is subject to error. When the
bases that have been adopted remain consistent with the
combinations which observation discovers, and when the
same foundations are again pointed out by the results de¬
duced from observation, the two means are then in uni-
son, and we may be certain that the method is good.”
The true distinction between the value of an artificial
and of a natural method in zoology consists in this, that
the former teaches us little more than the name of an ani-
ma, whereas, in relation to the other, we have no sooner
ascertained the name of a species, o. its position in the
system, than we become at the same time acquainted with
numerous facts in its character and history, which we
never cou d have discovered, except by actual observation,
lat it ormed part of those miscellaneous and falsely con¬
nected groups which so often constitute the divisions of
an artificial system. A natural arrangement is also of
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
fTi^Vai1 ta^e ’n facilitating general views, by rendering
tabdnl ?nmva i? APe °r rePresentative of many, as con-
tdhe gnnd tfiSeVhe ?Tntial characters of a numerous'
tribe, and thus the whole animal kingdom may be repre¬
sented by a few hundred species. By a too s^t adhe¬
rence, however, to the natural method, we are apt to lose
the advantage of precision in individual definitions, and,
m the case of the numerous transitions, find ourselves un-
fbnf \° Jx,any llmits> if these have not been already es¬
tablished by nature. To discover a medium between
these two methods, so as to unite the advantages of each
is now more than ever desirable in the formation of sysl
^ras; .^e ind?ed who flatters himself with the idea that
the families, tribes, genera, and sections, which he has
laid down on paper, are so many natural divisions, can
only be compared to the person who, because he may find
the meridians and other circles of an armillary sphere con¬
venient for the division of the heavens, should therefore
imagine that they must exist in nature. “ In one and the
other case,” Mr Macleay observes, “ artificial modes of
distribution are resorted to, which, however ingenious in
themselves, are but sad proofs of the limited state of our
faculties, when we consider, that without such instru¬
ments the vastness and sublimity of the creation cannot
be comprehended.” (Horce Entom.) There is in fact no
such thing as classification in nature. In the animal as
well as in the vegetable kingdom certain species are
grouped together by such analogies of form and structure,
as to render their mutual resemblances apparent even to
an ordinary observer. To these groups the name of na¬
tural families may, without impropriety, be applied; but
that no general system of arrangement exists in nature,
by which the various genera may be made to follow each
other, like the links of a linear chain, is evident from the
discordant, ever-varying, and frequently arbitrary me¬
thods employed even by the most accomplished natural¬
ists of the day. We must probably rest satisfied with
such a system as presents the objects of natural history
in conveniently arranged groups, the component parts of
each of whi h bear a considerable resemblance to each
other, without seeking after what is unattainable, namely,
the establishment among these groups of a perfectly na-
tui al and well-graduated sequence. “ When there are,”
says Mr Vigors, “ no absolute divisions except species in
nature—and this, from every observation I have been en-
abled to make, I firmly believe to be the case—every di¬
vision which we are forced to institute in our arrange¬
ments for the convenience of illustration, and indeed for
the purpose of mutual communication with those who are
engaged in similar researches with ourselves, must be to
a certain extent arbitrary and artificial; and every in¬
quirer into nature may cause the line of demarcation that
separates his conterminous groups to infringe more or less
on the limits of either, according to his peculiar mode of
viewing his subject.”2
No satisfactory argument can be adduced to prove, as
some have imagined, that the specific differences of ani¬
mals have resulted from the lapse of time, and the effects
of climate, or other secondary causes. The variation of
specific character, though sometimes remarkable, is re¬
stricted ; and Cuvier has shown, from a minute examina¬
tion and comparison of mummies of the ancient Egyptian
Ibis with individuals of the modern race, that in regard
to that species no perceptible change has taken place du¬
ring the last three or four thousand years. The original
creation of distinct and predetermined species is the ra¬
tional and well-founded belief of all who have studied the
173
Animal
Kingdom.
See Car us s Introduction to Comp. Anat., translated by Gore.
2 Linncean Transactions, vol. xiv. p. 512.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
174
Animal subject with attention, unbiassed by any prejudice in fa-
Kingdom. vour of imaginative views, which have no foundation in
the facts of nature. “ It is certain by revelation,” says
Buffon, “ that all creatures have equally participated in
the favours of creation; that the first two of each species
were formed by the hands of the Creator; and we ought
to believe that they were then nearly such as they appear
at present in their descendants. We must also consider,
that although nature proceeds by gradual, and frequently
by imperceptible degrees, the intervals are not always the
same. The more exalted the species, the fewer they are
in number; and the shades by which they are separated
are more conspicuous. The smaller species, on the con¬
trary, are very numerous, and have more affinity to each
other, so that we are the more tempted to confound them
together in the same family. But we should not forget
that these families are our own works; that we have
made them for the ease of our memories; and that if we
cannot comprehend the real relations of all beings, it is
ourselves, not nature, that are in fault; for she in truth
knows not our pretended families, and recognises indivi¬
duals alone.”
Omnipotence, the first, the greatest, and indeed the
only truly creative power, formed the species of animals;
and the influence of man and of physical agents has pro¬
duced the varieties. But it is only superficial characters
which either the one or the other of these ulterior causes
has the power of modifying. The basis of organization,
or real specific mould, remains unalterable, though a
thousand circumstances constantly tend to produce varia¬
tions in the external forms. Of these circumstances the
most powerful is no doubt climate; under which name it
is necessary to comprehend the differences of local situa¬
tion and temperature, the nature of the soil and its pro¬
ductions. It is climate, in the first place, which chiefly de¬
termines the geographical position of animals, and thus
commences the action of the modifying powers. The na¬
ture of their food is also highly influential; and as it de¬
pends so immediately on the qualities of temperature and
soil, the climate is still the modifying cause. If the same
animals usually accompany the same vegetables, it is be¬
cause the constitution of both demands similar influences,
and because through each other they are both dependent
upon the same support. Certain animals are leagued with
certain plants, and these again with certain soils and cli¬
mates ; and a careful observance of these mutual depend¬
encies exhibits one of the finest and most beautiful har¬
monies of nature. This, however, is not the place in
which to discuss the intricate and important subject of
the geographical distribution of animals.
Certain original forms have been continued since the
creation of organized beings, and all the individuals which
represent or belong to one of these forms constitute what
is called a species. The slighter differences which occa¬
sionally prevail among the individuals themselves, inde¬
pendent of the customary distinctions of age and sex, are
called varieties. Such varieties are seldom permanent,
and are usually lost by the progeny re-assuming the ordi¬
nary and characteristic form or colour, except in some
remarkable instances, such as the horse, dog, and other
long-domesticated species, of which man has so thorough¬
ly altered the original condition, as to have impressed
them with a second and more pliant nature. An indivi¬
dual, according to Buffon, is a separate detached being,
and has nothing in common with other beings, excepting
that it resembles, or rather differs from them. All simi¬
lar individuals which exist on the earth are considered as
composing the species of those individuals. Yet it is nei- Animal
ther the number nor collection of similar individuals which Kingdom,
constitutes them; for a being which existed for ever would
not be a species. “ Species then is an abstract and ge¬
neral term, the meaning of which can only be determined
by considering nature in the succession of time, and in
the constant destruction and renewal of beings;” and it
is by comparing the present state of nature with the past,
and actual individuals with their predecessors in kind,
that we come to attain a clear idea of what is called spe¬
cies ; for a comparison of the number or resemblance of
individuals is only an accessory idea, and frequently inde¬
pendent of the first. The ass resembles the horse more
than the barbet the greyhound; yet the latter are but one
species, since they produce a fertile progeny; but the
horse and the ass are certainly of different species, “ since
they produce together vicious and unfertile young.”
It is indeed difficult to define the term species, other¬
wise than as an assemblage of individuals descended from
common parents, which bear as great a resemblance to
them as they do to each other. Species then are distin¬
guished by fixed forms, which, though to a certain extent
alterable, and for a limited time, by external or accidental
causes, are yet handed down unimpaired from generation
to generation ; and although certain species seem to have
disappeared entirely from the earth, in consequence of the
great natural catastrophes which have taken place in an¬
cient times, and the local distribution of many still exist¬
ing races has been modified or changed by the influence
of man no less than by the accidents of nature, there is no
reason to believe that any one species has sprung from the
gradual alteration of another, or that the circumstances
under which an individual may have been at first casually
placed were sufficient to develope both form and function,
without an impress from a higher and more powerful hand,
by which it was fitted to perform its part (pre-ordained)
in the great theatre of the world.
Animals which by their union produce^/erft'/e individuals,
are generally reputed of the same species. This law of
nature, as it was formerly called, having been found to
admit of certain though rare exceptions, is not now so
broadly insisted on as a test of specific identity as it was
in preceding times. But it appears, from the result of nu¬
merous experiments, that the generality of animals pro¬
duced from a cross between even the most nearly allied
species, are either altogether incapable of reproduction,
or fertile in so imperfect a degree, that their descendants
speedily become entirely sterile. It has been said that
birds alone were unsubjected to this rule, and that hence
has arisen the wonderful variety which that beautiful class
exhibits. There is no doubt of the occasional fertility of
their hybrids, as in the case of those mule birds produced
between the goldfinch and canary ; but as it has not been
proved that such unions of distinct kinds ever take place
when uncontrolled by the depraving influence of domesti¬
cation, there is no reason to attribute the origin of any of
those species or varieties which are known to exist in a
wild state to any such improbable alliance.
It is known that a productive union may take place be¬
tween animals of a different species, provided such species
belong to what naturalists call the same natural family.
Thus the ass and the mare, or the horse and the female
ass, produce the well-known animals called mules: the
zebra also produces both with the horse and the ass; but
in order to deceive the female zebra, it is said to be neces¬
sary to paint the hides of the former with those bizarre
colours which adorn her accustomed mate.1 It is probable,
1 Diet. Class, d'Hist, Nat. tome i. p. 48.
ANIMAL KINGDOM. 175
Animal however, that all these unions are so far forced and unnatu-
Kingdom. ral) that they never take place except through the influence
of man, when domestication, and the numerous changes
consequent upon it, have altered or impaired their natural
instincts; for it has been observed that, however educa¬
tion may perfect certain special qualities, which man has
the art to render subservient to his own convenience, yet
a more extended view of the effects of domestication will
convince us, that it is almost always to the disadvantage
of their natural capacities that the brute creation are
made to borrow the mask of human intelligence.
Buffbn appears to have adopted from Ray a rule which
many now regard as inaccurate and artificial, but which he
made use of to determine the identity of animal species,
viz. “ any two animals that can procreate together, and
whose issue can also procreate, are specifically the same.”
In this, however, it has been observed that he contradicts
himself by afterwards admitting that the sheep and goat
are of different species, at the same time that he asserts
that the he-goat and the ewe produce a mixed breed
which continue fertile for ever. Dr John Hunter (a great
authority) was also of opinion that the true distinction
between different species of animals must ultimately be
gathered from their incapacity of propagating with each
other an offspring capable of again continuing the kind.
Thus the horse and ass beget a mule capable of copulation,
but incapable of begetting or producing offspring. The acci¬
dent of a mule breeding, according to the same authority,
even if it were proved, would only show that as many per¬
fect animals of true species and distinct sexes are incapable
of breeding at all,—(thus showing that nature, even in her
greatest perfection, sometimes deviates from general prin¬
ciples),—so it may occasionally happen that a mule shall
breed from the circumstance of its being “ a monster re¬
specting mules.”
The doctrine of equivocal generation has received no
support from any recent investigations. All that is knoivn
decidedly leads to the opposite conclusion ; and if certain
mysterious or unaccountable phenomena have perplexed
the physiologist, the only legitimate deduction is, that he
has met with something which he cannot comprehend; for
those aberrations (if such they really are) from the usual
laws of nature are not so much exceptions to the general
rule, as additional instances of effects in nature, the re¬
gulating causes of which we are as yet incapable of de¬
monstrating. The rules of philosophizing lead us to reject
the admission of more causes than are sufficient for the
explanation of phenomena ; and if, for example, mites, and
“ such small deer,” derived their origin solely from the
caseous and other substances in which they are generally
found, the sexual distinctions which prevail among other
animals would in them be unnecessary, and would not
therefore be observable. But we know that distinct sexes
do exist among these minute creatures—that they propa¬
gate their kinds after the accustomed mode—and we hence
fairly infer that fortuitous generation does not take place
among them. May we not therefore conclude that the
origin of those first observed is similar to that of the
thousands which we afterwards see produced according to
the usual process ? Nature does nothing in vain, and it is
not consonant with her usual practice to suppose that she
would authorize two distinct modes of creation in the same
animal, where one of these is evidently perfect and self-
sufficing. It may therefore be laid down as a general rule,
that all living beings proceed from others of a similar na¬
ture, either by generation, offset, or some other means;
and that, in all instances of apparently spontaneous pro¬
duction, there has existed some minute or imperceptible Animal
germs, which deceive us by their sudden development Kingdom,
when placed under favourable circumstances. “ In fact,”
says Cuvier, “ however feeble and minute the parts of an
embryo or the seed of a plant may be at the moment we
aie first capable of perceiving them, they then enjoy a
real life, and possess the germ of all the phenomena which
that life may afterwards develope. These observations,
extended to all the classes of living bodies, lead to this ge¬
neral fact, that there are none of those bodies which have
not heretofore formed part of a body similar to itself, from
which it has been detached.” “ It is from them (their
parents) they have received the vital impulse ; and hence
it is evident that, in the actual state of things, life pro¬
ceeds only from life, and that there exists no other, except
that which has been transmitted from one living body to
another by an uninterrupted succession.” “ Origin by
generation, growth by nutrition, termination by death, are
the general and common characteristics of all organized
beings.1”
At the same time it must be admitted, that the origin
of many infusory and intestinal animals is sufficiently ob¬
scure. Of the latter class, one of the most extraordinary
is a monstrous worm, as it may be called, wffiich at distant
intervals, and in parts of the world far removed from each
other, has been found to inhabit the liver of the human
race. The means by which it is bred, or the circumstances
favourable to its production, are quite unknown; and some
of the most philosophical inquirers of the present day
have been unable to account for its origin, otherwise than
by supposing that the viscus called the liyer becomes,
under certain circumstances, endowed with the power of
actually secreting a substance capable of assuming and
presenting the phenomena of distinct animal existence,
and which, prior to the period of its being observed, had
in fact become a specific animal;—at least its existence,
unlike that of mites, flies, &c. which so often misled the
ancient naturalists (though “m limo non ex limo” is Ovid’s
more accurate expression), cannot be accounted for in any
other way. “ There are,” Mr W. S. Macleay observes, in
his excellent and ingenious Horee Entomolpgicce, “ many
circumstances which might be adduced to support the
belief that, whether from disease or other causes, there
are periods when other parts of a body besides the ova¬
rium may produce living germs, and demonstrate thus the
polype nature of the cellular substance.”
A polypus has been sometimes described as an anima-
lized tube, capable of digestion, and possessed of a certain
power of motion and reproduction; and these few words
may be said to contain almost all that we know of its es¬
sential nature and attributes. As we advance in the scale
of creation, we find a more complicated system of organs,
with more varied powers of action, and a higher develop¬
ment of those accommodating instincts which, though
circumscribed within certain impassable boundaries, yet
seem at times to form such an approach to reason, as to
connect the unvarying mechanical actions of the most
simple zoophytical tribes with the conscious self-regulat¬
ing power which has its final and most perfect develop¬
ment in the human race. The excellence of man, how¬
ever, physically considered, consists more in the balance
of various powers than in any one bodily superiority; for
there is in fact no single sense in which he is not excelled
by one or other of the brute creation. Materialists, who
regard the intellectual superiority of man as the result of
hisphysical structure, must also, for the sake of consistency,
maintain his excellence as a machine to be infinitely be-
1 Lectures on Comp. Amt. vol. i.
176 ANIMAL
Animal fore that of every other animal. But as his indubitable
Kingdom, superiority depends on something totally immaterial, which
“ throws him out of the group of animals, and makes him
an insulated being,” there is the less necessity for either
naturalists or metaphysical inquirers endeavouring to de¬
monstrate the superexcellence of his physical condition.
Man is in all cases “ wonderfully,” and in many cases
“ fearfully made;” but in the powers of sight, touch, hear¬
ing, and smell, he is greatly surpassed by many animals ;
and even in the sense of taste, in which his practice is
more varied and extensive, he is at least equalled by the
great majority. It is indeed somewdiat remarkable that
the last-named sense, the only one in regard to which the
human race can lay claim to the possession of equal excel¬
lence with the brutes that perish, should be the grossest
and least intellectual of the whole.
Although it is by no means strictly true that the brain,
considered in relation to the size of the body, decreases as
we descend from man to the lower tribes, because in many
small birds, such as sparrows and finches, the brain is re¬
latively much larger than in the human race, yet, exclu¬
sive of some such exceptions, it may be asserted that that
important organ becomes less as we descend from mam-
miferous animals and birds, to reptiles, fishes, and other
lower forms. Yet no very accurate conclusion can be de¬
duced regarding the degrees of intelligence in different
animals, from the proportion which the quantity of brain
bears to the mass of the whole body, particularly when we
come to compare animals of the same class with each
other. It is in fact by no means easy to ascertain with
accuracy what that proportion really is, because the weight
of the brain is supposed to remain the same, while tbat
of the animal varies according to its temporary condition.
In this way only can we account for the contradictions
which appear in the tabular views which have been given
of these proportions by physiologists. Upon the whole,
the smaller animals pertaining to the higher classes ap¬
pear to have proportionally the largest brain, though man
is in this respect seldom surpassed. The proportional
weight of the brain to the body of man \aries from l-22d
to l-35th part, that of the gibbon or long-armed ape is
as 1 to 40, that of the young malbrouk (Simla Faunas) as
1 to 24, that of the fox as 1 to 205, that of the beaver as
1 to 290, that of the field-mouse as 1 to 31, that of the
elephant as 1 to 500, that of the horse as 1 to 400, that
of the eagle as 1 to 160, that of the sparrow as 1 to 25,
that of the canary-bird as 1 to 14, that of the cock as 1
to 25, that of the goose as 1 to 360, that of the land-
tortoise as 1 to 2240, and that of the sea-tortoise as I to
5688.
Soemmering, Ebell, Vicq-d’Azir, Gall, and Tiedemann,
supposed that every thing depended on the volume of the
brain. But as Bufibn and Daubenton had proved that the
Sapajous have the brain proportionally larger than man,
without surpassing their congeners in intelligence, it has
been maintained by others that the volume alone was not
a condition of superiority. Now the Sapajous in question
have no convolutions to the brain, so that the surface of
that organ is represented by that of the interior of the
cranium, and exceeds it in other cases in proportion as its
folds are numerous and profound; and as there appears
to be a constant relation among mammiferous animals be¬
tween the diminution of the cerebral surfaces and their in¬
tellectual degradation, whilst no such relation can be traced
between the degrees of degradation and the variations of
the brain in respect to size, it has hence been inferred by
some that the extent of surface, and not the volume of
KINGDOM.
the brain, ought to be regarded as co-relative with the in- Animal
tellectual faculties.1 Kingdom.
In proportion, however, as the superior portion called
the brain decreases in size, the medullary matter appears
to collect in other parts of the body, or in the cords which
emanate from the brain; so that many animals with
much smaller brains have nerves more voluminous in pro¬
portion to their bodies than those of man. This medul¬
lary substance, the medium of sensation, is, in the human
race especially, collected into one principal mass as the
engine of thought and reflection, the intellectual attributes
by which man is characterized ; but it becomes dispersed
in the inferior animals, or ramified over the whole body
in the form of ganglions or nervous chords, without any
preponderating superior brain. It is owing to this dis¬
persion of the nervous system into these small separate
centres in the polypus and other tribes, that almost every
portion of the body, when separated from the rest, is cap¬
able of becoming a distinct animal, and of assuming an in¬
dependent existence. In the lowest tribes of all, in which
the nervous system has not yet been demonstrated, it pro¬
bably consists of molecules of inconceivable minuteness,
disseminated through the pulpy or gelatinous masses of
which the bodies of many radiated and infusory animals
are composed.
Singular effects result from the dispersion of the brain
into so many small and separate centres; and this class of
phenomena also illustrates the analogy which exists be¬
tween the lower animals and the vegetable world. Among
the superior creatures no reproduction takes place except
of the fluids, and of whatever partakes of the nature of
the epidermis. Injury is repaired and superficial parts
renewed, but nothing resembling regeneration of impor¬
tant organs ever takes place. But it is otherwise with the
inferior orders. The tentacula of the polypus and of many
molluscous animals, the rays of the star-fish, the external
members of the salamander, and the entire head, with the
eyes and antennae of the snail, when cut off, are speedily
renewed. There are also animals, such as the planaria,
which reproduce by offsets after the manner of plants; and
a polypus may be divided into many portions, each of
which becomes perfect according to its kind;—thus in a
manner realizing what the ancient poets have feigned re¬
garding the hydra of the Lernean marshes.
If the head of a mammiferous quadruped, or of a bird,
is cut off, the consequences are of course fatal. But the
most dreadful wounds that imagination can figure or cruel¬
ty inflict have scarcely any destructive influence on the
vital functions of many of the inferior creatures. Riboud
stuck different beetles through with pins, and cut and la¬
cerated others in the severest manner, without greatly ac¬
celerating death. Leeuwenhoeck had a mite which lived
eleven weeks transfixed on a point for microscopical in¬
vestigation. Vaillant caught a locust at the Cape of Good
Hope, and after excavating the intestines, he filled the
abdomen with cotton, and stuck a stout pin through the
thorax, yet the feet and antennae were in full play after the
lapse of five months. In the beginning of November, Redi
opened the scull of a land-tortoise, and removed the entire
brain. A fleshy integument was observed to form over
the opening, and the animal lived for six months. Spal¬
lanzani cut the heart out of three newts, which immedi¬
ately took to flight, leapt, swam, and executed their usual
functions for 48 hours. M. Virey informs us, “ Nous avons
vu une salamandre vivant depuis deux mois, quoique
decapitee au moyen d’une ligature serree du cou.” A de¬
capitated beetle will advance over a table, and recognise
1 See Desmoulins, Itech. Amt. et Phys., and the Journ. Compt. du Diet, des Sciences Med. Septembre 1822.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
jiiimal a precipice on approaching the edge. Redi cut off the
Kigdom. head of a tortoise, which survived 18 days. Colonel
Pringle decapitated several libellulae or dragonflies, one
of which afterwards lived for four months, and another
for six; and, which seems rather odd, he could never keep
alive those with their heads on above a few days.1
Some curious particulars connected with the great te¬
nacity of life in the lower animals are mentioned by Mr
Fothergill.2 A friend being employed one day in the pur¬
suit of insects, caught a large yellow dragonfly (Libellula
varia), and had actually fastened it down in his insect box,
by thrusting a pin through the thorax, before he perceiv¬
ed that the voracious creature held a small fly, which still
struggled for liberty, in itsjaws. The dragonfly continu¬
ed devouring its victim with great deliberation, and with¬
out expressing either pain or constraint, and seemed total¬
ly unconscious of being pinned down to the cork, till its
prey was devoured, after which it made several desperate
efforts to regain its liberty. A common flesh-fly was then
presented to it, when it immediately became quiet, and
ate the fly with greediness: when its repast was over it
renewed its efforts to escape. This fact being mentioned
to Mr Haworth, the well-known English entomologist, he
confirmed the truth of the remarkable insensibility to
pain manifested by insects, by narrating an additional cir¬
cumstance. Being in a garden with a friend who firmly
believed in the delicate susceptibility of these creatures,
he struck down a large dragonfly, and in so doing unfor¬
tunately severed its long abdomen from the rest of the
body. He caught a small fly, which he presented to the
mutilated insect, by which it was instantly seized and de¬
voured ; and a second was treated in the same manner.
Mr Haworth then contrived to form a false abdomen, by
means of a slender portion of a geranium; and after this
operation was performed the dragonfly devoured another
small insect as greedily as before. When set at liberty, it
flew away with as much apparent glee as if it had received
no injury. It is a fact well known to practical entomolo¬
gists, that large moths found asleep during the daytime
may be pinned to the trunks of trees without their appear¬
ing to suffer such a degree of pain as even to awake them.
It is only on the approach of the evening twilight that
they seek to free themselves from what they must no
doubt regard as an inconvenient situation.
The cruelty of zoological, especially of entomological
pursuits, has too often been stated as an objection to the
practical parts of the study of natural history. When a
noble aristocrat (who thinks it sport to shoot a shep¬
herds dog) slaughters 100 brace of grouse in a single day,
we hear nothing of such an objection, possibly because the
flavour of moor-game is very exquisite ; and the reason
of defence is good. But the tastes of men differ, and
fortunately, as all have not the means of an equal gratifi¬
cation from the same source. “ Cruelty,” say Messrs Kirby
and Spence, “ is an unnecessary infliction of suffering,
when a person is fond of torturing or destroying God’s
creatures from mere wantonness, with no useful end in
view; or when, if their death be useful and lawful, he has
recourse to circuitous modes of killing them, where direct
ones would answer equally well. This is cruelty, and
this with you we abominate; but not the infliction of
death when a just occasion calls for it. They who see no
cruelty in the sports of the field, as they are called, can
never, of course, consistently allege such a charge against
t ie entomologist; the tortures of wounded birds, of fish
t mt swallow the hook and break the line, or of the hunted
hare, being beyond comparison greater than those of in-
177
sects destroyed in the usual mode. With respect to uti- Animal
ity, the sportsman, who, though he adds indeed to the Kingdom,
general stock of food, makes amusement his primary ob-v^v''''^
ject, must surely yield the palm to the entomologist, who
adds to the general stock of mental food, often supplies
hmts for useful improvement in the arts and sciences,
and the objects of whose pursuit, unlike that of the for¬
mer, are preserved, and may be applied to use for many
years. But in the view of those even who think inhuma¬
nity chargeable upon the sportsman, it will be easy to
place considerations which may secure the entomoloo-ist
from such reproof. It is well known, that in proportion as
we descend in the scale of being, the sensibility of the
objects that constitute it diminishes. The tortoise walks
about after losing its head ; and the polypus, so far from
being injured by the application of the knife, thereby ac¬
quires an extension of existence. Insensibility almost
equally great may be found in the insect world. This,
indeed, might be inferred a priori, since providence seems
to have been more prodigal of insect life than of that of
any other order of creatures, animalcula perhaps alone
excepted. No part of the creation is exposed to the at¬
tack of so many enemies, or subject to so many disasters ;
so that the few individuals of each kind which enrich the
valued museum of the entomologist, many of which are
dearer to him than gold or gems, are snatched from the
ravenous maw of some bird or fish, or rapacious insect,
would have been driven by the winds into the waters and
drowned, or trodden under foot by man or beasts; for it
is not easy in some parts of the year to set foot to the
ground without crushing these minute animals ; and thus
also, instead of being buried in oblivion, they have a kind
of immortality conferred upon them. Can it be believed
that the beneficent Creator, whose tender mercies are
over all his works, would expose these helpless beings to
such innumerable enemies and injuries, were they endued
with the same sense of pain and irritability of nerve with
the higher orders of animals?”3 Instead, therefore, of
believing, and being grieved by the belief, that the insect
we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies,
the very converse is nearer the truth. “ Had a giant lost
an arm or a leg,” continue the authors just quoted, “ or
were a sword or spear run through his body, he would
feel no great inclination for running about, dancing, or
eating. Yet a tipula will leave half its legs in the hands
of an unlucky boy who has endeavoured to catch it, and
will fly here and there with as much agility and uncon¬
cern as if nothing had happened to it; and an insect im¬
paled upon a pin will often devour its prey with as much
avidity as when at liberty. Were a giant eviscerated, his
body divided in the middle, or his head cut off, it would
be all over with him ; he would move no more ; he would
be dead to the calls of hunger, or the emotions of fear,
anger, or love. Not so our insects: I have seen the com¬
mon cockchafer walk about with apparent indifference
after some bird had nearly emptied its body of its vis¬
cera ; a humble bee will eat honey with greediness though
deprived of its abdomen; and I myself lately saw an ant,
which had been brought out of the nest by its comrades,
walk when deprived of its head. The head of a wasp
will attempt to bite after it is separated from the rest of
the body ; and the abdomen, under similar circumstances,
if the finger be moved to it, will attempt to sting.” Query,
which part felt conscious of being the original wasp ?
That the acuteness of bodily suffering, even among the
t ‘)ee tf16 observations prefixed to the translation of Spallanzani's Tracts, by John Graham Dalyell, Esq.
Essay on Natural History. 3 Introduction to Entomology, vol. i. p. 56.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
178
Animal higher classes of the brute creation, is in some manner
Kingdom, providentially subdued, and rendered so much less acute
as not to be a fit subject of comparison with the suffering
of the human race, is indeed evident from various pheno¬
mena, whatever the cause may be. The writer of this
article has seen a turtle-dove (Columba risoria) which
was so severely lacerated by a cat, that the contents of
its stomach were torn out. The painfully excited sym¬
pathy of those who had long cherished the gentle crea¬
ture was, however, in a great measure allayed by see¬
ing the bird immediately afterwards proceed to pick up
the fresh grains of barley which (till the aid of the sur¬
geon was called in) continued to fall from its wounded
paunch.
Considerations of the nature glanced at in the preced¬
ing paragraphs can never, of course, be so misconstrued
as to afford any palliation to wanton or inconsiderate
cruelty to the brute creation. The judges of the Areo¬
pagus who condemned to death the child whose amuse¬
ment it had been to pluck out the eyes of quails, were
regulated in their determination by the motives imput¬
ed to the young criminal, and which they deemed ex¬
pressive of so cruel and pernicious a character, that in
after-times he would assuredly offend the state. “ Nec
mihi videntur Areopagitae,” says Quintilian, “ cum dam-
naverunt puerum coturnieum oculos eruentem, aliud ju-
dicasse, quam id signum esse perniciosissimae mentis,
multisque malo futurae, si adolevisset.”1 But had some
great oculist, intent on the structure and physiology of
the human eye, and engaged in a difficult course of ex¬
perimental observation, by means of which the “ dim
suffusion” which often veils the orbs of his fellow-men
might be obviated or decreased, found himself under the
necessity of having recourse to a somewhat similar opera¬
tion, the case would have assumed another character, and
the most sentimental philanthropist must have applauded
the practice of the philosopher. So it is in a great mea¬
sure with the pursuits of the naturalist. If the wonderful
structure of the lower orders of creation cannot be studied
or understood, or their infinitely varied forms held in re¬
membrance, without hastening by a few days or hours the
termination of that brief career which in truth scarcely
ever meets with a strictly natural end, then is the student
of nature, following out the principles of an elevating and
intellectual pursuit, as well entitled to command a por¬
tion of animal life as he who, to pamper the refined gross¬
ness of a sensual appetite, bleeds his turkeys to death
by cutting the roots of their tongues, boils crabs and
lobsters alive, and swallows unsuspecting oysters by the
score.
The more perfect the nervous system, the greater is the
degree of intelligence. Indeed, were it not that no trace
of that system has yet been discovered in many zoophytes,
we might almost assert that the presence of nerves con¬
stitutes animal life, and that their absence in organized
matter reduces it to the vegetable state. The greater
the extent of brain in proportion to the size of the body,
the greater in general the degree of sensibility. A French
anatomist, in dissecting a horse of which he had admired
the noble qualities, exclaimed, “ J’ai long temps doute si
nous avions le droit de monter sur ton dos ; mais en voyant
la petite capacite de ton cerveau, je n’en doute plus main-
tenant ; tu n’est qu’une bete.” The most perfect animals
are such as are provided with a head which serves as
the centre of their sentiments and sensations, and with a
mouth for the reception of their nourishment. Their forms
are symmetrical, or composed of two equal parts; they
change their place by a voluntary act; their sexes are Animal
distinct, and separately incapable of continuing the spe- Kingdom,
cies; they are provided with five senses, and endowed
with the perception of pleasure and of pain. The inferior
tribes, on the contrary, which present so many analogies
to the vegetable kingdom, have no distinct head, or single
organ of life; they are not symmetrical or composed ex¬
actly of two equal parts, but rather affect the circular or
radiated form ; and for the most part they either remain
fixed to the place which gave them birth, or with difficul¬
ty change their places of abode. The sexes are frequent¬
ly united in the same individual, and their senses are
limited to such as are necessary to a very confined and
almost vegetative existence.
Though no animal has more than five senses, a great
many are much more sparingly endowed. The only uni¬
versal sense seems that of touch. The next to be deve¬
loped is probably that of taste, then sight, hearing, and,
lastly, smell. In the human race the senses are more
equally balanced than in the brute creation, among the
different tribes of which we find many animals as remark¬
able for their extreme acuteness in certain senses, as for
their obtuseness in respect to others. The sense of smell
in the dog, excepting some artificial varieties, such as the
greyhound, prevails over every other; birds of prey are re¬
markable for their keenness of sight; the sense of hearing
is strong in the hare; that of touch in the trunk of the
elephant; that of taste in the lord of the creation. It
follows as a consequence that the dog is by nature a hunt¬
ing animal; that the eagle, upborne upon resplendent
wing, describes its magnificent circles in the air, “ saga¬
cious of its quarry from afarthat the hare couches se¬
curely among the long dewy grass, with its head so low
that its eyes must be almost useless, but trusting to its
quicker ears, which warn it of an approaching foe; that
the elephant examines the exact nature of all objects by
touching them with the fleshy finger of its proboscis; and
that Mrs RundelFs work on cookery has run through count¬
less editions. All insects in the perfect state, and the
greater proportion of their larvae, a part only of the mollus¬
cous tribes (such as the inhabitants of univalve shells),
crustaceous animals, such as crabs and lobsters, and all
fishes, reptiles, birds, and quadrupeds, enjoy the sense of
sight; and all these classes (with the exception of in¬
sects and many of the mollusca) are also furnished with
the organs of hearing. That the latter sense, however,
also exists in insects, may be fairly inferred from the fre¬
quent and varied sounds which they are capable of pro¬
ducing, although the seat of the faculty has not yet been
ascertained. Many zoophytical tribes, which have no
special organs of sight, appear to become sensible to the
presence and action of light, through a delicate perception
of the sense of touch. According to Buffon, the sense
which has the strongest affinity to thought is that of touch;
and he regards it as being enjoyed by man in greater per¬
fection than by animals. That which has the strongest
affinity to instinct and appetite is smell,—a sense in which
man must acknowledge an infinite inferiority. Hence,
according to the Frenchman, man has the greatest ten¬
dency to knowledge, and the brute to appetite. There is
no doubt that in man and the different species of monkeys
the sense of touch is highly discriminating; but it is as¬
suredly a false view of the subject which has led Helve-
tius and others to attach such an extraordinary degree of
importance to the hand, as the medium of intellectual su¬
periority in the human race.
Whatever exhibits the phenomena of either animal or
1 De Inst. Oral. lib. v. cap. ix. de Signis.
i.imaJ
K gdom
A N I M A L K I N G D O M. 179
vegetable life, advances towards the perfect development liar modification of brute matter xrtoA „„„„ u i a • i
of its parts through the medium of aliment. This name principle ; but this form ^ th^ Vltal
/is applied to the numerous and diversified substances no new light upon the subject P eSS10n Probably throws
which when introduced into the system of an organized We may here present a remark not unworthy of atten
body, have the power ofidentifying themselves in part with turn regarding the nature of the flesh in th i ff I
that system, in such a manner as to effect its nourishment, classes of the animal kingdom. Considered • ff,nt
reparation and increase. “ Nourishment,” says Bacon, flesh of animals becomes less substantially nouSna as
“ ought to bee of an inferior nature and more simple sub- we descend in the scale. For example the flhf
stance than the thing nourished. Plants are nourished with quadruped contains a greater quantity of nourishm t *
the earth and water, living creatures with plants, man with proportion to size and weight than that of a bird tT
Jiving creatures. There are also certain creatures feeding the latter exceeds in that respect both reptilesandfiXs
upon flesh ; and man himself takes plants into a part of his Hence in catholic countries the latter are iustly renardS
nourishment: but man and creatures feeding upon flesh as meagre, and form an exclusive food during the freoupm
are scarcely nourished with plants alone. Perhaps fruits days of abstinence by which it is sought to mortify X
or graines, baked or boyled, may with long use nourish flesh. Shell-fish and Crustacea, and a fortiori the zoo
them, but leaves of plants or herbs will not doe it; as phytical tribes, yield a still smaller proportion of nutritious
the order of the Foliatanes showed by experience living matter. A revolting conclusion has been drawn from
creatures are nourished by the mouth; plants by the this alleged relation between the flesh of a highly oro-an
root; young ones in the womb by the navill; birds for a ized animal and the power and excellence of its nutritive
while are nourished with the yolke in the egge, whereof qualities; viz. that cannibalism, or the habit of anthropopha-
some is found in their crops after they are hatched. All gous nations, opens up to those unnatural tribes a pleasure
nourishment moveth from the centre to the circumference, connected with the indulgence of the sense of taste greatlv
or from the inward to the outward : yet it is to be noted, surpassing what is enjoyed by those who confine their
that in trees and plants the nourishment passeth rather mastication to the brute creation; because, in accordance
by the barke and outward parts than by the pith and in- with the rule supposed, the organic perfection and highly
ward parts ; for if the barke be pilled off, though but for animalized nature of man is productive of a higher degree
a small bredth round, they live no more : and the blood in of nutrition, and of a greater capability of direct assimila-
the veines of living creatures doth no lesse nourish the
flesh beneath it than the flesh above it. Vegetables as¬
similate their nourishment simply without excerning; for
gums and teares of trees are rather exuberances than ex¬
crements ; and knots or knobs are nothing but diseases.
But the substance of living creatures is more perceptible
tion, when the substance of which he is composed is used
as food by his fellow-mortals. But the scale of alimentary
substances may rather be said to commence with air and
water, and to terminate with the herbivorous animals; for
the flesh of carnivorous kinds is, with very few exceptions,
of a nature inadequate to the healthy sustenance of life!
, , _ ~ -- ---    me iiciumy sustenance or me.
of the like; ami therefore it is conjoyned with a kinde of It is of a quality too putrescent, and decomposes with too
disdaine, whereby it rejecteth the bad and assimilateth
the good. It is a strange thing of the stalkes of fruits,
that all the nourishment which produceth sometimes such
great fruits should be forced to passe thorow so narrow
necks, for the fruit is never joyn’d to the stock without
some stalkes. It is to be noted, that the seeds of living
creatures will not be fruitful but when they are new;
but the seeds of plants will be fruitful a long time after
they are gathered ; yet the slips or cions of trees will not
grow unlesse they be grafted green, neither will the roots
keepe long fresh unlesse they be covered with earth.”1
Nutritive substances of course vary according to the
nature of the bodies which consume or absorb them.
Plants derive their chief nourishment from air and water,
the former of which must contain carbonic acid gas, the
latter the dissolved remains of animal or vegetable sub¬
stances. It is, however, possible to produce vegetable
growth from pure water, assisted by warmth and air.
Vegetables, again, serve as food to the greater proportion
of animals, and these in their turn are devoured by the
carnivorous few. It is thus that the productions of na¬
ture are connected together in one great circle, and are
reciprocally dependent on each other. Without water
there could be neither plants nor herbivorous animals,
and without herbivorous animals there could be no carni-
voious ones; therefore, without water there could be no
life. Inorganic matter furnishes the first and most sim¬
ple materials of existence ; organic bodies perish and be-
great rapidity, as if the organization of matter could make
no further progress, but passing rapidly from one extreme
to another, hastened to throw off even the semblance
of life, to assume again the simplest elementary form.
“ Over-great affinity,” says Bacon, “ or consubstantiality
of the nourishment to the thing nourished, proveth not
well; for creatures feeding upon herbs touch no flesh;
and of creatures feeding upon flesh few of them eat theii
owne kinde. As for men which are cannibals, they feed
not ordinarily upon men’s flesh, but reserve it as a dainty
either to serve their revenge upon their enemies, or to sa-
tisfie their appetite at some times. So the ground is
best sowne with seed growing elsewhere; and men do not
use to graft or innoculate upon the same stocke.”
Mineral bodies are still more unfit for the purposes of
nutrition. They furnish both medicines and poisons in
abundance, but never aliments. The difference between
these objects may be shortly stated as follows: Aliments
are substances alterable by the action of the organs which
appropriate them ; medicines act on the organs, of which
they alter or modify the action; poisons attack and ex¬
tinguish life itself. But according to the specific nature
of different animals, and various other circumstances, the
qualities of these agents are convertible, so that aliments
become poisonous, and poisons alimentary. Thus opium,
which among European nations is a medicine, and too
frequently a poison, has become, according to the prac¬
tice of several eastern nations, an alimentary substance.
  — , aim uc- m-e vi ocvcicu eastern iiauuus, an anmeniary suusiance.
come decomposed, and thus adding to the mass of inor- Aloes, which are simply medicinal for the human race, are
game matter which they had for a short period abandon- a destructive poison to many carnivorous animals. On
eti’ Ule‘V ,enter a£a‘n as elements into the composition of the other hand, according to Pallas, hedgehogs eat abun-
TVT T01'6 comPlfx f°rms. Indeed, according to Mr dantly of cantharides without being in the slightest de-
. i lacleay, organized matter is nothing but a pecu- gree incommoded by them; and bees are known to feed
History, Naturall and Experimental, of Life and Death. English translation, 1638.
180 A N IM A L K IN G D O M.
Animal upon and form their honey from the secretions of many
pernicious and even poisonous plants. The caterpillar of
a certain sphinx moth is highly delighted with the acrid
and venomous fluid of a tithymalis.
The more that animals enjoy the qualities of youth,
strength, and activity, the greater is the increase and de¬
velopment of their parts, and the greater the necessity for
an abundant supply of food. Of many individuals exposed
to an absolute abstinence of many days, the young are
always the first to perish. Of this the history of war and
shipwreck offers in all ages too many frightful examples.
Ihere are several instances on record of an almost total
abstinence from food for an extraordinary length of time.
Captain Bligh, of the Bounty, sailed nearly 4000 miles in
an open boat, with occasionally a single small bird not
many ounces in weight for the daily sustenance of 17
people ; and it is even alleged, that 14 men and women of
the Juno, having suffered shipwreck on the coast of Arra-
can, lived 23 days without any food. Two people first
died of want on the fifth day. In the opinion of Rhedi,
animals support want much longer than is generally be¬
lieved. A civet cat lived 10 days without food, an ante¬
lope 20, and a very large wild cat also 20; an eagle sur¬
vived 28 days, a badger one month, and several dogs 36
days. In the memoirs of the Academy of Sciences there
is an account of a bitch, which having been accidentally
shut up alone in a country-house, existed for 40 days
without any other nourishment than the stuff on the wool
of a mattress which she had torn to pieces. A crocodile
will live two months without food, a scorpion three, a bear
six, a chameleon eight, and a viper ten. Vaillant had a spider
that lived nearly a year without food, and was so far from
being weakened by abstinence, that it immediately killed
another large spider, equally vigorous but not so hungry,
which was put in along with it. John Hunter inclosed a
toad between two stone flower-pots, and found it as lively
as ever after 14 months. Land-tortoises have lived with¬
out food for 18 months; and Baker is known to have kept a
beetle in a state of total abstinence for three years. It af¬
terwards made its escape.1 Dr Shaw gives an account of
two serpents which lived in a bottle without any food for
five years.
The necessity of aliment becomes less vividly felt du¬
ring sleep, and certain other periods of prolonged repose.
There are several animals which hybernate, or go into win¬
ter quarters for six months in the year, during which period
many of them require no food, but are maintained solely
by that excellence of bodily condition which they had ac¬
quired during a prior period of activity and good cheer.
This leads us naturally to consider what is called the hy¬
bernation of animals.
Many creatures are so constituted that the activity of
their functions is greatly impaired by a comparatively
slight reduction of temperature. Naturalists and anato¬
mists have alike sought in vain for either external or in¬
ternal characters of general application, by which they
might distinguish, a priori, the species subjected to this
strange though well-ordered lethargy. They belong to
various genera and tribes, many of which have few cha¬
racters in common, as will be perceived when we name
as well-known instances the dormouse, the hedgehog,
and the bat. It influences both warm and cold-blooded
animals. The former of these, at certain advanced periods
of the autumn, according to the species, seek out places
of repose, either in the earth, among old walls, in caverns,
trunks of trees, or bushes; vi Inch retreats they usually
line with dried herbs, grasses, leaves, or moss. The bat
chooses caverns, churches, barns, and other situations
where the temperature is milder than that of the open Animal
air; and, contrary to the usual practice, it suspends it- Kingdom
self by the hooked claws of its hinder extremities. It'^'v-v
is the practice of other hybernating animals to contract
themselves into a ball, in such a manner as to expose the
smallest possible surface to the action of the air. When
discovered in their retreats they are generally thus rolled
up, cold to the touch, their limbs stiffened, their eyes
closed, their respiration slow, interrupted, sometimes even
imperceptible, and their insensibility so great that they
may be removed, rolled about, and otherwise maltreated,
without showing any further signs of life.
It has been observed that the temperature of these ani¬
mals gradually lowers itself as the season declines. Their
respiration also becomes slower, their motions less lively,
and their appetite diminishes; but sensation and the
power of locomotion still continue. This intermediate
state between the perfect performance of the vital func¬
tions and confirmed torpidity endures for several weeks;
the degree of temperature at which different animals be¬
come entirely overpowered varying, of course, according
to the species. The propensity has been observed, in the
following well-known animals, to correspond to a scale of
descending temperature, according to the followino- or¬
der:—1st, The bat; 2dly, the hedgehog; Sdly, the°dor-
mouse ; ifJdy, the marmot; 5thly, the hamster. Although
many other animals are subject to the same law, it is only
among those just enumerated that an exact comparison
has been instituted.
A complete state of hybernation consists in the sus¬
pension of sensation and voluntary motion, in addition to
a great decrease in the temperature of the body, and in
the frequency of respiration. Its different degrees of in¬
tensity are well ascertained by the number of respirations
in a given time, or, in its most perfect state, by the total
suspension of all respiratory movements. The different
species of the bat tribe are those of which the torpidity is
the least profound; and the marmot probably experiences
the greatest degree of vital suspension. The temperature
of these animals during their lethargy depends in a great
measure upon that of the external air, and is consequent¬
ly variable. It is in general, however, superior to it by
several degrees. It may descend to within a few degrees
of the freezing point, but is not susceptible of reduction
to that point, without producing either re-action of the
vital functions or death. There is, therefore, contrary to the
opinion of some of the older naturalists, a degree of external
cold incompatible with the torpidity or existence of these
animals. The species most easily rendered torpid, such
as the bat, the hedgehog, the dormouse, the lerot, and the
muscardine, cannot support a cold of 14° of Fahrenheit.
A warmth of from 50° to 53° brings them again to life.
Sundry mechanical means, such as different degrees of
motion, serve to restore several of the last-named species
without any increase of temperature; but to preserve
them in a state of prolonged activity, a gentle warmth
must be applied and continued.
It is evident, from these and other observations, that
the sleep of mammiferous animals is not characterized by
a uniform and constant duration. As it is dependent on
the variations of the atmosphere, it will commence at an
earlier, continue a longer, or be interrupted after a shorter
period, according to the difference in the seasons of par¬
ticular years, the skill which the animals may have exhibit¬
ed in the choice of a protecting habitation, or the pecu¬
liar constitution of the species, or even of the individuals.
The habit of storing up a supply of winter provisions also
depends upon their greater or less degree of exposure to
1 See the observations prefixed to the translation of Spallanzani's Tracts, before referred to.
*
A N I M A L KIN G D O M. 181
Animal the power of awakening influences. The hedgehog, for
kingdom, example, has been observed to form several separate ma-
—v—'' gazines, to which it has recourse during the winter season ;
and the marks of its little feet have sometimes been
traced on the surface of the surrounding snow.
The hybernation of the swallow is a point on which
very dissimilar opinions have been promulgated. It now ap¬
pears to be the prevailing belief that these birds migrate
on the approach of winter to other and more genial climes,
but that cases do occur in which such individuals as are
prevented by circumstances from joining the “ marshalled
array,” are enabled to survive the rigours of our northern
winters by the power which their constitution possesses
of assuming the torpid state; at least the occurrence of
torpid swallows, however rare, is too well authenticated to
be a matter of doubt.
It is said that the tanrec, a species of hedgehog found
in Madagascar, becomes torpid for some months in the
ear. If this assertion is well founded, it affords the only
nown instance of torpidity in a mammiferous quadruped
of a warm climate.
Many cold-blooded animals may be regarded as of the
hybernating kind. Indeed the greater proportion of rep¬
tiles, insects, molluscous animals, &c. inhabiting cold
countries, are very lethargic during the winter season,
which they usually pass without food. They appear sub¬
ject to the influence of this feeling even in warm cli¬
mates; at least Humboldt describes certain reptiles in
South America which pass a portion of the year buried
in the earth, and which are only aroused by the occur¬
rence of rainy weather or the excitement of violent means.
“ The manners of animals,” says this enlightened ob¬
server, “ vary in the same species, according to local cir¬
cumstances difficult to investigate. We were shown a
hut, or rather a kind of shed, in which our host of Cala-
bozo, Don Miguel Cousin, had witnessed a very extraor¬
dinary scene. Sleeping with one of his friends on a bench
covered with leather, Don Miguel was awakened early in
the morning by violent shakes and a horrible noise.
Clods of earth were thrown into the middle of the hut.
Presently a young crocodile, two or three feet long, issued
from under the bed, darted at a dog that lay on the thresh¬
old of the door, and, missing him in the impetuosity of
his spring, ran toward the beach to attain the river. On
examining the spot where the barbacon or bedstead was
placed, the cause of this strange adventure was easily dis¬
covered. The ground was disturbed to a considerable
depth. It was dried mud, that had covered the crocodile
in that state of lethargy, or summer sleep, in which many
of the species lie, during the absence ot the rains, amid
the llanos. The noise of men and horses, perhaps the
smell of the dog, had awakened the crocodile. The hut
being placed at the edge of the pool, and inundated during
part of the year, the crocodile had no doubt entered, at
the time of the inundation of the savannahs, by the same
opening by which Mr Pozo saw it go out. I he Indians
often find enormous boas, which they call uji, or water-
serpents, in the same lethargic state. To re-animate them,
they must be irritated, or wetted with water.”1
Upon the whole, naturalists seem to be ot opinion that
no species of animal is condemned to torpidity by any in¬
herent property of its nature. It is a provisional faculty,
dependent on external circumstances, and may be inter¬
rupted, postponed, or altogether prevented, by regulating
the conditions under which the animal is placed.
The disposition of animals in relation to other indivi¬
duals of the same species differs considerably. There
are some which unite in couples and divide between them
the cares of the family. This is usually the case among Animal
the various tribes of birds, and also among carnivorous Kingdom,
quadrupeds ; whilst the males of such as feed on vege-
tables, and which consequently find almost everywhere
an abundant and easy nourishment, abandon to the mo¬
ther the rearing and education of their young. It has
also been observed, that among such birds as feed on liv¬
ing prey, the male is very assiduous in assisting his mate
to procure a sufficient supply. But naturalists have erred
in assigning the polygamous habit as a general charac¬
teristic of the gallinaceous kinds. The instinct to pair, or
the habit of monogamy, is no doubt only bestowed on
those species to which it is necessary for the rearing of
their offspring, and differs considerably in the nature and
permanence of the attachment, according to the position
of the nest, i. e. whether it is built upon or above the sur¬
face of the ground. All birds which build on trees, as
was long ago remarked by Lord Karnes, are hatched blind,
and almost without feathers, and consequently require the
sedulous care of both parents. But the generality even
of gallinaceous birds, which breed upon the ground, do
likewise pair, though the hatching of the eggs is entirely
confined to the female, who completes her task by leading
the young to their proper food, which they are able im¬
mediately to pick up for themselves, being active and well
feathered from their birth. The male, at the same time,
continues to manifest a certain degree of paternal solicitude,
by uttering the alarm-note on the approach of birds of
prey, or other dangerous foes. Black game and wood¬
grouse, however, do not appear to pair at all; but in the
spring a male bird assembles a certain number of females
about him, which afterwards deposit their eggs, and rear
their young altogether independent of the male parent.
They are therefore polygamous in the proper acceptation
of the term. Even among herbivorous quadrupeds pair¬
ing is rare, because the female can suckle her young while
she herself is feeding ; but the monogamous habit proba¬
bly obtains among most carnivorous quadrupeds, and cer¬
tainly among all carnivorous birds, because incubation
leaves the female no sufficient time to hunt for food,2 and
because young birds cannot bear a long fast, and therefore
require the assistance of both parents, while unable to pro¬
vide for themselves. The association or fellowship of
birds is either annual or for life; the former bond is the
more usual, though eagles, crows, and several other species
afford examples of a long-continued attachment.
Many birds assemble in autumn, winter, and early
spring, into flocks, but as soon as the pairing season has
commenced they again separate into pairs. Others again
appear to be more gregarious during the breeding season
than at any other period of the year, for example the gan-
net or soland-goose (J°. bassanus') ; but this arises not so
much from a love of fellowship with their kind, as from
the accident of there being few places fitted for the pur¬
poses of nidification and the rearing of the young.
We have said that pairing is rare among such quad¬
rupeds as feed on grass, because the female can feed her¬
self at the same time that she is suckling her young.
The roe-deer, however, among herbivorous quadrupeds,
forms an exception to the general rule. On the other
hand, there are several carnivorous quadrupeds which do
not pair, but the young of which are left entirely depen¬
dent on the mother; that is to say, the latter is oblige
both to capture her own food and to suckle her offspring.
Among gregarious quadrupeds which usually store up
food for winter, pairing is probably necessary to prevent
discord, and in this respect beavers are said to resemb e
those birds which place their nests upon the ground. As
1 Personal Narrative, vol. iv. p. 3i50.
2 See Karnes’s Sketches.
182
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal soon as the young are produced, the males abandon their
stock of food to their mates, and live at large, but return
frequently to visit them while they are suckling their
young. Hedgehogs and most of the monkey kind pair.
Seals are polygamous, and turtles leave their young to be
hatched by the heated sand. Earwigs, spiders, bees, and
woodlice (omisci), are amongst the few of the insect tribes
which pay any attention either to their eggs or offspring.
1 he young of the greater proportion of animals is produced
in spring, when the supply of food is the most abundant,
and when the long period which intervenes before the ap¬
proach of winter enables them to acquire strength to sup¬
port the rigours of that inclement season.
Though the period of gestation varies considerably in the
different quadrupeds which feed on grass, yet the females
are regularly delivered in spring, or early in summer, when
the herbage is nutritive and abundant. The mare con¬
ceives in summer, carries 11 months, and brings forth in
May. The same is nearly the case with the cow. The
sheep and the goat are usually in season in November;
they carry five months, and produce when grass has begun
to spring. They love short, close herbage, upon which a
horse or cow would barely thrive. The ass is in season
about the beginning of summer, but she bears twelvemonths,
and consequently brings forth likewise early in summer.
Wolves and foxes copulate in December, but as they only
bear five months, they bring forth in April, when the sea¬
son has assumed a genial aspect, and animal food is as
abundant as at any other season. If we were to guess
what would probably be the rutting season of animals, we
would say summer, especially in a northern country; and
yet, to quadrupeds which carry their young only for four
or five months, such economy would be injurious and im¬
provident, as it would bring the time of delivery at an un¬
due season, both for warmth and food.1 There are a few
exceptions to the above rule, which, however, in them¬
selves, belong to an equally beautiful system of providen¬
tial ordinances. Some gregarious and store-collecting
animals, for example, bring forth in January, when their
granary of provisions is still abundantly filled.
The season of pairing, or of production, among wild ani¬
mals, usually takes place only once a year, and at a fixed
period; but those which man has rendered domestic are
observed to couple at all seasons. The species of warmer
climates, when transported into colder regions, usually
cease to pair, or at least their union is unproductive; and
the same consequence generally follows a state of capti-
vity. Among such species, however, as man has fairly
reduced to a state of satisfied domestication, the indivi¬
duals become much more prolific than in the wild state.
The season of love varies greatly among mammiferous
animals. The greater proportion pair in spring and sum¬
mer ; but the wolf pairs in winter, the stag in autumn,
and many domesticated animals at diversified periods
throughout the year. Prolific union takes place among
varieties of the same species; and it is by paying attention
to these that the finer races of our domestic animals are
maintained and continued. As the climate of northern
countries causes several of our most valuable animals to
degenerate (as it is called), it has been customary to ob¬
tain fiom time to time a male animal of a pure and noble
race, which, when paired with an ordinary female, produces
a breed scarcely inferior to the male parent; for it has
been observed that, with few exceptions, the new produce
assumes the characteristics of the father. Thus, in uniting
a sheep of an ordinary kind with a ram of the Merino race,
the first generation almost equals the father in beauty.
What is frequently called deterioration in animals is,
more properly speaking, their natural assumption of those Animal
peculiar attributes which fit them for the inclemencies of Kingdom,
climates uncongenial to their original nature. A Lap-^"V"vy
lander is no more a deteriorated Asiatic of the Mongolian
or Caucasian line, than a Georgian or Circassian is a
highly refined Laplander; neither is the Shetland pony a
deteriorated Arabian courser, any more than the steed of
Araby is a thorough-bred shelty. Each has been enabled
by a wise provision of nature to assimilate its character
and constitution to the qualities of the climate in which it
was destined to exist; and had it been incompetent to
effect or undergo such assimilation, it would then indeed
have deteriorated—that is to say, it would have died. If
we admire the slim smooth elegance of the Italian grey¬
hound, and regard the rough shaggy coat of the dog of
Nova-Zembla as a deterioration, let us remember that
that which is the beauty of the one would be the bane of
the other; and what would then become of that forlorn
agriculturist, whose business it is to drill the ice and to
furrow the snow ? The small stature and peculiar habits
of the northern pony would have been as little fitted to
sustain the fiery breath or the shifting sands of an eastern
desert, as the graceful Arabian to withstand the cold and
cloudy clime, and the rugged and precipitous mountains,
of Lapland or Thule. Therefore, instead of being dete¬
riorated, each ought rather to be said to exist in the best
and most improved condition, according to the nature of
its particular calling. Using the word, however, in its
more usual acceptation, it may be stated that an animal
seldom degenerates in its native country, but more fre¬
quently in those for the climate of which its constitution
is not adapted. Each species appears to have a certain
extent or circle of natural distribution, in the centre of
which it not only most abounds, but also there shows it¬
self in its finest and most characteristic proportions. As
the places of its occurrence diverge from this centre of
dominion, it becomes rarer, and exhibits a variation or
considerable departure, at least in its external characters,
from the primitive model. Thus the horses of Arabia
and Barbary degenerate in Britain; and, to preserve the
breed in purity, they must be frequently crossed by the
original; but the Arabs themselves are very careful to pre¬
vent any mixture in the blood of their native and noble
kinds, and would deem them deteriorated by such alliance.
In the tabular or abridged views of classification which
we here present, it is our intention merely to exhibit the
great primary divisions of the animal kingdom called
classes. The secondary divisions into orders, and the fur¬
ther dismemberment of these into minor groups called fa¬
milies, genera, &c., will be illustrated when we come to
treat of each class in particular under its proper head.
Neither do we intend to trace the progress of classifica¬
tion from the earliest ages of scientific record; because,
as the object of the naturalist is rather to ascertain the
nature and relationship of things as they are, than as they
were supposed to be, there is the less necessity for leaving
our direct route, to trace either the origin or the progress
of error. We shall proceed, after a few observations, at
once to the system of Linnaeus, which is in fact the basis
of all that have succeeded, and without a knowledge of
which it is impossible to understand either the merits or
defects of more recent systems. Indeed, with the excep¬
tion of the purely artificial classification of Klein, and the
multiplied orders of Brisson and Vicq-d’Azir, all the sys¬
tems which have appeared since the middle of last cen¬
tury are indebted more or less to the labours of the im¬
mortal Swede, and may be valued almost exactly in pro-
1 Karnes’s Sketches.
4
*
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal portion to their share in the lucidus ordo of the Linnaean
kingdom, system. For example, the Systema Regni Animalis of
Erxleben (1777) is nothing more than a revised edition
of the Systema Naturae, in which are engrafted, with no
lack of skill, many additions both of species and genera;
the whole being presented in a consecutive series, without
the accustomed subdivision into the primary groups called
orders. The Prodromus 3Iethodi Animalium of Storr
(1780) does not differ radically from the Linnaean system.
The Elenchus Animalium of Bodaert (1787) is allied to it
still more closely in every thing except its accuracy. Of
Gmelin’s work (1789) we need not speak, as it is a pro¬
fessed revisal (being the 13th) of the Systema Naturae.
And although no one will deny the merit of profound and
original inquiry to the investigations of Blumenbach, most
readily will those who are best acquainted with his la¬
bours admit, that in zoology he has wisely followed the
footsteps of Linnaeus. The six classes into which the
German naturalist divides the animated creation, viz.
Mammalia, Aves, Amphibia, Pisces, Insecta, and Vermes,
correspond with those of the Linnaean arrangement, al¬
though their orders and genera are in some respects dif¬
ferently combined. His motto appears to have been
Multa fiunt eadem, sed aider. (Quintilian.)
The signal benefits conferred on natural history, in all
its branches, by the learning and genius of Baron Cuvier,
are known wherever the science has obtained a zealous
and successful cultivator; and it cannot have escaped
the notice of the critical observer, that after 30 years of
profound and philosophical research into the mysteries of
the animal kingdom, the most enlightened zoologist of the
age should have finally reverted to a closer approximation
to the Linnaean system, than had characterized his views
at any former period of his brilliant career. When he
first made known (in 1797), conjointly with M. Geoffrey,
his new classification of mammiferous animals, his nume¬
rous genera were contained under no less than 14 differ¬
ent orders. Thirty years afterwards (in 1817) he pub¬
lished his Regne Animal, with many improvements in the
composition and arrangement of the minor divisions, and
with the addition of the order of which he is himself so
bright an ornament, but otherwise composed (we speak at
present of the mammalia alone) of primary divisions ex¬
actly the same in number, and nearly the same in nature,
as those finally divulged and established by Linnaeus himr
self just 60 years before.
Latreille, Dumeril,Desmarest, and Frederick Cuvier, are
followers or coadjutors of the Baron, and with him are
partakers in the modification and amendment of the Lin¬
naean system. The venerable Lamarck has greatly signa¬
lized himself in a field which, it must be confessed, was
obscure to the eye of Linnaeus—that of the molluscous
animals—which, under the name of Vermes Testacea,
were but indifferently treated in the Systema Naturae.
The error appears to have lain in the greater attention
which was bestowed on the shells themselves, or testace¬
ous coverings, than on the animal inhabitants ; and the con¬
sequence has been, that the conchologist of the old school
ranks with the collector of china, whether old or new.
The names above enumerated are certainly among the
foremost in the annals of modern science; and although, in
addition to these, many more might be mentioned with
honour as having contributed, by monographs or other par-
183
tion in asserting, that as the writers first mentioned owe Animal
much of the success which has attended their labours to Kingdom,
their having judiciously engrafted their own improvements
on the original stock of the Linnaean system, so the au¬
thors last named, though not less highly gifted, have in a
great measure sacrificed the utility of many original and
enlightened views to the fond conceit of anew, and in
some instances an incomprehensible, nomenclature.
The skill of Fabricius as an entomologist has never been
surpassed, and it is therefore the more to be regretted
that he should have been influenced in the formation of
his system by other motives than a desire to perceive and
point out the truth. But it is known that he was swayed
as much by the ambitious hope of founding a new doc¬
trine, of which he destined himself to be the oracle, as by
the desire of proceeding directly in the path of nature.
Hence his avowed enmity to the eclectic system of La¬
treille, which, during the opening career of that celebrated
entomologist, he declared it to be his intention utterly to
destroy. Yet the system of Latreille not only stands, but,
when viewed in relation to the application of its general
principles, has in a great measure superseded that of Fa¬
bricius. At the same time, the accurate discrimination
and extensive knowledge of the latter, and the wide circle
which his system embraces in detail, render it still indis¬
pensable for a knowledge of the species.
Illiger died young. His talents were such as to raise
among his compatriots the highest hopes of his future
eminence, and his death was a subject of just regret to all
who knew what he had achieved so well at an early age,
and who the more gladly lent themselves to the anticipa¬
tion of what he would afterwards have accomplished had
his life been prolonged. Of his classification it has been
written by a competent judge : “ Neque apud veterem,
neque apud recentiorem quendam auctorem ullum systema
invenerim, quod, tam sua perspicuitate, quam accuratione,
Illigeriano magis commenclari mihi videatur.” Many of
his genera are indeed remarkable for their felicitous con¬
struction and consonance with the natural arrangement.
They have in consequence been readily adopted by his
more fortunate fellow-labourers in the same field, in whose
works they will remain, and be handed down in ample at¬
testation of the author’s genius; but the system itself will
suffer a partition, and ere long cease to be practically
known under the form in which it was originally promul¬
gated, and this mainly in consequence of his having adopt¬
ed so many new names.
M. de Blainville is still alive, and the longer he lives
the better for the sciences of anatomy and physiology,
neither of which contains in its modern annals the name
of a more accomplished or enlightened expounder of its
mysteries than his own; but in the character of a natural¬
ist, and in connection with the subject of nomenclature,
he unfortunately sins more than all his predecessors. He
really miscalls the objects of zoology most sadly, yet his
knowledge of the essential bases of the science is no
doubt too profound to admit of his applying it without new
and important results. Flence the pity that these should
not at all times be stated in such terms as not only to
amalgamate more closely with the kindred labours of his
contemporaries, but to fall rather more clearly within the
comprehension of ordinary minds.
As it is not our intention in the present rapid sketch to
tial though highly prized contributions, to the increase of enter into the distribution of the animal kingdom beyond
knowledge, yet we are not aware that more than three
systematists of acknowledged and wide-spread influence,
or of what may be termed universal celebrity, remain
unnoticed, of those who have essentially influenced the
present condition of zoological science ; we mean Fa¬
bricius, Illiger, and M. de Blainville. We have no hesita-
the greater divisions called classes, we shall not exhibit
the systems of the two first-named authors further than
to say, that the former attended almost exclusively to
entomology, the latter chiefly to the mammalia and birds.
When we come to the divisions of our subject under
their separate heads, tabular views or more detailed ana-
184 ANIMAL
Animal lyses will be presented of the labours of these and other
Kingdom, ingenious inquirers of the past and present times.
We have said that we regarded the system of Linnaeus
as the basis of all those by which it has been succeeded,
and that without a knowledge of his classification it
would be impossible to understand either the merits or
defects of more recent systems. We shall therefore here
present the classes into which the great Swedish natural¬
ist divides the animal kingdom.
Division I.
A heart with two auricles and two ventricles ; blood warm
and red.
Class I.—Viviparous animals, or such as
suckle their young; commonly
called quadrupeds, but includ¬
ing also the cetacea or whales, Mammalia.
Class II—Oviparous animals, or birds  Aves.
Division II.
A heart with one auricle and one ventricle ; blood cold and
red.
Class III.—Animals breathing arbitrarily
through lungs  Amphibia.
Class IV.—Fishes, or animals with gills... Pisces.
Division III.
A heart with one ventricle, no auricle; blood cold and white.
Class V.—With antennae ; undergoing
transformations. Insects  Insecta.
Class VI.—With tentacula, and undergo-
ingno transformations. Worms, Vermes.
It may be observed, that the deservedly popular system
of Linnaeus, though it does not profess to be a natural
method of classification, actually is so in many of its parts;
nor can it be denied that, on the whole, it usually brings
KINGDOM.
together as many groups of natural genera as occur in Animal
most systems that have been promulgated, especially if Kingdom,
we take into consideration the period at which it was
composed, and the comparatively scanty materials within
his reach. Linnaeus was probably aware of the extreme
difficulty, we might say at once of the utter impossibility,
of a perfectly natural arrangement; for he confesses, in
his Philosophia Botanica, his inability to define the great
divisions called orders, on account of their being so con¬
nected with each other by various points of affinity, as to
form a map rather than a linear series; and the observa¬
tion may be applied with equal truth to the subjects of
the animal kingdom. In regard to the excellence of his
genera themselves, their consonance with nature is ren¬
dered still more evident, by the great proportion of those
which Cuvier and Latreille have retained as leading ge¬
neric divisions in their recent works,—certainly the most
skilful approaches which have yet been made in the es¬
tablishment of a natural system. It has been asserted,
and we believe with truth, that such naturalists as are
perpetually intent on the abstract theory of classification,
rarely attain the highest excellence in the discrimination
or definition of the species,—the only distinctions possibly
which have a real foundation in nature, and upon an ac¬
curate and extensive knowledge of which alone their
theoretical systems can be substantially and permanently
built. At all events, it is admitted that Linnaeus is a
guide almost infallible, in as far as concerns his wonderful
facility in discovering the minor natural groups. If he
could have combined these as well as he has defined
them, his possession of the sceptre would have been still
undoubted.1
M. Virey, in the first edition (1803) of the Nouveau
Dictionnaire d’Histoire Naturelle, divides the animal king¬
dom into three great tribes, in accordance with the nature
and distribution of the nervous system. As he appears to
have been among the first to attribute a due degree of
importance to that system in the classification of animals,
we shall here exhibit a view of his general arrangement.
Tribe Vertebrata.
Animals possessed of two nervous
systems, the cerebro-spinal and
the ganglionic  
Heart with two ventricles and two auricles;
blood warm, lungs cellular 
Heart with one ventricle and one auricle ;
blood cold 
Man and Mammalia.
Birds.
Reptiles and Fishes.
Tribe Invertebrata.
Animals possessed of a single nerv¬
ous system surrounding the oeso¬
phagus, with ganglia and branch¬
es ; the sympathetic  
A heart; branchiae for respiration, mostly
aquatic 
No heart; some vessels; tracheae for air or
water 
( Mollusca.
< Cirrhipedes.
I Crustacea.
( Arachnides and Aptera.
; Insects, winged, hexapod,
y Annelides and Helminthides.
V Intestinal worms.
Nervous system composed of mo¬
lecules more or less perceptible ;
no distinction of sexes 
Tribe Zoophyta.
Ascidia, inclosed in a tunic 
Radiated animals ; composed of rays parting
from a centre 
United in Polypiers, or stony masses ; coral-
ligenous 
. Microscopical 
Botrylli, &c.
Echinodermata.
Hydra and Polypus.
Corals and Ceratophytes.
Madrepores and Sponges.
Infusory Animals.
The following summary will serve to illustrate M.
Virey’s views of the nature and characteristics of these
three ^reat divisions. We commence with the zoophy-
tical tribe.
Itf, Zoophytes are distinguished by an organic tissue of
a very soft and pulpy nature, more or less diaphanous,
and very contractile, though we cannot readily perceive
its muscular fibres. Its fundamental character consists in
the extreme division of its nervous molecules throughout
the flesh of these animals. Except in the Echinodermata
and some other radiated classes, we can scarcely assert
the existence of a nervous system amongst them (on which
account they are named apathiques by Lamarck). Each
portion of the body having its nervous molecule and its par-
1 Horce Entomologies, part ii. p. 428.
i
>
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
185
Animal ticular source of vitality, there is no common centre of culated members, feet, wings, pincers, palpi, &c. Many Animal
Kingdom. sensation; thus division and generation are almost syno- of these animals have closed vessels;’ and* the Crustacea Kingdom,
nymous, and when individual parts are mutilated they are have a heart and branchiae. Others, according to Cuvier,
speedily reproduced. With these tribes the production are nourished by simple imbibition. ’ Those insects which
of the species is in fact nothing more than a simple undergo metamorphoses are furnished with tracheae or
sprouting of a bud or offset, which separates itself from air-vessels for respiration, dispersed over their bodies,
the maternal stalk. Zoophytical animals are of no sex, The organs of the sense of hearing are not discernible
and thus resemble the agamous vegetables. The mouth
is usually placed in the centre of the body, and is fre¬
quently surrounded by a species of unarticulated arms,
radiating from a centre like the petals of many flowers.
Several genera have only a single opening for the recep¬
tion and rejection of the aliment. They have no viscera
except among the Crustacea; taste is universal, and also
sight, except among the worms. Their jaws always ply
laterally. The sexual organs are usually separate.
Sdly, The Vertebrata comprehend all those animals which
have a nervous system composed of ganglia, called sym¬
pathetic, for the functions of the internal life ; and another
(excepting caeca in certain species) ; no heart, nor arterial symmetrical nervous system, of which the principal por-
nor venous vessels ; no true circulation; no apparent tions are inclosed in the cranium and spinal column, and
organs of respiration. They are all aquatic, and water which sends off chords for the functions of the external
seems indeed the only fluid which pervades their economy, life. These are the most perfect and most highly en-
They may be called the cryptogamia of the animal king- dowed of all animals; they are named intelligens by La-
dom. The sense of touch, and perhaps that of taste, marck, and they are always endowed with five senses, of
seem the only ones enjoyed by these animals. which never fewer than four are situated in the head.
2dly, The Invertebrata present a greater complication of They possess a heart, red blood, a liver, lungs in the spe-
organs. Their principal character consists in a nervous cies which live in air, and branchiae in those which live
system, extending itself, especially in the intestinal cavity, in water. An articulated, bony, symmetrical skeleton,
by numerous ramifications. In all the families of this placed in the interior of the body, gives support and so-
great tribe, the nervous trunks surround the oesophagus, lidity to the different parts. Such are man, mammiferous
pass beneath the belly, and are furnished with many animals, and birds, which have warm blood, and respire
ganglions which supply branches to the different organs, by cellular lungs; such also are reptiles and fishes, of
That which is regarded as the brain in this tribe (named
sensible by Lamarck) is nothing more than one or two
ganglia situated above the oesophagus ; but the particular
distribution of the two nervous branches which spring
from the collar of the gullet, and extend themselves over
the body, gives rise to the divisions of molluscous and ar¬
ticulated animals established by Cuvier.
The last-named naturalist has observed, that in the mol-
lusca the nervous system is composed of many ganglionic
masses, dispersed throughout the organization, but con¬
nected by means of nervous filaments; and that the chief
of these masses constitutes a kind of brain above the
oesophagus. The mollusca have no skeleton ; their muscles
are attached to the skin, a soft contractile envelope, in
which in many species are produced shells, or stony
bodies of calcareous carbonate, formed by exudation or
superimposed concretion. Besides the sense of touch,
common to all animals, the mollusca are gifted with that
of taste, and sometimes of sight; but the sense of hearing
has not been remarked, except among the Cephalopoda
or cuttle-fish. Their systems of digestion and secretion
are rather complex; they are provided with a liver, and
possess a circulating or vascular system, through which
flows a humour or whitish sanies in place of blood. Their
respiration is effected by aquatic or aerial branchiae.
The sexual organs are frequently united in the same in¬
dividual.
Among the articulated classes (such as the Crustacea,
the arachnides, and insects) the nervous system consists
of a double chord, extending from the head to the posterior
extremity, and bearing knots or ganglia which correspond
to the segments of the animal’s body. The first ganglion
above the oesophagus takes the place of what we call the
brain in the higher animals, but it is not voluminous in
proportion. All these animals are composed of segments
or annular divisions, and their forms are elongated, and
more or less cylindrical. Their skin or outer covering,
always of a somewhat solid texture, becomes in many fa¬
milies hard, corneous, or even stony; and the muscles are
attached to its interior. The greater number have arti-
which the blood is cold. In all, the mouth has two hori¬
zontal jaws, and the members are never more than four
in number.
The preceding are M. Virey’s views of the distribution
and general characteristics of the different classes of the
animal kingdom.1 They contain a sound exposition of
several of the substantial relations which exist between
the different systems of the animal economy, and we pre¬
sent them to the reader even at the risk of afterwards
repeating in part several essentialities of his doctrine,
when we come to promulgate the views of his celebrated
countryman and contemporary Baron Cuvier.
We shall next present a tabular view of the general dis¬
tribution and primary divisions of animals according to
the system of Lamarck. It will be observed that this
author commences with the lowest tribes.
Animals without Vertebrae.
* Apathetic Animals. (Apathiques.)
2* f Characters. No brain nor elongated
o' r, medullary mass; no special senses;
xtaciiata. I • i . • i . i
. Tr forms various ; rarely articulated.
4. Vermes. 1. J
(Epizoaria.')
* * Sensitive Animals. (Sensibles.)
5. Insecta. f Characters. No vertebral column; a
6. Arachnides. brain, and generally an elongated
7. Crustacea. J medullary mass ; some distinct or
8. Annelides. | special senses; organs of movement
9. Cirrhipedes. attached beneath the skin ; formed
10. Mollusca. I symmetrically of equal parts.
Animals with Vertebrae.
* * * Intelligent Animals. (Intelligens.')
Characters. A vertebral column, a
brain and spinal marrow; distinct
senses ; organs of movement attach¬
ed to parts of an interior skeleton;
formed symmetrically of equal parts.
11. Pisces.
12. Reptilia.
13. Aves.
14. Mammalia.
vol. in.
1 Mceurs et Instinct des Anitmux, tome i. p. 180.
2 A
186 ANIMAL
Animal The author of the preceding arrangement has entered
Kingdom. Up0n the discussion of certain preliminary points connect-
eel with the subject of classification, which may be regard¬
ed as composing the art rather than the science of Zoology.
He inquires (in his introduction to the Hist. Nat. des
Anim. sans Vert.) what are the operations to be perform¬
ed for the execution of a good distribution of animals, and
for the establishment of the necessary divisions of that
distribution? These operations he states to be as fol¬
lows : ls£, To assemble animals together according to a
principle which is not arbitrary, and so as to form a gene¬
ral series, whether simple or ramified: 2dly, To divide
this general series into different kinds of lesser divisions,
of which the one shall be subordinate to the other; and
with that view to make choice of and submit to certain
suitable and convenient principles (principes de conve-
nance): 2>dly, To fix the rank of each sort of division after
one general principle, previously established; as, for ex¬
ample.
The rank of each primary group in the total series;
That of the classical divisions of each primary group ;
That of the orders or families in each class;
That of the genera in each family ; and
That of the species in each genus.
The execution of these three sorts of operations is re¬
garded by Lamarck as indispensable ; and that it is so has
been long felt by naturalists, almost all of whom have more
or less occupied themselves in the attempt, but always in
an arbitrary manner—that is to say, without the previous
establishment of principles deserving of general consent.
The first of the operations alluded to—that which con¬
cerns the bringing together of species in such a manner as
to form a general series—is an essential preparation, which
ought to precede the other operations, and without which
indeed the latter could not be executed. It tends, more¬
over, to enable us to discover the order of nature, with
which it is so highly important that we should become
acquainted. Although nature has necessarily followed a
certain order in the formation of organized beings, and
especially of animals, yet as she has now dispersed these
animals, and commingled all the different races over the
surface of the solid globe, or through the wide depth
of liquid waters, the original order of formation is to a cer¬
tain extent disfigured, and so far imperceptible. We are
therefore obliged, with a view to its ascertainment, to
search after some means by which we may attain to that
discovery, and to work out some solid principles to lessen
the chance of error. In regard to this, the most impor¬
tant step has been already attained, when we acknowledge
the interest inspired by affinities or relations, and the ne¬
cessity of understanding these, with a view to submit to
them, as to a test, the various parts of our general distri¬
bution. It may thus be perceived, that in order to esta¬
blish a good distribution of animals, in such a manner that
its solidity shall run no risk of being enfeebled by the ar¬
bitrary nature of opinion, it is necessary first of all to as¬
semble our species according to well-determined affinities ;
after which we may, without inconvenience, trace out the
lines of demarcation which separate the groups called
classes, and those other subordinate groups of which the
establishment is so advantageous, provided the natural
relations are in nowise compromised by their formation.
It may perhaps be proper shortly to inquire into the na¬
ture of these relations, their different degrees, and the
exact uses which it becomes us to make of such as we
ascertain and acknowledge. We shall then be enabled
with greater facility to determine the principles which it
is fit to establish.
Relations, according to Lamarck, are those traits of
resemblance or analogy which nature has bestowed, as
KINGDOM.
well on her different productions when compared among Animal
themselves, as on the different parts of those same pro- Kingdom,
ductions when compared with each other. These traits
of resemblance and affinity are so necessary to be known
and understood, that no methodical distribution can be
established on a sure foundation, if the objects which it
embraces are not arranged according to the law which
they prescribe. Relations are of different orders, some
being very general, others less so, and many altogether
special or particular. Moreover, although, in general,
relations belong to nature, all are not the direct result of
her operations in regard to her productions ; for among the
relations which we perceive between the compared parts
of different beings, there are many which result merely
from a modifying cause. Thus the relations of exterior
form, which are so apparent between the cetacea and
fishes, can only be attributed to a property resulting from
the dense medium which each inhabits, and not to any
direct plan in the operations of nature in regard to both
It is necessary then carefully to distinguish those obvious
and acknowledged relations which pertain to the direct
operations of nature in the progressive organization of
animal life, from certain others, equally obvious and ac¬
knowledged, which result from the influence of local cir¬
cumstances, or from the peculiar habits which different
races have in some instances been forced to acquire.
Relations of the last-named nature, though certainly of
greatly inferior value to the former, are by no means
limited in their influence and exhibition to external cha¬
racters alone ; for it may be demonstrated that the exter¬
nal cause which possesses the power to modify the direct
operations of nature frequently exercises an obvious in¬
fluence on several internal organs. It becomes the more
necessary then to establish certain rules, devoid of arbi¬
trary qualities, to enable us justly to appreciate the nature
and value of these relations; and it may be established
as a principle in zoology, that it is from the interior or¬
ganization that the most essential are to be obtained.
This principle is well founded if it expresses the pre-emi¬
nence which ought to be accorded to general considera¬
tions, gathered from the interior organization, over those
derived from external parts. But if, instead of using it
in this manner, we apply it to particular cases of our own
choosing, and without pre-established rule, it is capable of
great abuse; and we shall arbitrarily assign to relations
presented by such or such system of internal organs, a
preference over certain others, although the relations of
the latter may in reality be of greater importance. By
this means, sufficiently convenient for the changeable
views of individual authors, we admit into various parts of
our distribution inversions in every way contrary to the
order of nature.
It is true, as has been already observed, that a cause
which modifies organization not only acts on the exterior
parts of animals, but also produces various modifications
in their internal structure. It follows, that it is incorrect
to suppose that the relations which exist between the
races, and especially between the genera, the families, the
orders, or even in certain cases the classes of animals,
can always be decided merely from the isolated conside¬
ration of any internal organ, arbitrarily selected. On
the contrary, Lamarck is of opinion that the relations of
which we speak cannot be suitably determined except by
a consideration and comparison of the whole of the inte¬
rior organization, and, auxiliarly, by that of certain special
internal organs which assured principles have demon¬
strated to be the most preferable and important.
The second question proposed by M. Lamarck is the
following : What are the principles by which we ought to
be guided in our operations, so as to exclude from these
"
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal whatever is arbitrary ? Our author is of opinion that it is
Kingdom, by the precise discrimination of each sort of relationship,
and by aid of a determination, substantial and explained,
of the preference which ought to be accorded to one kind
over another, that we shall discover principles proper to
regulate all the parts of our general distribution of ani¬
mals. It is necessary then to determine the principal
kinds of relations which ought to be employed to attain
this end, and then to fix the superiority in value which
one kind possesses over another. The following is the
classification of Lamarck in further illustration of this sub¬
ject.
* Relations between Comparative Organizations, deduced
from the whole of their parts.
These relations, though general, manifest themselves
in different degrees, according as we seek for them among
races compared in themselves, or among groups of ani¬
mals of different races compared with each other. It is
necessary then to distinguish several kinds.
First kind of general relations.—These seem immedi¬
ately to connect races or species with each other. They
are of necessity the first, because it is they which furnish
the greatest of the relations between animals which differ
from each other. The zoologist who determines it, taking
into consideration all the parts of organization, as well in¬
terior as exterior, admits not of this sort of relation, un¬
less when it presents the smallest and least important
difference. We know that animals which resemble each
other perfectly, both in their internal and external organi¬
zation, can be nothing more than individuals of the same
species. In this case the relation is not considered, as
such animals offer no distinction. But those which present
among themselves a difference, tangible, constant, and at
the same time the smallest possible, are connected by
the greatest and most immediate of relations, if they pre¬
sent elsewhere a great resemblance in all the parts of
their interior organization, as well as in the greater pro¬
portion of their external features. And this sort of rela¬
tion does not demand a consideration of the degree of
composition or relative perfection of the animal organiza¬
tion, for it determines itself in all the ranks of the scale.
It is so easy to seize, that every one acknowledges it at
first sight; and it is by employing it that naturalists have
formed those smaller portions of the general series called
genera, notwithstanding the arbitrary nature of their li¬
mits. Thus, in this first kind of relation, which may be
called the relation of species, the difference between the
objects compared is the smallest possible, and need only
be sought for in the particularities of form or of the ex¬
ternal parts of individuals.
Second kind of general relations.—This embraces the
agreements which exist between groups of different ani¬
mals when compared together. It may be named the re¬
lation of groups; and, to acquire a knowledge of its nature,
we must no longer occupy ourselves essentially with the
particulars of the general form, nor with those of the ex¬
ternal parts, but almost solely with the interior organiza¬
tion, considered in all its parts. It is this kind chiefly
which ought to furnish the differences by which we dis¬
tinguish the groups from each other; and it is inferior in
one or more degrees to the first kind in the quantity of
resemblances which exist between the compared objects.
It serves to form the families, by connecting the genera
with each other; to institute the orders, or the sections of
the orders, by uniting several families; and, lastly, it deter¬
mines the classical groups into which we ought to parti¬
tion the general series. The relations of which we now
speak cannot, however, be employed to determine the
rank of the great masses of that series, but only to form
1ST
diverse combinations for establishing and distinguishing Animal
these masses. Kingdom.
From the consideration of these relations, the two fol-
lowing principles may be deduced.
First principle. 1 he general relations of the second
kind do not lequire a perfect resemblance in the interior
organization of the compared animals. Us exigent seule-
ment que les masses rapprochees se ressemblent plus
enti elles, sous ce point de vue, qu elles ne le pourraient
avec aucune autre.” (Anim. sans Vert, tome i. p. 355.)
Second principle.—The greater and more general the
compared masses, the more will such masses differ in
their internal structure. Thus the families present a less
difference in the interior organization of the animals by
which they are constituted, than the orders or classes.
Third kind of general relations.—We may denominate
relations of rank those which serve to determine the posi¬
tion in the great series, and which, proceeding from a
fixed point of comparison, effectively show among the
compared objects a relation, whether great or small, in
the composition or perfection of the organization. This
kind is obtained by comparing any organization whatever,
taken in the totality of its parts, with any other given or¬
ganization which may be presented as a point of depar¬
ture or of comparison. It is then determined, by the re¬
semblance, greater or less, which is found between the two
compared structures, to what extent that which we com¬
pare departs from or approaches to that which is given as a
point of comparison. We shall see that this sort of rela¬
tion is the only one which ought to serve for regulating
the rank of all those important primary masses into which
we divide the animal kingdom.
If we consider the question concerning the choice of
a particular organization, from or towards which to remove
or approximate other organizations successively, accord¬
ing to their greater or less resemblance, it becomes evi¬
dent that the selection ought to fall on one or other ex¬
tremity of the animal kingdom (as in that case there
would be no uncertain balancing), and the best known
extremity should have the preference. Thus, in setting
out from the most perfect and highly finished structure,
we should, in the determination of all the ranks, proceed
from the most composite to the most simple, and should
close the series by the most imperfect and least organized
of the whole.
Of all forms of structure, that of man, considered in
its totality, is at once the most composite and complete.
From this M. Lamarck concludes that the more any ani¬
mal organization approaches that of the human race, the
more it advances towards comparative perfection and
its own completion. This being the case, the organiza¬
tion of man is with that author the point of comparison
and departure from which to judge of the relation, whe¬
ther near or distant, of every form of animal structure,
and by which we are to determine the rank which those
forms, or the groups which they constitute, ought to oc¬
cupy in the general series. The organization alluded to,
considered in the totality of its parts, furnishes the means
by which to judge of the degree of composition and per¬
fection of other animal structures also regarded in their
totality. And in doubtful cases it is not difficult to rid
ourselves of uncertainty and embarrassment, by having re¬
course to the fourth kind of relations, or to those princi¬
ples which concern the comparison of the different organs
separately considered, and establish a predominating value
and influence among certain of those organs when com¬
pared with others. Thus, our point of departure or com¬
parison being found, the rank of all the divisions may be
assigned with facility by the aid of the principles which
follow.
188
Animal
Kingdom.
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
First principle.—For the determination of the rank of pared, that of which nature has made the most general Animal
each mass in the series,—the most complicated and com
plete of animal organizations being selected as the point of
comparison,—the more another form of animal structure,
considered in the whole of its parts, resembles that of the
fore-chosen, the more it will approximate towards it by its
relations; and reciprocally in the converse cases.
Second principle.—Among the organizations ot wnich
the plans are different from that which comprehends the
particular structure selected as the point of comparison,
those which offer one or more systems of organs similar
or analogous to such as form a portion of that with which
they are compared, shall rank superior to those possessed
of a smaller number of these organs, and, a fortiori, to those
in which they are wanting
With the assistance of the three kinds of relations above
indicated, and the principles deducible from them, M. La¬
marck regards it as easy to determine the distinctions
of species, and those of the various larger groups which
species form ; and to decide, in a manner by no means ar¬
bitrary, the rank and station of each group in the great
series. If this be true, the science will cease to be as va¬
cillating in its onward march as it has hitherto proved.
But our efforts would be incomplete, and would still
leave too large a field for the exercise of arbitrary opi¬
nions, if no attempt were made to establish and define the
value of particular relations,—that is to say, of those which
are obtained by the comparison of particular internal or¬
gans, considered in an isolated manner in different animals.
* * Relations between similar or analogous parts taken se¬
parately in the organization of different animals, and
compared with each other.
The fourth hind of general relations merely embraces
particular relations between unmodified parts. It is drawn
from the comparison of parts separately considered, and
which, in the system of organization to which they belong,
offer no real anomaly. The consideration of this kind is
sometimes of great consequence in assisting to decide in
doubtful cases, when we are anxious to determine, among
certain compared groups, to which the superiority of rank
ought to be assigned. Such cases sometimes occur where
the whole of the parts of the interior organization present
no means of deciding, in an unarbitrary manner, to which
of two organizations the superiority belongs. It is espe¬
cially in the formation and position of the orders, sections,
families, and even genera, of each class, and consequently
in the assignment of the rank of all these inferior groups,
that the employment of this fourth kind of relations is of
advantage; because, in regard to such groups, the prin¬
ciple of the third sort of relations is frequently very diffi¬
cult of application; and thus arbitrary modes of arrange¬
ment are introduced, most baneful to" the science, by ex¬
posing the works of naturalists to a continual variation in
the determination of the relations which ought to fix the
composition of the groups, and their order of position.
In fact, as many animals, really connected by the general
characters of their class, present remarkable differences in
certain of their interior organs, and yet at the same time
exhibit equally striking resemblances in others, we feel
that, in order to appreciate the degree of importance pos¬
sessed by the relations which exist between particular or¬
gans, we must have recourse to certain regulating prin¬
ciples in our determinations, to avoid arbitrary conclusions.
The two following principles are proposed by Lamarck, to
enable us to appreciate the relations observable between
particular internal organs in different animals compared
with each other.
First principle.—Between two internal organs, or sys¬
tems of internal organs, separately considered and corn-
employment ought to have the pre-eminence assigned it Kingdom,
in the value of the relations which it presents. Accord-
ing to this principle, the following is the order of import¬
ance which we ought to attribute to the particular organs
which nature has employed in the interior organization of
animals:—
The organs of digestion;
The organs of respiration ;
The organs of movement;
The organs of production ;
The organs of sensation ;
The organs of circulation.
Thus, when we take into view the greatest generality
of employment of the particular organs of which nature
makes use in the interior organization of animals, we per¬
ceive that the organs of digestion occupy the foremost
rank,—those of circulation the last. We have thus an or¬
der of value or precedence, in regard to these important
organs, capable of regulating, in doubtful cases, the pre¬
ference which one relation merits over another.
Second principle.—Between two different modes of the
same organ, or system of organs, that which is most ana¬
logous to the mode employed in a superior or more com¬
posite and complete organization, merits the preference in
the relations which it exhibits. If, for example, we desire
to employ a relation afforded by the organs of respiration,—
to judge of the preference which it deserves over that of¬
fered by other organs,—we are obliged, according to the
principle above established, to keep in view the following
consideration:—Although the system of organs provided
for respiration is very widely employed in the organization
of animals, since, with the exception of the polyped and
infusorial classes, all the rest possess a respiratory sys¬
tem, yet the mode of that system not being the same in
all the classes by which it is exercised, we assign a higher
value to the true lung than to the branchia, to the latter
than to the aeriferous trachece, and to these than to the
aquiferous trachece. According to this view, we may judge
whether the mode of respiratory organs of which we wish
to employ the relation, is sufficiently high in value to per¬
mit our yielding to it a preference over a relation deduced
from some other kind of organs.
The fifth hind of relations embraces the particular rela¬
tions observable between the modified parts. It requires
that, among the parts compared, we should discriminate
between that which is due to the real plan of nature, and
that which pertains to the modifications which that plan
has experienced from accidental causes. Thus this class
of relations is derived from parts which, considered sepa¬
rately in different animals, are not in the state in which
they ought to be, according to the plan of organization to
which they belong. To judge of the degree of import¬
ance which ought to be accorded to a relation, and the
preference which it deserves over another, it is a matter
of no slight consequence to distinguish if the form, the in¬
creased or diminished development, or even the entire
disappearance of the particular organs under consideration,
belongs to the plan of organization of the animals subject¬
ed to such modifications; or whether the state of these
organs is not rather produced by a modifying and deter¬
minable cause, which has altered or annihilated that which
nature had executed, and would have maintained, but for
the influence of that later cause. “ For example,” says
Lamarck, “ it would have been impossible for nature to
furnish a head to the infusoria, the polypi, or the radiata,
&c.; for the condition of these bodies, and the degree of
their organization, did not permit it; and it was only on
ailiving at the class of insects that a genuine head could
be supplied. Now, as nature never retrogrades in her
operations, we naturally expect, that when once arrived
at the formation of insects, and consequently of heads, the
recipients ot the special senses, all animal organizations
*
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
189
Animal superior in composition to that of insects will also exhibit
Kingdom, these organs. This, however, is not universally the case;
because no distinct head is observable among the annelides,
the cirrhipedes, and many mollusca, all of which are gene¬
rally regarded as superior to the class of insects. “ Une
cause etrangere a la nature, en un mot, une cause modifi-
ante et determinable, s’est done opposee a ce que les ani-
maux cites soient pourvus d’une veritable tete.” (Anim.
sans Vert, tome i. p. 363.) And that cause appears to have
operated sometimes by hindering to a greater or less ex¬
tent the development of that part of the body, and at
other times by effecting its complete destruction. We
find the same thing in regard to eyes and teeth, and to
various other parts both of the internal and external struc¬
ture; because a modifying cause has had the power to alter,
enlarge, diminish, or even to effect the total disappear¬
ance of these organs. We may perceive, then, that the
relations obtained from the consideration of changed or
modified parts must be of very inferior value to those
furnished by the same parts existing in a state conform¬
able to the plan of nature. Hence results the following
Principle.—Whatever nature has directly formed de¬
serves a pre-eminence in value over that produced by a
fortuitous cause, which has modified the work of nature;
and in the choice of a relation to be employed, we should
assign the preference to every organ, or system of organs,
which we find existing as it ought to do according to the
plan of organization of which it forms a part, over that or¬
gan, or that system of organs, of which either the condi¬
tion or existence has resulted from a modifying cause, ex¬
traneous to original nature.
When two different organs, between which a choice is
to be made, are both found to be changed or altered by a
modifying cause, the preference should be given to that
which is least removed by such a modification from the
condition in which it would have existed according to the
plan of organization of which it fonned a part.
The third question proposed by M. Lamarck is as fol¬
lows :—What disposition or mode of arrangement should
be given to the general distribution of animals, so as to
render it conformable to the order followed by nature in
the production of these beings ? To resolve this question,
we must also endeavour to deduce some principle from
nature herself, with a view to such conformity; for if we
were to determine the general distribution of animals ac¬
cording to the progression which exists in the animal or¬
ganization, it appears that we might, in that progression,
proceed with as much reason from the most composite to
the most simple, as from the most simple to the most com¬
posite. Such a proceeding, however, could not rest on a
proper basis; for we shall find that nature, consulted in
the order of her operations in regard to animals, indicates
the following principle, which excludes all arbitrary se¬
lection :—Nature always operating in a gradual manner, and
consequently never producing animals otherwise than suc¬
cessively, has obviously proceeded in such a production from
the most simple towards the most complex. We ought,
therefore, in our general distribution, to imitate the order
which nature herself has followed. “ J’ai, en effet,
rnontre,” says Lamarck, “ dans ma Philosophic Zoologique Animal
^tome i. p. 269), que, pour rendre la distribution generale Kingdom,
des animaux conforme a 1’ordre qu a suivi la nature en
produisant toutes les races qui existent, il fallait proceder
du plus simple vers le plus compose,—e’est-a-dire, qu’il
etait necessaire de commencer cette distribution par les
plus imparfaits des animaux, et les plus simples en orga¬
nisation, afin de la terminer par les plus parfaits, par ceux
qui ont 1’organisation la plus composee.” He further ob¬
serves, in his Anim. sans Vert. “ Get ordre est le seul qui
soit naturel, instructif pour nous, favorable a nos etudes
de la nature; et qui puisse, en outre, nous faire connoitre
la marche de cette derniere, ses moyens, et les lois qui
regissent ses operations a leur egard.” Although we
may find it less pleasant or conformable to our habitual
taste to present at the head of the animal kingdom crea¬
tures of the most limited perceptions, excessively minute
in size, and of scarcely any consistence in their parts,—
yet as in all things it is necessary to consider the end in
view, and the means which conduct towards it, Lamarck
is of opinion that the arrangement established by usage
in the distribution of animals is precisely that which
leads us away from the point in view, as well as the least
favourable for our instruction, and that it opposes the
greatest number of obstacles in the way of our perceiving
the plan, the order, and the means employed by nature in
her operations concerning the animal world.
If in the study and examination of living bodies we had
no other object in view than to distinguish the one from
the other by characters deduced from their external
forms—and if we were not desirous to regard their various
and wonderful faculties otherwise than as simple matters
of amusement, not altogether unfitted to excite the cu¬
riosity of a leisure hour—then the most ordinary and arti¬
ficial system would suffice; for in that case it would be
useless to occupy ourselves with researches concerning the
affinities of animals, or to study their internal structure.
But all naturalists are now agreed regarding the high im¬
portance of these affinities, and the necessity of holding
them ever in view in our general arrangement of the ani¬
mal kingdom. The bat is no longer classed with birds
merely because, like them, it wings its way through the
air; nor are seals or whales regarded as fishes because
the dense nature of the medium which they inhabit re¬
quires a somewhat analogous form; neither are cuttle¬
fish and polypi confounded together, though the mouth of
each is surrounded by numerous arms.
We have dwelt at greater length than we intended on
the system of Lamarck, or rather on the views by which
he seeks to illustrate the principles on which his system
professes to be built. Though occasionally prolix, and
sometimes rather obscure, his observations, on the whole,
are well deserving of an attentive consideration. Like
most of his countrymen, he is unfortunately more re¬
gardful of secondary causes, and more anxious to illus¬
trate their fitness and sufficiency, than he is ready to ac¬
knowledge the source from which they spring, or to ad¬
mire the wisdom and beneficence of their providential in¬
stitution.1
1 .U doctrine of Epicurus, that the Deity concerns not himself with the affairs of the world or its inhabitants, which, as Cicero
has judiciously observed {De Nat. Dear. lib. i. ad calcem), while it acknowledges a God in words, denies him in reality, has furnished
the original stock upon which most of these bitter fruits of modern infidelity are grafted. Nature, in the eyes of a large proportion
of the enemies of revelation, occupies the place, and does the work, of its great Author. Thus Hume, when he writes against mi¬
racles, appears to think that the Deity has delegated some or all of his powers to nature, and will not interfere with that trust
{Essays, ii. 75); and, to name no more, I.amarck, treading in some measure in the steps of Robinet (who supposes that all the links
ot the animal kingdom, in which nature gradually ascends from low to high, were experiments in her progress towards her great and
ultimate aim, the formation of man—Barclay cm Organization, &c. 263), thus states his opinion:—“ La nature, dans toutes ses opera¬
tions, ne pouvant proceder que graduellement, n’a pu produire tous les animaux a la fois ; elle d’abord n’a forme que les plus simples;
et passant de ceux-ci jusques aux plus composes, elle a etabli successivement en eux differens systemes d’organes particuliers, ies a
190
animal kingdom.
Animal We shall now proceed to the system of another natu- collection of the oral demonstrations of his great master Animal
Kmgdom. ralist, also highly accomplished in the science, M. Du- we were originally indebted for the publication of the Kingdom,
meril, the friend and pupil of Baron Cuvier, and to whose Lemons dAnatomic Comparee.
Internally articulated;
vertebrated;
Table of the Classification of Aninuils, according to the System of Dumeril.
with mammae; viviparous 1. Mammifeile.
without mammae ; (lungs; /feathers, wings   2. Bikds.
1
Externally articulated;
invertebrated;
Not articulated;
oviparous; ) /neither feathers nor wings 3. Reptiles.
'no lungs; branchiae 4. Fishes.
articulated members ; -[ f^eheap 5. Insects.
. [branchiae 6. Crustacea.
no articulated members   Worms.
distinct respiratory organs; vessels 8. Mollusca.
no respiratory organs; no vessels   Zoophytes.
The ensuing tabular view exhibits the classification His nomenclature is no doubt intimately connected with
proposed by M. de Blainville. We shall leave the reader his views of the structure and physiology of animals and
to judge for himself of the propriety of introducing so is highly approved of and adopted by many competent
many new appellations for groups constructed long ago. judges of the science.
Synoptical Table of the Primary, Secondary, Tertiary, and Quaternary Divisions of the Animal
Kingdom, denominated Sub-Kingdoms, Types, Sub-Types, and Classes, by M. de Blainville. From the Princives
a Anatomic Comparee of that author. J
Type I.
animal kingdom.
/. Sub-Type.
' Provided with
mammae and ...hairs..
Viviparous.
I. Sub-Kingdom.
Regular or Artio-
morphous Ani¬
mals.
Artiozoaires.
articulated.
interiorly.
Osteozoaires.
Type II.
exteriorly.
Entomozoaires,
or articulated ani¬
mals.
With appendages,
Type III.
II. Sub-Type.
Without
mammae.
_ Oviparous.
Provided with
articulated to
the number of
not articulated
none 
feathers 
scales 
naked skin..
„fins 
3 pair 
4 pair 
5 pair  
variable—
7 pair 
= the segments II
  12
  13
Classes.
Piliferes or Mammalia.
Penniferes or Birds.
Squammiferes or Reptiles.
Nudipelliferes—Amphibia.
PlNNIFERES or FlSHES.
Hexapodes.
OcTOPODES.
Decapodes.
Heteropodes.
Tetradecapodes.
Myriapodes.
Chitopodes.
Apodes.
sub-articulated..
Malentozoaires or Molluscarticules i Nematopodbs.
(15. Polyplaxiphores.
Type IV.
not articulated  Malacozoaires  The head (distinct..  16. Cephalophores.
Molluscous animals. ( not distinct... 17* Acephalophores.
sub-radiated  ig. Annelidaires.
"19. Ceratodermaires.
II. Sub-Kingdom.
Radiated or Actinomorphous Animals. Actinozoaires.
normal or true..
III. Sub-Kingdom.
Irregular or Heteromorphous Animals. Heterozoaires
20. Arachnodermaires.
21. .Zoanthaires.
22. PoLYPIAIRES.
23. .ZoOPHYTAIRES.
Spongiaires.
Monadaires or Moleculaires.
Dendrolithaires.
avec ^organisation^les facultds que n^usMu^observons pS Pa^\s’ elle a fait exister tous les animaux connus
forming those works of creation, the animal and vegetable kinidZ>Ch^I ' Z Thus buying to the Creator the glory of
nous attributes are most conspicuously manifested ; and ascrihinTtfi ^ ?TgnS to both the same origin, ibid. 83), in which his glo-
a blind power, that operates necessarily (311), which he admits however °r ^ f rtatn order °f things, as he defines it (214)—
It is remarkable, that in his earlier works, in which he broaches a similar oninion °f the WiU of the SuPreme Being (216).
Systeme des Animaux sans Vertebras, Discours d'Ouverture.) Thus we mav snv tw’ ri f ,n.d P° mentlon of a Supreme Being. (See his
relinquit Deum. But though he ascribes all to nature, vet as the that, like jus forerunner Epicurus, Re toltit, dum oratione
stances, wants, and habits of individual animals thT^eWthesX re^Ls ^th ^ n o anim-al forms’ he refers to the ^l circum-
es • these he regards as the modifiers of their organization and structure (162).
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
191
Animal Let us here note, that M. Desmoulins, in the 2d edi-
Kingdom. tion of Dr Magendie’s Physiology (1825), has exhibited a
system in which the principles of Cuvier and De Blain-
ville are joined in one.
A learned and ingenious Scotsman, Mr William Sharpe
Macleay, is the author of several profound and original
views in natural history. The unbroken and continuous
succession, or linear series, in which systematic writers
had previously regarded the objects of their contempla¬
tion, was first deviated from by Lamarck, who, in his sup¬
plement to the first volume of his Animaux sans Verte-
breS) presented the Invertebrata in a double subramose
series, consisting of articulated and inarticulated animals.
The following are the principal bases of Mr Macleay’s
system.1
1. That all natural groups, whether kingdoms or any
subdivision of them, return into themselves; a distribu¬
tion which Mr Macleay expresses by circles.
2. That each of these circles is formed precisely of
Jive groups, each of which is resolvable into five other
smaller groups, and so on till we reach the extreme term
of such division.
3. That proximate circles or larger groups are connect¬
ed by the intervention of lesser groups, denominated os¬
culant.
4. That there are relations of analogy between the cor¬
responding points of contiguous circles.
The author has represented his system by tables of
circles, inscribed with the names of the five primary di¬
visions of each group. The following table exhibits his
general view of the animal and vegetable kingdoms:
It will be perceived by the preceding diagram, that Mr
Macleay divides the animal kingdom into five great sub¬
kingdoms, viz.
1. Aciuta, composed of the infusoria, the polypi, the
corallines, the tcenice, and the least organized of the intes¬
tinal worms.
2. Radiata, containing medusae, star-fish, sea-urchins
or echini, and others.
3. Annulosa, consisting of insecta, arachnida, and
Crustacea.
4. Yertebrata, constituted by beasts, birds, reptiles, Animal
amphibia, and fishes. Kingdom.
5. Mollusca, including the numerous tribes of shell-
fish or marine testacea, fresh-water shells, snails, slugs, &c.
which, from the analogies presented by their soft or mu¬
cous substance, the peculiarities of their nervous system,
and the general imperfection of their senses, appear as it
were to return again to the acrita, though allied to the
vertebrata by characters drawn from the possession of a
heart and a circulating system.
The ensuing set of circles exhibits the further sub¬
division of the five sub-kingdoms into classes.
The osculant classes are such as are placed between
the circles. In the molluscous circle two classes are still
wanting to complete the quinary arrangement of that
great division. According to Mr Kirby, the number five,
assumed by Mr Macleay as a principal basis of his sys¬
tem, and as consecrated in nature, ought to yield to the
number seven, which is consecrated both in nature and
scripture. Metaphysicians enumerate seven principal ope¬
rations of the mind, musicians seven principal tones, and
opticians seven primary colours. In scripture, the abstract
idea of this number is, completion, fullness, perfection. Mr
Kirby seems to think that Mr Macleay’s quinaries may be
found resolvable into septenaries, in consequence of future
investigations.2
We shall enter at greater length into a detailed expo-
T° sll0w the absurd nonplus to which this his favourite theory has reduced him, it will only be necessary to mention the individual
instances which, in different works, he adduces to exemplify it. In his Systeme he supposes that the webfooted birds (Anseres) acquir¬
ed their natatory feet by frequently separating their toes as far as possible from each other in their efforts to swim. Thus the skin
that unites these toes at their base contracted a habit of stretching itself; and thus in time the web-foot of the duck and the goose
was produced. The waders (Grallce), which, in order to procure their food, must stand in the water, but do not love to swim, {rom
their constant efforts to keep their bodies from submersion, were in the habit of always stretching their legs with this view, till they
grew long enough to spare them the trouble ! ! ! (13). How the poor birds escaped drowning before they had got their web-feet
and long legs the author does not inform us. In another work, which I have not now by me, I recollect he attributes the long neck
of the camelopard to its efforts to reach the boughs of the mimosa, which, after the lapse of a few thousand years, it at length ac¬
complished ! ! ! In his last work he selects as an example one of the Moluscx, which, as it moved along, felt an inclination to ex-
plore by means, of touch the bodies in its path : for this purpose it caused the nervous and other fluids to move in masses successive-
ly to certain points of its head, and thus in process of time it acquired its horns or tentacula !! (Anim. sans Vertebr. i. 188.) It is
grievous that this eminent zoologist, who in other respects stands at the head of his science, should patronize notions so confessedly
absurd and childish.” {Introduction to Entomology, by Kirby and Spence, vol. iii. p. 349.)
^ See Horae Entomologicoc, and Kirby & Spence’s Introduction to Entomology, vol. iii. p. 12.
Introduction to Entomology, vol. iii. p. 15. The quinary system, in its application to insects and other annulose animals, is
pretty fully developed by its ingenious author in his Horae Entomologicce, already more than once referred to. An excellent paper by
Mr Vigors, on the classification of birds, in accordance with the same system, will be found in the 14th volume of the Transactions of
the Linncean Society.
192
ANIMAL KINGDOM.
Animal sition of the quinary system of arrangement under the
Kingdom, articles Entomology and Ornithology.
Cuvier divides the animal kingdom into four principal
branches. Setting aside all accessory and artificial cha¬
racters, he proceeds upon the consideration of the essen¬
tial structure of animals, and thus deduces four great
groups or separate types of form, to one or other of which
all the minor divisions may be ultimately referred.
In the first of these forms the brain, and the great cen¬
tral trunk of the nervous system called the spinal marrow,
are protected by strong bony coverings—the cranium and
vertebral column. To the sides of that column are at¬
tached the ribs and the bones of the anterior and poste¬
rior members. All the classes of this primary division are
provided with red blood, a muscular heart, a mouth with
two horizontal jaws, and special organs of vision, hearing,
taste, and smell, placed in the head or upper and anterior
portion. They have never more than four members; their
sexes are always separate; and they nearly resemble each
other in the distribution of their medullary masses, and
the principal branches of their nervous system. On ex¬
amining more narrowly the constituent parts of the classes
which compose this great assemblage, it is easy to disco¬
ver many striking analogies both of form and structure,
even in those groups which are most distantly related to
each other; and from the human species to the last of
the fishes there exists an obvious conformity to the same
general plan. The name of Veetebrated Animals is
bestowed on this division, on account of their being pos¬
sessed of a vertebral column or back-bone. The following
are the principal groups or classes into which it is further
divisible.
FIRST PRIMARY DIVISION! ANIMALIA. VERTEBRATA.
Class 1st. Man, mammiferous land-animals, and ce¬
tacea.
Class 2d. Birds.
Class 3d. Reptiles.
Class fall. Fishes.
The second great division possesses no skeleton. The
muscles are attached to the skin, which forms a soft con¬
tractile envelope; and many of the species are protected
by hard coverings, commonly called shells, which are sup¬
posed to occupy in the cutaneous system of this form of
animal life the same station as the mucous membrane of
the preceding division. The nervous system is contained
along with the viscera within this general envelope, and
is composed of many dispersed portions, of which the
principal, placed above the oesophagus, may be regarded
as representing the brain. Of the four special senses it is
impossible to discover the organs of more than two, taste
and sight; and even of these the last is frequently want¬
ing. The organs of hearing are visible only in one family.
The system of circulation is however complete; there are
particular organs for the performance of respiration ; and
the functions of digestion and secretion are almost as
complicated as in the vertebrated classes. The subdivi¬
sions of this second form are called Molluscous Ani¬
mals ; and although the external configuration of their
parts does not exhibit the same agreement as that of the
vertebrated classes, there is always a corresponding re¬
semblance in their essential structure and functions. The
following are the classes of this branch of the animal
kingdom.
SECOND PRIMARY DIVISION! ANIMALIA MOLLUSCA.
Class 1st. Cephalopoda, e. g. cuttle-fish, nautili, belem-
nites, argonauts, &c.
Class 2d.
Class 3d.
Class \th.
Class 5th.
Class 5th.
Pteropoda. Genus Clio, &c.
Gasteropoda. Slugs, snails, and numerous
groups of turbinated shells.
Acephala. Oysters, mussels, and other bi¬
valve shells, &c.
Brachiopoda. Terebratulae, &c.
Cirrhopodes. Barnacle shells, &c. Lepas
and Triton. (Linnaeus.)
The third great preponderating form is represented by
insects and other analogous classes. Their nervous sys¬
tem consists of two long ventral or sublateral chords, which
swell out at intervals into knots or ganglia. The first of
these ganglia, placed above the oesophagus, is analogous
to the brain, although it does not exceed in size and
scarcely in importance the ganglia of the lengthened cords,
with which it communicates by means of a ring which
embraces the oesophagus like a collar. The general
covering of the body in this division is sometimes hard,
sometimes soft, and is divided into segments by a certain
number of transverse incisions. The muscles are always
attached to the interior, and the body is usually, though
not universally, provided with articulated members. It is
among the classes of this form that we begin to perceive
the passage from a system of circulation in closed vessels
called arteries and veins, to nutrition derived from imbibi¬
tion ; and a corresponding passage from respiration in cir¬
cumscribed organs to that performed by tracheae or air-
vessels, distributed over the whole body, is likewise ob¬
servable. The organs of taste and sight are the most
distinct in this branch; the organ of hearing is apparent
only in a single family, although we can scarcely doubt
that the sense exists in others in which the organ has not
been ascertained. The following classes are ranked under
this great form.
THIRD PRIMARY DIVISION ! ANIMALIA ARTICULATA.
Class 1^. Annelides. Serpulae, nereids, leeches, earth¬
worms, the hair-eel, &c.
Class 2d. Crustacea. Crabs, lobsters, shrimps, &c.
Class 3d. Arachnides. Spiders, scorpions, mites, &c.
Class \:th. Insecta. Beetles, flies, butterflies, &c.
In the three preceding divisions, the organs of move¬
ment and of sensation are disposed symmetrically on both
sides of an axis, with an anterior and posterior portion dif¬
fering from each other. Among the zoophytes, which form
the last great division, the organs are usually disposed in
a radiated form. They approach the nature of plants in
the extreme simplicity of their structure. They have no
distinct nervous system, nor organs of the special senses;
and it is barely possible to detect in a few of the species
some slight vestige of the circulating system. Their res¬
piratory organs are almost always on the surface of their
bodies. The greater proportion of the classes exhibit no
other intestine than a sack or caecum, and the composition
of the last groups of all presents only a homogeneous
pulpy mass, sensible, and endowed with motion. From a
consideration of their most usual forms, the classes of this
order are named Radiated Animals. They are as
follows:—
fourth primary division: ANIMALIA radiata.
Class 1st.
Class 2d.
Class 3d.
Class \th.
Class 5th.
Echinodermata. Star-fish, sea-urchins, &c.
Lntozoa. Intestinal worms.
Acalephae. Sea-nettles, actiniae, medusae,
Sec.
Polypi. Corals, madrepores, sponges, &c.
Infusoria. Infusory and other microscopi*
cal animals.
Animal
A
NIMAL KINGDOM.
193
Animal Such are the great outlines of a system which, consi-
Kingdom dered in its generality, is certainly the most satisfactory
.11 which has yet appeared. Particular departments may
Acule ^ave been UP> modified, and perhaps improved by
ingenious observers, sedulous within a limited sphere (and
of these ameliorations we shall be careful to avail our¬
selves when we come to enter upon a detailed view of
each of the classes of the animal kingdom); but the con¬
struction and position of the principal groups, their real as
well as relative characters, are developed in the system of
the great French anatomist, in a manner more clear and
accordant with nature than in any other yet promulgated.
We shall therefore in the course of this work adhere,
with some slight transpositions, the reasons for which will
be stated in their proper place, to the classes of Baron
Cuvier. The greater extent and importance of some of
these, in comparison with others, will induce us to bestow
more attention and a larger space to their illustration;
and as certain of the primary divisions, such as the Mol-
lusca and Radiata, contain a greater number of classes, if
not of less importance, at least by no means so strongly
characterized or contradistinguished from each other as
are those of the vertebrated tribes, we shall, in presenting
the history and nomenclature of such classes, group them
together in such a manner as to exhibit them to the
reader either under one of the great primary divisions, or
as an intermediate subdivision, containing one or more
classes. For example, the article Mollusca of this work
will present consecutively under a single head the history
and classification of the six classes contained in the se¬
cond primary division so named;—but the four classes of
vertebrated animals will be each discussed in a separate
treatise. Thus mammiferous animals, birds, reptiles, and
fishes, will form the articles Mammalia, Ornithology,
Reptilia, and Ichthyology. The Classes of the third
primary division, viz. Annelides, Crustacea, Arachnides,
and Insecta, will (with the exception of the first, referred
to Helminthology) likewise be treated of under distinct
heads, in the alphabetical order, of the following terms :— Animal
Crustacea, Arachnides, and Entomology. In regard Kingdom
to the fourth primary division, that of the radiated ani- Jl
mals, commonly called Zoophytes, the first class, named AniI?ia1'
Echinodermata, will be treated of separately under its t
own title; the second class, Entozoa, wdiieh contains the
intestinal worms, will be grouped with the Annelides or
red-blooded worms (as above excepted from the third
primary division) ; and these two classes will be treated of
together under the article Helminthology. The re¬
maining classes of the Animalia Radiata, that is to say, the
Acalephae, the Polypi, and part of the Infusoria, as they
form the last links of the animal kingdom, will come to be
discussed with greater propriety at the concluding stage
of this work, under the head of Zoophytes. Finally, that
portion of the infusorial class which we have excepted in
the above distribution will be found described in the pre¬
sent volume under the word Animalcule. This com¬
pletes the exposition of our zoological system.
The following enumeration exhibits a view of the terms
under which the principal subjects of zoology will be ex¬
plained and illustrated in the course of this work.
Systematic Arrangement.
Mammalia.
* Ornithology.
Reptilia.
Ichthyology.
Mollusca.
Crustacea.
Arachnides.
Entomology.
Echinodermata.
Helminthology.
Zoophytes.
Animalcules.
Alphabetical Arrangement.
Animalcules.
Arachnides.
Crustacea.
Echinodermata
Entomology.
Helminthology.
Ichthyology.
Mammalia.
Mollusca.
Ornithology.
Reptilia.
Zoophytes. (j. vv.)
Animal Magnetism. See Magnetism, Animal.
ANIMALCULE.
Animalcule, a diminutive term (from the word ani¬
mal), applied by naturalists to those minute beings which
become apparent in various fluids when subjected to the
microscope. They were named infusory animals {Infuso¬
ria) by Muller, one of the most celebrated observers in
this department of zoology; and the appellation, however
inapplicable, now occurs in the majority of scientific pub¬
lications. Of course it applies with propriety only to such
species as are developed through the medium of infused
substances. Now we know, that of 400 species of Infuso¬
ria (commonly so called) described by Muller himself, not
a sixth part were observed in any kind of infusions ; whilst
the remainder inhabited the most translucent waters, and
speedily died when placed in impure or corrupted liquids.
Even the word animalcule (or little animal) does not con¬
vey a positive or sufficiently restricted idea in relation to
this particular class; because mites and certain polypi
are extremely minute in their dimensions, and equally re¬
quire the aid of microscopical investigation ; and thus the
term microscopies {microscopiques), recently proposed by
M. Bory de St Vincent, is not less faulty than its prede¬
cessors. The size of an animal, in fact, bears no essential
relation to the other conditions of its organization; and
therefore we cannot infer its nature with any certainty
from a knowledge of its dimensions. At the same time it
must be admitted, that the most simply organized, both of
plants and animals, are also the most minute; and thus
the Infusoria may be regarded as possessed of certain cha¬
racters in common. We here adopt the word Animalcule,
chiefly because it is the most familiar to the English
reader.
The subjects of our present observations may be thus
defined:—Animals invisible to the naked eye ;1 more or less
translucent; unprovided with members (the caudal, and
other appendices, with which certain species are furnished,
being scarcely regardable as such); no perceptible eyes;
contractile in whole or in part; endowed with the sense
of touch ; deriving nourishment by absorption ; generation
(when not apparently spontaneous, and consequently in¬
comprehensible) effected by division, or by the emission of
gemmules or oviform bodies ; inhabitants of liquids. They
are the smallest and most simple of living creatures, but
not less perfect than the other tribes; for though they
possess the fewest faculties, their means are in every way
adequate to their wants, and their vital energies propor¬
tioned to their sphere of enjoyment.
Among microscopical animals we find many species
which, in their aspect and structure, present no analogy
1 The Volx^ox globator, and a few others, which are just discernible without the aid of a microscope,
character.
form exceptions to the above
2 B
VOL. III.
194 A N I M A
Animal- to other forms of animal life: they are merely moving
cule. molecules of the simplest organization, the exact nature of
which it is sometimes difficult to determine, and which
involve in deeper obscurity the mysterious line of demar¬
cation by which we so often seek in vain to separate the
animal from the vegetable kingdom. If, however, the
true distinction between plants and animals consists chiefly
in the irritability and power of contraction possessed by
the latter, then the Infusoria, which are strongly endowed
with these attributes, are indeed so far removed from the
vegetable kingdom, that the name of Zoophytes, or animal
plants, is inapplicable to the class to which they belong.
In the extreme simplicity of their structure, they no doubt
present some analogy to the least complicated tribes of
plants, such as the algae and others; but it is a mere ana¬
logy, and not a connection of affinity,—for no alliance be¬
tween these kingdoms has ever been demonstrated, al¬
though certain obscure phenomena may have presented
difficulties in the way of our investigations. “ We need
not be surprised,” Mr Macleay observes in his Horce En-
tomologicce, “ that several of the Linnaean algae should be
still hovering in a state of uncertainty between the two
kingdoms; but, on the contrary, be prepared to expect ad¬
ditional proofs of the analogy which the two great divisions
of organized matter bear to each other. The Agastria, or
Agastraires of De Blainville, are indeed animals, though
they have neither distinct organs of sense, alimentary ca¬
nal, nor even mouth,—though they have, in short, so far
as our present knowledge of them would lead us to be¬
lieve, no internal digestion whatever to execute, but trust
for nourishment, like plants, to the absorption of their ex¬
ternal pores. They must be esteemed animals on account
of their peculiar irritability; but are vegetables in almost
every other respect.”
Our knowledge of the history of animalcules resulted
from the improvement of the microscope by Hartzoeker
and Leeuwenhoeck. The ancients were consequently un¬
acquainted with the mysteries of this “ invisible world;”
and we are thus saved the tedium of a lengthened biblio¬
graphical investigation. Notwithstanding the observations
of Hill, Baker, Ledermuller, Goeze, Gleicken, Roesel,
Pallas, Needham, Spallanzani, and several other minute
and laborious inquirers, it may be said that this branch of
zoology only assumed a truly scientific form in conse¬
quence of the labours of a distinguished Danish naturalist,
Otho Frederic Muller. His earlier works, such as the Ver-
mium Terrestrium. et Fluviatilium Historia, and the Zoolo¬
gies Danicee Prodromus, presented very decided improve¬
ments in the knowledge and classification of animalcules.
These emendations were transferred by Gmelin to the
13th edition of the Systema Natures of Linnaeus, in which
animalcules form the fifth order of the class of Vermes.
But the work which, had the rest been wanting, would
alone have immortalized the name of Muller, appeared
(posthumously) in 1786, under the title oi Animalcula In¬
fusoria, Fluviatilia et Marina. It is illustrated by 50 plates,
containing figures of 360 species variously represented’.
A later and very useful compendium of knowledge regard¬
ing microscopical animals forms a portion of the Encyclo¬
pedic Methodique (46th livraison), in which Bruguiere has
reproduced the plates of Muller, with the addition of seve¬
ral others of equal accuracy from the third volume of
Roesel’s Insecten-belustigungen. The reader will there find
descriptions of 28 plates, containing nearly 1100 figures
representing 385 animalcular species.
Before proceeding further, we shall present a brief view
of the system of Muller, as of high importance in itself,
and the fundamental basis of the more recent and improved
arrangements. It includes, however, several genera which
are not now classed among the animalcular tribes. He
L C U L E.
divides the Class of Animalcula Infusoria as fol- Animal,
lows: cule.
Order I.—No External Organs.
* Thickened.
Genus 1. Monas; body punctiform. 10 species.
2. Proteus; body variable. 2 species.
3. Volvox; body spherical. 12 species.
4. Enchelis; body cylindrical. 27 species.
5. Vibrio; body elongated. 31 species.
* * Membranous.
6. Cyclidium; body oval. 10 species.
7. Parameecium; body oblong. 5 species.
8. Kolpoda; body sinuous. 16 species.
9. Gonium; body angular. 5 species.
10. Bursaria; body excavated. 5 species.
Order II.—External Organs.
* Naked.
11. Cercaria; smooth, tailed. 22 species.
12. Trichoda; haired or ciliated. 89 species.
13. Kerona; with horny appendices. 14 species.
14. Himantopus; with cirrated appendices. 7 spe¬
cies.
15. Leucophra; the entire surface ciliated. 26
species.
16. Vorticella; orifice ciliated. 75 species.
* * Furnished with a Shell.
17. Brachionus; orifice ciliated. 22 species.
In the year 1815 Lamarck published the first part of
his Animaux sans Vertebres, a work which forms an
epoch in the history of the inferior tribes. In this signal
publication the author adopts a different course from that
usually followed by systematic writers; and pursuing an
ascending rather than a descending scale, he commences
with the lowest and least complex species, viz. the Infu¬
soria. From this class, however, he rejects all those spe¬
cies in which any kind of complication of organs is appa¬
rent. All the genera so distinguished are referred by him
to the first order of the second class of the animal king¬
dom, called Polypi, under the title of Polypi ciliati; and
the true and restricted Infusoria are thus defined : Micro¬
scopical animals, gelatinous, transparent, polymorphous, con¬
tractile ; having no distinct mouth, nor constant, determin¬
able, internal organs ; generation fissiparous or sub-gemmi-
parous. The genus Kerona, it may be further remarked,
is in this system united to the Himantopus of Muller, while
the genus Cercaria of that author is divided into two.
Thus the class Infusoria of Lamarck, composed of two
great sections, the naked and the appendiculated, may be
said to correspond to the first 14 genera of the Danish
naturalists.
Cuvier, in the Regne Animal (1817), places the Infuso¬
ria as a part of his fourth great division, the zoophytical
or radiated animals. The term radiated was originally
bestowed on a numerous tribe of animals, such as the
Asterias and others, on account of their arms or tentacula
being extended in a radiated or star-like form; but it
certainly applies unfitly to the true Infusoria of Lamarck,
which possess nothing resembling a radiated structure. It
cannot, however, be always expected that a general term
of wide import should apply with etymological accuracy
to every part of the extensive series which it is intended
to embrace. Cuvier then divides his Infusoria into two
oiders, Les Rotiferes, and Les Infusoires homogenes, the
former of which correspond to the ciliated polypi of La-
ANIMALCULE.
195
Animal- marck, the latter to the Infusoria properly so called of terms of the original language, lest, by inadvertence or Animal-
cuIe- that author. , T „ . miscon.ception on the part of the translator, any additional cute.
According to M. de Blainville, the class Infusoria can obscurity should rise around a subject already sufficiently
scarcely be regarded as established upon a natural foun- encumbered. {See Tabular View on the next paqe>> ^
dation. The organization of its component tribes is l u ')
so various as to lead to the belief that a more precise The order Gymnodes of Bory de St Vincent nearly cor-
knowledge would show that several of those tribes belong responds to the entire class Infusoria of Lamarck • and
to different types of the animal kingdom. Some, as the although the observations by which he illustrates his ar-
genus Brachionus, are symmetrically formed both as re- rangement partake of the accustomed defects of the French
gards their bodies and appendages, and are protected by philosophy, the facts which he details, if not the theore-
a horny or crustaceous covering. Others, as Vibrio, Pa- tical views which he inculcates, are worthy of an atten-
ramaecium, &c. have the body elongated, depressed, ver- tive consideration. These mysterious creatures are ob-
miform, and without appendages. A third division ex- served to swim with astonishing rapidity; and although
hibit a radiated structure, as for example the Vorticellae, their bodies are usually diaphanous, it has hitherto proved
which, however, we have already stated, are now seldom impossible, even by the aid of the most powerful glasses,
classed among the Infusoria. Many genera, such as Pro- to ascertain by what natural mechanism these movements
teus, Volvox, Monas, are amorphous, or without deter- are effected. They direct their courses by a discretion-
minate form, and cannot be referred to any other known ary power, in one direction rather than another, avoiding
type of the animal kingdom. They are regarded by many and turning round opposing obstacles, according to the
as the elementary molecules of all animal life, and in their necessities of the case—discerning, as the process of eva-
structure no other than the cellular tissue is observable, poration proceeds, the points in which they may prolong
They may be said to be dependent on external circum- their existence, and flocking in crowds to those places
stances, instead of being able, like other animals, to mo- where they are best screened from the overpowering bril-
dify or control them ; and their usually spherical form liancy of the reflecting mirror. They thus appear to pos-
is the necessary result of an equal pressure of water on sess volition, which we are accustomed to regard as a
all sides of a frail and yielding texture. M. de Blainville result dependent on the faculties of perception and com-
considers the genera Brachionus, Urcelaria, Cercaria, Fur- parison.
cularia, Kerona, Trichocerca, and Himantopus, as belong- The principal obstacle to our understanding the essen-
ing to the type of Entomozoaires or articulated animals, tial nature of animalcules results from their want of a
and especially to the class Heteropoda, order Entomos- nervous system, which, in ourselves, and in all the inter-
traca. Many species of Vibrio he regards as Apodes, as mediate classes of the nature of whose consciousness we
well as Paramcecium and Kolpoda. Other species of the have even a vague idea, we regard as the sine qua non of
genera Vibrio and Cyclidium ought rather to be ranged sensation and intelligence. Voluntary motion without
with the Planaria; and in the genus Leucophra there is muscular action is also a circumstance which we cannot
even a species which M. de Blainville is inclined to look very clearly comprehend. But as there may be “ more
upon as an Ascidia ! Finally, the genera Gonium, Proteus, things in heaven and earth than are dream’t of in our
Volvox, and Monas, if they are really animals, appear to philosophy,” we must not reject facts, that is to say ap-
form a distinct type, which may be called Amorphes or pearances which present themselves under the same de-
Agastraires; so named from the circumstance of their hav- terminate and uniform aspect to various unprejudiced ob-
ing neither determinate form nor reduplication of the ex- servers, merely because they do not coincide, or may pos-
ternal envelope for the formation of a stomach, as in all sibly controvert or interfere, with a previous hypothesis,
other true animals. On the other hand, the extreme softness of texture, and
Such is a brief exposition of the views of one of the excessive minuteness, of most of the animalcular species,
most distinguished physiological inquirers of the present render anatomical investigation almost impossible; and
day. It may serve, if for nothing more, at least to show naturalists may have erred in supposing the absence of
the unsettled state of opinion concerning these extraor- what they are merely unable to perceive and demon¬
dinary creatures. In regard to this, however, we may strate.
rest assured that, in the future progress of science, the It is in truth impossible to discover any traces of the
class Infusoria, as at present constituted, will suffer an nervous system, even among several tribes of animals in
entire dismemberment, and its component parts will be other respects much more highly organized than the sub¬
referred to various groups of the animal kingdom, some of jects of our present inquiry. Trembley’s examination of
them widely distant from each other. the Polypus threw no positive light upon the matter; nor
In the year 1826 a full and most elaborate classification did Gade’s dissections of the larger Medusae enable him
of microscopical animals was given to the world by M. to discover either muscular or nervous fibres. According
Bory de St Vincent. As it is the singular mode of ex- to M. Bory de St Vincent, the nervous system is one of
istence of animalcular beings, their general economy in the last to be developed. To the perfect simplicity of the
the field of nature, the actual conditions of their organi- Monads, the first perceptible addition is that of a central
zation, and the state of their limited faculties so far as cavity, or rudimentary intestinal sac, which we find to occur
these can be ascertained, with which we are chiefly in- even before the existence of a mouth. Next appears an
terested—so, in our systematic view of this extraordinarjr opening to this canal, which serves both for the reception
class, we shall merely present to our readers the characters of nourishment, and the rejection of excrementitious parts
of the principal genera, and of a few of the most remark- where such exist. The hairs and cirrated appendages which
able species which they contain. But, as some may be ensue in still more complicated species have been regard-
desirous to possess at least a sketch of the full extent and ed as the early rudiments of the respiratory system; and
condition of this intricate subject, we have constructed even a heart, or central organ of a circulating fluid, is
the accompanying tabular scheme of the orders, families, partly developed before the appearance of any nervous
and genera of microscopical animals, according to the views chords. The earliest, most general, and perhaps the only
of M. Bory de St Vincent, the latest and most assiduous indispensable function of animal life, is that ot nutrition,
writer on this department with whose labours we are ac- But the materials of nutrition are so different, and their
quainted. We have thought it advisable to retain the modes of reception so various, that the exercise of this
w 2
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ANIMALCULE.
Animal¬
cule.
function by no means necessitates the existence of a
mouth, a stomach, or an alimentary canal; for an increase
of parts may be effected even through the medium of
imponderable or elastic fluids, and by imperceptible and
superficial pores.
almost reverential admiration, is it not to be deplored that
those whose labours might be carried on under the influ¬
ence of a purer light, seem as often degraded as exalted
by the contemplation of their Creator’s works ; and, re-
mu <." • c • c • i u j ferring all to the powers of nature, or some other inde-
The exterior of an infusory animal may be compared to finite abstraction, refuse to recognise, amid so manv won
e interior of one of the higher classes, in which nutri- ders, the “ Good Supreme” from whom these and other
mightier wonders have proceeded ?
the
tion is carried on by the reception of the chyle by the
absorbent pores. These pores are external among the
Infusoria, and the process of absorption is with them ana¬
logous to that of plants, in which there is a direct reception
and appropriation of fluids from the earth and air, with¬
out any previous preparation in a central cavity or sto¬
mach. Zoophytes in general have indeed been called the
cryptogamia of the animal kingdom. According to Carus,
the Infusoria ought to be regarded merely as little cells,
partially filled with lymph, and possessed of the powers
of nutrition and locomotion ; and thus the infinite changes
and variations perceptible in their forms may be supposed
to be produced by the various degrees in which this fluid
is collected at one or other of the points of their bodies.
In the opinion of that anatomist, a more complete deve¬
lopment of the organs of motion, and indeed of the whole
organization, is inseparably united with the appearance of
a distinct nervous system. This may be true as a gene¬
ral rule, but not as a universal principle ; for the Medusa
has more apparent voluntary motion than the Asterias,
though the former is destitute of those nerves which in
the latter make their first appearance in the shape of a
pale thread-like ring surrounding the oesophagus. It is
this ring around the upper extremity of the alimentary
canal which, in the molluscous and articulated classes, we
shall afterwards find to constitute the most uniform and
most essential portion of the nervous system. The Me¬
dusae, just referred to, being almost of the same specific
gravity with water, are easily carried by currents, and
moved about from place to place by the action of the
waves, or even (as in the case of Holothuria physalis) by
the winds; but Carus and other writers have assuredly
erred in doubting that they execute a voluntary locomo¬
tion ; for that they do so in a very decided and graceful
manner must be obvious to all who have attended to these
animals in their native haunts along the shores, or among
the land-locked waters of the beautiful firths of Scotland.
The mysteries revealed by the glasses of Leeuwenhoeck
were at first regarded as beyond belief. The uncertainty
of microscopical investigations, in consequence of which
so much was supposed to depend on the imagination of
the beholder, was alleged against them; and even at an
after-period, when men of sober judgment and the most
industrious application had confirmed the experience of
the indefatigable Dutchman, the wit of Voltaire did not
disdain to throw its cutting sarcasm over the disciples of
the “ anguilles de la pate et du vinaigre.” We hope it
is now admitted, that however frequently those who en¬
deavour to expound the mysteries of nature may fail in
their attempts at elucidation, yet that there is nothing in
the manifold works of Omnipotent Wisdom which, if duly
studied and rightly understood, would not conduce to our
wellbeing and happiness; and that a single square inch
of water, with its many millions of animalcular atoms, is
in truth as wonderful a work of divine intelligence, and as
interesting a field for human investigation, as the starry
galaxy of heaven.
In his tain parvis, atque tam nullis, quae ratio !
Quanta vis ! quam inextricabilis perfectio !
And if a heathen philosopher (Pliny) has so expressed his
_ . . It is in the study of
the subject with which we are now engaged, and the ana¬
logous pursuits of physiology, where the completion of
the most perfect design and the happiest results of super¬
human forethought are so constantly manifested, that we
frequently meet, where we should least expect it, with the
sneer of the sceptic, or the impious ridicule of the unbe¬
liever. How different are the sentiments of one who
combines the piety of the Christian with the genius of
the poet and philosopher. “ But about the time of its
invention (the invention of the telescope), another instru¬
ment was formed, which laid open a scene no less wonder¬
ful, and rewarded the inquisitive spirit of man with a dis¬
covery which serves to neutralize the whole of this argu¬
ment. This was the microscope. The one led me to see
a system in every star ; the other leads me to see a world
in every atom. The one taught me that this mighty
globe, with the whole burden of its people and of its coun¬
tries, is but a grain of sand on the high field of immensity ;
the other teaches me that every grain of sand may har¬
bour within it the tribes and the families of a busy popu¬
lation. The one told me of the insignificance of the
world I tread upon; the other redeems it from all its in¬
significance ; for it tells me, that in the leaves of every
forest, and in the flowers of every garden, and in the wa¬
ters of every rivulet, there are worlds teeming with life,
and numberless as are the glories of the firmament. The
one has suggested to me, that beyond and above all that
is visible to man, there may lie fields of creation which
sweep immeasurably along, and carry the impress of the
Almighty’s hand to the remotest scenes of the universe;
the other suggests to me, that within and beneath all that
minuteness which the aided eye of man has been able to
explore, there may be a region of invisibles; and that,
could we draw aside the mysterious curtain which shrouds
it from our senses, we might then see a theatre of as
many wonders as astronomy has unfolded, a universe
within the compass of a point so small as to elude all the
powers of the microscope, but where the wonder-working
God finds room for the exercise of all his attributes,
where he can raise another mechanism of worlds, and
fill and animate them all with the evidence of his glory.”1
Although we cannot hope to derive the same amuse¬
ment or advantage from the study of each of the animal¬
cular species considered separately, as we do from the
consideration of the history of many of the higher animals,
yet, in a philosophical point Of view, a knowledge of the
general attributes of the class presents several highly im¬
portant objects ; and their obscure origin, their singular
organization, and more singular mode of existence, cannot
fail to excite our unfeigned wonder and admiration. They
can scarcely be described otherwise than by a negation of
all those characters which constitute the life, power, and
activity of other beings; they have no head, no eyes, no
muscles, no blood-vessels, no nerves, no determinate or¬
gans for respiration, generation, or digestion—and yet
they are endowed with life.
The animal nature of the Infusoria has indeed been de¬
nied by many; but such is the regular gradation from the
most simply organized of the monadal forms to the much
1 Chalmers's Astronomical Discourses, f). 112.
198 A N I M A
.Animal- more complicated structure of the Polypi, which present,
cute. under a remarkable aspect, such unequivocal characters
0f animality, chat it is impossible to draw the line of de-
' marcation; and if we admit the life of the one we can
scarcely doubt that of the other. Yet many of the Infu¬
soria appear to present the very lowest conceivable point
to which animal life can be reduced.
The structure of an animal, the individual existence of
which is preserved by the absorption of a circumambient
fluid, and the continuance of whose species is effected byr
the division or separation of a part of its own body, might,
a priori, be supposed to be of the most simple kind. “ We
may rest assured,” observes Lamarck, “ that whenever
an organic function is itself unnecessary, the special or¬
gan by which it is usually performed will not be found to
exist.” It is indeed by considering the nature of the Infu¬
soria that we are enabled to form a proper idea of the
simplest condition of animal life ; and the invention of
the telescope was not of higher importance to the astro¬
nomer, than that of the microscope to the physiological
naturalist. There are few subjects of reflection more in¬
teresting than the uses which philosophers of an enlight¬
ened age have deduced and matured from the scanty
knowledge of a barbarous people. Glass, a material known
at an early period to the Asiatic nations, and once esti¬
mated at its weight in gold, has become in the hands of
Europeans of more value than the finest gold. Whoever
polished the first lens may be said to have laid the foun¬
dation of an instrument destined to discover thousands of
celestial worlds above and around us, and an unseen world
of wonders beneath our feet. “ Indeed,” says Cuvier,
“ it could not be expected that those Phoenician sailors
who saw the sand of the shores of Bcetica transformed by
fire into a transparent glass, should have at once foreseen
that this new substance would prolong the pleasures of
sight to the old; that it would one day assist the astro¬
nomer in penetrating the depths of the heavens, and in
numbering the stars of the milky way; that it would lay
open to the naturalist a miniature world as populous, as
rich in wonders, as that which alone seemed to have been
granted to his senses and his contemplation; in fine, that
the most simple and direct use of it would enable the in¬
habitants of the coast of the Baltic Sea to build palaces
more magnificent than those of Tyre and Memphis, and
to cultivate, almost under the frost of the polar circle, the
most delicious fruits of the torrid zone.”1
The faculties of the most simple infusory animals, it
has been observed, are reduced to such as are common to
all living beings, and to that irritability which results
from their animal nature; and their bodies are destitute
of special organs, precisely because their extremely limit¬
ed faculties neither require nor admit of such organs
being exercised. The chief interest to be derived from
the study of this class of beings results, according to La¬
marck, from the view with which such study presents us
of the ultimate point to which the organization of an ani¬
mal is capable of being reduced; and, among all the
wonders of the creation, he regards as the most surpris¬
ing the existence of animal life in such inconceivably
frail and simple bodies as the least complicated of the
animalcular species. It is not, however, to be said that
“ nature was incapable of forming special organs from the
materials of these frail gelatinous bodies,” but rather that
the all-wise Author and Ruler of Nature has seen fit to
form them in what to us may appear a destitute and in¬
complete condition, merely because their structure does
not fulfil those other conditions which, erroneously, we
L C U L E.
have sought to establish as the indispensable bases of Animal-
animal life. They truly show how confined a knowledge cide-
our limited faculties enable us to gain of His unlimited
power ; for they not only present no analogy to other more
accustomed forms of life, but almost seem to exist in di¬
rect opposition to those laws in accordance with which
we “ live, move, and have our being.”
Infusory animals, commonly so called, are found in the
fresh and saline waters of all countries. They occur both
naturally, if we may use the term in a contradistinctive
sense, and as the apparent result of infused animal and
vegetable substances. According to Leeuwenhoeck, the
milt of a cod-fish contains more animalcules than there
are individuals of the human race existing on the face of
the earth; and he calculated that 10,000 might be held
within the bulk of a grain of sand. The size of many
bears the same relation to that of a mite as the dimen¬
sions of a bee do to those of an elephant; and the most
powerful microscopes frequently discover nothing more
than merely perceptible points in motion. Flour and
water made to the consistence of book-binders’ paste, ex¬
posed in an open vessel, and frequently stirred to prevent
the surface from growing hard, will in a few days be
found to contain millions of animalcules. The thin pel¬
licle which grows on the surface of an infusion of com¬
mon black pepper also produces an innumerable congre¬
gation of minute beings. Of these and others the real
origin is still exceedingly obscure; and both Muller and
Spallanzani maintained the improbable opinion that they
fell from the air. Their subsequent increase or multi¬
plication is obviously effected in different and very sin¬
gular ways. Such as are spherical are usually propa¬
gated by minute portions, which, though they burst
from the anterior of the animalcule itself, cannot be
called eggs; and such as are of a depressed or flatten¬
ed form continue their race by cuttings or divisions of
their own bodies. We first observe a line or groove,
longitudinal or transverse, according to the species; and
ere long a notch or incision is perceptible at one or other
or both of the ends of that apparent line. This notch
increases across or longitudinally, till at last a portion is
separated or cut off, or the original animal is divided into
two, and each assumes the form and nature of their mu¬
tual predecessor. These new objects retain for some
time their natural shape, and ,then in their turn give rise
to one or more individuals by a similar separation of
parts. Lamarck seems to be of opinion (Philosophic
Zoologique, tome ii. p. 120 and 150) that this multiplica¬
tion by division, and that by the emission of gemmules or
oviform portions, are modifications of one and the same
natural process ;—that substantially each is the result of
an extension and separation of parts, which take place
when the parent individual has reached the final term of
its increase. It is in fact the same excess of nourishment
and growth of particular parts that, even in the higher
classes, give rise to the germ of separate life, physically
considered, although in regard to these the additional
process of fecundation is required It is the new light
which may be gathered from the observation of the mi¬
nutest of the animalcular tribes that renders their study
both interesting and important to the physiologist; and
it is the belief of some, that a persevering study of the
history of microscopical animals will one day enable us to
withdraw the mysterious veil which still conceals from
our view the most important secrets of nature.
The systematic arrangement of animalcules which we
propose to follow in this place is nearly that of Lamarck,
1 Reflexions sur la Marche actuclle des Sciences, &c. read to the Institute of France in April 1816.
A N I M A
Animal- which is itself founded on the systems of Muller and
cule. Bruguiere. The French naturalist includes in his system
only such species of the same class described by Muller as
are destitute of a mouth.
Order I.—Naked Infusoria.
Body extremely simple, apparently homogeneous, unprovided
with organs or external appendages.
The naked Infusoria are the smallest and simplest of
those animals which are cognizable by the senses of man.
When we expose water to air and light, especially if it
contains an infusion of animal or vegetable remains, we
speedily perceive, by the assistance of the microscope, a
variety of animalcules. These are divided into two sec¬
tions.
Section I.—Body Thick.
Of this section the bodies present such a perceptible degree of
thickness as removes them from the simply membranous
state.
Genus Monas.—Body extremely small, of the simplest
construction, transparent, punctiform.
The Monads are the smallest and least organized of liv¬
ing creatures. We have indeed scarcely any proof of
their animal life, except that they are moving corpuscles,
allied to the genus Volvox, the animality of which is un¬
doubted. They have neither mouth nor alimentary canal,
nor any apparent organs. They live by absorption, and
are found in tranquil, but rarely in limpid waters. They
are produced in infusions of animal and vegetable sub¬
stances.
Sp. 1. Monas termo.—An extremely minute gelatinous
point, scarcely perceptible even with the aid of a power¬
ful lens, and frequently disappearing under a strong light
in consequence of its perfect transparency. This species
is common in ditch-water, and in numerous infusions.
See Plate XLII. fig. 1. These minute creatures being
the earliest discernible evidence of animal life, and the
last result to which the higher and more perfect forms
can be reduced by infusion, have been called the alpha
and omega of all organized existence. Their history has
given rise to many curious views, and more absurd spe¬
culations.
Sp. 2. Monas atomus.—White, with a variable dark-
coloured spot, which appears to change its position. This
species was found in sea-water wdiich had been kent an
entire winter, but was not very fetid. See Plate XLII.
fig. 2 and 3.
Sp. 3. Monas punctum.—Nearly black, of a sub-cy¬
lindrical form. Found in the infusion of the pulp of a
pear.
Sp. L Monas lens.—Hyaline, of an ovoid form. Found
in all kinds of waters. Multiplies by spontaneous incision.
Sp. 5. Monas pulvisculus.—Hyaline, with a greenish
margin. Found in the waters of marshes. This species
has been lately regarded as an enchelis. Indeed, so great
is the difficulty of microscopical investigation, and such
indefatigable patience is required in order to see things as
they really are, that the species and genera of this class
of beings are frequently transposed and altered in their
relative position and arrangement, in consequence of the
very dissimilar views which different observers have taken
of the same object.
As it would be inconsistent with our present limits to
describe more than a few species of each genus, we shall
content ourselves with the preceding Monads. “ How
many kinds, observes Mr Adams, “ there may be of these
invisibles, is yet unknown, as they are discerned of all
sizes, from those which are barely invisible to the naked
L C U L E. 199
eye, to such as resist the force of the microscope, as the Animal-
fixed stars do that of the telescope, and, with the greatest cule.
powers hitherto invented, appear only as so many moving
Genus Volvox.—Body very simple, transparent, sphe¬
rical or ovoid, revolving on itself as on an axis.
With the exception of one species ( V. globator) the vol-
voces are invisible to the naked eye. Under the micro¬
scope they assume the aspect of small gelatinous masses,
which sometimes present an oval form. In some the
body seems composed of numerous smaller globules united
in one common mass. There is reason to suppose that
these interior bodies are afterwards propelled outwardly,
and become separate individuals. The species occur both
in fresh and salt waters, and in vegetable infusions. They
derive their generic name from the manner in which they
turn or revolve upon their axis. Leeuwenhoeck describes
an animalcule “ a thousand times smaller than a louse’s
eye, which exceeded all the rest in briskness,” and turned
itself round as it were upon a point, with the celerity of a
spinning-top. The genus is divisible into two sections.
* Interior of the body apparently simple and homogeneous.
Sp. 1. Volvox punctum.—Spherical, blackish, with a
central lucid point. Of this species many are sometimes
seen together in their passage through the water. They
occasionally move as if subjected to the influence of a
whirlpool, and then separate. Numerous in fetid sea¬
water.
Sp. 2. Volvox granulum.—Spherical, green, periphery
hyaline. Dwells in the water of marshes.
Sp. 3. Volvox globulus.—Globular, sub-obscure behind.
This species is ten times larger than the Monas lens.
It occurs in most vegetable infusions, and moves with a
slow fluttering motion. Plate XLII. fig. 4.
* * Interior of the body exhibiting smaller corpuscles.
Sp. 4. Volvox pilula.—Spherical, with greenish inter¬
nal globules. In those pure waters which nourish the
Lenina minor. Plate XLII. fig. 5.
Sp. 5. Volvox lunula.—Roundish and transparent, and
composed of an innumerable assemblage of homogeneous
crescent-shaped molecules, without any common margin.
Its movements are of two kinds, that of the molecules
among themselves, and that of the whole revolving mass.
It occurs in marshy places in the early spring. Plate
XLII. fig. 6.
Sp. 6. Volvox globator.—Commonly called the globe-
animal. Spherical, membranous, the internal globules dis¬
tant or scattered. Abundant in the infusions of hemp and
tremella, and in stagnant pools during spring and summer.
The following is an account of it by Mr Baker. “ There
is no appearance of either head, tail, or fins, and yet it
moves in every direction, backwards, forwards, up or down,
rolling over and over like a bowl, spinning horizontally
like a top, or gliding along smoothly without turning itself
at all; sometimes its motions are very slow, sometimes
very swift; and, when it pleases, it can turn round as
upon an axis very nimbly, without moving out of its place.
The body is transparent, except where the circular spots
are placed, which are probably its young.” Another au¬
thority states that this species is at first very small, but
increases to such a size that it may be discerned by the
naked eye, and that its interior is filled with small glo¬
bules, which are smaller animalcules, each of which con¬
tains within itself a still smaller generation, all percep¬
tible by means of powerful glasses. The lesser globules
may be seen escaping from the parent, and increasing in
size.
200 A N I M A
Animal- Genus Proteus.—Body very small, simple, transparent,
cule. of varying form, changing itself instantaneously into
different lobated shapes.
This genus is more obviously contractile than the pre¬
ceding. It is seldom seen above a minute under the same
form, but is continually passing from a simple oval or ob¬
long to an irregular or sinuated shape, and vice versa.
A species described by Roesel is so remarkable for this
faculty, that it has been compared to a drop of water
thrown upon oil. Hence also the generic name.
Sp. 1. Proteus diffluens.—Body diverging into branches.
Occurs in the water of marshes. Plate XLII. fig. 7, 8,
and 9.
Sp. 2. Proteus tenax.—Body prolonged to a fine point.
Occurs in rivers and in sea-water. There are only two
species described as belonging to this genus.
Genus Enchelis.—Body very small, simple, oblong,
cylindrical, slightly variable.
There is a marked analogy between this genus, and the
following. The Enchelides are, however, short and thick
compared with the Vibriones, which are slender and
lengthened. To the genus now under consideration be¬
long those animals which, if the recorded observations on
the subject have been accurately made and faithfully re¬
ported, more than any other confound our preconceived
ideas regarding the distinction between animal and vege¬
table life. The species alluded to are named Zoocarpes by
M. Boiy de St Vincent, or animated seeds, which appear re¬
ciprocally to give rise to and proceed from certain aquatic
plants of the conferva? kind. They are formed in a bulb¬
ous-shaped part or swelling of the plant, are ejected when
ripe, swim about for some time with a voluntary motion,
throw out a root and a branch, become genuine vegetables,
produce living seeds, and give birth to animals which, af¬
ter a similar change of form, speedily return again to the
vegetable state. These facts are vouched for by M. Bory de
St Vincent, andare credited and confirmed by M.Dutrochet
and several other continental inquirers, some of whom
declare that they kept so watchful an eye upon the same
individual as never to lose sight of it for a moment till
they had witnessed the singular transformation above
mentioned. We recommend it to our readers’ consideration.
Sp. 1. Enchelis viridis.—Subcylindrical, obliquely trun¬
cated anteriorly. This species has an obtuse tail or ter¬
minal part. It continually varies its motion, turning from
right to left. Occurs in long-kept water.
Sp. 2. Enchelis punctifera.-—Subcylindrical, green, ob¬
tuse anteriorly, pointed posteriorly. This species is opaque,
with a small pellucid spot in the fore part, in which two
black points are seen, and a kind of double band crosses
the middle of the body. It occurs in marshes. Plate
XLII. fig. 10, 11.
Sp. 3. Enchelis pidviscidus.—This species bears a great
resemblance to the Monas pidviscidus of Muller, which
is the E. monadina of Bory de St Vincent. It is, how¬
ever, double the size, deeper tinted, and more ovoid.
It is found in the waters of marshes, and accumulates
around the sides of jars or vases in which conferva? have
been kept. It forms on the surface of water a slight
pellicle of a delicate green colour, which is supposed to
have been erroneously regarded by many botanists as a
vegetable production, and described under the name of
Byssus flos aquae. On dying it becomes more lengthened
and pellucid, or at least retains only a slight central spot
of green. Plate XLII. fig. 12.
Sp. 4, Enchelis amcena.—This is a new species, of a
lively green colour, discovered by Bory de St Vincent. In
swimming it appears to elongate itself, and advances with
L C U L E.
. the more slender end foremost. Two individuals are Animal,
sometimes observed to unite and form one animal, of a cule.
perfectly spherical form, and similar in aspect to a Volvox.
Sp. 5. Enchelis tiresias.—This species was also disco¬
vered by the above-named writer, and led to his peculiar
views regarding those apparently animated seeds which
he has named Zoocarpes. He asserts that he has seen
this animalcule formed in the articulations of a true con¬
ferva ; that it burst from its vegetable envelope with a gy¬
ration or circular movement; that it soon produced a
translucent prolongation of its body, which may be called
anterior, as it then swam in the direction of that new
organ, which, with the body itself, became visibly longer,
till the creature finally acquired the exact form of the
Enchelis deses of Muller. The chief difference seemed
to be that it always moved with the slender end foremost,
whereas the species just mentioned swims with its blunt
end in advance. It is described by recent French writers
as an “ animal extraordinaire qui n’est certainement que
la grain vivante d’un vegetal.” (See Diet. Class, d'Hist.
Nat. tome vi. p. 156.)
Sp. 6. Enchelis deses.—This species is of an obscure
green, much elongated, and moves with the thick end
anteriorly. “ Celui-ci (the obtuse portion) parait comme
tronque dans certains aspects; et en examinant attentive-
men t cette sorte de troncature, on la reconnait formee par
un cercle en forme de disque moins fence que le reste de
I’animal. La pointe posterieure est parfaitement hyaline.
Dans la pensee ou nous sommes que les Enchelides vertes
ne sont que des Zoocarpes, ou propagules animes de
quelques genres d’Arthrodiees, nous croyons que le
disque obscurement transparent de la partie anterieure
n’est que la marque du point sur lequel doit se developper
1’article par lequel doit s’allonger en filament confervoide
le Zoocarpe, lorsque, arrive au terme de sa carriere ani-
male, il doit se fixer et prendre racine par le point hyalin
de la partie posterieure.” (Zoc. cit. p. 157.) We present
the above passage to our readers without note or com¬
ment, as we do not ourselves understand the zoocarpal
nature of an Enchelis.
Genus Vibrio.—Body very small, simple, cylindrical,
elongated.
Animalcules have been described as constituents of
this genus, which probably do not at all belong to it, being
too complicated in their structure. If the V. aceti, for
example, commonly called the vinegar eel, is furnished
with a mouth, lips, and alimentary canal, it does not even
pertain to the class Infusoria, however small its dimensions.
But many of the species are undoubtedly of the simplest
construction; and although they may present some ap¬
pearance of an internal cavity or sac, they yet exhibit
neither mouth nor other external orifice of any kind.
Sp. 1. Vibrio lineola.—Body linear, extremely minute.
Occurs in many vegetable infusions in such numbers as ap¬
parently to occupy their entire space. It is so small, that
with the best magnifiers little more can be discerned than
an obscure tremulous motion. It is supposed to exceed
even the Monas termo in tenuity. Plate XLII. fig- 13.
Sp. 2. Vibrio spirillum.—Filiform, and twisted spirally,
which seems to be its natural shape, as it is never observed
to unbend, but moves forwards with a vibratory motion
at both ends. Found in an infusion of Sonchus arvensis.
Plate XLII. fig. 14.
Sp. 3. Vibrio vermiculus.—Presents a milky aspect,
with a blunt apex, and moves with a languid vermicular
motion. It has been found in marshy water in November,
but is seldom seen. It agrees with the animal mentioned
by Leeuwenhoeck as occurring in the dung of frogs.
Sp. 4, Vibrio paxillifer.—“ Animalculum,” says Mfil-
ANIMALCULE.
ler, “ vel congeries animalculorum mirabilis. Pluries in
guttulis aquae marinae vidi corpuscula linearia flavescentia
(solitaria paleas, in quadrangula disposita scobes refere-
bant), granulaque seminalia qualiscunque vegetabilis diu
credidi; demum nocte inter 6 et 7 Octobrem 1781 as-
spectu fili flavescentis, sese in longum producentis et in
breve contrahentis, ac ex his paxilbs compositi, obstupe-
factus, novoque phaenomeno gavisus, ejusdem variis evo-
lutionibus incubui.” A salt-water species, abundant in
ulva latissima. Observed during the months of September
and October. Plate XLII. fig. 15, 16, 17, 18, 19.
Sp. 5. Vibrio serpens.—Slender and gelatinous, with
obtuse windings or flexures, resembling a serpentine line.
It is rare, and occurs in river-water.
Section IT.—Body Membranaceous.
Of scarcely perceptible thickness, whether fiat or concave.
The organization of the animalcules of this section is
scarcely less simple than that of the preceding; but their
form, being in a small degree resistant, is less subject to
variation from the pressure or other action of the sur¬
rounding fluids, which has been regarded as the proof of
a certain progress or advance in the scale of structure.
Genus Gonium.—Body very small and simple, flattened,
short, angular. Some species of this genus appear to
be composed of several corpuscles united together un¬
der a common membrane. This appearance probably
results from their cellular tissue, or from certain lines
which are the rudiments of those spontaneous divisions
formerly mentioned, by which their propagation is af¬
fected. Their movements ar*e oscillatory.
Sp-}- Gonium pectorale.—Quadrangular and pellucid,
with sixteen globules of a greenish colour set in a quadran¬
gular membrane, “ like jewels in the breast-plate of the
high-priest, reflecting light on both sides.” Occurs in pure
waters. Plate XLII. fig. 20.
Sp. 2. Gonium pulvinatum.—Quadrangular and opaque.
Found in dunghills.
Sp. 3. Gonium corrugatum.—Sub-quadrangular, whitish,
marked by a longitudinal line. This species is found in
various infusions, particularly that of the pear.
Sp. 4. Gonium truncatum.—Internal molecules dark
green. Anterior extremity forming a straight line, with
which the sides produce an obtuse angle, terminated poste¬
riorly by a curved line. This species exhibits a languid
motion. It is much larger than the preceding, and oc¬
curs, though rarely, in pure water.
Genus Cyclidium.—Body very small and simple, trans¬
parent, flattened, orbicular or oval.
The motions of this genus are oscillatory, circulatory,
or demi-circulatory, more or less interrupted, and languid
or lively, according to the species.
Sp. 1. Cyclidium bulla.—Orbicular and hyaline. General
appearance pale and pellucid, with the edges somewhat
darker than the rest. It moves slowly in a semicircular
direction, and occurs in the infusion of hay.
Sp. 2. Cyclidium hyalinum.—Oval, depressed, perfectly
transparent, terminated by a tail-like elongation. This
species is very common, and is produced in many infu¬
sions, particularly in those of the cerealia. It swims
in a vacillating manner, and as if continually tremblina.
Plate XLII. fig. 21. h
Sp.fi. Cyclidium Nucleus.—Of a brownish tinge, deeper
behind, and shaped exactly like an apple pippin.
Cienus Paramecium.—Body very small, simple, transpa¬
rent, membranous, oblong.
i T-!r sP,?c‘es } genus, according to Lamarck, scarce-
y differ from those of the preceding, except in their more
vol. m. 1
engthened forms and a slight increase of animal deve-
iopment. 1 hey appear to vary instantaneously accord¬
ing to their position in relation to the eye of the observer
but their real form is tolerably determinate. The mode
of increasing the species by transverse and longitudinal
divisions, or natural cuttings, is very obvious in this genus.
They are nearly related to the following, but are less sinu¬
ous and irregular. Their movements are for the most part
slow and indefinite. They swim horizontally on one of
their flattened surfaces, after the manner of flounders.
Sp. 1. Paramcecium aurelia.—Body compressed, with a
kind of plait or fold towards the apex, acute behind. Very
common in water where confervae grow. Plate XLII
fig. 22, 23, 24.
Sp. 2. Paramcecium chrysalis—Plicated anteriorly, ob¬
tuse behind. Occurs during the autumn in sea-water.
Sp. 3. Paramcecium vcrsutum.—Cylindrical, thickened
posteriorly, obtuse at both ends. Found in ditches.
Genus Kolpoda.—Body very small, simple, flattened,
oblong, sinuous, irregular, transparent.
This genus is nearly allied to the preceding, and differs
from it chiefly in its more varied forms. It is also less
subject to the influence of pressure by the medium in which
it lives. An Italian naturalist of the name of Losana has
lately published a monograph on Kolpoda ; but his figures
are somewhat exaggerated, and not very naturally ex¬
pressed.
Sp. 1. Kolpoda lamella.—Elongated, membranaceous,
curved anteriorly. This species is seldom met with. It
has a singular vacillatory mode of movement, and advances
on its sharp edge, instead of its flattened side, the more
usual position.
Sp. 2. Kolpoda gallinula.—Oblong, the anterior por¬
tion of the back membranaceous and hyaline. In cor¬
rupted sea-water.
Sp. 3. Kolpoda crassa.—Yellow, thickish, somewhat
opaque, curved a little in the centre, kidney-shaped. This
species has a quick vacillatory motion, and becomes appa-
rent in the infusion of hay generally in about 13 hours.
VVhen the water is nearly evaporated it assumes an oval
form, becomes compressed, and bursts.
Sp. 4. Kolpoda rostrum.-—Oblong, hooked anteriorly.
The movements of this species are slow and horizontal. It
is found, but not frequently, in water where the lemna
grows.
Sp. 5. Kolpoda cucullus.—Ovate, ventricose, the top
bent into a kind of beak, and an oblique incision beneath
the apex. This species is found in vegetable infusions,
cind in fetid hay, and usually moves with great velocity.
It is pellucid, and appears as if filled with little bright
vesicles, which differ in size. Some have supposed them
to be lesser animalcules which the Kolpoda has swallowed;
but as it has no mouth wherewith to swallow, Muller is
more probably right in regarding them in the light of
geims. When about to die in consequence of evaporation,
it protrudes its contents, whether food or offspring, with
great violence. Plate XLIII. fig. 25, 26, 27, 28.
Genus Bursaria.—Body simple, membranaceous, con¬
cave.
201
Animal¬
cule.
1 his genus occurs in fresh, saline, and stagnant waters.
It appears to vary its form beneath the eye of the obser¬
ver, and, from a rounded flattened shape, assumes a con¬
cave or somewhat purse-shaped aspect.
Sp. 1. Bursaria truncatella.—Follicular, with a trun¬
cated apex. This species is visible to the naked eye.
It moves from left to right, and from right to left; ascends
to the surface in a straight line, and sometimes rolls about
as it descends.
2 c
202 A N I M A
Animal- Sp. 2. Bursaria bulina.—Boat-shaped, labiated ante-
cule. riorly. This species is pellucid and crystalline, with
brilliant globules within it. It is concave on the upper
side, and convex below.
Sp. 3. Bursaria hirundella.—With two small wing-like
projections, which give it somewhat of the appearance of
a bird. It is invisible to the naked eye, but appears under
the microscope like a pellucid hollow membrane. Recent
micrographical observers doubt if this species really per¬
tains to the present genus. Plate XLIII. fig. 29.
Order II.—Appendiculated Infusoria.
Furnished exteriorly with projecting parts.
L C U L E.
want of the long, stiff, distant, corniform hairs which cha- Animal
racterize the latter. cule.
A. Body ciliated over its entire surface.
(Leucophra of Muller.)
Sp. 1. Trichoda viridiscens.—Greenish, cylindrical,
opaque, thicker posteriorly. Found in sea-water.
Sp. 2. Trichoda dilata.—Body flattened, variable, with
sinuated margins. Inhabits sea-water, and swims like a
Planaria. It scarcely differs from the genus Kolpoda, ex¬
cept in being ciliated.
Sp. 3. Trichoda scintillans.—Of a green colour, oval,
slender, and opaque. Occurs in stagnant water. A doubt¬
ful species, closely allied to Volvox.
Sp. 4. Trichoda acuta.—Ovate, with a sharpened point.
Colour yellowish. Of this species the form is very vari¬
able. It occurs in sea-water among ulvae. Plate XLIII.
fig. 30, 31, 32.
Sp. 5. Trichoda signata.—Oblong, sub-depressed, with
a blackish margin. Common in sea-water. This species
is distinguished by a curved line in its centre, shaped like
the letter S, one end of which sometimes assumes a spiral
form.
Sp. 6. Trichoda mammilla.—Spherical, opaque, with
an exsertile papilla. Occurs in the waters of marshes. It
is of a dark colour, its short hairs are curved inwards, and
it occasionally appears to project and draw in a little white
protuberance.
B. Body ciliated, or covered with short hair only over a
part of its surface.
(The greater proportion of the genus Trichoda of Muller.)
Sp. 7. Trichoda grandinella.—Spherical, pellucid, haired
above. The minute ciliary appendages of this species are
not easily discovered, as it seems to possess the power of
withdrawing them at pleasure and instantaneously. It oc¬
curs both in pure water and that of infusions.
Sp. 8. Trichoda cometa.—Spherical, ciliated anteriorly,
with one or more globular appendages behind. Found in
pure water in the autumnal season. Plate XLIII. fig. 33,
34.
Sp. 9. Trichoda Solaris.—Spherical and crystalline, its
edges beset with diverging rays, which exceed in length
the diameter of the body. This animalcule contracts and
dilates, but is stationary in the same spot. In marine in¬
fusions. Plate XLIII. fig. 35.
Sp. 10. Trichoda pubes.—Oval oblong, gibbous, de¬
pressed anteriorly. The apex of this species is furnished
with hairs, which are seldom visible till it is about to ex¬
pire, when it protrudes and extends them vehemently, as
if in a vain attempt to secure and detain a remaining par¬
ticle of water.
Sp. 11. Trichodaproteus.—Oval, obtuse behind, with an
elongated retractile neck. Apex haired. This species, ac¬
cording to Muller and Lamarck, is found in river water.
It appears, however, to agree in general character and
appearance with the Proteus described by Mr Baker, which
usually occurs in the slimy matter adhering to the sides
of vessels in which either animal or vegetable substances
have been some time kept. That of which an account is
given by Mr Adams was found in the slime produced by
water containing small fishes, snails, &c. The body was
something similar to that of a snail, but pointed at one end,
while from the other proceeded a long, slender, “ and
finely proportioned neck, of a size suitable to the rest of
the animal. If we credit Mr Baker, this animalcule,
though its eyes are not discernible, plainly demonstrates
by its actions that it can see; for though multitudes swim
about in the same water, and its own progressive motion is
The animalcules of this second principal order or divi¬
sion, though still infinitely small, gelatinous, and trans¬
parent, are so far less simply organized than their pre¬
decessors, inasmuch as they are furnished with salient
parts, such as hairs, horns, or tail-like appendages, or at
least with such projecting organs as, for want of more ap¬
propriate terms, we are obliged to designate by those
names. They multiply both by division and by the burst¬
ing forth of internal germs. Though their essential fluids,
and the living tissue which contains them, are probably of
a more compound nature than those of the naked Infusoria,
they have not yet reached that point of organization in
which special organs are developed for the performance
of particular functions; and it is not till we reach the
higher class of Polypi that these are distinctly percepti¬
ble.
“ II parait,” observes Lamarck, “ par les nombreuses
especes deja connues et publiees, que les Infusoires de cet
ordre sont bien plus nombreux dans la nature que les In¬
fusoires nus. Cela doit etre ainsi d’apres les principes
que je me suis cru fonde a etablir.
“ En effet, dans les Infusoires nus, I’origine encore trop
recente des races qui proviennent de celles, en petit nom-
bre, qui furent generees spontanement, n’a permis a la
duree de la vie et aux circonstances qui ont influe surces
races, qu’une diversite peu considerable. Mais a mesure
que la duree de la vie, que sa transmission dans les indi-
vidus qui se sont succedes en se multipliant, et que les
circonstances ont eu plus de temps pour exercer leurs in¬
fluences, les races se sont diversifiees de plus en plus, et
sont devenues plus nombreuses.
“ Get ordre des choses, qu’il est facile de reconnoitre
pour celui meme de la nature, nous fait sentir pourquoi
les Infusoires sont bien moins diversifies et moins nom¬
breux que les Polypes. Effectivement, quoique nous ne
connaissions pas probablement tous les Infusoires, et que
nous connaissions bien moins encore tous les Polypes, ce
qui est deja connu de part et d’autre indique que la diver-
site des Polypes est considerablement plus grande que
des Infusoires. Aussi les Polypes sont plus eloignes de
leur origine que les Infusoires.” (Animaux sans Vertebres.
tome i. p. 433.)
The first genus of this order ( Trichodd), as constituted
by Muller, contains several species which manifest the
rudiments of a mouth and the commencement of an ali¬
mentary canal. these, according to the negative charac¬
ters of the class, do not belong to the Infusoria.
Genus Trichoda.—Body very small, transparent, di¬
versiform, without caudal appendage, but garnished
with soft hairs either on the whole or on part of its sur¬
face.
According to the views of Lamarck, this genus contains
not only a great proportion of the genus Trichoda of
Muller, but also the whole of the genus ZewcopAra of the
Danish author. It is distinguished from Kerona by the
ANIMALCULE.
203
\nimal- very swift, it never strikes against its neighbours, but di-
cule. rects its course with a dexterity “ wholly unaccountable
^ '"should we suppose it destitute of sight.” Its entire shape
bears a resemblance to that of a swan. See Plate XLIII.
fig. 36 and 37. When alarmed, it draws in its supposed
neck, becomes more opaque, and moves about slowly with
the large end foremost. See fig. 38. After continuing
for some time under this form, it will put forth a kind of
wheel machinery, the motions of which are alleged to
draw a current of water towards it from a considerable
distance. After frequently pushing out and pulling in this
shorter head, sometimes with and sometimes without the
wheel-work, it will remain motionless, as if wearied or worn
out; and then its long head and neck or apex will be again
slowly protruded, after which it generally resumes its ac¬
customed agility.
Genus Kerona.—Body very small, diversiform, without
tail-like prolongation, and furnished with scattered, stiff,
corniform hairs on some parts of its body.
To this genus Lamarck has united the Himantopus of
Muller. The species are rare. They seldom occur in
infusions, and are most frequent in the purer kinds of
fresh and salt waters.
Sp. 1. Kerona rostellum.—Orbicular and membrana¬
ceous ; one side angulated, the other furnished with a se¬
ries of triple horns. Inhabits sea and river water. This
species is alleged by Bory de St Vincent to be entirely
destitute of hairs and cirri, and he therefore proposes to
remove it to the order Gymnodes, which corresponds with
our first order, the naked Infusoria. It is sometimes diffi¬
cult to identify species in this department, or to ascertain,
in a doubtful or contested case, that the same animalcule
has been the subject of observation by two or more dis¬
putants. Plate XLIII. fig. 39.
Sp. 2. Kerona cypris.—Somewhat pear-shaped, com¬
pressed, the front furnished with hairs or vibrating points,
inserted beneath the edge, shorter behind, and partly ex¬
tended straight forward, partly bent downwards. Motion
retrograde. Inhabits fresh water.
Sp. 3. Kerona India.—Smooth, pellucid, full of small
points, the fore part clubbed and a little bent, the hinder
part narrow ; the base obliquely truncated, and terminating
in a tail stretched out transversely. The top of that part
which may he called the head, and the centre of the back,
are furnished with long hairs. When this animalcule is
at rest, its tail is curled; when in motion it is drawn tight
and extended upwards. The movements of this species
are lively and diverting.
Genus Cercaria.—Body very small, transparent, di¬
versiform, furnished with a distinct but very simple
tail.
This genus, as constituted by Muller, contains many
species which bear no natural relation to each other; but
his characters are precise and definite, and strictly appli¬
cable to those species which now form the genus as limit¬
ed by modern observers. They occur more rarely among
animal and vegetable infusions than in running streams
and the waters of marshes. Their movements are for the
most part circular and very rapid. With the exception
of a well-marked tail, their organization is in every other
respect extremely simple. If a mouth and the rudiment
of a stomach or alimentary canal exist in any of these
animals, such characters would remove them not only
from the genus Cercaria, but from the class Infusoria, as
defined at the commencement of this treatise. A fortiori,
the existence of eyes (a fact assumed by some inaccurate
observers) in any of the animalcular species, would en¬
tirely alter their position and arrangement in the animal
kingdom. We cannot do better than report the observa¬
tions of the venerable Lamarck (himself unfortunately
now deprived of sight) on this obscure subject: “ Ici,
comme dans le genre suivant, Ton est expose, d’apres la
petitesse extreme des individus, a rapporter a la classe des
Infusoires des animaux qui, par leur organisation, appar-
tiennent a d’autres points del’echelle animale.”
“ Une bouche, quoique d’abord inapercue, et consequem-
ment I’ebauche d’un sac alimentaire, peuvent exister dans
certains de ces animaux, et des-lors ils appartiennent au
premier ordre des Polypes; mais des yeux, comme on en
a suppose dans certains Cercaires, cela est impossible.
“ Avant de dire que le fait lui-meme vaut mieux que la
raisonnement, il faut, \mo, constater que les points que Ton
a pris pour des yeux, en sont reellement, et qu’ils ont
chacun un nerf optique qui se rend a une masse medul-
laire, centre de rapports pour des sensations; 2do, il faut
ensuite etablir positivement que des animalcules reelle¬
ment pourvus d’yeux, sont neanmoins, par leur organisa¬
tion, de la meme classe que les Infusoires.” (Animaux
sans Vertebres, tome i. p. 444.)
This genus forms the nucleus of the new family of In¬
fusoria proposed by M. Bory de St Vincent under the name
of Cercarie.es, and which contains in all seven genera, the
names and nature of which will be seen by referring to
the tabular view. Muller, who was not practically ac¬
quainted with the spermatic animalcules, was attracted by
the resemblance which some of the Cercariae bore to the
figures of those organic molecules in the works of his pre¬
decessors. He did not, however, assert their identity;
and probably perceived that, although in their general as¬
pect and mode of movement they resembled each other,
their peculiar and very different localities, and even the
details of their structure, rendered it advisable that they
should be assigned to separate genera.1
Sp. 1. Cercaria inquieta.—Changeable, convex, with a
slender tail. This species occurs in salt water, and is re¬
markable for assuming a variety of different forms. It is
sometimes oval, sometimes cylindrical, sometimes shaped
like a sphere. Plate XLIII. fig. 40.
Sp. 2. Cercaria gyrinus.—Body of a rounded form,
with an acuminated tail. In swimming, this animalcule
moves its tail like a tadpole.
Sp. 3. Cercaria lemna.—Changeable, sub-depressed,
with an annulated tail. The C. lemna varies the form of its
body in a manner almost as singular as that exhibited by
the Proteus, already described. The body is triangular, or
oblong, or kidney-shaped. Its tail is at times thick, short,
annulated; at others it is long, cylindrical, and without
rings; and when stretched out it sometimes vibrates with
such velocity as to appear double. A small pellucid glo¬
bule, which Muller regarded as the mouth, is perceptible
near the apex ; and there are also two excessively minute
black points, which, whatever they may really be, are by
some called eyes. It advances slowly by a few steps or
movements at a time, and frequently shakes and bends its
tail, in which position it bears a great resemblance to a
Animal¬
cule.
1 Ihe following are the characters of the genus Zoosperma, as recently established : “ Corps non contractile, ovoi’de, tres-com-
pnme, avec une queue setiforme, aussi longue ou beaucoup plus longue, implantee a la partie posterieure, qui est peu ou point amin-
cn?. Ce genre, dont nous possedons un tres-grand nombre d’especes, se compose d’animaux spermatiques.” (Diet. Class. d'Hist. Nat.
tome iii. p. 35(1.) The production and existence of these animals, their nature and uses, are still among the many inscrutable mys¬
teries of nature.
(
204 A N I M A
Animal- lemna leaf in miniature. This animalcule exhibits an ad-
cule. vanced organization. Plate XLIIL fig. 41, 42, 43.
Genus Furcocerca.—Body very small, transparent,
rarely ciliated, furnished with a bipartite tail.
This terminal genus, according to the views of Lamarck,
conducts us to the limits of the infusorial class, and we
become thus more liable to deception in regard to the
non-existence of a mouth than in the preceding genera.
It is a dismemberment of the Cercaria of Muller, and pro¬
bably contains many species which will be placed else¬
where when future and more continuous observation
shall have thrown additional light upon their nature and
attributes.
Sp. 1. Furcocerca podura.—Cylindrical, acuminated
posteriorly. This species is pellucid, and seems to con¬
sist of a head, trunk, and tail, the first of which, in the
view of some observers, “ resembles that of a herring.” It
turns round as if upon an axis when it moves, and is
usually found in the months of November and December,
in places where the lemna abounds. The tail frequently,
but not always, appears to be divided into two. One of
Muller’s figures of this species is probably erroneous. He
represents it as covered with short hairs; whereas, to
more recent observers, it appears perfectly smooth. Plate
XLIII. fig. 44, 45.
Sp. 2. Furcocerca viridis.—Cylindrical, variable, divided
and acuminated behind. Occurs in spring in ditches and
standing pools. It frequently contracts its anterior and
posterior portions, so as to assume a spherical form. It is
difficult to determine the genus to which this species be¬
longs. Lamarck is supposed to have erred in placing it
where it now stands. In truth, the genus appears to have
been rather established provisionally, than upon an assured
and natural foundation. The varying forms of the species
which it contains render it extremely difficult either to
discern or describe them with precision. Plate XLIII.
fig. 46, 47, 48.
We have now endeavoured to present a general view,
and a systematic exposition, of the principal features of
the animalcular world; and if our statements have been
less explicit, and our arrangement less complete and me¬
thodical, than accords with the reader’s expectation, these
defects must in part be attributed to the uncertainty
which still prevails regarding a subject of which many of
the essential characters scarcely lie within the limits of
human intelligence. The observations and experiments
of the English microscopical observers of last century,
though they might amuse the general student, are too
vague and fanciful to be now regarded as parts of the as¬
sured history of animalcules. The ultra-analogical rea¬
soning on subjects of natural science with which we have
been lately favoured by such men as Oken and Geoffroy
St Hilaire, are tame in comparison with the inferences
deduced by some of our older observers, who describe
with minuteness the head, eyes, mouth, jaws, throat, sto¬
mach, intestines, and other parts of animalcules, which
the improved glasses of modern times do not neveal to the
vision of not less patient inquirers. The recent observa¬
tions on the motions of the pollen of plants, which have
puzzled the modern philosophers, would have opposed but
feeble barriers in the way of our predecessors. “ To dis¬
cover,” says Buffon, “ whether all the parts of animals,
and all the seeds of plants, contained moving organic par¬
ticles, I made infusions of the flesh of different animals,
and of the seeds of more than twenty different species of
vegetables; and after remaining some days in close glasses,
I had the pleasure of seeing organic moving particles in
all of them. In some they appeared sooner, in others
L C U L E.
later; some preserved their motions for months, and Animal,
others soon lost it. Some at first produced large moving cule.
globules resembling animals, which changed their figure,
split, and became gradually smaller; others produced
only small globules, whose motions were extremely rapid;
and others produced filaments, which grew longer, seemed
to vegetate, and then swelled and poured forth torrents of
moving globules.” It was from these and similar obser¬
vations that the theory arose proposed by Baron Mun¬
chausen (an ominous name !). The Baron perceiving that
these moving globules, after taking a little exercise, began
again to vegetate, drew the conclusion that they were
first animals and then plants; thus anticipating by more
than half a century the supposed discoveries of some mo¬
dern physiologists. Which of them was first in error it is
perhaps of little consequence to inquire; and we allude
to the subject here rather in connection with some singu¬
lar observations by Mr Ellis, recorded in the 59th volume
of the Philosophical Transactions, than from its own in¬
trinsic importance. His object was to overturn Mun¬
chausen’s hypothesis, by showing that the supposed Zoo-
carpes were nothing more than “ the seeds of that genus
of fungi called mucor or mouldiness” and that their mo¬
tions were caused by the attacks of myriads of animal¬
cules ! “ Having at the request of Dr Linnaeus made se¬
veral experiments on the infusion of mushrooms in water,
in order to prove the theory of Baron Munchausen, that
these seeds are first animals and then plants, it appeared
evidently that the seeds were put in motion by very mi¬
nute animalcules, which proceeded from the putrefaction
of the mushroom: for by pecking at these seeds, which
are reddish, light, round bodies, they moved them about
with great agility in a variety of directions; while the
little animals themselves were scarcely visible till the
food they had eaten had discovered them. The satisfac¬
tion I received from clearing up this point led me into
many other curious and interesting experiments. The in¬
genious Mr Needham supposes these little transparent ra¬
mified filaments, and jointed or coralloid bodies, which the
microscope discovers to us on the surface of most animal
and vegetable infusions when they become putrid, to be
zoophytes, or branched animals; but to me they appear,
after a careful scrutiny with the best glasses, to be of that
genus of fungi called mucor or mouldiness, many of which
Michellius has figured, and Linnaeus has accurately de¬
scribed. Their vegetation is so amazingly quick, that they
may be perceived in the microscope even to grow and
feed under the eye of the observer. Mr Needham has
pointed out to us a species that is very remarkable for its
parts of fructification (See Phil. Trans, vol. xlv. tab. 5,
fig. 3, a, A). This, he says, proceeds from an infusion of
bruised wheat. I have seen the same species proceed
from the body of a dead fly, which was become putrid by
lying floating for some time in a glass of water where
some flowers had been, in the month of August 1768.
This species of mucor sends forth a mass of transparent
filamentous roots; from whence arise hollow stems, that
support little oblong oval seed-vessels, with a hole on the
top of each. From these I could plainly see minute globu¬
lar seeds issue forth in great abundance, with an elastic
force, and turn about in the water as if they were ani¬
mated. Continuing to view them with some attention, I
could just discover that the putrid water which surround¬
ed them was full of the minutest animalcula; and that
these little creatures began to attack the seeds of the mu¬
cor for food, as I have observed before in the experiment
on the seeds of the larger kind of fungi or mushrooms.
I his new motion continued the appearance of their being
alive for some time longer; but soon after many of them
arose to the surface of the water, remaining there without
A N I M A
Animal- motion: and a succession of them afterwards coming up,
cule. they united together in little thin masses, and floated to
the edge of the water, remaining there quite inactive du¬
ring the time of observation.” In like manner, the move¬
ments of the jointed coralloid bodies which Mr Needham
has named chaplets and pearl necklaces are attributed to
the attacks of their animalcular enemies. “ When a small
portion of these branches and seeds are put into a drop of
the same putrid water upon which the scum floats, many
of these millions of little animalcula with which it abounds
immediately seize them as food, and turn them about
with a variety of motions, as in the experiments on the
seeds of the common mushrooms, either singly, or two or
three seeds connected together ; answering exactly to Mr
Needham’s description, but evidently without any motion
of their own, and consequently not animated I”
We shall conclude this subject with a short notice of
another view of the matter, which has resulted from some
recent experiments and observations by our celebrated
botanist Robert Brown. While engaged in some inqui¬
ries regarding the structure of the pollen of plants, and
its mode of action on the pistillum of phaenogamous
tribes, that accurate observer had occasion to immerse in
water some particles taken from the full-grown anthers
(previous to bursting) of Clarkia pulchella. Of these, he
perceived by the microscope that many were evidently
in motion, and that their motion consisted not only of a
change of place in the fluid, but of a change of form in
themselves; that is to say, a contraction or curvature
about the middle of one side, accompanied by a corre¬
sponding enlargement or convexity on the other, fx-equent-
ly occurred. The particles were seen, in a few instances,
to turn on their longer axis; and their general motions
were of such a nature as to produce the conviction in
Mr Brown’s mind that they did not arise either from
currents or evaporation of the fluid, but were proper to
the particles themselves. Having ascertained that mo¬
tion existed in the pollen of all the living plants which
he examined, he next inquired whether, and for what
length of time, this singular property was retained after
the death of the plant. Specimens were experimented
on, which had been dried and preserved in an herbarium
for 100 years, and the moving molecules or small spheri¬
cal bodies were still perceived in considerable numbers.
“ The very unexpected fact,” says Mr Brown, “ of seem¬
ing vitality retained by those minute particles so long
after the death of the plant, would not perhaps have ma¬
terially lessened my confidence in the supposed peculia¬
rity ; but I at the same time observed, that on bruising
the ovula or seeds of Equisetum, which at first happened
accidentally, I so greatly increased the number of moving
particles, that the source of the added quantity could not
be doubted. I found also, on bruising first the floral
leaves of mosses, and then all other parts of those plants,
that I readily obtained similar particles, not in equal
quantity indeed, but equally in motion. My supposed
test of the male organ was therefore necessarily abandon¬
ed. Reflecting on all the facts with which I had now be¬
come acquainted, I was disposed to believe that the mi¬
nute spherical particles or molecules of apparently uni¬
form size, first seen in the advanced state of the pollen of
Onagrariae, and most other phaenogamous plants,—then
in the antherae of mosses, and on the surfaces of the bo¬
dies regarded as the stamina of Equisetum,—and, lastly,
in bruised portions of other parts of the same plants,—-were
in reality the supposed constituent or elementary mole¬
cules of organic bodies, first so considered by Buffon and
Needham, then by Wrisberg with greater precision, soon
after and still more particularly by Muller, and very re¬
cently by Dr Milne Edwards, who has revived the doc-
L C U L E. 20i
tiine, and supported it with much interesting detail. I Animal-
now, therefore, expected to find these molecules in all cule.
organic bodies ; and accordingly, on examining the vari-'^~N/^^'
ous animal and vegetable tissues, whether living or dead,
they were always found to exist; and merely by bruis¬
ing these substances in water, I never failed to disen¬
gage the molecules in sufficient numbers to ascertain
their apparent identity in size, form, and motion, with
the smaller particles of the grains of the pollen. I ex¬
amined also various products of organic bodies, parti¬
cularly the gum raisins, and substances of vegetable ori¬
gin, extending my inquiry even to pit-coal; and in all
these bodies molecules were found in abundance. I re¬
mark here also, partly as a caution to those who may
hereafter engage in the same inquiry, that the dust or
soot deposited on all bodies in such quantity, especially in
London, is entirely composed of these molecules. One of
the substances examined was a specimen of fossil wood,
found in Wiltshire oolite, in a state to burn with flame;
and as I found these molecules abundantly and in motion
in this specimen, I supposed that their existence, though
in smaller quantity, might be ascertained in mineralized
vegetable remains. With this view, a minute portion of sili-
cified wood, which exhibited the structure of coniferae, was
bruised, and spherical particles, or molecules in all respects
like those so frequently mentioned, were readily obtained
from it; in such quantity, however, that the whole sub¬
stance of the petrifaction seemed to be formed of them.
But hence I inferred that these molecules were not li¬
mited to organic bodies, nor even to their products. To
establish the correctness of the inference, and to ascertain
to what extent the molecules existed in mineral bodies,
became the next object of inquiry. The first substance
examined was a minute fragment of window-glass, from
which, when merely bruised on the stage of the micro¬
scope, I readily and copiously obtained molecules, agree¬
ing in size, form, and motion, with those which I had
already seen. I then proceeded to examine, and with
similar results, such minerals as I either had at hand or
could readily obtain, including several of the simple earths
and metals, with many of their combinations. Rocks of
all ages, including those in which organic remains have
never been found, yielded the molecules in abundance.
Their existence was ascertained in each of the constituent
minerals of granite, a fragment of the sphinx being one of
the specimens examined. To mention all the mineral sub¬
stances in which I have found these molecules would be
tedious; and I shall confine myself, in this summary, to
an enumeration of a few of the most remarkable. These
were both of aqueous and igneous origin, as travertine,
stalactites, lava, obsidian, pumice, volcanic ashes, and me¬
teorites from various localities. Of metals I may mention
manganese, nickel, plumbago, bismuth, antimony, and
arsenic. In a word, in every mineral which I could re¬
duce to powder sufficiently fine to be temporarily sus¬
pended in water, I found these molecules more or less co¬
piously ; and in some cases, more particularly in siliceous
crystals, the whole body submitted to examination ap¬
peared to be composed of them.”
There were three points of importance which Mr Brown
was anxious to ascertain regarding these molecules, viz.
their form, whether they were of uniform size, and their
absolute magnitude. He seems, however, not to have
been entirely satisfied with his determination on any of
these points. As to form, he states the molecules to be
spherical. His manner of estimating the absolute magni¬
tude and uniformity of size of the molecules found in the
various bodies submitted to examination, was by placing
them on a micrometer divided to five thousandths of an
inch, the lines of which were very distinct; or, more rare-
206
ANIMALCULE.
Animal- ly, on one divided to ten-thousandths, with fainter lines, not
mile. readily visible without the application of plumbago, as em-
ployed by Dr Wollaston, but which in this case was inadmis¬
sible. The results can only be regarded as approximate,
but Mr Brown is disposed to believe that the molecule is of
uniform size, though, as existing in various substances, and
examined in circumstances more or less favourable, he re¬
gards it necessary to state that its diameter appeared to vary
from x3-ioAth to innhnrth of an inch-1
Supplementary Observations.—18.53.
Since the preceding exposition of animalcules was writ¬
ten, great and important additions have been made to our
knowledge of the subject. Both the organic structure and
the physiological functions of these creatures have been de¬
scribed at great length, and amply illustrated, by Ehrenberg
of Berlin. We are deeply indebted to that author for much
that he has achieved in an obscure and difficult department,—
for his general views, not less than his detailed descriptions,—
and especially for the influence which he has shown many
animalcular beings to have exercised, by means of their si¬
liceous remains, in the building up, as it were, of various
geological formations. At the same time it must be borne
in mind, that many of Ehrenberg’s discoveries have been
much contested, and that Dujardin and other recent writers
do not accept his classification, in consequence of what they
deem its hypothetical basis. In presenting the views of the
first-named observer, we therefore do so under a sense of
the critical correction which others have sought to bestow
upon them, and of which we shall also in our present sup¬
plement endeavour to give a brief account.
The following is a summary of Ehrenberg’s views of the
general character and attributes of infusorial beings.
They are all organized,—the greater portion (probably all
of them) highly organized bodies.
They constitute two very natural classes (Polygastrica
and Rotatoria), according to their structure, and are further
subdivisible upon the same principle.
Their existence in all quarters of the earth and sea, is
proved; as is also that of individuals of the same species in
the most opposite ends of the world.
Their geographical distribution upon the earth follows the
laws observed as regulating that of other natural bodies.
Most of the Infusoria are invisible to the naked eye; many
are just visible as moving points; the size of the body does
not in any case exceed -j^th of an inch.
Invisible Infusoria, in consequence of their vastly aggre¬
gated numbers, colour large tracts of water with remarkable
hues.
Though themselves invisible, they also give rise, in conse¬
quence of this aggregation, to a certain kind of marine phos¬
phorescence.
They sometimes compose, though singly invisible, a kind
of mould, very obvious in consequence of the multitudinous
mass. In a single cubic inch of this mould, there may be
above 41,000 millions of animalcules; and they probably
constitute the chief proportion of living bodies on the face
of the earth.
They are the most reproductive of all organized beings;
and from one of their known modes of propagation, that of
self-division, ensues a continual destruction of the individual,
and yet a similar interminable preservation and extension of
it, in air and water, bordering, it may be almost said, upon
eternal life and growth.
The copulation of gemmae, which perhaps includes the
hitherto unsolved poly-embryonate riddle of the seeds of all
plants and vegetable formations, is solved in the animalcular
family of Closterina.2
They form in the course of time, in consequence of the
enduring nature of their siliceous shells, indestructible earths,
stones, and rocky masses.
With lime and soda we can prepare glass and swimming
bricks out of invisible animalcules; we can use them as
flints, and probably prepare iron from them ; we use moun¬
tain meal, which is composed of them, as food in hunger.
They are sometimes injurious, by causing the death of fish
in ponds, deteriorating clear water, and causing boggy smells;
but they do not, as some have supposed, give rise to malaria,
plague, and other maladies.
They appear to be, as far as yet known, sleepless.
They partially break up in reproduction (egg-laying), and
thereby passively undergo great alterations of form.
They form invisible intestinal beings in man and other
animals, even if the Spermatozoa are excluded from among
them. They are themselves infected by both external and
internal parasites.
Animal¬
cule.
The following summary from the pen of Mr Brown contains the renewed expression of that gentleman’s opinion, matured bv
some recent experiments on the subject of active molecules. “ That extremely minute particles of solid matter, whether obtained
trom organic or inorganic substances, when suspended in pure water or in some other aqueous fluids, exhibit motions for which I am
unable to account, and which, from their irregularity and seeming independence, resemble in a remarkable degree the less rapid mo-
tions ot some ot the simplest animalcules of infusions. That the smallest moving particles observed, and which I have termed Ac¬
tive Molecules, appear to be spherical, or nearly so, and to be between ^i^th and 3^s5thofan inch in diameter; and that other
particles ot considerably greater and various size, and either of similar or of very ditferent figure, also present analogous mo¬
tions m like circumstances. I have formerly stated my belief that these motions of the particles neither arose from currents in the
in con aimng t em, nor depended on that intestine motion which may be supposed to accompany its evaporation. These causes
ot motion, however, either singly or combined with others,—as the attractions and repulsions among the particles themselves, their
unstable equilibrium in the fluid in which they are suspended, their hygrometrical orcapillarv action, and in some cases the disengage¬
ment ot volatile matter, or of minute air-bubbles,—have been considered by several writers as sufficiently accounting for the appear-
ances. <)me 0 e a ege( causes here stated, with others which I have considered it unnecessary to mention, are not likely to be
f>lIfnk00hA^,!,U«fl^drUeiVi obse7erS °f any experience in microscopical researches ; and the insufficiency of those enumerated'may, I
/ S1°Wn ,y meanS ?f a ver-v *imP11e experiment. This experiment consists in reducing the drop of water con-
S-aviti ^vVh whb h h irnnt°^0plChrmUt/neSS,^nu Prolon£ing lts existence by immersing it in a transparent fluid of inferior specific
gravity, with which it is not miscible, and in which evaporation is extremely slow. If to almond oil, which is a fluid having these
properties, a considerably smaller proportion of water, duly impregnated with particles, be added, and the two fluids shaken or tritu¬
rated together drops of vvater of various sizes, from jLth to j^oth of an inch in diameter, will be immediately produced. Of these,
the most minute necessarily contain but few particles, and some may be occasionally observed with one particteonly. In this man¬
ner minue drops which, if exposed to the air, would be dissipated in less than a minute, may be retained for more than an Zr.
But in all the drops thus formed and protected, the motion of the particles takes place with undiminished activity while the
Zced^abstdiftely'nulh’’^01^ ^t1011’ naniekvi evaporation and their mutual attraction and repulsion, are eSer Sterially r2
3 Among other difficulties with which the student of this department will have to contend is the following,-that many species classed
by Ehrenherg and others as animalcules are considered by botanists as pertaining to their particular kingdom. Thus the Desm d acL
a great component group of Ehrenberg s family Basillaria are viewed by Professor Bailey of New Yorkas belonging to the vegetable
kingdom Among ourselves, Dr Harvey, so noted for his knowledge of marine plants, classes both these and the Diatomace* fs sub¬
orders of the Chlorospermece, or green Algce. Mr Raffs, who has written so excellent a monograph on the “ British De*midie*’’ I ke-
wise regards these as Algse. It is indeed a vexed question as to the animal nature even of the Diatomaceac, which by means of genera
such as Melosira, and others, seem closely connected with the confervoid Alga:. ^ ’
ANIMALCULE.
Animal- They possess comparatively a lengthened life,
cule. pollen of pine trees falls yearly in the form of sul-
phur-rain, so do the much more minute animalcules appear
(being elevated by means of watery vapour) floating alive
in the atmosphere, and sometimes even mixed with dust.
They generally, like the more highly-organized bodies,
maintain themselves pretty uniformly against all external
influences. Although they sometimes consume strong poi¬
sons without immediate injury, they do not do so without
an after effect.
The weight of invisible Infusoria, although light, is cal¬
culable, and the most gentle current of air or draught can
play with their bodies as with the vapour of water.
The obvious and very rapid motion of Infusoria, is re¬
ducible as follows:—Hydatina senta moves l-12th of an
inch in 4 seconds; Monas punctum, the same in 48 se¬
conds ; while Navicula gracilis takes 6 minutes 24 seconds
to go the same distance.
Linnaeus said, omnis calx e vermibus: either to main¬
tain or deny omnis silex omne ferrumve vermibus would
now be unjust.
Direct observations on the theory of generatio primativa
are wanting in necessary strictness. Those who profess to
have seen the sudden origin of the minutest Infusoria from
elementary substances, have quite overlooked the com¬
pound structure of these organic bodies.
4 he frequent and wonderful changes of form of many
Infusoria no doubt have their limits, although the laws which
govern them are still to be defined.
The power of infusorial organization is exhibited by the
strong chewing apparatus, with teeth, which they possess,
and their exhibition, also, of a complete mental activity.
I he study of the Infusoria has led to a more distinct
and conclusive notion of animal organization in general,
and of the limits which circumscribe the animal form ; from
which all plants and minerals, which want the animal or¬
ganic system, are strongly and distinctly separated.
It finally results from these inquiries, that experience
shows an unfathomableness of organic creations, when at¬
tention is devoted to the smallest space, as it does of stars
when directed to distances the most immense.
It was the prevailing opinion, till of later years, that the
generality of animalcules were devoid of external organs;
but the use of coloured substances, and the introduction of
achromatic glasses have certainly shown a much more com¬
posite structure than was formerly known to exist. The
simplest member is a delicate filament, placed near the oral
orifice, and therefore called the proboscis. When the ani¬
malcule is in motion, this proboscis seems to act as a sort
of oar or paddle, while, at the same time, by creating a
current in the direction of the mouth, it aids in the prehen¬
sion of food. Cilia are shortish hairs, placed apparently
upon a bulb. They vibrate rapidly, the hair turning round
upon something like an articulated surface, while the points
describe a comparatively large circle. These cilia show
themselves remarkably among the Rotatoria, in the shape
of wheels, and both in form and action may be regarded as
among the most interesting spectacles presented by the
animalcular world. Naturalists are somewhat divided re¬
garding their functions. Many look upon them as organs
of respiration, and there is no doubt that corresponding
parts are placed around the gills of many mollusca, and
bring to them currents of fresh water for the purposes of
breathing. Of the existence of eyes in the animalcular
world we are still extremely doubtful, when we consider the
fact of their non-existence in great groups distinguished in
all other respects by a more complex and complicated or¬
ganization. In Miiller’s great work no eyes are represented
in any of the Polygastric species, but certain specks con- Animal-
nmg a red pigment have been assumed as eyes by Ehren- cufe-
berg; and he argues that even if no other proof of the ex-
istence of a nervous system in these animated atoms could
be adduced, the visual spots referred to would be sufficient
to prove it. Having, as he supposes, discovered visual
organs in these red specks of the Rotatorial families, he
argues from analogy that the same parts perform similar
functions in the Polygastric groups. M. Valenciennes
maintains that in the Rotatoria these eye-specks are dis¬
tinctly defined, have an investing capsule, and a crystalline
lens, and consequently possess the essential attributes of
organs of sight. On the other hand, owing to the extreme
minuteness of the Polygastric species, all appearance of
definite outline is wanting in their red specks, and as simi¬
lar characters occur upon the reproductive germs of Algce
(which belong to the vegetable kingdom), their necessarily
visual character is denied by many considerate observers.
“ The sense of sight,” says M. Dujardin, “ would partake
more of the character of a reality if the colour of a speck
without appreciable organization, without a constant form,
or a precise contour, sufficed to prove the existence of an
eye. But in the genus Euglena, which is particularly cited
as characterized by such an organ, the red spot so regarded
is excessively variable, sometimes multiple, at other times
made up of irregularly aggregated granules. Analogy, too,
is inadequate to the solution of the question ; for, on de¬
scending the animal series, to determine the nature of this
coloured speck, we have to leap from the Daphniae (an
Entomostracal tribe) with a moveable eye, repeating in its
composition that of Insects and Crustacea, to animals pre¬
senting nothing but diffused coloured specks.
“ Such spots, whether in number or position, have so
little physiological importance in the Planariae, and in cer¬
tain Annelides, that they are often not even to be employed
as an absolute specific character. In the Rotatoria, the
analogy with which is more especially insisted on, these pig¬
ment spots are, in some species, known to disappear from
age, and in others to become more evident in proportion to
size or development of individuals: so that the learned mi-
crographer of Berlin, in his attempt to base the generic
characters of these animals on the presence and number of
eyes, has been led to place in different genera, species very
closely allied, if not identical. Indeed, that a black or a red
colour is in general an attribute of the pigment of eyes, can¬
not be a reason for concluding an eye to exist wherever we
find such colours; if so, we must accord it to some intes¬
tinal worms, such as the Scolex polymorphus, which has two
red spots on the neck, to the Actinice, which are often strewed
with such specks, and also to some bivalved mollusks.
“ If the ability of the Infusoria to direct their course
through the liquid, and to pursue their prey, be appealed to
in evidence, it is certainly, in the first place, necessary to
verify the reality of this faculty, which I think equally fa¬
bulous with all related concerning the instincts of these ani¬
mals. Indeed it would not even prove the red specks to be
eyes, since the greatest number of Infusoria supposed to
be endowed with such a faculty are in want of them ; and
those which do possess them do not exhibit that power in
any higher degree of development.”1
In the opinion of M. Morren, the red pigment specks of
Lagenella, Cryptoglena, and Trachelomonas, cannot be
eyes, because in the last-named genus the coloured pigment
is capable of being distributed over the whole body, in which
case, according to Ehrenberg’s supposition, the creature it¬
self would be converted into nothing but an eye.2
Professor Owen observes, in relation to the movements
of Polygastric animalcules, that although they may be per-
Histoire des Infusoires.
2 Mem. de VAcad. de Bruxelles, 1841, taf. 14.
208
ANIMALCULE.
Animal¬
cule.
ceived to avoid obstacles in their way, and rarely jostle one
another, it is yet difficult to detect any definite cause or ob¬
ject of their movements.'1 After carefully watching for signs
of volition, that great observer came to the conclusion that
those movements partook in general of the nature of respi¬
ratory acts, rather than of attempts to obtain food or avoid
danger. They seemed automatic rather than voluntary, as
if governed by stimuli within or without the body, not felt,
but reflected upon contractile fibre, and are therefore mo¬
tions which never tire. He thus explains the fact already in¬
dicated in our abstract of Ehrenberg’s general views, namely,
that at whatever period of the night we examine living In¬
fusoria, we shall invariably find them as ceaselessly active as
during the meridian splendour; and thus that animalcules
never sleep.
The same unsettled state of opinion as regards the eyes,
pervades our knowledge of other important parts of animal-
cular economy, and even the great basis (the assumed pe¬
culiarities of the digestive system) of Ehrenberg’s classifi¬
cation being regarded as hypothetical, the classification itself
has been by many rejected on that ground. According to
the Berlin naturalist, the functions of digestion among the
Polygastrica are effected by means of numerous internal ve¬
sicles or stomachs; while in the Rotatoria, as in the generality
of higher animals, there is only one. While studying species
of the former class, Ehrenberg observed a vesicle to fill with
food, and then saw the particles pass into another cell, and
so on until, the nutritive portions having been imbibed by
each stomach in succession, the refuse was discharged by
the animalcule. That many other naturalists have been un¬
able to detect this process is perhaps no conclusive argument
against it, as great experience, and the most steadfast and
accurate observation, are necessary in microscopical pur¬
suits. Few have been able to detect the tubular connection
between these stomachic cells, which, however, must exist
if Ehrenberg’s views are well founded. He affirms that he
has often seen it, and the passage is very distinctly shown
upon his plates. Baron Gleichen regarded these vesicles as
eggs, although he failed to witness their discharge ; and the
existence of eggs among the Polygastric tribes, is perhaps as
much of an assumption as any other. So far back as 1781,
he tried to make certain Infusoria eat carmine, and found on
the ensuing day that several of them had red granules in
their interior.2 He concluded that they had swallowed the
colouring matter, and more recent repetitions of similar ex¬
periments led to the formation of Ehrenberg’s system. Pro¬
fessor F. T. Meyen refuses to admit the facts on which it is
founded, not only because he has failed to see the intestinal
communication between the stomachs, but has observed
these supposed stomachs moving rapidly in the interior of
the body of many species, after the manner of those granules
which circulate in the joints of CIicltcl. He has often seen
VorticellcB with many globules of indigo in their interior,
always moving round a centre; from which he infers there
could not be a communicating canal between the so-called
stomachs with an oral orifice, and an extremity directed to¬
wards the mouth. In regard to the true nature of these
vesicles, and balls of similar diameter, found in the bodies' Animal-
of Infusoria, Meyen is of opinion that the true Infusoria are cuie.
themselves vesicular beings, the interior of which is filled
with a mucous substance: the thickness of the membrane
forming the vesicle is easily ascertainable in several species,
and in many he has noticed in this membrane an obvious
spiral structure, resembling that which exists among cellu¬
lar vegetables. In the larger Infusoria, a cylindrical canal
(the oesophagus) traverses obliquely the membrane which
forms the animal. The lower extremity of this canal dilates,
more or less, when the creature has taken food, until it at¬
tains the dimensions of the balls, which are so obvious in
the interior of these Infusoria. The inner surface of this
upper portion of the intestinal canal is provided with cilia,
which turn round not only alimentary substances but foreign
bodies, till they have assumed a spherical form. During the
formation of this ball, the stomach, according to Meyen (who
admits that the part in question must be distinguished by
that name), has a free communication with the oesophagus ;
and by-means of the ciliary apparatus found at its exterior,
new alimentary.substances are introduced into this canal,
and pushed as far as the stomach. When the ball has ac¬
quired the dimensiohs of the stomach, it is expelled by its
inner extremity, and pushed into the cavity of the body.
It there forms an additional ball, if any solid substances had
previously existed in the surrounding liquid. This second
ball is itself pushed into the interior of the cavity of the ani¬
mal, and drives before it the first ball along with the mu-
cosities between the two—a successive formation of similar
balls, by the food or other matter received into the animal, .
going on without interruption. Now, Meyen maintains that
it is the simultaneous existence of many of these balls which
has caused Ehrenberg to believe that these animalcules were
Polygastric. To follow their formation, our observations
must commence at the moment the animalcules are plunged
into coloured liquid. I he swallowing of the coloured par¬
ticles takes place with great rapidity, frequently in half a
minute, and the coloured balls may be seen one after an¬
other issuing from the stomach, and proceeding downwards
along the internal wall of the cavity of the body. Their
number is often so considerable as to fill the entire cavity,
and they lie so close together as to form a large mass, which,
as in the genus Vorticella, slowly turns upon itself. The
vesicular cavities, according to Meyen, are not stomachs,
and possess nothing in common with the balls, although the
latter may get into them singly, but at the same time acci¬
dentally. The formation of these cavities, as well as their
sudden and entire disappearance, may be traced as easily as
the origin of the balls. It is even possible sometimes to see
how one of these cavities moulds itself over a ball, and then
disappears. I he microscope reveals to us that they are not
lined with a particular membrane, but are simply excavations
of the pidpy substance. They often show themselves close
to the inner surface of what forms the skin of the creature,
and sometimes increase so greatly, that the diameter of even
one is equal to the third or one-half of the entire cavity of
the body.3
I Comparative Anatomy and Physiology of the Invertehrated Animals, p. 19.
feeding fnfusoria^with^olmii^ed'fubstances^from'Mi^Piltchard’rwork"^^Select^br^the ^ eXtraCt f°ll0Wing n°tiCe °f the meth°d °f
free from metallic oxides, and not chemically soluble in water They* must however h^Ar^ Coloured substanccs as are entirely
The substances generally used are carmine, indigo, and sap-gre'en ihefirst beiAprArable The m t ^7 uAA mechanical divisi«n-
Rub a piece of it once or twice on the stage glass, or what is better the lower nlL of nn A material should be as pure as possible,
a drop of water. The quantity of colour requisite is verv small no more th-mLffir- + t quatic air-box, having first moistened it with
there be too much, the chances are that the particles wil/be too’large for the creatures tAA 7 ^ aj)Pr®clable by the naked eye; for if
food, place a drop of it beside a drop of waL contaSg ^ ^ ^
gently on the cover of the air-box, and lower it sufficiently to flatten the two drons of fluid but n 7 7 COme m contactl then Put
air-box under the microscope, and examine the animalcules clLelTso as rateTtain that ’their sto Z™ A N°W PlaC6 the
the cover until the drops of fluid intermingle, which may be doneAnder the microscope aid vou^lTimm^lA7 * 5 then H688 down
in great activity, and readily distinguish the cilia and proboscis of such as possess tho^e’par^whUe iAT 7 Percueiye the creatUr7
be filled by the coloured substance.—See Infusorial Animalcules, p. 108. Id Ed 1852 P ’ 3 SJ' stomach8.wl11
*
'
ANIMALCULE.
According to Dujardin, the Infusoria (setting aside the
Systolides or Rotatoria, as much higher in the animal scale,
and also the Bacillaria, which, with Closteria, are more
nearly related to the vegetable kingdom) derive their origin
for the most part from obscure or unknown germs, in arti¬
ficial and natural infusions, stagnant water, and rivers or
such portions of them as rest over vegetable remains; no
other mode of propagation, except self-division, being well
ascertained. Their fleshy substance is dilatable and con¬
tractile, like the muscular flesh of the higher animals, but
it exhibits no absolute trace of fibres or membrane, seeming,
on the contrary, to be homogeneous and diaphanous, except
in cases where the surface appears articulated from con¬
traction. This fleshy matter when isolated by tearing, or
the death of the animalcule, shows itself in the liquid in the
form of lenticular discs or globules, which refract light but
slightly, and are capable of producing spontaneously in their
substance spherical cavities analogous in appearance to the
vesicles of the interior. In the living creature some of these
vesicles are produced at the base of a sort of mouth, arid are
destined to contain the water swallowed with' the aliments.
They then pursue a certain course in the interior, and con¬
tract, and leave nothing in the centra of the fleshy substance,
except the undigested particles. .They can even discharge
their contents externally by a fortuitous opening, which may
be reproduced several times towards the same, though not
the identical, point. The vesicles containing the aliment
are independent, and neither communicate with an intestine,
uor with each other, except in those cases where two vesicles
incorporate. 1 he other vesicles, which contain nothing but
water, are formed much nearer the surface, and seem capable
both to receive and expel their contents through the meshes
of the integument. Spallanzani considered them as respira¬
tory organs, and they may be so regarded, at least in so far
as they multiply the points of contact of the interior sub¬
stance with the circumambient fluid.
Dujardin is, moreover, of opinion in regard to the so-
called eggs of Infusoria, their generative system, their organs
of sense, their nerves and vessels, that none of these can be
ascertained or determined with exactitude; and everything
inclines him to believe that these minute creatures, although
clearly endowed with a simple organization, according with
their mode of life, cannot be regarded as possessing the
same systems of organs as the higher tribes. The coloured
points, for example, usually of a red colour, which have been
regarded as eyes, cannot with propriety receive that appel¬
lation.1
lation.1
Siebold is also opposed to the view that these vesicles or
sacs are special and distinct digestive organs, and he de¬
nies the existence of any connecting canal. The Astoma
(mouthless animalcules) he regards as nourished only by a
general absorption of the surface. In the Stomatoda (those
with evident mouths) he represents the oral orifice as con¬
tinued into the interior by a sort of oesophagus, wide, and of
very various form, terminating abruptly in the general loose
parenchyma of the body. The food, when sought for, is
drawn towards the mouth by the action of the surrounding
cilia, and having been received into the mouth, enters the
oesophagus, and is thence pushed onwards by a contraction
of the part, in the form of a rounded globule, into the in¬
terior. After performing, during a sojourn there, a greater
or less circuit, the food in the generality of Stomatoda is
ejected through a fixed outlet, not, as Dujardin maintains,
by means of a varying opening through the surface.
n agner asserts that no one by any examination, however
c ose, can convince himself of the actual existence of such
an organization as Ehrenberg affirms. He maintains that in
many Infusoria, where comparatively large bodies, such as
Naviculce or joints of Alga:, have been swallowed, no sur-
snmpU118 VeS1C 6 CT be Seen’ and that theSe bodieS wil1
sometimes occupy the entire length and breadth of an ani-
“ ’! the abstjnce of mouth, nutrition seems carried
on by the general surface It may be safely inferred from
these conflicting opinions that no.settled or satisfactory con¬
clusion can be formed, and that Ehrenberg’s theory of nolv-
gastnc structure, though it may be true, requires confirma-
tion. The same may be said of several other organs and
their functions. We have dwelt upon the digestiv! system
at gi eater length than we shall do upon any other, as it
forms the basis of Ehrenberg’s arrangement of the animal-
cular kingdom.
In regard to the reproductive process among these infu¬
sorial tribes, Monas vivipara is regarded by Ehrenberg as
the only species of the class that is viviparous. The forma¬
tion of eggs. is considered by that author as a fertile and
frequent source of increase. Dujardin, again, views the
viviparous attributes' of the above-named Monas as more
than doubtful, and the formation of ova in any infusorial
species as by no means ascertained. He considers Ehren¬
berg’s instances of oviposition as examples merely of dif-
jiuence, or the breaking up of the gelatinous substance of
the animalcule into spherical atoms from want of moisture.
With Siebold, he limits the reproductive process in this class
to the two forms of gemmation and spontaneous fission. If
this be true, then all that has been written of the ovaries,
vesiculae seminales, &c.,falls to the ground. Professor Owen’
however, is of opinion that the function of the nucleus of
Infusoria in reproduction by spontaneous fission may be re¬
garded as analogous to that of the essential contact of the
Spermatozoon with the germ-cell in the development of the
higher classes ; and comparing the results in the two cases,
he says it is certain “ that the analogy between these phe¬
nomena in the multiplication of the parts of the germ-mass
and those of the nucleus in the multiplication of monads is
so close, that one cannot reasonably suppose that the nature
and properties of the nucleus of the impregnated germ¬
cell, and that of the monad can be different.” He there¬
fore infers that the nucleus of the Polygastric animalcules is
the seat of the spermatic power, though the term testes can
only be figuratively applied; and he thinks that if Ehren¬
berg be correct in viewing the interstitial corpuscles as
germ-cells, these essential parts of ova may receive the es¬
sential matter of the sperm from the nucleus, which is dis¬
charged along with them in the breaking up of the monad,
which Ehrenberg regards as equivalent to an act of ovipo¬
sition ; and impregnated cells may thus, in Professor Owen’s
view, be prepared to diffuse through space, and carry the
species of Polygastric animalcules to a distance from the
scene of the life of the parent.2
Professor Weisse supposes himself to have detected re¬
production by ova in Chlorogonium euchlorum, and main¬
tains that the continuous observation of that species demon¬
strates that several of Ehrenberg's genera are nothing more
than its natural development from stage to stage.3 He de¬
scribes the green matter of chlorogonium as developing, by
spontaneous fission of itself, numerous young animalcules,
which at first resemble Uvella Bodo, and are afterwards
converted into Chlorogonium euchlorum and Glenomorum
tingens. What he calls oviposition is the escape of the
young by a transverse rupture of the parent, which is itself
sacrificed, and disappears as a shrivelled sack. But in con¬
formity with Thuret’s views, it may be doubted whether
the organic being (we shall not say creature) were really an
animalcule, and not merely a thecaspore or zoospore (of an
algae), a production which so resembles the green-coloured
Infusoria that Mr Pritchard states we have no means of dis-
209
Animal¬
cule.
1 Annales des Sciences, 1840.
VOL. III.
Essay on Parthenogenesis, p. 67. Ed. 1849.
3 Archives fur Naturgeschichte, for 1846.
2 D
210
ANIMALCULE.
Animal- tinguishing between the two. It equally produces by the
cule. fission of its endochrome or green contents. M. Thuret has
^ shown how close is the analogy between the reproductive
bodies of Confervce and those of the green animalcules. He
regards the Tctrasporce, although ranked with the Algce, as
of very doubtful vegetable nature. The movements of the
animalcular genus Diselmis resemble those of zoospores,
and the species equally turn to the light, under the influence
of which, like algae, they act upon the atmospheric air, dis¬
engaging a gas (oxygen?) when exposed to the rays of the
sun. In a particular stage of one species, a very clear red
spot was discernible, and a central globe closely resembling
the amylaceous granules so common in the cells of algae.
It is the prevalence of the coloured speck in Diselmis l)u-
nalii which, according to M. Joly, is the chief cause of the
red colour so frequently observed over a large space of water
in the Mediterranean Sea.
Whatever may be the special mode of generative increase
among animalcules, their vast and rapid accumulation is as
undoubted as extraordinary. Even among the Rotiferse, di¬
rect observation has shown that a single individual will give
rise to one million in ten days, and to sixteen millions in
little more than a fortnight. If the children follow the foot¬
steps of the parent, it is not easy to say what another fort¬
night might produce. Among the Polygastrica, the increase
is still more speedy, one million having been produced from
a single individual in seven days. Good and substantial
food is, however, an essential condition of this rapid develop¬
ment ; and when we consider what minute mouthfuls must
suffice, we may the more easily conceive how rich a pro-
vender is spread before them in those innumerable infusions
of animal and vegetable matters contained in almost all
liquids. Fuchs has made some curious observations on the
animalcules of cow’s milk. Fie there finds in abundance
two monadal species. He states that the blueness of milk
is owing to the development and increase of an infusorial be¬
ing, which he calls Vibrio cyanogenus. Under the name of
Vibrio xanthogenus he defines another species, which he
alleges makes milk turn yellow. Ehrenberg is of opinion
that, in accordance with certain laws of nature, “ living or¬
ganisms,” such as animalcules, may be developed in the air.
The region of atmospheric dust is of vast extent, and ascends
above 14,000 feet; and he conceives that its phenomena
cannot be traced to mineral matters from the earth, nor to
materials floating in space, nor to atmospheric currents, but
rather bear relation to some general law of our atmosphere,
in accordance with which there is a development within it
of living organisms. The quantity of actual matter of this
kind which falls from the air upon our earth is enormous, in
consequence of the vast surface which it covers, however
thinly. Meteorolites, although comparatively solid and mas¬
sive, are as nothing compared with it. It has been calcu¬
lated, that of atmospheric stones there fell, from 1790 to
1819, 600 cwt.; whereas a single dust-shower, which was
deposited at Lyons in 1846, is estimated at 7200 cwt. As
these showers have been numerous over the whole earth,
Ehrenberg asks, how many millions of tons weight of ani¬
malcular beings have fallen since the time of Homer ? Im¬
portant results have been deduced from the examination of
the animalcular dust which falls at sea, as well as on land, in
the determination of the direction of atmospheric currents.1
Whatever defects may exist in Ehrenberg’s system of
arrangement, in consequence of some fallacies in his mode
of viewing the organic structure and physiological functions
of these extraordinary beings, there is no doubt that we owe
to him many important observations and discoveries. He
has especially pointed out the great influence exercised bv
these minutest of beings in the actual structure of the solid Animal,
crust of the earth. He has satisfied both himself and others that cole,
the calcareous rocks of Syria and ot Central North America
contain densely crowded masses of small Polythalamiae, seve¬
ral species of which, from the limestone of the New World,
are identical with those of the European chalk. He has
found the plastic marl of Algina to consist of organisms,
several of which pertain to the animalcules of the chalk.
Lilneberg Heath is described as a great bed of Infusoria;
and one of the largest deposits yet known is near Berlin, in
which it is remarkable that species still living, but not hitherto
discovered at the surface of the soil, are found among the
fossil species. Quekett has recorded that an infusorial stra¬
tum, twenty feet in thickness, underlies the city of Richmond
in Virginia, and that several of the forms agree specifically
with those found in the North Sea. Abundance of microsco¬
pic shields belonging to marine Infusoria (both the siliceous-
shelled Polygastrica, and the calcareous-shelled Polythala-
mia) occur in the deposits of the Elbe, near Hamburgh and
Gluckstadt. Similar results were yielded by the mud of the
Scheldt, and by marine deposits on the shores of the North
Sea and Baltic. Ehrenberg has well shown the enormous
proportionate extent and intensity of life in the highest lati¬
tudes both north and south, and at the greatest attainable
depth of the ocean.
So prodigious are the aggregations of these smallest forms
of life, that they have actually raised, and are still raising,
vast tracts of land from the bottom of the sea. Our ant¬
arctic voyagers have informed us that the waters of the
ocean, between the parallels of 60° and 80° south latitude,
are of a pale ochrey-brown colour, in consequence of the
enormous accumulation of these the frailest and yet least
perishable parts of creation. Their death and decomposition
have, we know not in the course of how long a period, actually
produced a submarine bank or deposit of such vast dimen¬
sions, as to occupy an area of 400 miles long by 120 wide,
flanking, as Dr Joseph Hooker has informed us, the entire
length of the Victoria Reef.
Among the more singular localities of the Infusoria may
be mentioned, not only meteoric dust, already noticed, but
volcanic ashes, and other precipitations from the atmosphere.
Ehrenberg has also shown that the blood-red spots which, to
the terror of the superstitious, sometimes appear on bread and
other substances, are occasioned by the surprisingly rapid
development of an animalcule called Monas prodigiosa. He
further supposes that one of the miracles in Egypt, recorded
by the great lawgiver of the Jews, of the turning of water
into blood, was produced, humanly speaking, by means of
Euglena sanguinea {Ascaria viridis of Muller, for it is some¬
times green), or by the use of another species called Astasia
hcematodes.
The character of the lorica, or somewhat shelly covering,
differs in its nature and composition in the different genera;
being in some entirely siliceous, in others, composed of lime,
combined with carbonic acid as a carbonate, with a portion
of the oxide of iron. As in many of the smaller genera it
is difficult to ascertain whether they are enclosed in a lorica
or not, we may here state Mr Pritchard’s mode of ascertain¬
ing the existence of that character. Having obtained some
specimens, say of the family Cryptomonas, he places a drop
ot water containing them in a compressor or crush-box, mix¬
ing a little colouring matter with the water. If the species
are loricated, a clear transparent ring will be observed under
the microscope, encircling the animalcules, and seeming to
keep them separate from the fluid in which they are im¬
mersed.2 Should this test prove unsatisfactory or insufficient,
then the cover of the box may be pressed down, so as to
1 A complete history of showers of meteoric dust will be found in Ehrenberg’s Passat-Staub
is given in Pritchard’s Infusorial Animalcules, p. 89.
und Blut-Regen, of which a brief abstract
2 Infusorial Animalcules, p. 13.
ANIMALCULE.
- crush the specimens, when the coloured fluid will enter and
surround their bodies ; and, by a proper and expert manage¬
ment of the illumination of the microscope, the broken edges
of the lorica will become visible.
The unfixed condition of opinion regarding infusorial ani¬
malcules is curiously indicated by the fact, that many care¬
ful and assiduous observers, such as Bauer, Leuckhart, Agas¬
siz, and Reichenbacb, deny the very existence of these
creatures as a class, and maintain that they are mostly the
embryonic forms of other and more highly organized beings.
We doubt not that the opinion expressed in our preceding
article, that our knowledge of this “ invisible world” is in
its infancy, is still correct, and that as the telescope brings
forth stars from their nebular darkness, so the further the
light of our microscopic knowledge penetrates into the ob¬
scure depth of the animalcular kingdom, the more clearly we
shall have its now component parts resolved into definite
forms of another nature than we at present suppose them.
But that they are all merely embryonic forms, is doubtless
a most visionary view, as no reason can be assigned a priori
that beings, however small, are either uncertain or transi¬
tional, or that completion and finality of form are in any way
inconsistent with excessive minuteness. One lesson may
assuredly be drawn from the difficulties which beset the sub¬
ject,—to avoid dogmatism, and bear in mind how unable we
often are to solve the question, “ What is truth ?” But the
extraordinary mutability of form and outward aspect of those
frail creatures is no argument against their fixity of specific
character within a certain range of variation, however wide.
We know how different are the individuals even of some of
the higher species from each other, under different circum¬
stances, and at different stages of their life; but when once
under our eye, they may be made cognizable to the senses
of an observant person, under all their phases ; that is, they
may be identified with certainty from time to time. But
with many annnalcular beings it is not so. We see them
once, as the astronomer may see some “ bright particular
starbut we cannot calculate their erratic and changing
course of life; and thus they may be either seen again no
more for ever, or be observed under an altered aspect by
another observer, and recorded with new characters under a
different name. These, and such-like causes, may easily be
conceived to operate disadvantageously against our speedy
acquirement of assured knowledge regarding the animalcular
tribes. But by means of patient and discriminating investi¬
gation on our own parts, a candid consideration of the ob¬
servations of others, and an unbiassed record of whatever
has been clearly ascertained, there is no reason why the sub¬
ject should not be gradually advanced so as to take rank with
other branches of a less ambiguous nature. The general
211
reader will not wonder at the state of uncertainty which still
pervades our notions of many animalcules, when we mention,
ai? efTr.nPle °P extreme minuteness, Monas crepusculum,
of which the number occupying the space of a grain of mus¬
tard seed, one-tenth of an inch in diameter, has been calcu¬
lated at eight millions !
Ehrenberg’s great group of polygastric animalcules is pri¬
marily divided into Anentera (such as do not possess a true
alimentary canal), and Enterodela (or such as are furnished
with an alimentary canal). Here we are met by a noted an¬
tagonistic observer upon the very threshold.
“ Recent investigations,” says M. Agassiz, “ upon the so-
called Anentera, have satisfactorily shown, in my opinion,
and in that of most competent observers, that this type of
Ehrenberg’s Pohjgastrica, without gastric cavities, and with¬
out an alimentary tube, are really plants belonging to the
order of algae in the widest extension of this group; while
most of the monad tribe are merely moveable germs of
various kinds of other algae. As for the Enterodela—most
of them, far from being perfect animals, are only germs in
an early stage of development. The family of Vorticella
exhibits so close a relation with the Bryozoa(cilio-brachiate
polypes), and especially with the genus Pedicellina, that I
have no doubt, that wherever Bryozoa should be placed,
Vorticella should follow, and be ranked in the same division
with them. The terminal group of Infusoria, Bursaria,
Paramecium, and the like, are, as I have satisfied myself
by direct investigation, germs of fresh-water worms, some
of which I have seen hatched from eggs of Planaria laid
under my eyes.”1
Not only are authors on our present department opposed
to each other, but (a rarer case) they seem in some instances
to have no great confidence even in themselves. Thus M.
Dujardin, one of the most trustworthy of the modern micro¬
scopic observers, after giving in a tabular form the charac¬
ters of the groups which constitute the family Monadina,
sums up by stating : “ But these generic distinctions are
entirely artificial, and simply intended to facilitate the nam¬
ing of Infusoria one may meet with in such and such in¬
fusions, and which, when better known, may prove in some
instances to be but varieties of a single species.”2
The preceding notices will suffice to show the still unset¬
tled state of opinion regarding animalcules, and that Ehren¬
berg’s system, although of great importance to the discrimi¬
nating student, is not to be adopted implicitly as an assured
exposition of the truth. We cannot here exhibit more of his
arrangement than a compendious view of the family groups,
—referring for details of genera and species to the work it¬
self,3 and to others, with a list of which we shall conclude these
supplementary observations.
Anentera,
without true
Alimentary
Canal.
No foot-like
appendages.
Gymnica.
With variable
foot-like processes.
Pseudopoda.
Hairy.
Epitricha.
Tabular View of Ehrenberg's Arrangement.
Self-division ( illoricated, or without shell 
complete, j loricated, or shelled  
V illoricated 
Self-division selfld.iv.is.ion general and globular
Form of body
constant.
incomplete, j sel^11” | illoricated.
■ v l (filiform).... I loricated..
I Form of body 1 illoricated  
\ variable. J loricated  
illoricated   
•i • + j / Foot-like processes, compound 
onca e j Foot-like processes, simple 
f illoricated  
\ loricated 
Family.
Monadina.
Cryptomonadina.
H ydromorina.
Yolvocina.
Yibrionia.
Closterina.
Astaseea.
Dinobryina.
Am<eba:a.
Arcellina.
Baciblaria.
Cyclidina.
Peridinasa.
1 Annals of Natural History, vol. vi. p. 156, 1850. Similar observations had been made by Mr Girard, who states that Kolpoda cu-
cullus is an embryonic stage of a species of Planaria. 2 Hist, des Infusoires, p. 273.
3 Hie Infusionsthierchen als vollkommene organismen. Ein Blick in das tiefere Leben der organischen Natur. Atlas mit 64 illummirten
Kupfertafeln, gr. fol. Leipzig, 1838.
ANIMALCULE.
212
Animal¬
cule.
Enterodela,
with an
Alimentary
Canal.
V
One orifice.
Anopisthia.
Two opposite
orifices.
Enantiotreta.
Orifices situated
obliquely.
Allotreta.
Orifices
abdominal.
Catotreta.
f illoricated
\ loricated..
) illoricated
' loricated..
I illoricated
' loricated..,
( illoricated
' loricated..,
with proboscis, no tail
anterior mouth, a tail
locomotive cilia....
locomotive organs,
Family.
VoRTICELLINA.
Ophrydina.
Enchelia.
CoLEFINA.
Trachelina.
Ophryocercina.
Aspidiscina.
Kolpodea.
OxYTRICHINA.
Euplota.
-Animal-
cule.
We shall conclude by observing that some years ago an
idea became prevalent that animalcules might be manufac¬
tured by means of galvanism. The results of some of the
experiments proved too much, for the creatures when ex¬
amined were found to belong, not to the Infusorial tribes,
but to the Arachnides, a class more highly organized than
even Insects.1 That the earlier naturalists, labouring under
the disadvantage of imperfect glasses should have made mis¬
takes is not surprising; but we read with wonder, in the
year 1833, Dutrochet’s statement that all the globular and
elliptical Infusoria were merely vesicles set in motion by
streams of electricity, and so might be artificially produced.
In the following year Cagniard Latour declared that he had
manufactured animalcules by means of carburetted hydro¬
gen. But M. Audouin’s examination proved that they were
Entomostraca, and that the method employed in their pro¬
duction was fallacious. The following is Ehrenberg’s ac¬
count of some curious experiments on these imaginary pro¬
ductions by Professor Bondsdorff, communicated to the Ger¬
man Naturalists’ Association in 1834. If a solution of chlo¬
ride of aluminum be dropped into a solution of potassa, by
the attenuate solution of the aluminum in the excess of alkali,
an appearance will be given to the drop of aluminated matter,
by the chemical changes and reactions which take place, as
if the Amceba diffluens were actually present, both as to its
form and evolutions, and it will seem to be alive. Such ap¬
pearance, adds Bondsdorff, bears the same relationship to the
real animalcule as a doll or figure moved by mechanism does
to a living child.
The English reader will consult with advantage Mr Prit¬
chard s ZTwtory of Infusorial Animalcules, living and fossil:
new edition, enlarged, Lond. 1852. A great mass of useful
information is there collected, and Ehrenberg’s system is
given in detail. F. T.Kiitzing’s Die Bieselschaligen Bacil-
larien od. Diatomeen, 1844, is an excellent work. Dujardin’s
has been already named in full, as perhaps the best syste¬
matic work we have on animalcules at the present time. Mr
Ilalfs’ recent monograph-on the British Desmidiece (Lond.
1848) will be found indispensable; as also the Rev. William
Smith s Synopsis of the British Diatomacece,vo\.\. Lond. 1853.
The following is a list of papers published in the Annals of
Natural History from which much useful information will be
gainedOn the existence of Infusoria in Plants; by Pro¬
fessor Morren; vol. vi. p. 344. On the Sacculi of Polvgas-
tnca; by Dr J. W. Griffiths; vol. xi. p. 438. On the pro¬
duction of Infusoria in the Stomachs of Herbivorous and
Carnivorous Animals ; by MM. Grubv and Delafond; vol.
xiii. p. 154. On Microscopic Life in the Ocean; by Professor
Ehrenberg; vol. xiv. p. 169. Abundant Occurrence of rare
Infusoria in the Scallop; by H. Lee; vol. xv. p. 3 71. Micro¬
scopical Examination of the Chalk and Flint of the south¬
east of England; by Dr Mantell; vol. xvi. p. 73. On the
Organization of the Polygastric Infusoria ; by C.Eckhard;
vol. xviii. p. 433. On Conjugation in the Diatomaceae ; by
G. H. K. Thwaites; vol. xx. pp. 9 and 343. On the Siliceous
P olycystina of Barbadoes; by Professor Ehrenberg; vol.xx.
p. 115.
The following papers are from the new series of the An¬
nals :—On the British Lagenae; by W. C. Williamson; vol.
i. p. 1. On the Diatomaceae; by G. H. K. Thwaites ; vol.
i. p. 161. On a new British Species of Campylodiscus;
by W.C. Williamson; vol. i. p. 321. Notes on Diatomaceae;
by Professor Dickie; vol. i. p. 322. On Fossil Diatomaceae
in Aberdeenshire; by Professor Dickie; vol. ii. p. 93. On
a Dioecious Rotifier; by T. Brightwell; vol. ii. p. 153. On
the colour of a Fresh-Water Loch; by Professor Dickie;
vol. iii. p. 20. On the Mode of Growth in Oscillatoriae;
by J. Ralfs; vol. iii. p. 39. Observations on Recent Fora-
minifera; by W.Clark; vol. iii. p. 380. On two new species
of Floscularia; by Dr W. M. Dobie; vol. iv. p. 233. On
the Development of Trichodina pediculus; by J. T. Ar-
lidge; vol. iv. p. 269. On the Conjugation of Closterium
Ehrenbergii; by the Rev. W. Smith; vol. v. p. 1. On De¬
posits of Diatomaceous Earth on the shores of Lough Morne,
county Antrim ; by the Rev. W. Smith; vol.v. p. 121. On
Nyctotherus, a new genus of Polygastrica; by Dr Leidy;
vol.v. p. 156. On the Recent Foraminifera ; by W. Clark;
vol. v. p. 161. On the Nostochineae; by J. Ralfs; vol.v.
321. On Asplanchna priodonta; by P. H. Gosse; vol. vi.
p. 18. Notes on the Diatomaceae, with descriptions of the
British species included in the genera Campylodiscus, Suri-
rella, and Cymatopleura ; by the Rev. W. Smith; vol. vii.
p. 1. On three new species of Animalcules ; by J. Alder;
vol. vii. p. 426. On the Germination of the Spore in the
Conjugates ; by the Rev. W. Smith; vol. viii. p. 302. On
the Cell-Membrane of Diatomaceous Shells; by J. W.
Bailey; vol. viii. p. 157. Remarks on Dickieia; by J.
Ralfs; vol. vii. p. 204. Catalogue of the Rotifera found in
Britain, with descriptions of five new genera, and thirty-two
new species; by P. H. Gosse; vol. viii. p. 197. On Chan-
transia; by J. Ralfs; vol. viii. p. 302. Notes on the Dia-
tomaceae, with Descriptions of the British Species, included
in the genus Pleurosigma; by the Rev. W. Smith; vol.
lx- P- C (j.w.)
1 For example, the animal obtained bv Mr Crnsso v.,. .
known species, common in houses, and not unlikely to make nr f^ ^ ^.cfrus- . It; was afterwards stated to be a well-
eiy to make its accidental way into a philosophical apparatus.
4
"
A N J
Animation ANIMATION signifies the communication of life to an
. II animal body. A foetus was formerly said, in a legal sense, to
Anjengo. ^ animatej when it was perceived to stir in the womb; but
^this doctrine is exploded, animation being now dated from
the moment of conception. See Abortion.
ANIME, aresin exuding from the trunk of a large Ame¬
rican tree, called by the Indians courbaril (a species of
Hymen^ea). This resin is of a transparent amber colour,
a light agreeable smell, and little or no taste. It dissolves
entirely, but not very readily, in rectified spirit of wine ; the
impurities, which are very often in large quantity, remaining
behind. The Brazilians are said to employ anime in fumi¬
gations for pains and aches proceeding from cold : with us,
it is rarely, if ever, made use of for any medicinal purpose.
ANIMETTA, among Ecclesiastical Writers, denotes the
cloth wherewith the cup of the eucharist is covered.
ANIO, or Anien, the modern Teverone, one of the
most consideraWe tributaries of the Tiber, rises in the
Apennines, about three miles above Trevi; and flowing
first in a north-western, and afterwards in a south-western
direction, joins the Tiber three miles above Rome. In its
course it receives several small rivulets, among which is the
Digentia of Horace, now the Licenza; and at Tibur it forms
a beautiful cascade, originally the work of the Romans. The
waters of the cascade are now carried through a tunnel con¬
structed in 1834. Rome was supplied from this river, on
account of the purity of its water, by means of two aque¬
ducts, called the Anio vetus and Anio norm.
ANISE, an umbelliferous plant of the Linnsean genus
Pimpinella. The seed is a very agreeable aromatic, and
is much used in the confectionary art, in perfumery, and in
medicine. It is a product of China, Egypt, and some other
countries, and is cultivated in Germany, Spain, and Malta.
The best comes from Alicante in Spain.
ANISO (from «Vio-o?, unequal), a prefix to several terms
in natural history, implying some kind or degree of inequa¬
lity of parts: as, for example, aniso-dactylous birds, i. e.,
having toes of unequal length ; aniso-dynamous plants, i.e.,
having flowers which grow with more vigour on one side of
their axis than on the other; aniso-stemonous flowers, i. e.,
having a greater or a less number of stamens than there are
sepals in the calyx.
ANJAR, a fortified town of Hindustan, and the capital of
a district of the same name in the native state of Cutch.
1 he country is dry and sandy, and depends entirely on ir¬
rigation by means of wells. The town is situate nearly ten
miles from the Gulf of Cutch. It suffered severely from an
earthquake in 1819, which destroyed a large number of
houses and occasioned the loss of several lives. One half of
the town situated on low rocky ridges suffered comparatively
nothing. In 1820 the population was estimated at 10,000.
The town and district of Anjar were both ceded to the
British in 1816, but in 1822 they were again transferred to
the Cutch government in consideration of an annual money
payment. Subsequently it was discovered that this obliga¬
tion pressed heavily upon the resources of the state, and in
1832 the pecuniary equivalent for Anjar, both prospectively
and inclusive of the arrears which had accrued to that date,
were wholly remitted by the British government. Eat. 23.
6. Long. 70. 3. (e. t.)
ANJENGO, a small seaport town and fortress of Hin¬
dustan, in fravancore, nearly encircled by a deep and broad
river, at the mouth of which it is situated. The fort was
huilt by the English in 1684, and it was retained till 1813,
when the factory was abolished on account of the useless
expense attending it. Anjengo is infested with snakes,
scorpions, and centipedes ; those animals finding shelter in
the matted leaves of the cocoa-tree, with which the houses
are mostly thatched. Here and at Cochin are manufactured,
of the fibres of the Laccadive cocoa-nut, the best coir cables
ANN
?mnrke Malabar.coast The exports are pepper, coarse piece
goods, coir, and some drugs. r 1
Revo^nV fnd duchy of France before the
bv Pdtou on ih °tnitheueast by Toura*ne> on the south
Mmnf TV c West by Bretagne, and on the north by
Maine. It now forms the department of Maine and Loire
and parts of Sarthe, Mayenne, and Indre and Loire. It is
90 miles in ength, and 60 in breadth. Through this pro¬
vince runs the Loire, which divides it into two parts An
gers was its capital. 1
i measure at Amsterdam. It contains
about 81- English imperial gallons.
ANKLAM, a circle in the government of Stettin in
the Prussian province of Pomerania. It extends over 192
geographical square miles, and contains one city and 54 vil¬
lages. In 1849 the number of inhabitants was 28,507. The
land is level, with extensive woods, and about twenty fresh¬
water lakes, the largest of which is Ahlbeckr. The feeding
of cattle and growing of corn are the chief objects of agri¬
culture ; besides which some hops and tobacco, and much
flax, are grown. The woods afford much profitable employ¬
ment, and furnish charcoal to the iron-works in Pomerania.
The capital of the circle is of the same name. It is situ¬
ated on the river Peene, and is now without fortifications.
In 1849 it contained three churches, three hospitals, 725
houses, and 9111 inhabitants. By means of the river it car¬
ries on some trade ; and it has manufactures of cloth, ho¬
siery, tobacco, snuff, and leather. Long. 13. 35. E. Lat.53
47. N.
ANKOBAR, or Ankober, the capital of the new king¬
dom of Shoa, in the province of Efat, and southern part of
Abyssinia, Eat. 9. 34. 33. N. and Long. 39. 53. E., 372
miles travelling distance south-west from the seaport of Ta-
jarrah, and 300 south-east of Gondar. It is built on the slop¬
ing side of a mountain 8200 feet above the level of the sea,
and surrounded by an Alpine country. Pop. about 5000. *
ANN, or Annat, in Scottish Law, is half a year’s stipend
which the act 16/2, c. 13, gives to the executors of ministers
of the Church of Scotland, over and above what was due
to the minister himself for his incumbency. As it is a mere
gratuity given by the law to those whom, it is presumed,
the deceased could not sufficiently provide for, so it is nei¬
ther assignable by him during his life, nor attachable by his
creditors after his death.
Annats is applied in English law to the annual income of
an ecclesiastical living, the first fruits paid originally to
the pope by the successor of a deceased bishop, abbot, or
parish-clerk. At the time of the Reformation, they were
vested in the king; but in Queen Anne’s reign were re¬
stored to the church, and appropriated to the augmentation
of small livings.
ANNA, Ana, or Anah, a town of Arabian Irak, or pa-
chalic of Baghdad, which extends five or six miles along the
western bank of the Euphrates. It consists of a single street
built on both sides. The houses are of stone, two stories
high, and separated from each other, as in other eastern
towns, by beautiful gardens filled with fruit-trees, bearing
lemons, oranges, citrons, quinces, figs, dates, pomegranates,
and olives. It is an open and defenceless place, and in 1807
was plundered by the Wahabees, who massacred the greater
part of the inhabitants, and set the town on fire ; after which
they retreated with their plunder, carrying into captivity
many women and children. The inhabitants, previous to this
calamity, are said to have been more polished than those in
the neighbourhood, and to have consisted chiefly of Ara¬
bians, who were, however, addicted to their usual vocation of
robbery when any opportunity presented. Pop. about 2000.
260 miles east of Damascus; 220 south-east of Aleppo.
Long. 41. 47 E. Lat. 34. 10. N. It is the ancient Hadith.
Anna Comnena, daughter of the Emperor Alexius Com-
213
Anjou
II
Anna.
214 ANN
Anna norms I., was not more distinguished by her elevated rank
Ivanovna, than by her mental qualifications. Her superiority of mind
V**' began early to display itself. Despising the effeminacy and
voluptuousness of the court in which she was educated, she
directed her attention to literary pursuits. Indulging her
favourite studies, she solicited the acquaintance of the more
eminent philosophers of that period.
But the pursuits of literature did not induce her en¬
tirely to abandon society; she gave her hand to Nicepho-
rus Briennius, a young nobleman of a respectable family.
This accomplished woman was, however, actuated by unjus¬
tifiable ambition ; and during the last illness of her father,
she united with the Empress Irene in attempting to prevail
upon that monarch to disinherit his own son, and give the
crown to her husband. The affection and virtue of the
father prevailed over female address and intrigue. But the
ambition of Comnena was not subdued. She entered into
a conspiracy to depose her brother; and when her husband
displayed timidity and hesitation in this unjust enterprise,
she exclaimed that “ nature had mistaken their sexes, for
he ought to have been the woman.”
Either through the vigilance of her brother or the timi¬
dity of her husband, the treasonable plot was discovered,
and Anna punished with the confiscation of all her property.
It was afterwards, however, restored to her by the genero¬
sity of her brother. Ashamed of her base conduct, she re¬
tired from court, and never more possessed any influence
there. Disappointed ambition took shelter among the walks
of literature, and she employed her solitude in writing the
history of her father’s reign. This production is still extant,
and forms a part of the celebrated collection of the Byzan¬
tine Historians. The stores of rhetoric are ransacked to
embellish this work, and every effort made to enrich it with
science ; but its general character is rather that of an apo¬
logy than of an impartial narrative. It must, however, be
acknowledged that she is not more partial than many other
Latin historians, and that her history contains many valu¬
able facts and observations. The best edition is by Scho-
pen, 2 vols. 8vo.
Anna Ivanovna, Empress of Russia, daughter of Ivan,
brother of Peter the Great, was born in 1693, and married
in 1710 to the Duke of Courland, who died the follow¬
ing year. After the death of Peter II., in 1730, the su¬
preme council of the empire offered the vacant throne of
Russia to Anna on the following conditions. She was to
govern according to the decisions of the supreme council,
and she was not allowed without its consent either to declare
war or to conclude peace, to impose new taxes, to grant any
important office of the state, to dispose of crown lands, to
contract a matrimonial alliance, or to nominate a successor
to the throne. She was also not to punish any noble, or to
confiscate any one’s property without a legal sentence.
Anna signed these conditions without any opposition ; but
after her arrival at Moscow, a numerous party jealous of
the authority which this constitution, imitated from that of
Sweden, gave to the supreme council, or rather to the
families of the Princes Dolgorouki and Galitzin, of whose
members it was chiefly composed, petitioned the empress to
assume the autocracy of her predecessors. Anna imme¬
diately complied with this request, and the framers of the
constitution were either banished to Siberia, or perished on
the scaffold. Russia was governed during the whole reign
of Anna by her favourite Biren, who was made by her in¬
fluence Duke of Courland, in a most tyrannical and oppres¬
sive manner, so that, according to Russian authorities, twenty
thousand victims of Biren’s tyranny perished during Anna’s
reign of six years ; and amongst them persons belonging to
the highest ranks in the country. The principal events of
Anna’s reign were the voluntary restoration, in 1732, to
Shah Nadir of the Russian provinces, Shirvan, Ghilan, and
ANN
Mazanderan, acquired by Peter the Great, but which caused Anna
more expense than they gave of revenue to Russia; a Chinese Perenna
embassy at St Petersburg, the only one that was ever sent to . N ]
Europe ; the assistance given to the Elector of Saxony and ^ nDa s'
King of Poland, Augustus III., against his competitor Stanis-
laus Leszczinski, supported by France ; a Russian army sent
to the assistance of the Emperor Charles VI. against France ;
a war with Turkey from 1736 to 1739, which, notwithstand¬
ing several successful campaigns, gave no advantage to
Russia at the conclusion of peace; and an advance made
into central Asia by the establishment of the Russian protec¬
torate over the khan of the Kirguizes, who, with the assistance
of Russian officers, conquered Khiva, but fortunately for our
present interests in the East, did not maintain himself there.
Anna died in 1740. Her reign is considered as a period of
transition from the old Muscovite semibarbarian manners to
the polish though not the civilization of the West. (v. K.)
Anna Perenna, an ancient Italian divinity, regarded as
the giver of life, health, and plenty. In later times she was
identified wfith Anna the sister of Dido, who threw herself
into the Numicius, and was thenceforth worshipped as the
nymph of that river. See Ovid. Fast, iii., Virg. JEneid. iv.,
Macrob. Sat. i. 12.
ANNABERG, a city on the mountains in the bailiwick
of Wolkenstein, circle of Erzgebirge, and kingdom of Saxony.
It is 1820 feet above the level of the sea, in the midst of a
mining district, which yields silver, tin, and cobalt. In 1849
it contained 677 houses, and 9437 inhabitants, chiefly em¬
ployed in manufacturing tapes, lace, sewing silk, besides
many other articles. Eat. 50. 35. N. Long. 13. 0. E.
ANNAGH, an island about five miles in circumference,
on the west coast of Ireland, between the isle of Achill and
the mainland of the county of Mayo. Long. 9.49. W. Eat.
53.58. N. There is a small village of the same name in the
county of Cork, five miles from Charleville.
ANNALS {Annales, from annus a year), a term com¬
monly applied to a concise and plain kind of narrative of
historical facts digested in the order of time, each event
being arranged under the particular year in which it hap¬
pened. Although this style of composition does not neces¬
sarily exclude the casual observations of the writer, episodes
or formal digressions are incompatible with the brevity
characteristic of annals: while history, on the other hand,
comprises not only the narrative and exposition of facts, but
also the writer’s observations on actions, motives, causes,
and consequences, in general; thus affording ample scope
for illustration and embellishment. Annals may be said to
constitute the essence of history, since they are the elements
or materials of which it is composed.
We are told by Cicero (de Oratore, ii. 12), that from the
earliest period of the Roman state the Pontifex Maximus,
in order to preserve the memory of events, used to write
down the public transactions of each year on a whited tablet,
which he exposed in an open place at his house, that the
people might come and read it; hence, in his time, these
records were called annales maximi. The greater part of
the annals composed by the Pontifex previous to the capture
of Rome by the Gauls, perished at that time in the burn¬
ing of the city, B.c. 390. These records, which appear to
have been of a very meagre nature, were probably the same
as the Commentarii pontificum cited by Livy. Commen-
tarii was also used to denote the memoirs which an indivi¬
dual wrote concerning his own actions. Thus Julius Caesar
designated the celebrated account he wrote of his own cam¬
paigns with the unassuming title of Commentaries. It may
be observed that this was a general term for any kind of
notes or simple memoranda.
1 he practice of compiling annals was continued until the
pontificate of P. Mucius Scaevola and the time of the
Gracchi, when its omission wras a circumstance of less im-
ANN
Annals, portance, as a literature had been formed. After the pon-
—tifices ceased to compose annals, many other persons, both
among the Greeks and the Romans, began to draw up his¬
torical accounts of public affairs, in which they imitated the
condensed and unadorned style of the pontifical records.
Cicero, in speaking of these annalists, says—“ unam dicendi
laudem putant esse brevitatem.”
The distinction, however, between annals and history
properly so called, is a subject that has exercised the in¬
genuity of many distinguished critics, and given rise to more
discussion than its intrinsic importance perhaps deserved.
Aulus Gellius, in the Nodes Attica; (v. 18), endeavours to
demonstrate, on the authority of the grammarian Verrius
Flaccus, that the derivation of the word history from utto-
peiv (inspicere, or to inquire in person), would seem to in¬
dicate that history is an account of events which happened
during the time of the writer. Annals, again, he distin¬
guishes as a relation of the events of earlier times, arranged
under the respective years in which they occurred. Similar
to this is the well-known definition given by Servius {ad
AEneid. i. 373). This is the explanation that Gronovius has
expressly declared to be satisfactory to himself; and it is the
one which the learned Grotius has consented to follow in his
History of the Netherlands, since he divides that great work
into Annals and History accordingly. The Hislorice and
the Annales of Tacitus wmdd seem at first sight to coun¬
tenance such a distinction, as the former work is occupied
with the transactions of his own time, while the latter is
devoted to the events of an earlier period. But, on the
other hand, it is by no means certain that Tacitus,made any
such distinction between them ; and it is more probable that
he gave the title of Annales to both these works, if, indeed,
he used either of the terms. It seems by no means impro¬
bable that the title of Annales was given to that work after
the time of 1 acitus; and, indeed, there seems to be no
peculiar propriety in the designation simply because the
events are arranged in the order of time, since that would
render it equally applicable to the books of Livy, or Cmsar’s
Commentaries. The concise vigorous style of the Annales
may have been one cause of their receiving that title; yet
brevity was inseparable from the style of Tacitus, a pecu¬
liarity conspicuous even in the Historice; and in reference
to which Montesquieu has remarked—“ Tacitus knew every¬
thing, and therefore abridged everything.” In the so-called
Annales (iii. 65, iv. 71), Tacitus explains that he was pre¬
vented by the plan of the work from entering upon details
in general, or anticipating the order of events ; and this has
given the Annales a greater degree of brevity than appears
in the Historice. With respect to these titles, however,
there is no direct evidence to prove that such a distinction
as that mentioned by Aulus Gellius and Servius was recog¬
nised by writers contemporary with Tacitus, and it may fairly
be presumed to have been the invention of a later period.
If Tacitus really gave no definitive title to either of the
works in question, such omission, perhaps, was not without
precedent. Niebuhr, in his ingenious but somewhat fanci¬
ful disquisition on the Distinction between Annals and His¬
tory, concludes his remarks by the inquiry whether the title
Historiarum ab urbe condita was the original designation of
the books of Livy; and he conjectures that the historian
may possibly have used neither historice nor annales, since
Diomedes, Priscian, and other grammarians never cite other¬
wise than Livius ab urbe condita libro ;—and he suggests
that the strangeness of the inscription may have occasioned
the filling up of the blank.—(See Cambridge Philological
Mriseum, No. vi. 1833, p. 670; translated from the Hhei-
nisches Museum?)
I he high antiquity of the annalistic form of writing re¬
quires no demonstration ; and perhaps there are few nations
that possess no such memorials of their early history. The
ANN 215
Chinese, whose veracity in matters of antiquity is frequently Annama-
questionable, affirm that their annals date from so remote a boe
period as 3000 years or more before the Christian era. li
Independently of the consideration that annals are the basis v Annan-,
of all history, there is one point of view in which they must ^
be regarded as possessing a high degree of political impor¬
tance. Knowledge being confessedly the basis of constitu¬
tional liberty, veritable annals may be said to be a record
of facts unperverted by the bias of the historian ; by means
of which the people are to be guided and instructed, in order
that they may appreciate the advantages they already pos¬
sess, and be led to maintain inviolate those rights for which
their progenitors have toiled and suffered.
ANNAMABOE, an English factory and fort on the Gold
Coast of Africa, in Lat. 5. 5. N. Long. 1.15. W. In 1808
it was gallantly defended by twenty-four English soldiers
against 15,000 Ashantees, who destroyed the negro town
and butchered the inhabitants.
ANNAN, a royal burgh and parish of Scotland, in the
county of Dumfries, on the river of the same name, about two
miles above its junction with the Solway Firth. The river is
crossed by an elegant bridge of three arches, built in 1824.
It has a good harbour, and the highest tides rise 21 feet.
In 1851 the population of the town amounted to 3426. The
people are chiefly engaged in the coasting trade, ship-build¬
ing, gingham-weaving, and the curing of bacon and hams
for the Newcastle and London markets. A cotton spinning
manufactory has been long established in the town, giving
employment to between 80 and 100 persons of different
ages. The salmon fishery, which in former years was very
productive, has much fallen off. Among the public build¬
ings is a handsome academy, built and endowed by the heri¬
tors and the town-council: it is conducted by a rector and
two masters, and is in a very flourishing state. Annan unites
with Dumfries, Kirkcudbright, Sanquhar, and Lochmaben,
in sending a representative to parliament. The environs
are very inviting; and few places are more beautiful than
the river and its finely-wooded banks, for eight or ten miles
above the town. It had formerly a castle, built by the
Bruces after they became lords of Annandale. Distance
from Dumfries 14 miles, from Edinburgh 79.
The River Annan, on which the town stands, rises in the
Hartfell Mountain on the confines of the counties of Peebles
and Dumfries, and flowing southward, falls into the Solway
Firth after a course of 30 miles. It abounds with trout and
salmon. ThestewartryordistrictofAnnandale,ofwhichLoch-
maben castle was the chief fortalice, is a fertile vale, 30 miles
long and about 16 miles broad. From its vicinity to England,
and the continual incursions and predatory wars of the bor¬
derers, the greater part of it was uncultivated and common ;
but since the beginning of the last century all these wastes
and commons have been subdivided and brought into cul¬
ture, and the country has assumed a new appearance, which
may be ascribed not only to the division of the commons,
but likewise to fhe improvement made on the roads.
Annandale formed a part of the Roman province of Va-
lentia; and it abounds with Roman stations and antiquities.
The Roman camps at Birrens in Middlebie, on the hill of
Birrenswark, and at Torwood Muir in Dryfesdale, are still
nearly entire, and their form is preserved; and the traces
and remains of a military road are yet visible in different
parts of the country. The ruins of the house or castle of
Auchincass, in the neighbourhood of Moffat, once the seat
of that potent baron Thomas Randolph, earl of Murray, lord
of Annandale, and regent of Scotland during the minority of
David II., cover above an acre of ground, and even now
convey an idea of the plan and strength of the building.
The ancient castle of Comlongan, formerly belonging to the
Murrays, earls of Annandale, and now to the earl of Mans¬
field, is still in a tolerable state of preservation ; but except
216
ANN
Annand
Anne
this castle, and that of Hoddam, most of the other old for-
talices and towers are now taken down or in ruins.
ANNAND, William, Dean of Edinburgh, the son of
William Annand, minister of Ayr, was born at Ayr in 1633.
Five years after, his father was obliged to quit Scotland with
his family, on account of their adherence to the king and
to the Episcopal form of church government. In 651
young Annand was admitted a scholar in University Col¬
lege, Oxford; and in 1656, being then bachelor of arts, was
appointed preacher at Weston on the Green, near Bicester
in Oxfordshire. After he had taken the degree of master
of arts, he was presented to the vicarage of Leighton-Buz-
zard in Bedfordshire, where he distinguished himself by his
edifying manner of preaching. In 1662 he went to Scot¬
land as chaplain to John Earl of Middleton, the king’s high
commissioner to the parliament of that kingdom. In the
end of the year 1663 he was instituted to the Tolbooth
Church at Edinburgh, and from thence was removed, some
years after, to the Tron Church of that city. In April 1676
he was nominated by the king to the Deanery of Edinburgh;
and in 1685 he was made doctor of divinity in the university
of St Andrew. He wrote several books on religious and
ecclesiastical subjects. He died on the 13th of June 1689,
and was^interred in the Greyfriars Church, Edinburgh.
ANNAPOLIS, the capital of Maryland, in North Ame¬
rica. It stands on the River Severn, two miles from its en¬
trance into Chesapeake Bay, and is a small but well-built
town, with a handsome state-house, &c. Population in 1850
4198. Lat. 38. 58. 35. N. Long. 76. 33. W.
Annapolis, a county and town of Nova Scotia, on the
Bay of Fundy. The town was the first French settlement
in that part of the world ; but was finally captured by the
English in 1710, and ceded to them at the peace of 1713.
The town is in Lat. 44. 40. N. Long. 65. 37. W. It is
neither populous nor flourishing, but falling into decay. The
harbour, however, is good.
ANNE, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, was born
on the 6th of February 1664. She was the second daughter
of James Duke of York, afterwards James II. She was only
seven years old when her mother, Anne Hyde, died, hav¬
ing previously professed adherence to the Church of Rome,
a step which was immediately imitated by her husband!
1 he Duke, however, had to allow his daughters, the prin¬
cesses Mary and Anne, to be brought up as Protestants;
and Anne always continued to be attached, zealously and
even bigotedly, to the Church of England. In her twen¬
tieth year she was married to Prince George, the brother of
the king of Denmark. In the establishment then formed
or her a place was given on her own earnest desire, to
her early playfellow Lady Churchill, afterwards Duchess of
Marlborough ; and this ambitious and imperious woman,
acquiring rapidly an irresistible authority over the feeble
mind of the princess, thenceforth ruled her absolutely fbr
more than twenty years. Not long afterwards, when the
Duke of York had become king, he made repeated attempts
to convert the princess Anne to his own creed: he emraJed
that, if she would become a Roman Catholic, she shoukfbe
p aced in the line of succession to the throne before her
elder sister Mary. 1 rince George appears to have received
those overtures favourably; but he, an indolent and good-
natured man, who cared for nothing but good eatinS and
field sports, never had any influence over his wife She
remained firm in her Protestantism, lived in retirement
during the whole of her father’s reign, and did not allow her
opinions or feelings any further vent than that which they
found in her private correspondence with the Princess of
Orange. When, in 1688, James’s queen gave birth to a
son, the sisters took a lively interest in the suspicions and
inquiries that arose: and Anne was easily led to believe that
the child was supposititious; though later in her life she must
ANN
have been convinced that he was really her brother. Be¬
fore the landing of the Prince of Orange, Prince George
was pledged to join him ; and his wife and Lady Churchill
abandoned King James on the first opportunity.
From the Revolution till the death of William HI., Anne’s
way of life was as quiet and obscure as it had been during
the reign of her father. She did, indeed, on the prompting
of her favourite, acquiesce in the act of the convention-
parliament, which, postponing her place in the succession,
gave the throne to William in case he should survive Mary!
But the sisters soon quarrelled, and never were reconciled.
The misunderstanding began in trifling questions of eti¬
quette, quite fitted to the calibre of both of the royal minds ;
but considerations of real importance soon compelled the
king himself to interfere. The Churchills, traitorous to their
new sovereign, as they had been to the old, were known to
be intriguing for the restoration of James; and they in¬
duced Anne to write secretly to her father, and declare re¬
pentance for her desertion of him. Even when William
dismissed Marlborough from all his places, the princess ob¬
stinately persisted in retaining his wife in her household.
After Queen Mary’s death, the king and his sister-in-law
went through the forms of a reconciliation: but there was
no confidence on either side; and indeed the secret corre¬
spondence with Saint Germains was still carried on. The
state of the succession to the crown threatened new difficul¬
ties. Anne had seventeen children, but most of them were
still-born : and the Duke of Gloucester, the only one who
survived infancy, died in 1700 at the age of eleven. The
Jacobites, however, were unable to prevent the passing of
the act of settlement, which placed the Electress of Hano¬
ver after Anne in the succession to the crown.
On the 8th of March 1702, Anne became Queen of
England by the death of William, being then 38 years
of age. Into her short reign there were crowded events
possessing vast importance, both for the British Empire and
for the whole of Europe : and her name is customarily asso¬
ciated with one of the most characteristic epochs in the his¬
tory of English literature. Marlborough and Peterborough
commanded her armies: her councils were directed in
succession by Godolphin and Somers, by Harley and St
John : Berkeley and Newton speculated and experimented:
and the wits of Queen Anne’s time” were mustered, in
poetry and in prose, under such chiefs as Prior and Pope,
Swift, Addison, and Steele, Arbuthnot and Defoe. But no
sovereign could have exerted less of real and personal in¬
fluence than Queen Anne did, either on the national polity
or on the national enlightenment. A blessed thing was it
that she should have been thus powerless. For, beyond her
own epicurean comforts, and the petty ceremonial of her
court, there were just three ideas which her narrow and un-
mstructed intellect admitted : each of these ideas was full
of danger to the peace and happiness of the state ; and each
of them was cherished by her with the hereditary stubborn¬
ness of a Stuart. She was as eager as any one of her race
to enlarge the prerogatives of the crown : her father’s de¬
votion to the Church of Rome was not stronger than was
fier desire to increase the power of the Church of England;
and she never ceased to wish earnestly that her exiled
brother should be her successor on the throne. In no stage
ot Anne s reign was even the last of these designs imprac¬
ticable : there were always able statesmen inclined to lead
e v ay and more than once the tide of public opinion set
towards absolutism, both political and ecclesiastical. The
T\ecn’ owever, was not only dull and ignorant, but also in-
dolent, fond of flattery, and accustomed from her youth to
than l^86 6 ky stronger and more active minds
w rT 'J'™-, Whatever her wishes might be, her actions
fv U e 7. er female favourites. I’ortunately the earlier
wo irectresses, a woman of extraordinary force of
4
ANN
inno. character, was both willing and able to keep in check the
7 queen’s private inclinations : not less fortunate was it that
the sway exercised by the next possessor of the royal favour
was speedily cut short by her mistress’s death. The course
of English history might have flowed less smoothly, if the
Duchess of Marlborough and her husband had not become
convinced that their own interest lay in supporting the prin¬
ciples of the Revolution; and those principles might have
sustained a rude shock, if Mrs Masham and her Jacobite
allies had been allowed a few months longer to mature the
queen’s plans and their own.
The reign of Queen Anne, lasting for twelve years, falls
naturally into two unequal periods.
During the first of these, the Duke of Marlborough was
paramount in the houses of parliament, and his wife in the
royal closet. A ministry of Tories was formed on the
queen’s accession ; but the leaders of it were Marlborough
and Godolphin, who immediately began to edge off from
their party. The principal measures were, from the begin¬
ning, in substantial conformity to the policy of King Wil¬
liam : the war with France, hardly resisted then by any part
of the nation, was prosecuted with ardour and success; and
the victories of Oudenarde, Ramillies, and Blenheim, gained
by the consummate generalship of Marlborough, made Eng¬
land formidable and illustrious throughout Europe. In the
internal affairs of the kingdom, Whig principles for a time
prevailed more and more ; the party acquired a decided ma¬
jority in the House of Commons ; and the ministry came to
he composed almost entirely of Whigs, some of the Tories
being dismissed, and others, like the two leaders, showing
the accommodating flexibility of opinion which was so rife
among the statesmen of that slippery age. The Union of
England and Scotland was carried through in the face of
many difficulties ; and, while the proceedings of the minis¬
try in the matter were by no means perfectly pure, the
measure owed its success mainly to the independent and
honourable assistance of the best man among the Whigs,
the accomplished and patriotic Lord Somers. During several
years, in short, barriers were gradually and firmly built up
against the old system, and the old parties. But other days
were at hand. The domineering favourite of the queen pre¬
sumed rashly on her power, and offended the self-esteem of
her mistress. Mrs Masham, a poor relation of the duchess,
whom she had introduced into the royal household, soothed
Anne’s fretful temper, gratified her vanity, and quickly,
though secretly, acquired her confidence and affection ; and,
under the guidance of the new favourite, and her prompter
Harley, the queen was encouraged to hope for the attain¬
ment of all her most cherished aims. The state of public
opinion underwent a corresponding change. Even under
the masterly government of William, disappointments had
been felt by those who expected impossibilities from the
Revolution : discontent now diffused itself very widely, the
main cause being the increase of taxation which had been
rendered necessary by the continental war. The Tories
and Jacobites, led by some of the ablest of the statesmen,
and assisted by some of the most skilful and energetic of
the political writers, dexterously used the combustible ma¬
terials that were accumulating, and made the Church also
an active engine of mischief. The ministry saw their par¬
liamentary majorities wasting away; they were personally
treated at court with open contumely: and their ruin was
completed when, still relying too boldly on their supposed
strength, they impeached Sacheverell for publicly preach¬
ing in favour of Jacobitism and the divine right of kings.
In August 1710 the Whig administration was ignominiously
discarded.
The second period of the queen’s reign began at this
point. She was thenceforth governed by Mrs Masham; Mrs
Masham was governed by Harley and St John, the chiefs of
voi.. in.
ANN 217
the new ministry ; and these able and unscrupulous men ex- Anne
erted themselves to the utmost of their power in undoing all Boleyn
that had been done by their predecessors. The fruits of the II
vvar were immediately abandoned, and the allies of England St ;A'nne’s
shamefully betrayed, by the Treaty of Utrecht. If open at- > Day‘ ,
tacks were not made on the constitution, it was only because  v 
the parliament could not be trusted in such a case ; and be¬
cause, also, the two ministerial leaders became jealous of each
other, and formed separate intrigues. Harley, the Sinon
of the time, corresponded both with St Germains and with
Hanover; St John, more decidedly Jacobite, plotted with
Mrs Masham and the queen to procure the crown for the
Pretender, on the ostensible condition of his professing Pro¬
testantism. But these cabals oozed out sufficiently to alarm
the honourable Tories, and to array them and the bishops
against the ministry in parliament. The time, likewise,
during which the danger was growing, proved too short to
allow it to become ripe. Harley and Mrs Masham came
to an open quarrel one evening in Anne’s presence: after
they had squabbled for hours, the poor queen just retained
strength enough to insist that the minister should resign on
the spot: she then retired, at two in the morning, and lay
down on her deathbed. She was seized with apoplexy, and
died on the 1st of August 1714. St John’s schemes were
not ready for execution ; and, by the prompt activity of a
few patriotic statesmen, the accession of George I. was im¬
mediately and peaceably secured. (w. s.)
ANNE Boleyn or Bullen, queen of King Henry VIII.,
was the daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, a nobleman of a
powerful family and numerous alliances. The daughter of
the Duke of Norfolk was her mother, and during the reign
of the former king her father had been honoured with seve¬
ral embassies. Mary, the king’s sister, who married Louis
XII., carried over this lady with her to France at an early
age, where she imbibed the freedom, the vivacity, and the
openness of manners of that nation. After the death of
Louis, that queen returned to England, and Anne conti¬
nued to attend her royal mistress. Having some time after
left her service, she was introduced into the family of the
Duchess of Alencon. On her return to England, famed for
personal beauty and acquired accomplishments, the king, in¬
fluenced as much by his passion for the youthful Anne as by
regard to the canon law, began to express his scruples con¬
cerning his union with Catherine of Aragon. Anne was
placed at court and distinguished by many marks of royal
favour, and the enamoured monarch openly expressed his
attachment to her ; but she was possessed of too much vir¬
tue and policy to confer any improper favours. This pru¬
dent and virtuous restraint only increased the passion of the
impetuous Henry; who at length came to the resolution of
divorcing his queen, to make way for his favourite. Various
delays and difficulties occurring to the divorce, Henry pri¬
vately married Anne during the month of November 1532 ;
and in April following he publicly declared her queen of
England. The issue of this marriage was the wise and fortu¬
nate Queen Elizabeth, who was born in September follow¬
ing. For some time Anne enjoyed a considerable share of
the royal favour, and she made use of that influence in sub¬
duing the haughty prelate Wolsey, and widening the breach
between the king and the pope. But this favour was not of
long continuance ; for the king, ever varying in his temper,
allowed jealousy to enter his bosom, which her thoughtless
demeanour tended in some measure to excite. She was ac¬
cused of adultery with several of the household officers, and
even with her own brother Lord Rochford; and having been
tried on a charge of high treason, was condemned on very
inadequate evidence to be beheaded; which sentence was
executed in May 1536. She resolutely denied to the last
any serious guilt.
St Anne’s Day, a festival of the Roman and Greek
2 E
218 ANN
Annealing, churches, celebrated by the Latins on the 26th of July, but
by the Greeks on the 9th of December. It is kept in honour
of Anne or Anna, mother of the Virgin Mary.
ANNEALING, by the workmen called nealing, is a pro¬
cess used in glass-making, and in the manufacture of cer-
Glass. tain metals. In glass-making it consists in placing the bot¬
tles, &c. whilst hot, in a kind of oven or furnace, where they
are suffered to cool gradually. They would otherwise be
too brittle for use. The difference between unannealed and
annealed glass, with respect to brittleness, is very remarkable.
When an unannealed glass vessel is broken, it often flies
into a small powder, with a violence seemingly very unpro¬
portioned to the stroke it has received. In general it is in
greater danger of breaking from a very slight stroke than
from one of some considerable force. One of these vessels
will often resist the effects of a pistol bullet dropt into it from
the height of two or three feet; yet a grain of sand falling
into it will make it burst into small fragments. This takes
place sometimes immediately on dropping the sand into it;
but often the vessel will stand for several minutes after,
seemingly secure ; and then, without any new injury, it will
fly to pieces. If the vessel be very thin, it does not break
in this manner, but seems to possess all the properties of
annealed glass.
The same phenomena are still more strikingly seen in
glass drops or tears. They are globular at one end, and
taper to a small tail at the other. They are the drops which
fall from the melted mass of glass on the rods on which the
bottles are made. They drop into the tubs of water which
are used in the work; the greater part of them burst im¬
mediately in the water. When those that remain entire are
examined, they discover all the properties of unannealed glass
in the highest degree. They will bear a smart stroke on
the thick end without breaking: but if the small tail be
broken, they shiver into small powder with a loud explosion.
They appear to burst with more violence, and the powder
is smaller, in an exhausted receiver, than in the open air.
When they are annealed they lose these properties.
Glass is one of those bodies which increase in bulk when
passing from a fluid into a solid state. When it is allowed
to crystallize regularly, the particles are so arranged that it
has a fibrous texture. It is elastic, and susceptible of long-
continued vibrations ; but when a mass of melted glass is
suddenly exposed to the cold, the surface crystallizes, and
forms a solid shell round the interior fluid parts. This pre¬
vents them from expanding when they became solid. They
therefore have not the opportunity of a regular crystalliza¬
tion, but are compressed together with little mutual cohe¬
sion. On the contrary, they press outward to occupy more
space, but are prevented by the external crust. In conse¬
quence of the effort of expansion in the internal parts, the
greater number of glass drops burst in cooling; and those
which remain entire are not regularly crystallized. A smart
stroke upon them communicates a vibration to the whole
mass, which is nearly synchronous in every part; and there¬
fore the effort of expansion has little more effect than if the
body were at rest; but the small tail and the surface only
are regularly crystallized. If the tail be broken, this com¬
municates a vibration along the crystallized surface without
reaching the internal parts. By this they are allowed some
expansion; and overcoming the cohesion of the thin outer
shell, they burst it, and are dispersed in powder.
In an unannealed glass vessel the same thing takes place.
Sometimes the vibration may continue for a considerable
time before the internal parts overcome the resistance. If
the vessel be very thin, the regular crystallization extends
through the whole thickness; or at least the quantity of
compressed matter in the middle is so inconsiderable as to
be incapable of bursting the external plate.
By the process of annealing the glass is kept for some
ANN
time in a state approaching to fluidity ; the heat increases Anneal®
the bulk of the crystallized part, and renders it so soft, that
the internal parts have the opportunity of expanding and
forming a regular crystallization.
In the manufactures in which the malleable metals are Iron,
employed, annealing is used to soften a metal after it has
been rendered hard by the hammer; and also to soften
cast-iron, which is rendered very hard and brittle by rapid
cooling.
In the manufacture of steel goods, which are first formed
by the hammer, and require to be filed or otherwise treated,
and in which softness and flexibility are essential to the
change, annealing is absolutely necessary. This is parti¬
cularly the case in making files and scissors, that the metal
may be left sufficiently soft for cutting the teeth, and for
filing off those parts which cannot be ground. Annealing
is not less necessary in the drawing of wire, whether iron,
copper, brass, silver, or gold. The operation of drawing
soon gives the wire a degree of hardness and elasticity
which, if not removed from time to time by annealing,
would prevent the extension of the wire, and render it ex¬
tremely brittle. The same operation is also necessary in
rolling or flattening those metals which are in a cold state,
such as brass, silver, gold, &c. The brazier who forms ves¬
sels of copper and brass by the hammer, can work upon it
only for a little time before he is obliged to anneal it.
The methods often employed for annealing iron and
steel are very injudicious, and materially injure the latter
when it is used for making cutting instruments. After they
have been formed by the hammer, they are sometimes piled
up in an open fire, slowly raised to red heat, and then al¬
lowed as gradually to cool. By this method the surface of
the steel will be found considerably scaled, from the action
of the oxygen of the atmosphere. When it is remembered
that steel consists of iron joined to carbon, it will be evident
that the steel immediately under the scaly oxide will be de¬
prived of its carbon, which has been carried off by the at¬
traction of the oxygen ; and, in consequence, will lose the
property of acquiring that degree of hardness necessary to
a cutting instrument.
Nothing, therefore, can be more obvious, than that steel
particularly should be annealed in close vessels, to prevent
that effect. For this purpose the goods should be placed
in a trough or recess made of fire-stone or fire-brick, and
stratified with ashes or clean sand, and finally covered with
a thick stratum of the same ; but if the size of the vessel
be small, it may have a cover of its own materials. This
oven or trough must now be heated by the flame of a fur¬
nace passing under and round it, till the whole is of a red
heat. It must then be suffered to cool, without letting in
the air. The goods so treated will be much softer than
by the other method. The surface, instead of becoming
scaled, will have acquired a metallic whiteness, from the
presence of a small quantity of carbonaceous matter con¬
tained in the ashes in which they were imbedded. They
will become so flexible also, as to allow them to bend con¬
siderably without breaking, which is very far from being
the case before the operation. The fracture, before an¬
nealing, will be smooth and short; but afterwards it will
be rough, exhibiting bright parts, of a crystalline appear¬
ance. Wire, especially that of iron and steel, should be
treated in a similar way when it is annealed. The wire
used for some purposes requires to be soft, and is sold in
that state. If the wire, after finishing, when it is bright
and clean, were to be annealed in contact with oxygen, it
would not only lose all its lustre and smoothness, but
much of its tenacity. The process above mentioned will
therefore be particularly necessary in annealing finished
wire, as well as in softening it from time to time during the
drawing.
ANN
.nnery. Copper and brass suffer much less than iron and steel
from annealing in the open air, and do not require to be
heated above a low red heat. If, however, the lustre is to
be preserved, a close vessel would be desirable. The lat¬
ter metals, after annealing, although much discoloured by
the oxygen of the atmosphere, may be cleansed by immer¬
sion in a hot liquor composed of water and a small quantity
of sulphuric or nitric acid. Very small brass or copper
wire is frequently annealed by exposing it to the flame of
hay or straw. In casting minute pieces of pig-iron, which
is generally done in damp sand, the metal possesses the pro¬
perty of steel to such a degree as to assume, by the rapid
cooling, a degree of hardness equal to hardened steel; at
the same time that the articles are so brittle as to break by
falling on the ground. When, however, these goods are
treated in the way above directed, they acquire a degree of
softness which renders them penetrable by the file, and at
the same time capable of bending. In this state they are
much less tenacious than steel, but still so much so as to
have been sold in the form of cutlery for steel.
The change which metals undergo by annealing is not
yet thoroughly understood. Most of the malleable metals
are susceptible of two distinct forms, one called the crystal¬
line form, which they assume by slow cooling; and the
other the fibrous, which is acquired by hammering or roll¬
ing. When this, however, is carried beyond a certain point,
the metal becomes so hard that it is not capable of being
bent far without breaking. All the malleable metals in the
ingot or in their cast state are brittle, and exhibit a crystal¬
line fracture. By hammering or rolling they become more
tenacious, and break with difficulty, exhibiting what is called
a fibrous fracture. At the same time they become stiffer
and more elastic. They lose the latter properties by an¬
nealing, but become more malleable. If the annealing,
however, be long continued, the malleability diminishes, and
they again have a crystalline fracture. Zinc by wire-draw¬
ing becomes very flexible, and possesses a degree of tena¬
city not inferior to that of copper; but, if it be kept in
boiling water for a length of time, it will resume its original
brittleness, and show a crystalline appearance when broken.
This proves that the particles of metals can change their
arrangement without losing their solid form ; which is still
more strongly confirmed by the fact, that brass wire loses
its tenacity by exposure to the fumes of acids, and even by
the presence of a damp atmosphere. This is not caused by
the moisture, but by the action of air upon the moistened
surface. The manufacturers of common pins are obliged
to keep their wire in a dry atmosphere, or immersed in
water. If the wire be first moistened, and then exposed to
the air, it will assume the brittle state much sooner. In this
condition it breaks with a crystalline fracture, similar to that
exhibited by an ingot. When a steel plate, such as a watch-
spring, has been once tempered, the operation of simply
rubbing it bright will render it soft and elastic. The same
change is brought about by slightly hammering it. It,
however, resumes its elastic state by being carefully heated
till it becomes of a blue colour. If the heat be continued
to redness, particularly in a close vessel, it becomes per¬
fectly annealed. (c. s—R.)
ANNEC Y, a city in the kingdom of Sardinia, the capital
of the province of Genevois, in the duchy of Savoy. It is
at the foot of the mountain Semina, on the banks of the lake
of that name. It is the most industrious place in Savoy, hav¬
ing manufactures of cotton goods, of hats, glass, and earthen¬
ware, besides several distilleries and tanneries; and near it
are some iron-works. It contains a cathedral, a church, five
monasteries, and the same number of nunneries. The relics
of St Francis de Sales, preserved in St Mary’s Church,
draw many prilgrims annually to the city. Pop. 9000.
Long. 6. 9. E. Lat. 45. 53. N. The lake of Annecy is about
ANN
nine miles in length by two in breadth, and its surface is 1400
feet above the sea. It lies 20 miles south of Geneva, in
tne midst of exquisite mountain scenery.
ANNEUDES, or Annelida, worms with red blood, are
the first class of the third grand division of animals, the Ar-
ticulata. See Helminthology.
ANNESLEY, Arthur, Earl of Anglesea, and lord privy
seal in the reign of King Charles II., was the son of Sir
Francis Annesley, baronet, Lord Mount-Norris, and Vis¬
count Valentia, in Ireland, and was born at Dublin on the
10th of July 1614. He was for some time at the university
of Oxford, and afterwards studied the law at Lincoln’s Inn.
He had a considerable share in public transactions, for in
the beginning of the civil war he sat in the parliament held
at Oxford; but afterwards became reconciled to the oppo¬
site party, and was sent commissioner to Ulster, to oppose
the designs of the rebel Owen Roe O’Neal. He engaged
in several other affairs with great success. He was presi¬
dent of the council of state after the death of Cromwell, and
was principally concerned in bringing about the Restora¬
tion ; soon after which King Charles II. raised him to the
dignity of a baron, by the title of Lord Annesley of Nev'-
port-Pagnel, Bucks; and a short time after he was made Earl
of Anglesea. During that reign he was employed in some
important affairs, was made treasurer of the navy, and for
some time held the office of lord privy seal. He was a per¬
son of great abilities, of very extensive learning, and wras
well acquainted with the constitution and law's of England.
He died in April 1686, in the 73d year of his age. In his
lifetime he published the following pieces:—
1. Truth unveiled, in behalf of the Church of England;
being a Vindication of Mr John Standish’s Sermon, preached
before the King, and published by his Majesty’s command.
1676, 4to. To which is added, A short Treatise on the subject
of Transubstantiation. 2. A Letter from a Person of Honour
in the Country, written to the Earl of Castlehaven; being
observations and reflections on his Lordship’s Memoirs con¬
cerning the Wars of Ireland. 1681, 8vo. 3. A true Account
of the whole Proceedings between James Duke of Ormond and
Arthur Earl of Anglesea, before the King and his Council, &c.
1682, folio. 4. A Letter of Remarks upon Jovian. 1683, 4to.
Besides these, he wrote several other works, some of which were
published after his decease; as, 5. The Privileges of the House
of Lords and Commons, argued and stated in two conferences
between both Houses, April 19and 22,1671 To which is added,
A Discourse, wherein the rights of the House of Lords are
truly asserted; with remarks on the seeming arguments and
pretended precedents offered at that time against their Lord-
ships. 6. The King’s Right of Indulgence in Spiritual Mat¬
ters, with the Equity thereof asserted. 1688, 4to. 7. Memoirs,
intermixt with moral, political, and historical observations, by
way of discourse, in a Letter to Sir Peter Pett. 1693, 8vo.
ANNEXATION, the act of annexing or uniting one
thing with another. In law it is applied to the uniting of
lands or rents to the Crown. In Scottish Law it also signifies
the appropriation of church-lands to the Crown, and of lands
lying at a distance from the kirk to which they belong to
another kirk to which they are more contiguous.
ANNIVERSARY, the annual return of any remarkable
day. Anniversary days, in old times, more particularly de¬
noted those days in which an office was yearly performed for
the souls of the deceased, or on which the martyrdom of the
saints was yearly celebrated in the church.
ANNOBOM, or Annabona, a small island of Africa, on
the west coast of Loango. It lies in Long. 5. 35. 7. E. and
Lat. 1.24. 3 .S., 190 miles west of Cape Lopez, is about four
miles in length, and two in breadth, and rises abruptly from
an unfathomable depth to the height of 3000 feet above the
level of the sea. It is a beautiful island, exhibiting a suc¬
cession of little valleys, with fine outlines of steep moun¬
tains richly clothed with wood, while every ledge and crevice
220
ANN
Annuities, gives nourishment to a rich luxuriance of vegetation, and
v'—the precipitous surfaces are tinged with every variety of
colour. Vessels touch at Annobom for refreshments, of
which the supply is abundant, including swine, sheep, goats,
fowls, bananas, plantains, cassada, sweet potatoes, pines,
and tamarinds. Guinea-fowl, large and finely flavoured, are
particularly plentiful. Cassada, cotton, and sugar-cane
are cultivated with care and success. The population
amounts to about 3000, mostly collected in a large village
near the north-east point of the island, off which is the only
tolerably safe roadstead for shipping. The people are ne¬
groes, perfectly harmless, and w ith some vague idolatrous be¬
lief in the Roman Catholic religion. In their dealings with
strangers they are not strictly honest, but as much so as
can reasonably be expected. Their houses are small and
rudely constructed. Supplies are procured from them more
readily by barter than for money. Cheap tawdry kerchiefs,
old clothes, muskets, fish-hooks, cutlery, trinkets, rum, and
tobacco, are the objects chiefly coveted. Their government
was a sort of oligarchy vested in five persons, who assumed
office by turns, strangely enough measuring its tenure by
the arrival of ships, each magistracy lasting during the period
of the arrival of ten. The island received its name from its
ANN
having been discovered by the Portuguese on New-year’s Ann
day, a.d. 1473. In 1778 it came into the possession of Praftl
hpain ; and in 1827 it was taken possession of by the Ena-- II
lish, but was restored to Spain in 1843. b Annuities
ANNONiE PmEFECTUs, an extraordinary magistrate at
Rome, whose business it was to prevent a scarcity of provi¬
sions. and to regulate the price, weight, and fineness of bread.
ANNONAY, a town of France, in the department of
Ardeche, situated at the confluence of the rivers Cance and
Deaume, 37 miles south of Lyons. It is a very prosperous
manufacturing town, irregularly built, and presents little
worthy of notice, except an obelisk in honour of the cele¬
brated Montgolfier (who was a native of this place), and a
suspension bridge in its vicinity, the first constructed in
ranee. The principal manufacture is that of paper, lone
reckoned the best in France. It has also manufactures of
gloves, cotton, woollen, and silk. Pop. 9893.
ANNUALRENT, in Scottish Law, denotes the yearly
interest or profit due by a debtor in a sum of money to a
creditor for the use of it.—A Right of Annualrent was the
original method in Scotland of burdening lands with a yearly
payment for the loan of money, before the taking of interest
was allowed. °
ANNUITIES.1 * * *
The doctrine of Compound Interest and Annuities-cer-
tain is too simple ever to have occupied much of the at¬
tention of mathematicians: inquiries into the values of in¬
terests dependent upon the continuance or the failure of
human life, being more interesting and difficult, have oc¬
cupied them more, but yet not so much as their import¬
ance would seem to demand ; the discoveries both in Pure
Mathematics and Physics, especially those of Newton,
which distinguished the close of the seventeenth century,
having provided them with ample employment of a more
interesting kind, ever since the subjects of this article
were submitted to calculation.
Fermat, Pascal, and Huygens, by laying the foundation
ot the doctrine of probabilities, about the middle of that
century, first opened the way to the solution of problems
ot this kind, the earliest mathematical publication on
probabilities, the little tract of Huygens, De Ratiociniis in
LudoAlea, appeared in 1658; and in 1671 his celebrated
countryman John de Witt published a treatise on Life-
AnTf Smi itch- (Montucla> Hist, des Math, tome iii.
p. W7.) ibis, however, appears to have been very little
known or read, and to have had no sensible influence on
the subsequent progress of the science, the origin of which
may be properly dated from the publication of Dr Hallev’s
paper on the subject, in the Philosophical Transactions for
the year 1693 (No. 196). That celebrated mathemati¬
cian there first gave a table of mortality, which he had
constructed from observations made at Breslaw, and
showed how the probabilities of life and death, and the
values of annuities and assurances on lives, might be de¬
termined by such tables; which, he informs us, had till
then been only done by an imaginary valuation. Besides
his algebraical reasonings, he illustrated the subject by
the properties of parallelograms and parallelopipedons:
theie are, perhaps, no other mathematical inquiries, in
the prosecution of which algebra is entitled to so decided
a preference to the elementary geometry as in these, and
this example of the application of geometry has not been
followed by any of the succeeding writers.
In the year 1724 M. de Moivre published the first edi¬
tion of his tract entitled Annuities on Lives. In order to
shorten the calculation of the values of such annuities, he
assumed the annual decrements of life to be equal; that
is, that out of a given number of persons living at any age,
an equal number die every year until they are all extinct;
and upon that hypothesis he gave a general theorem, by
which the values of annuities on single lives might be
easily determined. This approximation, when the utmost
limit of life was supposed to be 86 years, agreed very well
with the true values between 30 and 70 years of age, as
deduced from Dr Halley’s table; and the method was of
great use at the time, as no tables of the true values of
1 Hardly any terms are made use of in this artiVU wV u i ^
reader should have perfectly clear and well-defined id^nf’n/ FI0*! ^ conside!'ed technical. But since it is desirable that the
the historical, a few have been defined in the paraSanhs wllrkni t)?at.a.re eniPloyed, in the demonstrative part, which follows
cal order, with the numbers of the paragraphs^XMhek mS" arfgl™^1 and We ll<’re EiVe th°Se ter,m in “>Ph“beti-
Term.
Annuity 
Annuity, Certain 
Annuity, Deferred 
Annuity, Life 
Annuity, Temporary Life  
Annuity on any Life or Lives...
Assurance on any Life or Lives.
Mortality, Table of. 
Years’ Purchase, No. of, that an Annuity is worth’
I
'
ANNUITIES.
History, annuities had then been calculated, except a very con-
tracted one inserted by Dr Halley in the paper mentioned
above. But, upon the whole, this hypothesis of De Moivre
has probably contributed to retard the progress of the
science, by turning the attention of mathematicians from
the investigation of the true law of mortality, and the best
methods of constructing tables of the real values of an¬
nuities.
The same distinguished analyst also endeavoured to ap¬
proximate the values of joint lives; but it has since been
found that the formulae he gave for that purpose are too
incorrect for use. Mr Thomas Simpson published his
Doctrine of Annuities and Reversions in the year 1742, in
which the subject is treated in a manner much more ge¬
neral and perspicuous than it had been previously. His
formulae are adapted to any table of mortality; and, in the
seventh corollary to his first problem, he gave the theorem
demonstrated in the 149th number of this article, to which
we owe all the best tables of the values of life-annuities
that have since been published.
In the same work he also gave a table of mortality de¬
duced from the London observations, and four others cal¬
culated from it, of the values of annuities on lives, each at
three rates of interest; the first for single lives, the three
others for two and three equal joint lives, and for the
longest of two or of three lives.
These were the first tables of the values of joint lives
that had been calculated; for although Dr Halley had
shown, half a century before, how such tables might be
computed, and had taken considerable pains to facili¬
tate the work, the necessary calculations by the methods
known previous to the publication of Mr Simpson’s treatise
were so very laborious that no one had had the courage
to undertake them. And unfortunately the mortality ac¬
cording to the London table was so much above the com¬
mon average, that the values of annuities in Mr Simpson’s
tables were much too small for general use.
In the year 1746 M. Deparcieux published his Essai sur
les Probabilites de la Duree de la Vie Humaine, in which
he gave several valuable tables of mortality deduced from
the mortuary registers of different religious houses, and
from the lists of the nominees in the French tontines;
also a table of the values of annuities on single lives, at
three rates of interest, calculated from his table of morta¬
lity for the tontine annuitants. These tables were a great
acquisition to the science, as, before their publication,
there were only two extant that gave tolerably exact re¬
presentations of the true law of mortality—Dr Halley’s
for Breslaw, and one constructed but a short time before
by M. Kersseboom, principally from registers of Dutch
annuitants. Those of M. Deparcieux for the monks and
nuns wTere the first ever constructed for the two sexes
separately; and by them the greater longevity of females
was made evident.
The work commences with an algebraical theory of an-
nuities-certain; but the principal essay, On the Probabili¬
ties of the Duration of Human Life, is perfectly intelligible
to those who have not studied mathematics. It is written
with great judgment and perspicuity, but contains very
little more than the explanation of the construction of his
tables, some of which relate to tontines; and he did not
avail himself to the extent he might have done, of the ex¬
cellent tract of Thomas Simpson.
This work, however, appears to have been more read
upon the Continent, and to have contributed more to the
dittusion of this kind of information there, than all the other
writings on the subject. The article Rentes Viageres in the
french Encyclopedic is acknowledged to have been taken
entirely from it, as was also the article Vie, duree de la ;
and these are proofs, among many others that might be
221
produced, how little M. d’Alembert and the principal ma- History,
thematicians his contemporaries attended to the subject 1 ~ “
In the year 1752 Mr Simpson published, in his Select
Exercises, a supplement to his doctrine of Annuities;
wherein he gave new tables of the values of annuities on
two joint lives, and on the survivor of two lives, much
more copious than those he had inserted in the principal
work; but these also were calculated from his London
table of mortality.
The celebrated Euler, in a paper inserted in the Me¬
moirs of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Berlin for
the year 1760, gave a formula by which the value of an
annuity on a single life of any age may be derived from
that of an annuity on a life one year older; which formula
was included in that given by Mr Simpson 18 years be¬
fore for effecting the same purpose in the case of any
number of joint lives; and by this compendious method
M. Euler calculated a table of the values of single lives
from M. Kersseboom’s table of mortality.
The first edition of Dr Price’s Observations on Rever¬
sionary Payments was published in 1770, and its chief
object was, to give information to persons desirous of form¬
ing themselves into societies for the purpose of making
provision for themselves in old age, or for their widows.
When tables of the values of single lives, and of two joint
lives, are given, the methods of determining the terms on
which such provisions can be made with safety to all the
parties concerned are very simple, and were at that time
well understood in theory by the mathematicians who had
studied the subject; but, for want of the requisite tables,
the algebraical formulae had till then been of little prac¬
tical utility.
In the prosecution of this laudable design, Dr Price
was obliged to have recourse to approximations. He in¬
forms us, that by following M. de Moivre too implicitly in
his rules for determining the value of two joint lives, he
was led into difficulties which convinced him that they
were not only useless but dangerous: he therefore calcu¬
lated a table of these values upon M. de Moivre’s hypo¬
thesis of the decrements of life being equal, and its utmost
limit 86 years, from a correct formula given by Mr Simp¬
son in his doctrine of Annuities (Cor. 5, Prob. 1). By this,
and a table of the values of single lives, calculated by Mr
Dodson on M. de Moivre’s hypothesis, he was enabled to
give answers tolerably near the truth, to some of the most
interesting questions of this kind, and to show that the
plans of several of the societies then recently established,
were quite inadequate; and instead of the benefits they
promised, could only, in the end, produce disappointment
and distress, unless they either dissolved or reformed
themselves.
The work also contained instructive dissertations on the
probabilities and expectations of life, and on the mean
duration of marriage and of widowhood; besides accounts
of some of the principal societies which had then been
formed for the benefit of old age and of widows, with ob¬
servations on the method of forming tables of mortality
for towns, and two new tables of that kind constructed from
registers kept at Norwich and Northampton. Mr Morgan’s
Doctrine of Annuities and Assurances was published in
1779, containing tables of the values of single lives, of
two equal joint lives, and of two lives differing in age by
60 years, calculated from the Northampton table of mor¬
tality. And in the same year M. de Saint-Cyran pub¬
lished his Calcul des Rentes Viageres sur Une et sur Plu-
sieurs Tetes, wherein the valuation of annuities on lives is
treated algebraically, but in a manner much inferior in all
respects to that of Mr Simpson; and six tables are given
of the values of annuities—on single lives, on the survivor
of two lives, and on the last survivor of three, calculated
222 ANNU
History, from M. Kersseboom’s table of mortality. Although the
values in the cases of two and of three lives were only de¬
termined by approximation, these tables were, just then,
a valuable acquisition to the science; but their use was
entirely superseded only four years after, by the publica¬
tion of others much more valuable.
The fourth edition of Dr Price’s Observations on Rever¬
sionary Payments appeared in 1783. One of the best
effects of the preceding editions on the progress of the
science had been, to direct the public attention to these
inquiries, by showing their important uses in the affairs
of life ; and to procure the requisite data for forming tables
of mortality, that should illustrate the laws according to
which human life wastes under different circumstances, by
exciting the curiosity of intelligent men who had the ne¬
cessary leisure and means of information. The ingenious
author had accordingly been furnished with the neces¬
sary abstracts of mortuary registers which had been kept
with these views, by Dr Haygarth at Chester, Dr Aikin
at Warrington, and the Rev. Mr Gorsuch at Holy-Cross,
near Shrewsbury, since the publication of the first edition ;
also by Mr Wargentin, with the mean numbers both of
the living and the annual deaths in all Sweden and Fin¬
land for 21 successive years; in all of which the sexes
were distinguished; and from these data he constructed
tables of mortality that threw great light on the subject.
He also inserted in this edition an improved table of mor¬
tality for Northampton ; and, what had been so long want¬
ed, a complete set of tables of the values of annuities on
single lives at six rates of interest, and on two joint lives
at four, all calculated from the new Northampton table.
The combinations of joint lives were sufficiently numerous
to admit of all the values not included being easily inter¬
polated. Besides these, he also gave tables of the values
of annuities on single lives from the Swedish observations,
both with and without distinction of the sexes, and on two
joint lives without that distinction.
The values given in these tables are too low for the
general average of lives at all ages under 60; but in the
treatise of Mr Baron Maseres on the Principles of the Doc¬
trine of Life Annuities, which was published in the same
year (1783), others were given, calculated from the table
of mortality which M. Deparcieux constructed from the
lists of the nominees in the French tontines. The tables
for single lives are calculated at twelve different rates of
interest from 2 to 10 per cent, but those for joint lives
only at 31 and 41 per cent.; and the combinations they
include are only those of ages that are equal, or that differ
by^5 or 10 years, and the multiples of 10.
There is reason to believe that the values in these
tables, at all ages under 75 or 80 years, are nearer the
truth, for the average of this country, than any others then
extant; but certainly for the average of lives on which
annuities and reversions depend. After that period of
life, however, they are too small; and, in most cases, it is
difficult to derive the values of joint lives from them with
sufficient accuracy, on account of the contracted scale they
have been calculated upon. J
It was not Dr Price’s object to deliver the elements of
the science systematically; but he treated most parts of
it with great judgment, enriched it with a vast collection
of valuable facts and observations, and corrected several
errors into which some of the most eminent writers upon
it had fallen. The mathematical demonstrations (which
are given in the notes) are much inferior to the rest of
the work.
The values of reversionary sums and annuities, which
depend upon some of the lives involved failing according
to assigned orders of precedency, had been approximated
by Mr Simpson in his Select Exercises, and by Mr Morgan
I T I E S.
in his Doctrine of Annuities ; but the latter gentleman first History,
gave accurate solutions of problems of this kind, in the^-'^v^
Philosophical Transactions for the years 1788, 1789, 1791,
1794, and 1799.
Mr Baily’s Doctrine of Life Annuities and Assurances
was published in 1810. In it the whole subject is treated,
except the construction of tables of mortality, on which
the practical application of all the rest depends. In con¬
sequence of the author having adopted Mr Simpson’s no¬
tation, this work presented a more perspicuous exposition
of the whole theory, especially of the improvements made
in it between the time when Mr Simpson wrote and the
date of its publication, than had previously appeared.
And in an appendix to it, published in 1813, principally
for the purpose of explaining the construction and uses of
tables for determining the values of life-annuities, cal¬
culated at a vast sacrifice of time and labour by Mr
George Barrett, since deceased, formulae were given for
calculating from tables of that kind the values of tempo¬
rary and deferred life-annuities and assurances, and also
for determining the values of annuities and assurances
when the annuity or the sum assured, instead of remain¬
ing alwrays the same, increases or decreases from year to
year by equal differences, with considerably greater fa¬
cility and expedition than the same things could have been
effected with by the tables and methods of calculation in
previous use.
Except by these improvements, and the solution of the
problems above stated to have been first given by Mr
Morgan, which were severely criticised and given anew,
with some amendments besides the important one of the
notation in Mr Baily’s work, the science had not been
materially advanced, during a period of more than 30
years, which had elapsed since the appearance of the
fourth edition of Dr Price’s observations, when Mr Milne
published his Treatise on the Valuation of Annuities and
Assurances on Lives and Survivorships, in the year 1815.
The work consists of two volumes; the first is mathe¬
matical, the second entirely popular, except the notes
and a few of the tables. The algebraical part of this
article is merely a short abstract of the first volume, and
may serve as a specimen of the manner in which the sub¬
ject has been treated there ; but the construction of tables
of mortality, which forms the subject of the third chap¬
ter, has not been noticed here; neither is the valuation
of reversionary sums or annuities depending upon assigned
orders of survivorship treated in the present article; and
these are parts of the work which will not be found the
least interesting to mathematicians.
The second volume contains upwards of 50 new tables,
with a few others that had been published before, but
have been reprinted either on account of their value or
scarcity, or both. Four of the new ones are tables of
mortality constructed by the author, from registers kept
at Carlisle and Montpellier, and in all Sweden and Fin¬
land, since the period of the observations Dr Price made
use of: the sexes are distinguished in the tables for Swe¬
den and Montpellier, but not in that for Carlisle. This
last is the only table, besides those for Sweden and Fin¬
land, applicable to the mass of the people, that has been
formed from the necessary data,—enumerations of the
living, as well as registers of the deaths, in every inter¬
val of age.
Iwenty-one of these tables, being the seventeenth to
the thirty-seventh inclusive, in the collection at the end
of the work, render it easy to apply the algebraical formu¬
lae to practical purposes, and numerous examples of such
applications are given. Ihey have all been calculated
from the Carlisle table of mortality; those of the values
of life-annuities on the same extensive scale with those
A N N U
History, which Dr Price derived from the Northampton table. It
is the author’s opinion that the values of interests de¬
pendent upon the continuance or the failure of life may
be derived from them more correctly than from any others
then extant, and he has taken considerable pains to assist
his readers in judging of this for themselves.
Besides the tables, the principal contents of the second
volume are explanations of their construction and uses.
Many of them relate to the progress of population,—the
comparative mortality of different diseases, of different
seasons,—and of the two sexes at every age, the propor¬
tion of the sexes at birth, and that of the born alive to
the still-born of each sex.
It will be found that the author has collected records
of facts and observations of great value, and that he has
endeavoured to present the information they afford in
the forms best calculated for the further prosecution of
these inquiries.
Mr Gompertz’s Sketch of an Analysis and Notation ap¬
plicable to the estimation of the value of Life Contingencies
was read at a meeting of the Royal Society on the 29th
of June 1820, and printed in the Society’s Transactions for
that year.
The second edition of Mr Morgan’s Principles and Doc¬
trine of Assurances and Annuities on Lives was published
in 1821. The formulas for determining the values of
contingent reversions, first given by the author in the
Philosophical Transactions, as above stated, were in this
second edition substituted for the approximations given in
the first; and it contains tables of the values of annuities
on single and joint lives, calculated from the Northamp¬
ton and Sweden tables of mortality, and taken from Dr
Price’s Observations on Reversionary Payments.
This edition contains nothing new, except a table on
the two last pages, showing the number of persons whose
lives were insured in the Equitable Society, who died of
each disease in each decade of age from 10 years to 80,
and above 80 years of age, during a term of 20 years
commencing with 1801. Also (in the last line of the
table) “ the number assured during the same term” in
each of these intervals of age. The obvious meaning of
this expression would seem to be, the number of persons
on whose lives assurances were effected by the Society during
these 20 years, in each interval of age. This is the sense
in which Mr Babbage understood it, and therefore drew
wrong inferences from it (in his Comparative View of Life
Insurance Institutions, p. 63 and table 13). The late Dr
Young was also misled by it, and appears to have taken
those for the mean numbers of the lives on which the so¬
ciety had policies in force in the several intervals of age
during these 20 years; and thence concluded that during
these 20 years, according to that table, the mean number
of lives of all ages on which the society had policies in
force was more than 150,000, and that only one out of
1500 of them died annually. (Philosophical Transactions,
1826, p. 287.)
Indeed Mr Morgan himself, on the page preceding his
table, stated that it contained an account of all the deaths
which had happened in the society during 20 years,
“ among a population exceeding 150,000 persons.”
It the numbers only in that last line of the table had
been given, without any explanation of them, it would,
upon due consideration, have been conjectured that they
could be no others than the sums of the numbers of lives
insured by the society which were found to be in those
intervals of age at one and the same period in each of
those 20 years; that is, 20 times the mean numbers of
I T I E S. 223
them in the several intervals during the same term. But History
neither of Mr Morgan’s explanations of them would ad-
mit of that construction.1
The present article was first published in the Supple¬
ment to this Encyclopaedia in 1816.
In the article on the Law of Mortality in that Supple¬
ment, which appeared in 1822, it was shown that, accord¬
ing to Mr Morgan’s statement, made at a general court of
the Equitable Society in the year 1800, of the mortality
which had taken place among the lives insured by that
society as compared with the Northampton table, the
mortality among those lives in each decade of age from
10 years to 50 was very nearly the same as in the Car¬
lisle table of mortality; also that, above 50 years of age,
the difference, upon the average, was not great. And
early in 1826 were published Tables of Life Contingencies,
by Mr Davies, and A Comparative View of the various In¬
stitutions for the Assurance of Lives, by Mr Babbage; in
each of which works was given a table of the mortality
which had prevailed among the lives insured in the Equit¬
able Society at all ages above 10 years, constructed from
that statement of Mr Morgan.
Mr Babbage gave also a table of the values of annuities
on single lives of all ages above ten years, derived from
his table of mortality above mentioned; and the inde¬
fatigable Mr Davies gave tables of the values of an¬
nuities on single and joint lives, calculated both from
his table of mortality above mentioned and from the
Northampton table, rather fuller and more complete than
any that had previously been published, except that those
derived from the law of mortality in the Equitable So¬
ciety necessarily included no ages under 10 years. The
values according to the Northampton table were given
only at the rates of 3 and 4< per cent, interest; but Mr
Davies, not content to take them on Dr Price’s authority,
has, like Mr Barrett, calculated them anew, and, as well
as the other values of annuities, has carried them to four
places of decimals. This author’s comprehensive little
book also contains many other tables of the values of an¬
nuities and assurances on lives and survivorships, with
one of the values of policies of assurance, calculated from
the Northampton table of mortality at 3 per cent, inte¬
rest, which, as well as many another single table contained
in it, must have cost him much time and labour; and those
derived from the Northampton table of mortality must be
very valuable to such of the assurance companies as take
that table for their guide in transacting business.
Mr Babbage and Mr Davies also gave formulae and
tables similar to, or not materially different from, those
of Mr Barrett above mentioned, for determining the va¬
lues of temporary and deferred, as well as increasing or
decreasing annuities and assurances on single lives; the
tables of Mr Babbage being derived from his table of
mortality in the Equitable Society, and from the Carlisle
table; that of Mr Davies from the Northampton table of
mortality alone.
Mr Morgan, in the statement on which those tables of
Mr Babbage and Mr Davies were founded, contented him¬
self with the use of two simple digits only, to express the
proportion of the mortality in the Equitable Society to
that in the Northampton table in each decade of age;
and although that gentleman for twenty-five years after
1800, when that statement of the thirty years’ previous
observations was made, continued, in Notes on Dr Price’s
Observations oh Reversionary Payments, and in his ad¬
dresses to the general courts of the Equitable Society,
to state that the proportions still remained the same, the
1 See the note at the end of this Historical Introduction.
224
ANNUITIES.
History, observations extending over a period of fifty-five years, he
/ never gave any statement more full or distinct.
These were but scanty materials certainly to construct a
table of mortality from ; and yet the agreement between
the tables formed from them, and the best of other exist¬
ing tables of mortality, is very remarkable.
A committee of the House of Commons on friendly socie¬
ties having been appointed in 1827, chiefly for the pur¬
pose of inquiring into the law of mortality, and the values
of life-annuities and assurances in this country, the re¬
port of that committee, by bringing the subject prominent¬
ly before the public, and exciting attention to well-esta¬
blished but much neglected results of inquiries into it,
had the effect of correcting to a considerable extent opi¬
nions upon it, taken upon trust without due examination,
and generally diffused. The establishment of many new
assurance companies, and the increasing prevalence of
life-assurance for 15 or 20 years before, by exciting dis¬
cussion and examination of their rates, had also contribut¬
ed to produce that effect. At length the members of the
Equitable Assurance Society, as the period of the decennial
investigation of their affairs in 1829 approached, express¬
ed a desire to avail themselves of the information respect¬
ing the law of mortality in the society which the office
books might afford, for estimating and dividing their pro¬
fits ; and in 1828 Mr Morgan published a pamphlet en¬
titled A View of the Rise and Progress of the Equitable
Society, in which (p. 42) he gave the following “ table of
the decrements of life in the society during the preced¬
ing 12 years.”
TABLE (a).
Died.
Should
have died.
29
106
201
339
426
289
99
68
243
506
545
502
290
94
Age.
20 to 30
30 to 40
40 to 50
50 to 60
60 to 70
70 to 80
80 to 95
Number.
4,720
15,951
27,072
23,307
14,705
5,056
701
In the same place, the author informs his readers that “ in
his former statement (without mentioning which of them)
he was not aware of the great number of instances in
which there were several policies on one and the same
life.’ Also that “the present is, in fact, the only correct
table of the decrements of life in the society.”
In the same pamphlet the author has given a table to
show the law of mortality among the lives insured in the
Equitable Society, founded upon his last statement; also a
table of the expectations of life, and one of the values of
annuities on single lives at three per cent, per annum
interest, both derived from that table of mortality, none
of them including any age under 20 years.
The author of the present article, when preparing this
historical sketch, not clearly understanding the import of
the numbers in the second column of this table (a), nor
the last line in the table of deaths by the different diseases,
given at the end of Mr Morgan’s work on annuities (2d
edit. 1821)—having also some doubts about the statement
made in 1800—wrote to Mr Morgan, and requested the
desired information respecting them, when that gentleman
forwarded him the following:
1. That the second column should have been headed,
“ Number of persons living at the beginning of each year
during the last 12 yearsand the fourth, “ the num¬
ber which should have died, according to the North¬
ampton table.”
2. That as to the table at the end of his treatise on an¬
nuities, he knew the numbers of deaths by the different
diseases to be correct; but “ the numbers in the last
line of that table were those of the policies, which he
had since found greatly to exceed the numbers of the
members'.'
3. Upon his statement of 1800 Mr Morgan made no ob¬
servation.
From the first part of the information thus obtained, it
appears that the number in the second column on any
line in table (a), is twelve times the mean number of
lives in the interval of age set against it, on which the
Equitable Society had policies in force during these 12
years; so that, in a society similar in all other respects,
in which the law of mortality was constantly the same,
and the number of lives in each interval of age was al¬
ways just 12 times as great as in the Equitable during
these 12 years, the population and mortality would be as
in columns 2 and 3 of the following table (b).
Historr.
TABLE (b).
Between
the
Ages of
20 & 30
30 & 40
40 & 50
50 & 60
60 & 70
70 & 80
80 & 95
Totals
Number
constantly
living.
4,720
15,951
27,072
23,307
14,705
5,056
701
91,512
Of whom
die
annually.
29
106
201
339
426
289
99
1489
4
Of whom would die annually accord¬
ing to
_ Mr Morgan’s
Our calculations from calculations
from
Mr Morgan’s
Table of
Mortality in
Equitable
Society.
37
150
337
536
664
460
146
2330
The Northampton Table
of Mortality.
74
299
648
780
726
461
147
3135
68
243
506
545
502
290
94
2248
If our inferences in the 4th and 5th columns of this
table from Mr Morgan’s data in the 2d and 3d be correct,1
neither Mr Morgan’s in the 6th column, nor his table of
mortality, nor consequently those of the expectations and
values of lives above mentioned, can have been accurately
derived from the same data.
But even with these data we have reason to believe
that Mr Morgan is not well satisfied, and that that gentle¬
man has since been able to form a table from much more
unexceptionable documents, which shows the probabilities
1 It may be proper to show here, how our numbers in columns 4 and 5 have been determined. For this purpose we give as an ex¬
ample the manner in which the 2d in col. 5 has been calculated.
Expectation of life at * gggij} number annually attaining that age = j ^g’ggg} number living above {jjjj
The differences are the numbers between 30 and 40 ; 750 dying annually, and 40,068 constantly living.
And 40,068 : 750 :: 15,951 : 299. See article on Law of Mortality.
*
>
ANNUITIES.
225
■Tistory. of life, especially in the latter periods, to be much nearer
^e probabilities of life among mankind in general than he
had previously imagined.
It is satisfactory to find Mr Morgan at last coming into
an opinion, of the truth of which, evidence had previously
been adduced sufficient to convince almost all who at¬
tended to it; and, trusting that he will publish the results
of his latest inquiries on the subject, we shall take no fur¬
ther notice here of the table of the values of annuities
in his pamphlet above mentioned, which, otherwise, we
could not with propriety have avoided.
Mr Morgan (Pamph. p. 42 and 43) asserts that a com¬
parison of columns 3 and 6 of this table (b) affords a
striking proof of the accuracy of the Northampton table ;
but, to judge of that, we consider it is not column 6, but
5, which should be compared with column 3.
In the Transactions of the Cambridge Philosophical So¬
ciety, vol. iii. part 1, are two papers by Mr Lubbock; the
first On the Calculation of Annuities, and on some Ques¬
tions in the Theory of Chances (read May 26, 1828); the
other On the Comparison of various Tables of Annuities
(read March 30, 1829).
In the year 1808 government commenced granting life-
annuities at prices calculated from the Northampton ta¬
ble of mortality, and continued so to grant them for 20
years, at a great loss to the nation, especially when the
lives were young, as was well known at the time to those
who understood the subject; and was mentioned more
than once by the author of the present article, to a very
able and well-informed member of the government, not
long after they commenced granting them. But none
were then granted on lives under 35 years of age ; and
the gentleman alluded to only observed, that the appli¬
cants for annuities were principally aged persons, and it
was desirable that a safe and advantageous mode of em¬
ploying their savings should be afforded them. After the
year 1816 those annuities were granted to persons of all
ages above 21 years.
Although the data necessary for determining the law of
mortality among the people, and the values of pecuniary
interests dependent upon the continuance or the failure of
human life, cannot be obtained without the active concur¬
rence of many persons of influence and authority; yet,
for all the tables containing information of that kind re¬
lative to this country, and published before the year 1829,
the public were indebted to the zeal and industry, and the
separate efforts, of a few individuals.
But in March 1819 Mr Finlaison was appointed by go¬
vernment, with all the aids they could afford him, includ¬
ing proper assistants, and access to the registers of the
nominees in tontines, and others on whose lives annuities
had been granted by government for more than a hundred
years before ; in which registers the exact ages at which
the annuitants were nominated, and those at which they
died, were stated.
Thus the data not otherwise accessible being provided,
and the labour lessened by the number of calculators em¬
ployed—the expense also being defrayed by the public—
at the end of ten years, viz. in March 1829, Mr Finlaison
made a report to the Lords of the Treasury, which was
printed by order of the House of Commons, and, in tables
filling 50 folio pages, shows the rates of mortality, and the
values of annuities on single lives at all ages, among many
different classes of annuitants, both separate and combined;
the sexes being generally distinguished both in exhibiting
the law of mortality and the values of annuities.
These, from the number and accuracy of the data, are
more valuable than any thing of the same kind that had
previously been published; but it is the values of annui¬
ties only which we have to notice here.
VOL. m. ,
The lives on which annuities depend will generally be History,
somewhat better (by which we here mean, will attain to
greater longevity) than the general average of the popu¬
lation, though probably not nearly so much better as many
believe them to be. The prevailing error in the popular
estimate on this subject appears to have arisen in great
measure from comparing the mortality among annuitants
and assured lives, with that represented to take place by
tables of mortality erroneously considered to correspond
with the general average of the people ; while, from be¬
ing constructed on erroneous principles, and from insuffi¬
cient data, or else being derived from observations made
where the mortality was and is much greater than in Bri¬
tain, the mortality according to these tables was consider¬
ably greater than that which actually prevails among the
bulk of the people here. Proofs of this will be found un¬
der the article Law of Mortality.
That the lives on which annuities and assurances de
pend cannot be so very select or so much better than the
common average as has generally been supposed, might
reasonably be expected on these grounds :—
1. As to annuitants.
The lives are not all chosen on account of their pre¬
sumed goodness ; for many persons who have no occasion
to provide for others who may survive them, purchase an¬
nuities on their own lives, only that they may themselves
enjoy the whole benefit of the purchase-money, both
principal and interest, during their lives.
And the greatest recommendation of these lives seems
to be, that they are generally prudent persons, of tempe¬
rate and regular habits.
Many other persons, especially females, spendthrifts,
and faithful servants, enjoy annuities bequeathed to them
by their deceased relatives, masters, or mistresses, as the
most eligible provision for their future comfort and secu¬
rity from want; and there seems little ground to sup¬
pose them to be better lives than the common average of
the same age and sex.
2. In such cases as tontines, where most of the lives
are selected for their presumed goodness, the best crite¬
rion probably is, hereditary longevity in the family of the
nominee; but partiality for their own friends or kindred
often has considerable influence in biassing the judgment
of those who select them.
That they will generally be persons of good constitu¬
tions and regular habits when selected, is all that is like¬
ly to be obtained under these circumstances; and that is
also the case with the average of the population in com¬
fortable circumstances.
Whatever the constitutions and habits of annuitants may
be, the annuities held by them during their own lives, by
protecting them from many of the wants, cares, and anxie¬
ties which the bulk of the people are exposed to, no
doubt contribute to their longevity. But where powerful
motives to raise money by the sale of an annuity on a per¬
son’s own life exist, it is extremely difficult to prevent him
from parting with it, whatever precautions may have been
taken with that view; and with it, he also loses that help
to longevity.
3. Insured lives are also generally supposed to be much
better than the average of the population, as it is incum¬
bent upon the insurance offices to be cautious in select¬
ing them.
But bad lives, by the failure of which persons interested
in them would sustain loss, are most likely to be offered,
and are continually offered, for insurance; and there is
reason to believe that all the caution in selection which
the offices in general can exercise, is necessary to keep
the lives insured up to the average goodness of the bulk
of the population;—supposing always that people in gene-
2 F
ANNUITIES.
226
History, ral of the industrious classes are in prosperous, or at least
in comfortable circumstances. When that is not the case,
as for some years previous to 1830 there is reason to ap¬
prehend it was not in this country, there will be a corre¬
sponding increase in the general mortality, which will not
sensibly affect the general mass of persons on whose lives
annuities and reversions or assurances depend.
In many cases of insurance, the managers who choose
the lives know very little more about them than is stated
by themselves or the medical attendants they refer to,
and frequently they depend much on the reports of their
agents in the country; but where they are in daily ha¬
bits of intercourse with most of the persons whose lives
they insure, or else in habits of intimacy with some who History
are so, they have the means of making a much better se-'^-^vx
lection. That is stated to be the case with one of the
London offices, and in which, accordingly, there is said to
have been observed a remarkably small mortality.
For the reasons assigned above, it appears, that al¬
though lives carefully selected, with the advantage of the
necessary facilities, and unmixed with others, may be con¬
siderably better than the general average, those on which
annuities and assurances are granted are not, on the ave¬
rage, likely to be much better.
This part of the subject is also adverted to at the end
of the article on the Law of Mortality.
The two following Tables, A and B, show the number of Years’ Purchase Annuities on Lives of different ages are
worth in present money, according to More Correct Tables of Mortality.
TABLE A.
Without distinction of Sex.
RATE OF INTEREST FOUR PER CENT. PER ANNUM.
Column
Description
of
Lives.
Observations began...
Ended 
Years’ duration 
Greatest number of j
lives J
Mean number 
Number of deaths...
Table of Mortality!
published in J
Constructed by 
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
a
Nominees in
the French
Tontines.
1690
1742
50
9260 +
5293=!=
7933 +
1746.
Deparcieux,
19-008
18-502
17-938
17-420
16-810
16-084
15-133
13-904
12-526
11-173
9-713
8-039
6-394
4-945
Population of
Carlisle and
1779
1787
9
10,517 +
8177
1840
1815.
Milne.
19-585
18-956
18-363
17-645
16-852
16-041
15-074
14-104
12-869
11-300
9-663
8-307
6-709
5-239
Equitable
Assurance
Society.
1770
1800
30
6344 +
2522 =b
1220=+=
1827.
Davies.
19-647
18-944
18-242
17-494
16-701
15-867
14-939
13-845
12-599
11-349
10-052
8-635
7-167
5-670
/
Nominees in English Tontines.
Selected by
Contributors.
1789
1826
37
3518
2860=!=
1315
Chosen
by Lot.
1789
1826
37
4831
3920=+=
1823
The two last
together.
1789
1826
37
8349
6780:
3138
1829.
Finlaison.
19-167
18-475
18-011
17-526
16-889
16-098
15-195
14-061
12-671
19-068
18-422
17-946
17-530
16-925
16-099
15-124
13-985
12-528
The numbers for
the two classes sepa¬
rately were deemed
insufficient at these
ages.
19-118
18-448
17-979
17-528
16-907
16-099
15-160
14-023
12-599
11-163
9-772
8-308
6-729
5-122
Various
combined
1773
1826
53
18,798
15,459:
6,679
19-242
18-532
17-954
17-534
16-995
16-314
15-516
14-533
13-295
11-915
10-491
8-896
7-316
5-837
h
Population of
Sweden and
Finland.
1755
1776
21
4,051,116
2,310,160
1,401,989
1783.
Price.
18-891
18-336
17-603
16-839
16-006
15-138
14-034
12-959
11-658
10-320
8-789
7-328
5-783
4-534
First
English
Tontine.
1693
1783
90
1002
501:
1002
1829.
Finlaison.
17-128
16-207
15-349
14-976
14-624
14-023
13-193
12-199
11-183
10-141
8-836
7-342
5-823
4-456
>
ANNUITIES.
fistory.
TABLE B.
The Sexes distinguished.
RATE OF INTEREST FOUR PER CENT.
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
GO
65
70
75
Sweden and Finland,
1755-17G6.
Dr Price.
d
f
British Tontines and Annuities,
1773-1826.
Mr Finlaison.
Male.
18*674
18*105
17*335
16*592
15*751
14*812
13*668
12*535
11*267
9*998
8*540
7*090
5*670
4*487
Female.
19*109
18*568
17*872
17*087
16*261
15*465
14*401
13*383
12*049
10*642
9*039
7*566
5*897
4*582
Excess in Value
of a Female
above a Male Life.
0*435
0*463
0*537
0*495
0*510
0*653
0*733
0*848
0*782
0*644
0*499
0*476
0*227
0*095
0*919
1*055
1*318
1*187
1*102
1*131
1*281
1*471
1*731
1*751
1*540
1*361
1*083
0*854
Male.
18*782
18*004
17*295
16*940
16*444
15*749
14*875
13*798
12*430
11*039
9*721
8*216
6*775
5*410
Female.
19*701
19*059
18*613
18*127
17*546
16*880
16*156
15*269
14*161
12*790
11*261
9*577
7*858
6*264
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
The three following Tables, M, N, and O, sh,ow the Values of Annuities on Lives, according to Less Correct Tables of
Mortality.—All without Distinction of Sex.
M.
N.
O.
rate of interest four per cent.
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
a
London
Bills,
1742.
Simpson.
16*4
15*8
14*8
14*0
13*1
12*3
11*5
10*8
10*1
9*3
8*4
7*5
6*5
5*4
Demoivre’s
Hypothesis,
' 1753.
Dodson.
16*882
16*410
15*891
15*318
14*684
13*979
13*196
12*322
11*344
10*248
9-017
7*631
6*065
4*293
Northampton
Table,
1783.
Price.
17*523
16*791
16*033
15*438
14*781
14*039
13*197
12*283
11*264
10*201
9*039
7*761
6*361
4*962
d
Mort. llegrs.
in France,
1806.
Duvillard.
17*882
17*154
16*442
15*747
15-021
14*214
13*286
12*218
11*026
9*709
8*342
6*965
5*635
4-420
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
FIVE per cent.
12 country and 3
Parisian Parishes,
D79- Duprd and
Age. St Cyran.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
15*40
14*82
14*15
13*59
12*96
12*32
11*72
11*05
10*15
8*93
7*73
6*73
5*74
4*59
Northampton
Table,
1783.
Dr Price.
15.139
14*588
14*007
13*567
13*07-2
12*502
11*837
11*105
10*269
9*382
8*392
7*276
6*023
4*744
SIX per cent.
a
Breslaw
Bills,
1693.
Halley.
13*44
13*33
12*78
12*27
11*72
11*12
10*57
9*91
9*21
8-51
7*60
6*54
5*32
Demoivre’s
Hypothesis,
1753.
Dodson.
12*839
12*586
12*301
11*978
11*610
11*189
10*704
10*144
9*492
8*729
’ 7*831
6;770
5&08
4*000
Northampton
Table,
1783.
Price.
13*285
12*857
12*398
12*063
11*682
11*236
10*705
10*110
9*417
8*670
7*820
6*841
5*716
4*542
Age.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
228
History.
ANNUITIES.
Explanation of Table A.
The sign (-|-) after the number of lives and of deaths
in column a signifies that the real number was greater
than is there stated. Those stated were the numbers of
the nominees in the two tontines which commenced in
1689 and 1696, the particulars of which have been given
by M. Deparcieux; but he also made all the use he could
of the tontine which commenced in 1734 (less than eight
years before his observations terminated), without stating
any of the numbers in his essay. And whatever may
have been the whole number of nominees, or of their
deaths, which he availed himself of in this tontine, M.
Deparcieux’s observations were actually made on so many
more than 9260 nominees, and 7933 deaths, among them.
The number of persons living in the two Carlisle pa¬
rishes at the end of the observations was 8677; but be¬
sides them, the observations were made upon the 1840
persons who died in the place in the term of nine years
during which they were continued; and these numbers
together amount to 10,517, the greatest number stated in
column b. But the real number the observations were
made upon was greater still, by the number who left the
place and did not return during the observations, which
is the reason of the mark ( + ) being put after 10,517 in
column b.
For information respecting the number of lives insured,
and of deaths, in the Equitable Assurance Society, given
at the head of column c, the reader is referred to the note
at the end of this historical introduction.
The better to enable the reader to judge of the compa¬
rative extent of the observations made upon the nominees
in tontines, and other annuitants, by M. Deparcieux and
Mr Finlaison, and of those made upon the population of
the two Carlisle parishes, the lives insured in the Equi¬
table Society, and the population of Sweden and Finland,
the mean number of living annuitants has been assumed
to have been an arithmetical mean proportional between
the numbers of them at the commencement and at the end
of the term, which can only be precisely true if they died
off by equal numbers in equal times ; and that is the
reason why the double sign (=tz) has been placed after
the mean number of the nominees or other annuitants in
each column. Thus 2860=h: in column d shows that the
mean number of living nominees of that description was
2860 wore or Zess. Ihe deviation from precision in this
case is of no importance.
The values in column a have been taken from the work
on Annuities of Mr Baron Maseres; those in columns d
and e from Mr Finlaison’s report (obs. 4 and 5); that in
column f at each age to 50 inclusive is a mean between
those m columns d and e;—after 50 they are taken from
Mr Tmlaisons 5th observation. The value in column q
at each age is a mean between the two against the same
age in columns e and/of table B; the values in column i
are from Mr hinlaison’s first observation.
Of Table B.
♦u TonIalUe! '10 v0lTnS e and / have been taken from
tne ^Otti and 13th observations respectively in Mr Fin
laison’s report, and were calculated from the rates of
mortality for the two sexes, which have been adopted for
use by government.
They were deduced from observations on the mortality
among the nominees in the three Irish tontines which
commenced in 1773, 1775, and 1778 respectivelv, on the
tontine of 1789, and those of the sinking fund from 1808
to 1822.
It will be observed that the excess of the value of an
annuity on a female life above that of a male is, accordino-
to the table for Sweden, in many cases not half, and in Historv
some less than one third as much as according to Mr'^^v\
Finlaison’s, derived from the government annuitants. The
cause of this cannot but be an object of interest, and de¬
serves further investigation. It may arise in great mea¬
sure from the ages of many females being stated below
the truth in the Swedish returns, while they were accu¬
rately ascertained among the government annuitants.
Of Tables M, N, and O.
The values according to Demoivre’s hypothesis were
taken from Dodson’s Mathematical Repository (vol. ii. p.
169); those in column d of table M, founded upon Duvil-
lard’s table of mortality for France before the Revolution,
published in his work on the Mortality from Small-Pox
(4to, Paris, 1806), were taken from The Doctrine of Com¬
pound Interest by M. Corbaux (8vo, London, 1825); the
values according to Dupre and St Cyran from the Cal-
culs des Rentes Viageres of the latter.
The authorities for the rest appear sufficiently from the
preceding historical sketch.
The values of annuities according to M. Kersseboom’s
table of mortality are not given here, that table being of
doubtful character, as he neither published the whole of
the data from which he formed it, nor explained the man¬
ner of its construction.
It would have been desirable to include the values ac¬
cording to the tables of Dr Halley for Breslaw, and Dupre
de St Maur for the Parisian and French country parishes
in table M; but as the values of annuities have not been
calculated from these tables at four per cent., we have
added tables N and O, and have given in each of them the
values from the Northampton table, with the view of fa¬
cilitating the comparison of the values in N and O with
those in M and A.
Observations on the above Tables.
All the tables of mortality from which the values of an¬
nuities in tables M, N, and O, have been deduced, were
calculated from bills of mortality alone of places where the
population was variable, and the numbers of the people at
the different ages were not ascertained. And therefore,
notwithstanding the attempts to supply their defects,
which were made by the eminent mathematicians who
constructed them, none of them represented truly the laws
of mortality in the places where the respective obser¬
vations were made; as will be evident to those who un¬
derstand the article on the Law of Mortality in this work,
and pay the necessary attention to the materials and man¬
ner of construction of those tables. Consequently the va¬
lues ot annuities derived from them cannot be correct,
but will in general be considerably less than the truth,
even for the general average of the whole population of
the places in which the observations were made.
But those values of annuities are also objectionable on
this ground—that the places they were intended for, and
understood to be adapted to, were generally populous
towns, containing a large proportion of poor persons de¬
pendent upon their daily labour for their supply of food
from day to day, often with little forethought, and many
of them engaged in unwholesome employments, amongst
whom great distress is often endured by the comparatively
high prices of bread and potatoes, or the low rate of wages,
when the unwholesome and scanty food they are reduced
to produces typhus fever, and sometimes the dysentery
among them, which carry them off in great numbers.
And these visitations were much more common at the
times when the observations were made from which most
of those tables were constructed, than they have been of
late years.
ANNUITIES.
229
History.
, _ None of those causes of mortality operate sensibly upon had not been able to dispose of, for an annuity-certain History,
the general average of those persons upon whose lives payable during 69^ years. Ar,,i ; .u _
leases or annuities, and reversions or assurances, depend,
, , _ , . And in order that those who'
had taken shares, and fixed upon their nominees in the
they being generally in thehigher and middle classes, tontine, might be placed in the‘same situation‘wkh recard
Neither do they produce much eftect among the more de- to the benefit of survivorship as if the scheme had com
serving persons in the lower class, such as the members pletely succeeded, this act empowered the commissioners
of friendly societies, and others who are both industrious of the treasury to select tontine nominees for the ex-
and frugal enough to live within their incomes; nor in- changedshares,ftom the Peers of Great Britain and Ireland
deed upon any who are in comfortable circumstances. their children or grandchildren ; baronets, lords of manors
Hence it follows that the values of life-annuities, and, justices of the peace in England and Wales, or their chil
consequently, those of any pecuniary interests dependent dren ; the dignitaries of the church or beneficed clerqu fd-
upon the continuance or the failure of human life, cannot ~'77  ■'7-    ^ -1 ^ ^ -
be correctly determined from observations made on a
whole population similar to those of the places these
tables were constructed from.
But this was not distinctly seen till of late years, and
appears to be very imperfectly understood at present (in
the year 1830), even by some who might be expected to
possess correct information on the subject.
The tables constructed by Dr Price, both from the
Swedish observations, and those made by Dr Haygarth at
Chester, threw valuable light on this subject. But defi¬
cient crops in Sweden operate powerfully in raising the
mortality there, in comparison with the more fruitful parts
lows of colleges, the governors of the Charter House, the
Foundling Hospital, or Christ's Hospital, and those who
were registered in the books of the Amicable Life Assurance
Society.
The commissioners of the treasury were to distribute
their nominees into six classes according to their ages, in
proportion to the nominees of the contributors in the same
classes. Tickets with the names of the nominees were
then to be put into six boxes, set apart for the respective
classes, and drawn out till a sufficient number to complete
the tontine was obtained for each class. All of which was
performed accordingly.
_ . _ 4 The values of annuities on the lives chosen by the con-
of Europe; therefore, the values of annuities copied into tributors are given in col. d, on those thus drawn by lot
table B, and col. h of table A, from Dr Price’s work, must in col. e, and the two combined in col./
only be understood as sufficiently correct for the period Thus it appears that, of the lives in col. e, there was no
and place in which the observations were made. And the selection except their being taken from the descriptions
Chester table is in some degree liable to the same objec- of persons above mentioned, who were all in the upper or
tions as the others above mentioned. middle classes of society. But, as might have been anti-
On Table A cipated, a considerable majority of female lives were chosen
by the contributors, and a considerable majority of males
For nearly 70 years after its publication, M. Depar- were drawrn by the commissioners of the treasury, the
cieux’s table, from which the values given in col. a of descriptions of persons they were restricted to, consisting
table A were derived, was the only one from which the principally of males.
values of life-interests and of reversions depending upon
lives could be determined with considerable accuracy.
But the comparatively high values of annuities according
to that table were always supposed to arise from the care¬
ful selection of the lives; notwithstanding that they were
almost all inhabitants of Paris and its environs.1 At that
time (1689-1696) the Parisians were much worse lives
than during the last 50 years, and a judicious selection
was much less likely to be made then than now.
It is to be regretted that the Carlisle observations were
only continued nine years, commencing with 1779; but
the less so since Mr Milne has shown in his work on an¬
nuities (p. 429), that during the term of 22 years com¬
mencing with 1779, the proportion of the annual average
number of deaths to the mean number of the people was
the same as in these first nine years, viz. that of 1 to 40.
In comparing the values in column cof table A with the
It will be observed that the values in columns d and e
agree very nearly:—they would probably have agreed
better still had the proportion of the two sexes been the
same in both.
And this shows how little advantage the contributors
derived from choosing their nominees, beyond what was
secured to them by the classes of society they were se¬
lected from.
The values of annuities in column i are much less than
in any other of table A; they are even less than those de¬
rived from the Northampton table of mortality.
But it would be equally precipitate and unphilosophical
to conclude from thence, without further investigation,
that the bulk of the people of England 100 years ago
were so much shorter lived than they are now.
That the prolongation of life among the bulk of the
population, from and after every age, has been very con-
rest, it should be borne in mind that a great majority of siderable during the last century, no unprejudiced person
insured lives are males, on which account the values are
somewhat lower, especially from 15 to 55 years of age,
than they would have been had there been nearly equal
numbers of both sexes.
Columns d and e are very instructive. In the session
of 1789, an act (29 Geo. III. cap. 41) was passed for raising
the sum ot L.1,002,500 by the sale of shares in a tontine ;
but the scheme did not succeed, the persons who in the
first instance had taken the whole of the shares with the
expectation ot selling them at a profit not having been able
to dispose of half of them ; and to afford those persons re¬
lief, an act (30 Geo. III. cap. 45) was passed in the next
session, allowing them, before the 20th September of that
year (1790), to exchange each of the tontine shares they
who has paid sufficient attention to the subject to qualify
himself for judging of it can entertain a doubt; or that
it has also been somewhat lengthened among the upper
and middle classes of society; but not nearly to the extent
which a comparison of columns g and i of table A would
seem to imply.
There is certainly no rational ground for supposing that
the physical constitution of man has altered : any change
that has taken place can only have been produced by
changes in the habits of the people, and the circumstances
in which they have been placed.
All this might have been reasonably concluded in the
absence of further information; but an examination of
the circumstances under which the tontine of 1693 was
1 As M. Deparcieux states in his Essai, p 62.
230
ANNUITIES.
History- formed, and of the first observation in Mr Finlaison’s re-
port, from which the values in col. i have been deduced,
will confirm it.
In that year, the same in which Dr Halley’s paper on
the Breslaw Bills was published in the Philosophical
Transactions, this branch of knowledge was in its infancy.
By the 22d section of the act (4 William and Mary, cap.
3) for raising a million of money by the sale of shares in
this tontine, it was enacted that, if the sale of the tontine
shares did not produce the whole sum wanted by the first
of May 1693, then between that day and the 29th Sep¬
tember following, for any sum contributed towards the
completion of the million, the contributor should receive
14 per cent, per annum on such sum during the life of
any person he might choose to nominate; the common
interest of money at that time being f> per cent.per annum.
And by an act passed in the next session (5 William and
Mary, cap. 5), the term for granting annuities on these
terms, and for the same purpose, was extended to the 1st
of May 1694. This was selling annuities at half their true
value.
The age of a nominee is never mentioned in either of
these acts, and those in the tontine were not distinguish¬
ed into classes. These things were, at the same time,
managed better in France.
Even Dr Halley was not aware of the greater mortality
of males, and the consequent greater proportion of females
in the population, as appears by his paper above mention¬
ed ; for after calculating from his table of mortality the
number of inhabitants in Breslaw between 18 and 56
years of age to be 18,053, he says, “ at least one half of
these are males.”
The contributors to the tontine could not be expected
to be better informed on these subjects than the parlia¬
ment and Dr Halley; and, with respect to ages and sexes,
the following appears by Mr Finlaison’s statement to have
been their selection of nominees.
ations, and upon their moral conduct: all oi which must History,
be very uncertain, and difficult to judge of at such early
ages.
It is not improbable, too, that, on account of their
beauty and healthy appearance, many children of scrofu¬
lous constitutions were selected ; and they, on an average,
would be short-lived.
It is probable that a great majority of the contributors,
and therefore of their nominees, resided in London or
other large and crowded towns, which have always been
peculiarly unfavourable to the health of children, but
were much more so then than they are now.
All circumstances considered, there appears sufficient
evidence to show that the mortality among these nomi¬
nees must have been much greater than among the general
average of selected lives, or the general average of the
people in comfortable circumstances at that time ; and that,
if the nominees in the English tontine of 1693 had been
distributed into classes according to their ages, and a larger
annuity for the same purchase-money had been allowed
to the older classes, always with benefit of survivorship,
the lives would have been more judiciously chosen, and
would not probably have differed materially from the no¬
minees in the French tontines of 1689 and 1696, which
M. Deparcieux’s observations were made upon,—they, it
has been shown, were but little inferior In goodness to our
present annuitants and insured lives.
The values of annuities on single lives given in Mr Fin¬
laison’s report are only specimens at one rate of interest
of the results of calculations made at several rates. And
extensive calculations have also been made at the Go¬
vernment Life-Annuity Office, of the values of annuities
on two and on three joint lives, with distinction of the
sexes. But none of these have been published, nor do
they now (in July 1830) at that office grant any annuity
depending upon more than one life, nor expect to do so
for two or three years to come.
Aged.
Number of
Males.
Under 6 
Between 6 and 11.
Under 11 
Between 11 and 16.
Under 16  
Between 16 and 21.
Under 21 
Above that age,
Total.
178
178
356
119
475
49
524
70
594
Females.
113
118
231
96
327
39
366
42
408
Both.
291
296
587
215
802
88
890
112
1002
In the absence of better information, it would seem
reasonable to conclude that the younger a life was, the
longer it would be likely to last; and accordingly we find
that more than half the lives were under 11 years of a(re
at the time of their nomination. And as males are more
robust than females, it was also natural to conclude that
a less rate of mortality would prevail among them; and
accordingly three fifths of the nominees were males/
But subsequent observations have shown that, in both
instances, the contributors made a bad choice.
Besides, of all the nominees, only one ninth had com¬
pleted their 21st year at the time of their nomination.
Not only the constitutions of these young nominees were
not then fully formed or developed, but the mortality
among them would depend greatly upon their destiny in
after-life, or the circumstances of their respective situ-
In this country, cases are continually occurring, in
which an equitable adjustment of the rights and interests
of different parties in property depending upon the conti¬
nuance or the failure of human life, is of great impor¬
tance ; and in many cases it cannot be made with suffi¬
cient accuracy without tables of the values of all possible
combinations of two and even of three joint lives of differ¬
ent ages and of both sexes. But not unfrequently, espe¬
cially in cases of contingent reversions, we have been hi¬
therto, and are still, obliged to use approximations to the
values of all the possible comoinations of the lives involved,
not only with each other, but also of them with others one
year younger than each of them respectively. In these
cases it sometimes happens that the whole value sought,
being but a small part of a year’s purchase, is less than
the probable error of several of these approximations
considered separately; and then it is very difficult to
give with confidence even a near approximation to the
value sought.
But in a great many other cases of frequent occurrence
and less difficulty, the want of a complete set of good
tables of this kind is much felt. It is therefore highly
desirable that, numerous calculations for them having
been made at the expense of the public, they should be
completed at the public expense, and rendered accessible
to persons having occasion to use them; by printing, if
the expense would not be too great; otherwise, by hav¬
ing several manuscript copies accurately made, and depo¬
sited in convenient places for inspection, upon payment
of a small fee.
A few writers on these subjects, of late years, have
employed the differential and integral calculus in theii in-
Hl6t^Z!y VeSt‘gat'0nS* We liave n0t 7et seen any fruits of this
application of the calculus which appear to us of much va¬
lue, nor are we at all sanguine in expecting any.
Although Lambert and Duvillard had made some efforts
in this way before, Laplace (in his Theor. Anal, des
Probabilites, No. 40) was the principal writer who thus
treated the subject, and that very shortly, merely touch¬
ing upon the elements. He arrived in the usual manner
at the same formulas that are given in the elementary al¬
gebraic method, and are here demonstrated by common
arithmetic; only expressed in the manner of the higher
calculus, in terms of the absciss and ordinate of the curve
of mortality, both considered as variable quantities.
He judiciously observed that the integral might be
obtained in every case by calculating all its terms from a
table of mortality, and taking their sum; and that in this
manner tables of the values of annuities on single and
joint lives might be calculated; which is only reverting
to the usual method.
But he also observed that the same thing might be
effected by describing a parabolic curve through the ver¬
tices of the two extreme and several intermediate ordi¬
nates of the curve of mortality, and even that a few of
these would be sufficient, since the differences between
the different tables of mortality would justify us in con¬
sidering that method to be equally exact with those tables
themselves. And in this we should entirely concur with
that profound mathematician, provided we could admit
that those tables, or most of them, had equal titles to
our confidence, which he appears tacitly to assume.
But here it is that M. Laplace appears to us to have
fallen into the same error as most others respecting those
tables of mortality, from not having paid sufficient0atten¬
tion to the data they were constructed from, and the man¬
ner of their construction.
After what has been advanced in this article, and in that
on the Law of Mortality in this work, we think it quite
annuities.
t0.Siay 710re here’ than that we consider it an
established truth, that tables of mortality well construct-'
ProPer dfa>for determining the values of annuities
If irn f°n!’ w n°} dlffer materially from each other.
, “7. Per(eCt fata for constructing a table of mortality
be obtamed, and any one already constructed, or the mean
of severa! of them be taken as a pattern or standard to
which it is desired that the new table should approach
it will not be difficult, by the known methods of approxi¬
mation and interpolation, so to construct such new table
that it shall not differ much from the standard; but such
new table, being in a certain degree hypothetical, can be
of little or no value.
According to the usual methods of treating these sub¬
jects, and constructing accurate tables, we never depart
from the observations, but are supported by them at every
step: our clear and simple methods of reasoning and cal¬
culation are much superior to the data we can obtain:
proper data are alone wanting to further the science at
present; government only can effectually supply them,
and all who take any interest in these subjects must be
giieved to find that there is little or no hope of assistance
from that quarter. Even if a wiser course be adopted in
future, 20 years more must elapse before we can reap
the benefit of it.
I his is not the proper place to enter further into that
part of the subject; but to those who take an interest in
it, we would recommend the perusal of the minutes of
evidence taken before the committee on the population
bill, ordered by the House of Commons to be printed 11th
May 1830 ; and the minutes of the committee on the re¬
committed bill, printed 26th May 1830; especially, in the
latter, Mr Milne’s letter to Mr Davies Gilbert, the chair¬
man, in answer to an application made to him for his opi¬
nion, with Mr Rickman’s marginal notes on that letter,
and his observations on it in his letter to the chairman,
which Mr Milne knew nothing of till the bill was passed.
NOTE REFERRED TO IN TWO PLACES ABOVE.
According to Mr Morgan’s statements in the places here referred to, the number of members, or of assurances,
or of policies, found to be in the Equitable Assurance Society, was—
At the end of the year Reference to Mr Morgan’s Statement.
y 564 Policies View of Rise and Progress, &c. p. 10.
1770 490 Policies Ditto ditto.
l77^ 500 + Members Ditto p. 27.
1773 734 Members Address of 7th March 1793 p. 118.1
.913 Policies Ditto of 24th April 1800 p. 140.
1608 Members Ditto of 7th March 1793 p. 118.
1786 2100-{-Members Ditto of 24th April 1800 p. 140.
1792 4040 Assurances View of Rise and Progress, &c. p. 24.
I799 5124 Members Ditto   p. 26.
From which we infer, that if, at the end of each year,
1776.
1783.
beginning with 1770, and ending with 1799, the number
had been taken, the sum of all the 30 would have been
75,664, and the mean number during these 30 years 2522.
In a note on p. 443, vol. ii. of Dr Price’s Obs. on Rev.
Paym. (7th edit.), Mr Morgan states, that during 33 years,
from January 1768 to January 1801, the number of as¬
surances on single lives had been 83,201; but this great
number can only be the sum of the 33 annual numbers as
above mentioned, and the mean of these will be 2521.
. What we wish to know is, the mean number of lives
insured on which policies were in force during the obser¬
vations ; but that Mr Morgan never mentions. As more
policies than one are not unfrequently granted for so many
distinct assurances on the same life, neither the number of
policies nor of assurances will answer our purpose ; neither
will the number of members, for if a policy be granted to
A for insurance on the life of B, A is the member of the
society, and not B, who is only the life assured, and several
other members besides A may insure the life of B, while
A may also hold more policies than one insuring B’s life.
As has been already observed, Mr Morgan has repeated¬
ly stated that the rate of mortality in the Equitable Society
has always continued the same. And by tables a and b it
appears, that out of 91,512 living persons in a similar
society above 20 years of age, 1489 would die annually ;
also, in the table at the end of Mr Morgan’s annuities
(2d ed.), it is stated, that during the first 20 years of the
19th century, 1923 of the lives assured in the society died
above 20 years of age ; but 1489 :1923 :: 91,512:118,185,
so that this last is the number of lives in a similar society,
out of which these 1923 deaths would happen in one year.
231
History.
1 1 hese addresses are printed at the end of the deed of settlement of the society, for the use of the members : the copy quoted from
was printed in 1801.
232
ANNUITIES.
History. Then supposing, what is probably near the truth, that
under 10 years of age the number of policies was the same
as that of the lives insured, we shall have, by the state¬
ment last mentioned,
Between 10 and 20 years of age
Above 20
Above 10 years of age
Number of
Lives.
Number of
Annual
Deaths.
1,494
118,185
119,679
7
1923
1930
And
119,679
20 “
5984 is the mean number above 10.
That is, a population falling short of 6000, instead of ex¬
ceeding 150,000, as stated by Mr Morgan.
But by the table above mentioned in Mr Morgan’s work
on annuities, and the explanations of it given above, it ap¬
pears that by 151,754 policies in force in the society,
119,679 lives were insured ;
and 119,679 :151,754 :: 7 : 9 nearly (more nearly:: 11:14).
So that the number of lives was to that of the policies
as 7 to 9 nearly, during the twenty years ending with
1820
On p. 61 of his pamphlet On the Rise and Progress of History,
the Equitable Society, Mr Morgan states the proportion in
1827 to have been that of 3 to 4 nearly; and from an¬
other statement of his in a note on p. 42 of the same
pamphlet, it would appear to have been that of 5 to 6
during the 12 years ending with 1827. The proportion
above stated is nearly a mean between these two.
Taking the mean number of lives on which assurances
were in force in the Equitable Society during the last 30
years of the eighteenth century to have been 2522, as de¬
termined above ; since 119,679 : 2522 : : 1930 : 40‘671,
this last is the annual average number of deaths in the
society during these 30 years; therefore the whole num¬
ber of them must have been 1220, which being added to
5124, the greatest number living at any one time during
the term (that is, at the end of 1799, as stated above), the
sum is 6344. And the greatest number of lives on which
Mr Morgan’s observations were made during that term
must have exceeded this, by the number who went out of
the society by sale or forfeiture of the assurances, or by
the expiration of the limited terms some of them were
granted for, and did not enter it again; wherefore the
sign (+ ) is added as before in table A.
In treating of Annuities, we think that it may be useful in a work of this kind to address ourselves as well to those
readers who have not, as to those who have, an acquaintance with Algebra ; and we shall accordingly divide what
follows into two Parts, corresponding to these two views of the subject.
PART I.
We shall in this Part demonstrate all that is most use¬
ful and important in the doctrine of annuities and assur¬
ances on lives, without using algebra or introducing the
idea of probability ; but the reader is of course supposed
to understand common arithmetic. In the first 30 num¬
bers of this Part, compound interest and annuities-certain
are treated of; from the 31st to the 76th the doctrine of
annuities on lives is delivered ; and that of assurances on
lives from thence to the 108th, where the popular view
terminates.
What is demonstrated in this Part will be sufficient to
give the reader clear and scientific views of the subjects
treated, and, with the assistance of the necessary tables,
will enable him to solve the more common and simple pro-
blems respecting the values of annuities and assurances.
He will also understand clearly the general principles on
which problems of greater difficulty are resolved; but
these he cannot undertake with propriety when the ob¬
ject is to make a fair valuation of any claims or interests,
with a view to an equitable distribution of property, un-
ess he has studied the subject carefully, wdth the assist¬
ance of algebra; for intricate problems of this kind can
hardly be solved without it; and those who are not much
exercised in such inquiries often think they have arrived
at a complete solution, while they have overlooked some
circumstance or event, or some possible combination of
events or circumstances, which materially affects the value
sought. Eminent mathematicians have in this way fallen
into considerable errors, and it can hardly be doubted
that those who are not mathematicians must (cceteris pa¬
ribus) be more liable to them. ^
I.—On Annuities-Certain.
. N°* h When jhe. rate is 5 per cent., L.l improved at
simple interest during one year will amount to L 1-05 •
which, improved in the same manner during the second
year, will be augmented in the same ratio of 1 to 1-05 •
the amount then will therefore be P05 X P05 or
= M025. ’ K >
In the same manner it appears that this last amount,
improved at interest during the third year, will be increas¬
ed to (1*05)3 rz 1T57625 ; at the end of the fourth year
it will be (1*05)4; at the end of the fifth (P05)5, and so
on ; the amount at the end of any number of years being
always determined by raising the number which expresses
the amount at the end of the first year to the power of
which the exponent is the number of years. So that when
the rate of interest is 5 per cent., L.l improved at com¬
pound interest will in seven years amount to (1-05)7, and
in 21 years to (P05)21.
But if the rate of interest were only 3 per cent., these
amounts would only be (1-03)7 and (1-03)21 respectively.
2. The present value of L.l to be received certainly at
the end of any assigned term, is such a less sum as, be¬
ing improved at compound interest during the term, will
just amount to one pound. It must therefore be less than
L.l, in the same ratio as L.l is less than its amount in
that time; but in three years at 5 per cent. L.l will
amount to L.(l-U5)d (1).
so that
(1-05)3’
(l-05)3~ 1-157625 =: ®‘863838 is the present
value of L.l to be received at the expiration of three
years.
In the same manner it appears that, at 4joe7- cent, inter¬
est, the present value of L.l to be received at the end of
a year is =r 0-961538; and if it were not to be re¬
ceived until the expiration of 21 years, its present value
W°Uld be (LOi)2! = (0-961538)21 = 0-438834.
Hence it appears, that if unit be divided by the amount
o . improved at compound interest during any num¬
ber of years, the quotient will be the present value of L.l
to be received at the expiration of the term; which may
also be obtained by raising the number which expresses
^rpr.es<:?t Va ue of k'1 receivable at the expiration of a
year, to the power of which the exponent is the number
of years in the term.
ANNUITIES.
opular 3. When a certain sum of money is receivable annual-
View. iy, jt js ca]]e(j an Annuity, and its quantum is expressed
by saying it is an annuity of so much; thus, according as
the annual payment is L.l, L.10, or L.100, it is called an
annuity of L.l, of L.10, or of L.100.
4. When the annual payment does not depend upon
any contingent event, but is to be made certainly, either
in perpetuity or during an assigned term, it is called an
Annuity-certain.
5. In calculating the value of an annuity, the first pay¬
ment is always considered to be made at the end of the
first year from the time of the valuation, unless the con¬
trary be expressly stated.
6. The whole number, and part or parts of one annual
payment of an annuity, which all the future payments are
worth in present money, is called the number of years
purchase the annuity is worth, and, being the sum of the
present values of all the future payments, is also the sum
which, being put out and improved at compound interest,
will just suffice for the payment of the annuity. (2.)
7. Hence it follows, that when the annuity is L.l, the
number of years’ purchase and parts of a year is the same
as the number of pounds and parts of a pound in its pre¬
sent value.
And throughout this article, whenever the quantum of
an annuity is not mentioned, it is to be understood to be
233
10. The calculation must begin with Table III., the Popular
first number in which should evidently be 1*05, the View-
amount of L.1 improved at interest during one 3'ear, which
being multiplied by L05, the product is L025, the second
number. Ihis second number being multiplied by L05,
the product is 1T57625, the amount at the end of three
years. And so the calculation proceeds throughout the
whole of the column; each number after the first being
the product of the multiplication of the preceding number,
by the amount of L.l in a year. (1.)
11. The number against any year in Table I. is found
by dividing unit by the number against the same year in
Table III. (2); thus, the number against the term of six
years in Table I. is ^340096 = *746215. All the numbers
in that table after the first may also be found by multi¬
plying that first number continually into itself. (2.)
12. The number against any year in Table II., being the
sum of the numbers against that and all the preceding
years in Table L, is found by adding the number against
that year in Table I. to the number against the preceding
year in Table II.; thus, the number against four years in
Table II. being
the sum of 0-822702
and 2-723248
L.L
8. The sum of which the simple interest for one year
is L.l, is evidently that which, being put out at interest,
will just suffice for the payment of L.l at the end of every
year, without any augmentation or diminution of the prin¬
cipal, and, being equivalent to the title to L.l per annum
for ever, is called the value of the perpetuity, or the num¬
ber of years’ purchase the perpetuity is worth.
But while the rate remains the same, the annual inte¬
rests produced by any two sums are to each other as
the principals which produce them; therefore, since
5:1 :: 100 : — 20, when the rate of interest is bper
cent., the value of the perpetuity is 20 years’ purchase. In
the same manner it appears, that according as the rate
may be 3 or 6 per cent., the value of the perpetuity will be
-3— = 33A, or 16| years’ purchase; and may be
found in every case, by dividing any sum by its interest for
a year.
9. All the most common and useful questions in the
doctrines of compound interest and annuities-certain may
be easily resolved by means of the first four tables at the
end of this article. Their construction may be explained
by the following specimen, rate of interest 5 per cent.
CONSTRUCTION OF
Term.
Table IV. Table III,
Amount of
L.l per an¬
num
Amount of
L.l
improved at Interest
until
Table I.
Present
value of
L.l to be
received at
Table II.
Present va¬
lue of L. 1
per annum,
to be receiv¬
ed until
Term,
the Expiration of the Term.
1 yr.
2 yrs.
3
4
5
6
7
1-000000
2- 050000
3- 152500
4- 310125
5- 525631
6- 801913
8-142009
1-050000
1-102500
M57625
1-215506
1-276282
1-340096
1-407100
•952381
•907029
•863838
•822702
•783526
•746215
•710681
0-952381
1- 859410
2- 723248
3- 545950
4- 329476
5- 075691
5-786372
1 yr.
2 yrs.
3
4
5
6
7
is 3-545950.
13. If each payment of an annuity of L.l be put out as
it becomes due, and improved at compound interest du¬
ring the remainder of the term, it is evident that at the
expiration of the term the payment then due will be but
L.l, having received no improvement at interest. That
received one year before will be augmented to the amount
of L.l in a year; that received two years before will be
augmented to the amount of L.l in two years; that re¬
ceived three years before to the amount of L.l in three
years; and so on until the first payment, which will be
augmented to the amount of L.l in a term one year less
than that of the annuity.
Hence it is manifest that the number against any year
in Table IV. will be unit added to the sum of all those
against the preceding years in Table III.
And therefore that the number against any year in
Table IV. is the sum of those in Tables III. and IV.
against the next preceding year.
Thus, the number against seven years in Table IV. be¬
ing
the sum of 1-340096
and 6-801913
is 8-142009.
14. The method of construction is obviously the same
at any other rate of interest.
15. All the amounts and values which are the objects
of this inquiry evidently depend upon the improvement
of money at compound interest; it is therefore, that the
first, second, and fourth tables, all depend upon the third.
But every pound, and every part of a pound, when put
out at interest, is improved in the same manner as any
single pound considered separately. Whence it is ob¬
vious, that while the term and the rate of interest remain
the same, both the amount and the present value, either
of any sum or of any annuity, will be the same multiple,
and part or parts of the amount or the present value
found against the same term, and under the same rate of
interest in these tables, as the sum or the annuity pro¬
posed is of L.L
So that to find the amount or the present value of any
sum or annuity for a given term and rate of interest, we
have only to multiply the corresponding tabular value by
VOL. in.
234
ANNUITIES.
Popular the sum or the annuity proposed; the product will be the
View, amount or the value sought, according as the case maybe.
16. Example 1. To what sum will L.100 amount when
improved at compound interest during 20 years, the rate
of interest being 4 per cent, per annum ?
By Table III. it appears that L.l so improved would,
at the expiration of the term, amount to L.2*191] 23;
therefore L.100 would amount to 100 times as much, that
is, to L.219T123, or L.219. 2s. 3d.
17. Ex. 2. What is the present value of L.400, which
is not to be received until the expiration of 14 years,
when the rate of interest is 5 per cent. ?
The present value of L.l to be received then will be
found by Table I. to be L.0'505068 : L.400 to be received
at the same time will therefore be worth, in present
money, 400 times as much, or L.202-0272, that is, L.202.
0s. 6^d.
18. Ex. 3. Required the present value of an annuity of
L.50 for 21 years, when the rate of interest is bper cent.
Table II. shows the value of an annuity of L.l for the
same term to be L.12-8212; the required value must
therefore be 50 times as much, or L.64L06, that is L.641.
Is. 2£d.
19. Ex. 4. What will an annuity of L.10. 10s. or L.10'5
for thirty years amount to, when each payment is put out
as it becomes due, and improved at compound interest
until the end of the term; the rate of interest being 4
per cent. ?
The amount of an annuity of L.l so improved would be
L.56-084938, as appears by Table IV.; the amount requir¬
ed will therefore be 10*5 times this, or L.SSS’SOISS, that
is L.588. 17s. lOd.
20. When the interval between the time of the pur¬
chase of an annuity and the first payment thereof exceeds
that which is interposed between each two immediately
successive payments, such annuity is said to be deferred
for a time equal to that excess, and to be entered upon at
the expiration of that time.
21. If two persons, A and B, purchase an annuity be¬
tween them, which A is to enter upon immediately, and
to enjoy during a certain part of the term, and B or his
heirs or assigns for the remainder of it, the present value
of B's interest will evidently be the excess of the value
of the annuity for the whole of the term from this time,
above the value of the interest of A.
So that when the entrance on an annuity is deferred for
a certain term, its present value will be the excess of the
value of the annuity tor the term of delay and continuance
together, above the value of an equal annuity for the term
of delay only.
22. Example 1. Required the value of a perpetual an¬
nuity of L.120, which is not to be entered upon until the
expiration of 14 years from this time, reckoning interest
at 3 per cent.
'H16 imrnediate possession, would be
worth 331 years’ purchase (8); and an annuity for the
term of delay is worth 11-2961 (Table II.)
From 33-3333
subtract 11-2961, and multiply
the remainder 22-0372
by 120
the product, 2644-464 = L.2644. 9s. 3id.,
is the required value.
23. Ex. 2. Allowing interest at 5 per cent, what sum
should be paid down now, for the renewal of 14 years
lapsed in a lease for 21 years of an estate producing L.300
per annum, clear of all deductions ?
This is the price of an annuity for 14 years, to be en¬
tered upon 7 years hence ; the term of delay, therefore, is Popu),
7 years, and that of the delay and continuance together Vie«.
21 years.
By Table II. it appears, that the present value of an
annuity
for 21 years, is 12-8212}
for 7 years, 5-7864 f , .
J  >years purchase.
Value of the deferred annuity, 7-0348 j
Multiply by 300
The product, L.2110-44, or L.2110. 8s. 9£d.,
is the price required.
24. Hitherto we have proceeded upon the supposition
of the annuity being payable, and the interest convertible
into principal, which shall reproduce interest, only once
a year.
But annuities are generally payable half yearly, and
sometimes quarterly; and the same circumstances that
render it desirable for an annuitant to receive his annual
sum in equal half-yearly or quarterly portions, also give
occasion to the interest of money being paid in the same
manner.
But whatever has been advanced above concerning the
present value or the amount of an annuity, when both
that and the interest of money were only payable once
a year, will evidently be true when applied to half the
annuity and half the interest paid twice as often, on the
supposition of half-yearly payments; or to a quarter of
the annuity and a quarter of the interest paid four times
as often, when the payments are made quarterly.
25. Half-yearly payments are, however, by far the most
common; and these four tables will also enable us to
answer the most useful questions concerning them.
For we have only to extract the present value, or the
amount, from the table, against twice the number of years
in the term, at half the annual rate of interest, and, in the
case of an annuity, to multiply the number so extracted
by half the annuity proposed.
26. Ex. 1. To what sum will L.100 amount in 20 years,
when the interest at the rate of 4 per cent, per annum is
convertible into principal half-yearly ?
This being the amount in 40 half years at 2 per cent.
interest for every half year, will be the same as the
amount in 40 years at 2 per cent, per annum, which, by
Table III. will be found to be 220-804, or L.220. 16s. Id.;
and is only L.L 13s. lOd. more than it would amount to
if the interest were not convertible more than once a year.
(16.)
27. Ex. 2. What is the present value of an annuity of
L.50 for 21 years, receivable in equal half-yearly pay¬
ments, when money yields an interest of 2\per cent, every
half year ?
By Table II. it appears, that an annuity of L.l for 42
years, when the interest of money is 21 per cent, per an¬
num, will be worth L.25-8206 (25) ; 25 times this sum, or
L.645. 10s. 3id., is therefore the required value, and ex¬
ceeds the value when the interest and the annuity are
only payable once a year, by L.4. 9s. Id. (18.)
28. X he excess of an annuity-certain above the interest
of the purchase-money, is the sum which, being put out
at the time of each payment becoming due, and improved
at compound interest until the expiration of the term, will
just amount to the purchase-money originally paid.
But, while ever}' thing else remains the same, the longer
t le term of the annuity is, the less must its excess above
the interest of the purchase-money be, because a less an¬
nuity will suffice for raising the same sum within the term.
1 herefore, the proportion of that excess to the annual in¬
terest of the purchase-money continually diminishes as
ANNUITIES.
'opular
View.
the term is extended; and when the annuity is a perpe-
tuity, there is no such excess. (8.)
29. The reason why the value of an annuity is increas¬
ed by that and the interest being both payable more than
once in the year, is, that the granter loses and the pur¬
chaser gains the interest produced by that part of each
payment which is in excess above the interest then due
upon the purchase-money, from the time of such payment
being made until the expiration of the year.
Hence it is obvious, that the less this excess is, that is,
the longer the term of the annuity is (28), the less must
the increase of value be.
And when the annuity is a perpetuity, its value will be
the same, whether it and the interest of money be both
payable several times in the year, or once only.
30. When the annuity is not payable at the same inter¬
vals at which the interest is convertible into principal, its
value will depend upon the frequencies both of payment
and conversion; but its investigation without algebra
would be too long, and of too little use, to be worth pro¬
secuting here.
235
v-flnp ^ Pa*^ ^or ^ whole, the present Popular
value of L.6047 to be received at the expiration of eleven View.
6 the1^th Profit, that is, the^v^>
™>th Part of ^e present value of L. 1, to be received then.
value of °f lntfrestuis 5 ^ cent, the present
hf I 0ARTrVQ £ at ,the exPiratio" of 11 years,
is L.O 584679; therefore, at that rate of interest, there
should be paid for each life i^H^i1:584679 T O.=47o
6460 —
And the present value of L.100, to be received upon a
hte now 10 years of age attaining to 21, will be L.54-73
or L.54. 14s. 7d. ’
II.—Of Annuities on Lives.
31. When the payment of an annuity depends upon the
existence of some life or lives, it is called a Life-Annuity.
32. The values of such annuities are calculated by
means of tables of mortality, which show, out of a consi¬
derable number of individuals born, how many upon an
average have lived to complete each year of their a^e,
and, consequently, what proportion of those who attained
to any one age have survived any greater age.
The fifth table at the end of this article is one of that
kind which has been taken from Mr Milne’s Treatise on
Annuities, and was constructed from accurate observations
made at Carlisle by Dr Heysham, during a period of nine
years, ending with 1787.
33. By this table it appears, that during the period in
which these observations were made, out of 10,000 chil¬
dren born, 3203 died under five years of age, and the re¬
maining 6797 completed their fifth year. Also, that out
of 6797 children who attained to five years of age, 6460
survived their tenth year.
But the mortality under ten years of age has been great¬
ly reduced since then by the practice of vaccination.
This table also shows, that of 6460 individuals who
attained to 10 years of age, 6047 survived 21; and that of
5075 who attained to 40, only 3643 survived their 60th year.
34. There is good reason to believe (as has been shown
in another place) that the general law of mortality, that
is, the average proportion of persons attaining to any one
age, who survive any greater age, remains much the same
now among the entire mass of the people throughout Eng¬
land, as it was found to be at Carlisle during the period of
these observations, except among children under ten years
of age, as was noticed above. (33.)
If this be so, it will follow, that of 6460 children now 10
years of age, just 6047 will attain to 21; or rather, that
if any great number be taken in several instances, this
/6047\
\6460/ W1 ke the average proportion of them that will
In the same manner it will be found, that reckoning
interest at ^per cent, the value would be L.60. 16s. Id.
35. This is the method of calculating the present values
of endowments for children of given ages; and the values
of annuities on lives may be computed in the same manner.
For, from the above reasoning it is manifest, that if the
present value of L.l, to be received certainly at the ex¬
piration of a given term, be multiplied by the number in
the table of mortality against the age, greater than that
of any proposed life by the number of years in the term,
and the product be divided by the number in the same
table, against the present age of that life; the quotient
will be the present value of L.l, to be received at the ex¬
piration of the term, provided that the life survive it.
And if, in this manner, the value be determined of L.l,
to be received upon any proposed life, surviving each of
the years in its greatest possible continuance, according
to the table of mortality adapted to it; that is, according
to the Carlisle table, upon its surviving every age greater
than its present, to that of 104 years inclusive; then, the
sum of all these values will evidently be the present value
of an annuity on the proposed life.
36. If 5642 lives at 30 years of age be proposed, and
5075 at the age of 40; since each of the 5642 younger
lives may be combined with every one of the 5075 that
are 10 years older, the number of different pairs, or dif¬
ferent combinations of two lives differing in age by 10
years, that may be formed out of the proposed lives, is
5642 times 5075.
But at the expiration of 15 years the survivors of the
lives now 30 and 40 years of age, being then of the re¬
spective ages of 45 and 55, will be reduced to the num¬
bers of 4/27 and 4073 respectively; and the number of
pairs, or combinations of two, differing in age by 10 years,
that can be formed out of them, will be reduced from
5642 X 5075 to 4727 X 4073.
So that L.l to be paid at the expiration of 15 years for
each of these 5642 X 5075 pairs or combinations of two
now existing, which may survive the term, will be of the
same value in present money as 4727 times L.4073 to
be received certainly at the same time.
Now, let A be any one of these lives of 30 years of age,
and B any one of those aged 40; and, from what has been
advanced, it will be evident that the present value of L.l,
to be received upon the two lives in this particular com¬
bination jointly surviving the term, will be the same as that
L.4727X 4073
of the sum —5540 x 5075 ^ien rece^vei^ certainly.
survive the period.
And if 6460 children were to be taken indiscriminately
fiom the general mass of the population at 10 years of
age, and an office or company were to engage to pay L.l
eleven years hence for each of them that might then be
living, this engagement would be equivalent to that which
should bind them to pay L.6047 certainly at the expira¬
tion of the term. Iherefore the office, in order that it
might neither gain nor lose by the engagement, should,
But, when the rate of interest is 5 per cent., L.l to be
received certainly at the expiration of 15 years, is equiva¬
lent to L.0'481017 in present money. (Table I.)
Therefore, at that rate of interest, and according to the
Carlisle table of mortality, the present value of L.l to be
received upon A and B, now aged 30 and 40 years re¬
spectively, jointly surviving the term of 15 years, will be
4727 X 4073 X L.0'481017
5642”X 5075 *
236
A N N I)
Popular 37. Hence it is sufficiently evident how the present
View, value of L.l to be received upon the same two lives jointly
surviving any other year may be found. And if that value
for each year from this time until the eldest life attain to
the limit of the table of mortality be calculated, the sum
of all these will be the present value of an annuity of L.l
dependent upon their joint continuance.
In this manner, it is obvious that the value of an annuity
on the joint continuance of any other two lives might be
determined.
38. If, besides the 5642 lives at 30 years of age, and
the 5075 at 40 (mentioned in No. 36), there be also pro¬
posed 3643 at 60 years of age, each of these 3643 at 60
may be combined with every one of the 5642 X 5075 dif¬
ferent combinations of a life of 30, with one of 40 years of
age; and, therefore, out of these three classes of lives
5642 X 5075 X 3643 different combinations may be formed,
each containing a life of 30 years of age, another of 40,
and a third of 60.
But at the expiration of 15 years the numbers of lives
in these three classes will, according to the table of mor¬
tality, be reduced to 4727, 4073, and 1675 respectively;
the respective ages of the survivors in the several classes
being then 45, 55, and 75 years; and the number of dif¬
ferent combinations of three lives (each of a different class
from either of the other two) that can be formed out of
them, will be reduced to 4727 X 4073 X 1675.
Hence, by reasoning as in No. 36, it will be found, that
if A, B, and C be three such lives, now aged 30, 40, and
60 years, the present value of L.l to be received upon
these three jointly surviving the term of 15 years from
this time, wll be ^ 5075 x 3M3 X L.0-481017 : mte-
rest being reckoned at 5 per cent.
Thus it is shown how the present value of an annuity
dependent upon the joint continuance of these three lives
might be calculated, that being the sum of the present
values thus determined, of the rents for all the years
which, according to the table of mortality, the eldest life
can survive.
39. But it is easy to see that the same method of rea¬
soning may be used in the case of four, five, or six lives,
and so on without limit. Whence this inference is obvious.
The present value of L.l to be received at the expira¬
tion of a given term, provided that any given number of
lives all survive it, may be found by multiplying the pre¬
sent value of L.l to be received certainly at the end of
the term, by the continual product of the numbers in the
table of mortality against the ages greater respectively by
the number of years in the term than the ages of the
lives proposed, and dividing the last result of these ope¬
rations by the continual product of the numbers in the
table of mortality against the present ages of the proposed
lives.
And by a series of similar operations, the present value
of an annuity on the joint continuance of all these lives
might be determined.
But it should be observed, that, in calculating the value
of a life-annuity in this way, the denominator of the frac¬
tions expressing the values of the several years’ rents, that
is, the divisor used in each of the operations, remains al¬
ways the same: the division should, therefore, be left till
the sum of the numerators is determined; and one opera¬
tion of that kind will suffice.
40. Enough has been said to show that these methods
of constructing tables of the values of annuities on lives
are practicable, though excessively laborious ; and, in fact,
all the early tables of this kind were constructed in that
manner. We proceed now to show how such tables may
be calculated with much greater facility.
I T I E S.
41. By the method of No. 34, it will be found that, Popu]ar
reckoning interest at 5 per cent., the present value of View,
L.l to be received at the expiration of a year, provided
that a life, now 89 years of age, survived till then, is
142 * QJ15~'38 * gut tjie age 0p wjjj £]ien ke go
years, and the proprietor of an annuity of L.l now depend¬
ing upon it will, in that event, receive his annual payment
of L.l then due; therefore, if the value then of all the
subsequent payments, that is, the value of an annuity on
a life of 90, be 2*339 years’ purchase, the present value of
what the title to this annuity may produce to the proprie¬
tor at the end of the year will be the same as that of
L.3-339, to be received then, if the life be still subsisting,
or
142X0-952381
181
X L.3-339 = L.2-495; which, there¬
fore, will be the present value of an annuity of L.l on a
life of 89 years of age. That is to say, an annuity on that
life will now be worth 2-495 years’ purchase. (7.)
42. In the same manner it appears generally, that if
unit be added to the number of years’ purchase that an
annuity on any life is worth, and the sum be multiplied by
the present value of L.l to be received at the end of a
year, provided that a life one year younger survive till
then, the product will be the number of years’ purchase
an annuity on that younger life is worth in present money.
43. But, according to the table of mortality, an annuity
on the eldest life in it is worth nothing; therefore, the
present value of L.l to be received at the end of a year
provided that the eldest life but one in the table survive
till then, is the total present value of an annuity of L.l on
that life; which being obtained, the value of an annuity
on a life one year younger than it may be found by the
preceding number; and so on for every younger life suc¬
cessively.
Exemplification.
Rate of Interest 5 per cent.
Age of
life.
104
103
102
101
100
99
98
97
96
95
Value of an
Annuity on
that Life,
increased
by Unit,
1-000
1-317
1- 753
2- 192
2- 624
3- 045
3-278
3-428
3-555
3-596
Which be¬
ing multi¬
plied bv
0-952381,
and the
Product by
_a_
11
i£
14
18
it
§0
5V
4 0
Produces
the value of
an Annuity
on the next
younger
Life,
0-317
0-753
1-192
1- 624
2- 045
2-278
2-428
2-555
2-596
2-569
Its Age
being
103
102
101
100
99
98
97
96
95
94
44. Proceeding as in No. 36, it will be found that, at
5 per cent, interest, and according to the Carlisle table
of mortality, the present value of L.l to be received
at the expiration of a year provided that a person now
89 years of age, and another now 99, be then living, is
142 X 9 X L.0-952381 , „ , , ,
 181 x 11 ’ t^ere^ore> “ present value ot
an annuity of L.l on the joint continuance of two lives,
now aged 90 and 100 years respectively, be L.0-950, by
reasoning as in No. 41, it will be found that the present
value of an annuity on the joint continuance of two lives,
*
’
ANNUITIES.
Popular of the respective ages of 89 and 99 years, will be worth
View. 142X9X0-952381 Q , .
 —— r-  X 1-950=1-192 years purchase.
^ 181X11 1
237
50. Prop. 2. The value of an annuity on the joint con- Popular
tmuance of the two last survivors out of three lives, A, View.
-Zj, and C, is equal to the excess of the sum of the values'
45. In this manner, commencing with the two oldest of annuities on the three combinations of two lives (A
lives in the table that differ in age by ten years, and pro- with P, A with C, and & with C) that can be formed
ceeding according to No. 43, the values of annuities on all put of them, above twice the value of an annuity on the
the other combinations of two lives of the same difference
of age may be determined.
The method is exemplified in the following specimen
Ages of two
Lives.
94 & 104
93 & 103
92 & 102
91 & 101
90 & 100
89 & 99
Value of an
Annuity on
their joint
continuance,
increased
by Unit,
1-000
1-235
1-508
1-733
1-950
2-192
Which be¬
ing multi¬
plied by
0-95238i,
and the Pro¬
duct bv
Produces
the value of
an Annuit}-
on the two
joint Lives
one year
younger re¬
spectively,
Their Ages
being
joint continuance of all the three lives.
51. Pern. If one annuity were granted to P on the joint
continuance of the two lives A and B, another on the
joint continuance of A and C, and a third on the joint
continuance of jf? and C^y during the joint continuance
of all the lives he would have three annuities.
But if he were only to receive these upon condition
that he should pay two annuities to Q during the joint
continuance of all the three lives, then there would only
remain to himself one annuity during the joint existence
of the last two survivors out of the three lives. And the
truth of the proposition is manifest.
52. Prop. 3. The value of an annuity on the last sur¬
vivor of three lives, A, B, and C, is equal to the excess
of the sum of the values of annuities on each of the three
single lives, together with the value of an annuity on the
joint continuance of all the three, above the sum of the
values of three other annuities ; the first dependent upon
the joint continuance of A and B, the second on that of
A and C, and the third on B and C.
53. Bern. If annuities on each of the three single lives
were granted to R, during the joint continuance of all the
three he would have three annuities; and from the time
of the extinction of the first life that failed, till the ex¬
tinction of the second, he would have two.
So that he would have two annuities during the joint
existence of the two last survivors out of the three lives;
46. Hence, and by what has been advanced in the 39th and besides these, a third annuity during the joint conti-
number of this article, it is sufficiently evident how a nuance of all the three.
table may be computed of the values of annuities on the Therefore, if out of these R were to pay one annuity
joint continuance of the lives in every combination of to P during the joint continuance of the last two survi-
three, or any greater number; the differences between vors out of the three lives, and another to Q during the
the ages of the lives in each combination remaining al- joint continuance of all the three, he would only have
ways the same in the same series of operations, while the left one annuity, which would be receivable during the
calculation proceeds back from the combination in which life of the last survivor of the three.
1X40
3X54
3X54
5X75
5X75
7X 105
7 X 105
9X 142
9X 142
11X181
11 X 181
14X232
0-235
0-508
0-733
0-950
1-192
1-280
93 & 103
92 & 102
91 & 101
90 & 100
89 & 99
88 & 98
the oldest life is the oldest in the table, to that in which
the youngest is a child just born.
47. But when there are more than two lives in each
Combination, the calculations are so very laborious, on ac-
But in the demonstration of the last proposition (51) it
was shown, that the value of what he paid to P would
fall short of the sum of the values of annuities dependent
respectively on the joint continuance of A and B, of A
count principally of the great number of combinations, and C, and of B and C, by two annuities on the joint
that no tables of that kind have yet been published, ex- continuance of all the three lives. Whence it is evident
cept three or four for three lives. that the value of the annuities he paid both to P and Q
And in the books that contain tables of the values of would fall short of the sum of these three values of joint
two joint lives, methods are given of approximating to- lives, only by the value of one annuity on the joint conti-
wards the values of such combinations of two and of three nuance of all the three lives.
lives as have not yet been calculated. Wherefore, if from the sum of the values of all the
Therefore, assuming the values of annuities on single three single lives, the sum of the values of the three corn-
lives, and on the joint continuance of two or of three lives, binations of two that can be formed out of them were ta-
to be given, we have next to show how the most useful ken, there would remain less than the value of an annuity
problems respecting the values of any interests that de- on the last survivor, by that of an annuity on the joint
pend upon the continuance or the failure of life may be continuance of the three lives.
resolved by them. But if, to the sum of the values of the three single
48. Proposition 1. The value of an annuity on the lives A, B, and C, there be added that of an annuity on the
survivor of two lives, A and B, is equal to the excess of joint continuance of the three, and from the sum of these
the sum of the values of annuities on the two single lives four values the sum of the values of the three combina-
above the value of an annuity on their joint continuance, tions A with B, A with C, and B with C be subtracted,
49. Demonstration. If annuities on each of the two then the remainder will be the value of an annuity on the
lives were granted to P, during their joint continuance last survivor of the three lives; which was to be demon-
he would have two annuities ; but if P were only to re- strated.
ceive these upon condition that, during the joint lives of 54. Prop. 4. Problem. The law of mortality and the
A and B, he should pay one annuity to Q, then there values of single lives at all ages being given, to determine
would only remain one to be enjoyed by him or his heirs the present value of an annuity on any proposed life, de-
or assigns, until the lives both of A and B were extinct; ferred for any assigned term.
whence the truth of the proposition is manifest. 55. Solution. Find the present value of an annuity on
238
ANNUITIES.
Popular a life older than the proposed, by the number of years
View, during which the other annuity is deferred; multiply this
by the present value of L.l to be received upon the pro¬
posed life surviving the term, and the product will be the
value sought.
56. Dem. Upon the proposed life surviving the term,
the annuity dependent upon it will be worth the same
sum that an annuity on a life so much older is now worth ;
therefore it is evident that the deferred annuity is of the
same present value as that sum to be received at the ex¬
piration of the term, provided the life survive it.
57. Corollary. In the same manner it appears, that
the present value of an annuity on the joint continuance
of any number of lives, deferred for a given term, may be
found by multiplying the present value of an annuity on
the joint continuance of the same number of lives, older
respectively than the proposed by the number of years in
the term, by the present value of L.l to be received upon
the proposed lives all surviving it.
58. A temporary annuity on any single life, or on the
joint continuance of any number of lives, that is, an an¬
nuity which is to be paid during a certain term, provided
that the single life or the other lives jointly subsist so
long, together with an annuity on the same life or lives
deferred for the same term, is evidently equivalent to an
annuity on the whole duration of the same life or lives.
So that the value of an annuity on any life, or on the
joint continuance of any number of lives, for an assigned
term, is equal to the excess of the value of an annuity on
their whole duration, with immediate possession, above
the value of an annuity on them deferred for the term.
59. Whatever has been advanced from No. 48 to 53
inclusive, respecting the values of annuities for the whole
duration of the lives whereon they depend, will apply
equally to those which are either deferred or temporary;
and therefore, to determine the value of any deferred or
temporary annuity dependent upon the last survivor of two
or of three lives, or upon the joint continuance of the last
two survivors out of three lives, we have only to substi¬
tute temporary or deferred annuities, as the case may re¬
quire, for annuities on the whole duration of the lives;
and the result will accordingly be the value of a tempo¬
rary or deferred annuity on the life of the last survivor,
or on the joint lives of the two last survivors.
60. Prop. 5. A and B being any two proposed lives
now in existence, the present value of an annuity to be
payable only while A survives B, is equal to the excess
of the value of an annuity on the life of A above that of
an annuity on the joint existence of both the lives.
61. Dem. If an annuity on the life of ^4, and to be
entered upon immediately, were now granted to P upon
condition that he should pay it to B during the joint lives
and it is evident that there would only remain
to P an annuity on the life of A after the decease of B ;
whence the truth of the proposition is manifest.
62. When any thing is affirmed or demonstrated of any
life or lives, it is to be understood as applying equally to
any proposed single life, or to the joint continuance of the
whole of any number of lives that may be proposed to¬
gether, or to that of any assigned number of the last sur¬
vivors of them, or to the last surviving life of the whole.
63. Prop. 6. The present value of the reversion of a
perpetual annuity after the failure of any life or lives, is
equal to the excess of the present value of the perpetuity,
with immediate possession, above the present value of an
annuity on the same life or lives.
64. Dem. If a perpetual annuity with immediate pos¬
session were granted to P, upon condition that he should
pay the annual produce to another individual during the
existence of the life or lives proposed, it is evident that
there would only remain to P the reversion after the
failure of such life or lives; and the present value of that
reversion would manifestly be as stated above.
65. The 6th, 7th, and 8th tables at the end of this
article, which have been extracted from the 19th, 21st,
and 22d respectively, in Mr Milne’s Treatise on Annuities,
will serve to illustrate the application of these propositions
to the solution of questions in numbers.
In all the following examples, we suppose the lives to
be such as the general average of those from which the
Carlisle table of mortality was constructed, and the rate
of interest to be 5per cent.
66. Ex. 1. What is the present value of an annuity on the
joint lives, and the life of the survivor of two persons now
aged 40 and 50 years respectively ?
According to No. 48, the process is as follows:
Popular
View,
Value of a single life of
'40
50
sum
Subtract the value of their 1
joint lives, J
13-390
11-660
}(i>y
Table VI.)
25-050
9-984 (Table VIII.)
remains 15-066 years’purchase, the
required value.
And if the annuity be L.200, its present value will be
L.3013-2, or L.3013. 4s.
67. Ex. 2. The lives A, B, and C, being now aged 50,
55, and 60 years respectively, an annuity on the joint con¬
tinuance of all the three is worth 6-289 years’ purchase,
what is the value of an annuity on the joint existence of
the last two survivors of them ?
According to No. 50, the process is thus:
Ages. Values.
50 & 55
55 & 60
50 & 60
mog} (Table m>
7-601 (Table VIII.)
sum 23-235
Subtract 2 X 6-289 =12-578
remains 10-657 years’ purchase, the required
value.
Therefore, if the annuity were L.300, it would be worth
L.3197. 2s. in present money.
68. Ex. 3. Required the value of an annuity on the last
survivor of the three lives in the last example.
Proceeding according to No. 52, we have
Ages. Values.
50
55
60
50, 55, & 60
11-660 )
10-347 J- (Table VI.)
8-940 )
6-289 (No. 67).
sum 37-236
Subtract the sum of the values 4
of annuities on the three com- ^ 23-235 (No. 67.)
binations of two lives, )
remains 14-001 years’ purchase,
the required value. And if the annuity were L.300, it
would now be worth L.4200. 6s.
69. Ex. 4. What is the present value of an annuity on
a life now 45 years of age, which is not to be entered upon
until the expiration of ten years ; the first payment there-
of being to be made at the expiration of eleven years from
this time, if the life survive till then ?
ANNUITIES.
Topular
View.
Solution.
_ The present value of an annuity on a life of 55 is 1034<7
(Table VI.), and the present value of L.l to be received
4073
upon the proposed life attaining to the age of 55, is
X 0-613913 ; therefore, by No. 55, the required value is
4073 X 0-613913 X 10-347
 4727 = ^years purchase; so
that if the annuity were L.200, its present value would be
L.l 094. 12s.
70. Ex. 5. Required the present value of an annuity to
be received for the next ten years, provided that a person
now 45 years of age shall so long live.
Solution.
The present value of an annuity on a life of 45, to
be entered upon immediately, is 12-648 (Table VI.)
Subtract that of an annuity on]^
the same life deferred 10years, j 5-473
the remainder 7-175
is the required number of years’ purchase. And if the
annuity were L.200, its present value would be L.1435.
71. Ex. 6. An annuity on a life of 45, deferred 10 years,
was shown in No. 69 to be worth 5-473 years’ purchase in
present money; let it be required to determine the equiva¬
lent annual payment for the same, to be made at the end
of each of the next 10 years, but subject to failure upon
the life failing in the term.
Solution.
The present value of L.l per annum on the proposed
life for the next 10 years has just been shown to be
L.7‘1 /5, and this, multiplied by the required annual pay¬
ment, must produce L.5-473; that payment must, there-
(% i 5*473
fore, be — 0-76279. And since the annual pay¬
ment for the deferred annuity of L.l per annum would be
L.0-76279, that for an annuity of L.200 must be L.152.
11s. 2d.
72. Ex. 7. Let the present value be required of an an¬
nuity on a life now 40 years of age, to be payable only
while that life survives another now of the age of 50 years.
F7”e ^rent ValUe °f 1 13-390 (“>'* VI->
Subtrac1 that of the two joint j ^ ^ vm)
the remainder, 3-406
years’ purchase, is the required value. (60.)
Therefore, if the annuity were L.100, it would be worth
L.340. 12s. in present money.
73. If the annuity in the last example were to be paid
for by a constant annual premium at the end of each year
while both the lives survived; by reasoning as in No. 71,
it will be found, that such annual premium for an annuity
3*406 J
of L.l should be = L.0-341146 ; for an annuity of
L.100 it should therefore be L.34. 2s. 3£d.
74. But if one of the equal premiums for this annuity
is to be paid down now, and another at the end of each
year while both the lives survive, the number of years’
purchase the whole of these premiums are worth will
evidently be increased by unit; on account of the payment
made now, it will therefore be 10-984 ; and each premium
for an annuity of L.l must, in this case, be =
10*984
L.0310087; for an annuity of L.100 it should therefore
be L.31. 0s. 2d.
75. Ex. %. Let it be required to determine the present
va ue of the reversion of a perpetual annuity after the
failure of a life now 50 years of age. ^ '
Solution.
The value of the perpetuity is 20 years’ purchase. (8.)
bubtract that of an annuity on 1 v y
the life of 50, | 11-660 (Table VI.)
-ii t remains 8-34 years’ purchase,
the required value of the reversion. (63.)
S?JtJatriLt^ annuity were L-3°0> its present value
would be L.2502.
76. In the same manner it will be found, by the 68th
number and those referred to in the last example, that
the reversion of a perpetuity, after the failure of the last
survivor of three lives, now aged 50, 55, and 60 years re¬
spectively, is worth 5-999 years’purchase in present money;
therefore, if it were L.100 per annum, its present value
would be L.599. 18s.
HI.—Of Assurances on Lives.
77. An assurance upon a life or lives is a contract by
which the office or underwriter, in consideration of a
stipulated premium, engages to pay a certain sum upon
such life or lives failing within the term for which the as¬
surance is effected.
78. If the term of the assurance be the whole duration
of the life or lives assured, the sum must necessarily be
paid whenever the failure happens ; and, in what follows,
that payment is always supposed to be made at the end of
the year in which the event assured against takes place ;
the anniversary of the assurance, or the day of the date'
of the policy, being accounted the beginning of each year.
79. At the end of the year in which any proposed life
or lives may fail, the proprietor of the reversion of a per¬
petual annuity of L.l after their failure will receive the
pound then due, and will at the same time enter upon
the perpetuity ; therefore, the present value of the rever¬
sion is the same as that of L.l added to the money a per¬
petual annuity of L.l would cost, supposing this sum not
to be receivable until the expiration of the year in which
the failure of the life or lives might happen.
80. Hence we have this proportion. As the value of a
perpetuity increased by unit is to L.l, so is the present
value of the reversion of a perpetual annuity of L.l, after
the failure of any life or lives, to the present value of L.l,
receivable at the end of the year in which such failure
shall take place.
81. Therefore, if the value of an annuity of one pound on
any life or lives he subtracted from that of the perpetuity,
and the remainder he divided hy the value of the perpetuity
increased hy unit, the quotient will he the value, in present
money, of the assurance of one pound on the same life or
lives. (63.)
82. Ex. 1. What is the present value of L.l to be re¬
ceived at the end of the year in which a life now 50
years of age may fail ?
The rate of interest being 5 per cent., the value of the
perpetuity is 20 years’ purchase, and that of the life 11-66 ;
the answer therefore is — L.0-397143.
And if the sum assured were L.1000, the present value of
the assurance would be L.397. 2s. lOd.
83. When the term of a life-assurance exceeds one year,
its whole value is hardly ever paid down at the time that
the contract is entered into; but in the instrument (called
a policy) whereby the assurance is effected, an equivalent
annual premium is stipulated for, payable at the commence’
2.39
Popular
View.
240
ANNUITIES.
Popular merit of each year during the term, but subject to failure
View. with the life or lives assured.
84. But by reasoning as in No. 74, it will be found that
an annual premium, payable at the commencement of each
year in the whole duration of the life or lives assured,
will be worth one year’s purchase more than an annuity
on them payable at the end of each year; and, conse¬
quently, that if the value in present money of an assur¬
ance on any life or lives be divided by the number of
years’ purchase an annuity on the same life or lives is
worth, increased by unit, the quotient will be the equiva¬
lent annual premium for the same assurance.
85. Ex. 2. Required the annual premium for the assur¬
ance of L.l on a life of 50 years of age.
In No. 82 the single premium for that assurance was
shown to be 0'397143, and the value of an annuity on the
life is 11-66; therefore, by the preceding number, the re-
0-397143
quired annual premium will be = f°r
the assurance of L.l; and for the assurance of L.1000
it will be L.31. 7s. 5d.
86. Ex. 3. Let both the single payment in present
money, and the equivalent annual premium, be required
for the assurance of L.l, on the joint continuance of two
lives of the respective ages of 45 and 50 years.
The value of an annuity of L.l on the joint continu¬
ance of these two lives appears by Table VII. to be
T n nnn u r 20—9'737 10-263 TA/1DQ„1/1 .
L.9-737, therefore ■ 20+1 ~ —21— ^ IS
0-488714
the single premium, and iQ.737 = L.0-0455168 the
equivalent annual one, for the assurance of L.l to be paid
at the end of the year in which that life becomes extinct
which may happen to fail the first of the two.
Therefore, if the sum assured were L.500, the total
present value of the assurance would be L.244. 7s. 2d.,
and the equivalent annual premium L.22. 15s. 2d.
87. Ex. 4. Let both the single and the equivalent an¬
nual premium be required for the assurance of L.l on the
life of the survivor of two persons now aged 40 and 50
years respectively.
The value of an annuity on the survivor of these two
lives was shown in No. 66 to be 15-066, therefore, by
20—15-066 4-934
No. 81, the single premium will be —  _ ——
20 —j— 1 21
= L.0-234952; and, by No. 84, the annual one will be
L.0-234952 T ____
16-066 -L-0'0146242-
That is, for the assurance of L.l to be received at the
end of the year in which the last surviving life of the
two becomes extinct.
Therefore, for the assurance of L.5000, the single pre¬
mium will be L.l 174. 15s. 2d., the equivalent annual one
L.73. 2s. 5d.
88. Ex. b. What should the single and equivalent an¬
nual premiums be for an assurance on the last survivor
of three lives of the respective ages of 50, 55, and 60
years ?
The value of an annuity on the last survivor of them
was shown in No. 68 to be 14-001, the single premium
, 1 . , 20—14-001 5-999
should therefore be =z L.0-285666,
, , , L.0-285666 _ A _
and the annual —— = L.0-0190431, for the assur¬
ance of L.l to be received at the end of the year in
which the last surviving life of the three may fail.
For the assurance of L.2000, the single premium would
therefore be L571 6s 8d., the annual one L.38. Is. 9d.
89. Lemma. If an annuity be payable at the commence- Popular
ment of each year which some assigned life or lives may View.
enter upon in a given term, the number of years’ purchase
in its present value will exceed by unit the number of
years’ purchase in the present value of an annuity on the
same life or lives for one year less than the given term,
but payable, as annuities generally are, at the end of each
year.
Demonstration. Since the proposed life or lives can
only enter upon any year after the first by surviving the
year that precedes it, the receipt of each of the pay¬
ments after the first, that are to be made at the com¬
mencement of the year, will take place at the same time
and upon the same conditions as that of the rent for the
year then expired of the life-annuity, for a term one year
less than the term proposed : this last-mentioned annuity
will therefore be worth, in present money, just the same
number of years’ purchase as all the payments subsequent
to the first which may be made at the commencements of
the several years.
And since the first of these is to be made immediate¬
ly, the present value of the whole of them will evidently
exceed the number of years’ purchase last mentioned by
unit; which was to be demonstrated.
90. If, while the rest remains the same, the payment of
the annuity which depends upon the assigned life or lives
entering upon any year is not to be made until the end of
that year ; as the condition upon which every payment is
to be made will remain the same, but each of them will
be one year later; the only alteration in the value of the
whole will arise from this increase in the remoteness of
payment, by which it will be reduced in the ratio of L.l
to the present value of L.l receivable at the end of a
year. (2.)
91. When the value of an annuity on any proposed life
or lives for an assigned term is given, it is evident that the
value of an annuity on the same life or lives for one year
less may be found, by subtracting from the given value
the present value of the rent to be received upon the
proposed life or lives surviving the term assigned.
92. Proposition. The present value of an assurance on
any proposed life or lives for a given term is equal to the
excess of the value of an annuity to be paid at the end
of each year which the life or lives proposed may enter
upon in the term, above the value of an annuity on them
for the same term, but dependent, as usual, upon their
surviving each year.
Demonstration. If an annuity, payable at the end of
each year which the proposed life or lives may enter up¬
on during the given term, be granted to P upon condition
that he shall pay over what he receives to Q at the end
of each year which the same life or lives may survive, it
is manifest that there will only remain to P the rent for
the year in which the proposed life or lives may fail; that
is, the assurance of that sum thereon for the given term
(77) ; which was to be demonstrated.
93. From the last four numbers (89-92) we derive the
following
Rule
for determining the present value of an assurance on any
life or lives for a given term.
Add unit to the value of an annuity on the proposed life
or lives for the given term, and from the sum subtract the
present value of one pound to be received upon the same
life or lives surviving the term ; multiply the remainder by
the present value of Ju.l to be received certainly at the end of
a year, and from the product subtract the present value of an
annuity on the proposed life or lives for the term.
This last remainder will be the value in present money
*
<
ANNUITIES.
pular of the assurance of L.l during the same term on the life
iew- or lives proposed.
94. It has been shown above (34-39) how the pre¬
sent value of L.l receivable upon any single or joint lives
surviving an assigned term may be found. And all that
was demonstrated from No. 48 to 53 inclusive, respect¬
ing annuities on the last survivor of two or of three lives,
or on the joint continuance of the two last survivors out
of three lives, is equally true of any particular year’s rent
of those annuities. Hence it is evident how the present
value of L.l, to be received upon the last survivor of two
or of three lives, or upon the last two survivors out of
three lives, surviving any assigned term, may be found.
95. Example. Required the present value of L.l, to
be received at the end of the year in which a life now
forty-five years of age may fail, provided that such fail¬
ure happen before the expiration of ten years.
Here the present value of L.l, to be received on the
life surviving the term, will be found to be L.0528976,
and the value of an annuity on the proposed life for the
term is 7*175. (70.)
From 8*175
subtract 0*528976
4
the remainder 7*646024
being multiplied by 0*952381
produces 7*28193
from this subtract 7*17500
remains L.0*10693, the required va¬
lue of the assurance; and if the sum assured wereL.3000,
the value of the assurance in present money would be
L.320. 15s. 7d.
96. By numbers 89, 91, and 95, it appears that an an¬
nuity, payable at the commencement of each of the next
ten years that a life of 45 enters upon, is worth 7*646
years’ purchase; therefore, — L.0-013985 will be
the annual premium for the assurance of L.l for ten years
on that life. For the assurance of L.3000, it will therefore
be L.41. 19s. Id.
97. When the term of the assurance is the whole duration
ol the life or lives assured, L.l to be received upon their
surviving the term is worth nothing; and an annuity on
the lives for the term is also for their whole duration.
Therefore from No. 93 we derive the following
Rule
for determining the present value of an assurance on any
life or lives.
Add unit to the value of an annuity on the proposed life
or lives ; multiply the sum by the present value of L.l to be
received certainly at the end of a year, and from the product
subtract the value of an annuity on the same life or lives.
I he remainder will be the value of the assurance in
present money.
98. Example. Required the present value of L.l to
be received at the end of the year in which the survivor
ot two lives may fail, their ages now being 40 and 50 years
respectively.
ihe value of an annuity on these lives was shown in
No. 66 to be 15*066.
Multiply 16*066 by 0*952381, from the product 15*3009
subtract 15*066, the remainder L.0*2349 is the required
value, agreeably to No. 87.
And, in all other cases, the values determined by the
rule in the preceding number will be found to agree with
those obtained by the method of No. 81.
99. When an assurance on any life or lives has been
VOL. in.
effected at a constant annual premium, and kept up for
some time by the regular payment of that premium, the
annual premium required for a new assurance of the same'
sum on the same life or lives will, on account of the in¬
crease of age, be greater than that at which the first as¬
surance was effected: Therefore the present value of all
these greater annual premiums, that is, the total present
value of the new assurance, will exceed the present value
of all the premiums that may hereafter be received under
the existing policy. And the excess will evidently be the
value of the policy, supposing the life or lives to be still
insui able ; that being the only advantage which can now be
derived from the premiums already paid.
So that if the present value of all the future annual
premiums to be paid under an existing policy, for the as¬
surance of a certain sum upon any life or lives, be subtract¬
ed from the present value of the assurance of the same
sum on the same life or lives, the remainder will be the
value of the policy.
100. Example. L.1000 has been assured some years
on a life now 50 years of age, for its whole duration, at
the annual premium of L.20, one of which has just now
been paid. What is the value of the policy ?
The present value of the assurance of L.1000 on that
life has been shown in No. 82 to be L.397. 2s. lOd.; and
an annuity on the life being worth 11*66 years’ purchase
(Table VI.), the present value of all the premiums to be
paid in future under the existing policy is 11*66 X L.20
= L.233. 4s.; the value of the policy, therefore, is
L.163. 18s. lOd.
Immediately before the payment of the premium the
value of the policy would evidently have been less by the
premium then due.
101. In our investigations of the values of annuities on
lives, we have hitherto assumed that no part of the rent
is to be received for the year in which the life wherewith
the annuity may terminate fails.
But if a part of the annuity is to be received at the end
of that year, proportional to the part of the year which
may have elapsed at the time of such failure; as, in a
great number of such cases, some of the lives wherewith the
annuity terminates will fail in every part of the year, and
as many, or very nearly so, in any one part of it as in any
other: we may assume that, upon an average, half a year’s
rent will be received at the end of the year in which such
failure happens; and therefore, that by the title to what
may be received after the failure of the life or lives where¬
on the annuity depends, the present value of that annuity
will be increased by the present value of the assurance of
half a year’s rent on the same life or lives.
102. Thus, for example, the present value of the as¬
surance of L.l on a life of 50 years of age having in No.
82 been shown to be L.0*397143, the value of an annuity
of L.l on that life, when payable till the last moment
of its existence, will exceed L.l 1*66, its value if only pay¬
able until the expiration of the last year it survives, by
/L.0-397143 \ .
( 2  / k*0"199; it will therefore be L.1L859.
103. If at the end of the year in which an assigned Life
A may fail, Q or his heirs are to receive L.l, and are at
the same time to enter upon an annuity of L.l, to be en¬
joyed during another life P, to be then fixed upon; the
present value of Qs interest will evidently be the same
as that of the assurance on the life of A, of a number of
pounds, exceeding by unit the number of years’ purchase
in the value of an annuity on the life of P, at the time ot
nomination.
104. What is the present value of the next presentation
to a living of the clear annual value of L.500, A, the pre¬
sent incumbent, being now 50 years of age; supposing
2 u
241
Popular
View.
ANNUITIES.
242
Popular the age of the clerk presented to be 25 at the end of the
View, year in which the present incumbent dies; also, that he
takes the whole produce of the living for that year ?
By Table VI. it will be found that the value of an an¬
nuity of L.l on a life of 25 is L.15‘303; and in No. 82 it
has been shown, that the present value of the assurance
of L.l on a life of 50 is L.0*397143. Hence, and by the
last number, it appears that if the annual produce of the
living were but L.l, the present value of the next presen¬
tation would be L.16-303 X 0*397143. = L.6*47467. The
required value, therefore, is L.3237. 6s. 9d.
105. If to the value of the succeeding life, determined
according to No. 103, the value of the present be added,
the sum of these will evidently be the present value of
both the lives in succession; and, in the case of the pre¬
ceding number, will be 6*475 -f- 11*66 = 18*135 years’
purchase.
106. In No. 103 we proceeded upon the supposition
that the annuity on the present life is only payable up to
the expiration of the last year it survives, and, conse¬
quently, that the succeeding life takes the whole rent for
the year in which the present fails.
But if the succeeding life is only to take a part of that
rent, in the same proportion to the whole as the portion
of the year which intervenes between the failure of the
present life and the end of the year is to the whole year, Popuij,
then, by reasoning as in No. 101, it will be found that the View,
portion of that rent which the succeeding life will receive 'V^v\
may be properly assumed to be one half. And, in¬
stead of increasing the number of years’ purchase the an¬
nuity on the succeeding life will be worth at the end of
the year in which the other fails by unit, we must only
add one half to that number, in order that the present
value of the assurance of the sum on the existing life may
be the number of years’ purchase which all that may be
received during the succeeding life is now worth.
107. The value of the succeeding life, in the case of
No. 104, will, upon this hypothesis, be 15*803 X 0*397143
— 6*27605 years’ purchase.
And this appears to be the most correct way of calcu¬
lating the value of an annuity on a succeeding life, al¬
though that of No. 103 proceeds upon the principle on
which life-interests are generally valued.
108. But the value of two lives in succession will be the
same on both hypotheses ; the rent for the year in which
the first may fail being, in the one case, given entirely to
the successor; and, in the other, divided equally between
the two.
This is also true of any greater number of successive
lives.
PART II.
109. We now proceed to treat the subject of annuities
Algebraically.
I.—On Annuities-Certain.
Let r denote the simple interest of L.l for one year.
s, any sum put out at interest.
n, the number of years for which it is lent,
m, its amount in that time,
a, an annuity for the same time. (3 and 4.)
m, the amount to which that annuity will increase
when each payment is laid up as it becomes due,
and improved at compound interest until the end
of the term.
v, the present value of the same annuity. (6.)
110. Then, reasoning as in the first number of this ar¬
ticle, it will be found that m ■= s (\ + r)n. And by No.
2 it appears that the present value of s pounds to be re¬
ceived certainly at the expiration of ra years, is s-,—  ,
(1+rY
or s(l + r)-11.
\\\. The amount of L.l in n years being (1 + r)”, its
increase in that time will be (1 -f- rf — 1; and when it
is considered that this increase arises entirely from the
simple interest (V) of L.l being laid up at the end of each
year, and improved at compound interest during the re¬
mainder of the term, it must be obvious that (1 + r)” 1
is the amount of an annuity of r pounds in that time ; but
r : a :: (1 + r)« - 1 : ^(1 + r)n _ pi whichj there_
fore, is equal to m, the amount of an annuity of a pounds
in n years. ^ r
112. Reasoning as in No. 8, it will be found, that since
r . 1 .. cz. —, the present value of a perpetual annuity of
a pounds is -.
r
113. If two persons, A and JB, purchase a perpetuity of
a pounds between them, which A and his heirs or assigns
are to enjoy during the first n years, and B and his heirs
or assigns for ever after. Since the value of the perpe¬
tuity to be entered upon immediately has just been shown
to be p the present value of B’s share, that is, the present
value of the same perpetuity when the entrance thereon is
deferred until the expiration n years, will be -(r + 1)-*,
(110) ; and the value of the share of A will be thus much
less than that of the whole perpetuity (21), therefore
equal to—1^1 —(1 4* = Vj Present value of an
annuity of a pounds for the term of n years certain.
114. If the annuity is not to be entered upon until
the expiration of d years, but is then to continue n
years, its value at the time of entering upon it will be
£[l—(l+rr ^jj, as has just been shown ; therefore
its present value will be
^(1 + r)~d —C1 + r)“(d + w)J- v. (110.)
115. In the same manner it appears that, when the
entrance on a perpetuity of a pounds is deferred d years,
its present value will be ^(1 + r)~d. (110 and 112.)
116. q being any number whatever, whole, fractionator
mixed, let Xq denote its logarithm, and xq the arithmeti¬
cal complement of that logarithm ; so that these equations
may obtain, — Xq zr xq. Then, for the resolution of
the principal questions of this kind by logarithms, we shall
have these formulae.
1. Amount of a sum improved at interest.
«X(1-f r)-{-Xs. (110.)
2. Amount of an annuity when each payment is laid up as
it becomes due, and improved at interest until the eocpi-
ration of the term.
Ijybraical
lew.
XM:
ANNUITIES.
= xj^(l+^)n—l~j+X«+xr. (111.)
3. Value of a lease or an annuity.
Xv=X [l-(l + rr] + Xa + xr. (113.)
243
lue of the same deferred n years, will be - •
(1+5
r\—'"Algebraical
View.
4. Value of a deferred annuity, or the renewal of any num¬
ber of years lapsed in the term of a lease.
(119), therefore the present value of the annuity to be en¬
tered upon immediately, and to continue rc years, will be
Xv
= x[(l + r) d—(\ -f T^-^+^rj+Aa+xr. (114.)
-Hr _
5. Value of a deferred perpetuity, or the reversion of an
estate in fee-simple, after an assigned term.
Xv rr Xa + xr + flbc (1 + r). (115.)
By means of each of these equations, it is manifest that
any one of the quantities involved in it may be found
when the rest are given.
117. If the interest be convertible into principal v times
in the year, at v equal intervals; since the interest of L.l
* Hr-
122. Case 2. y, being any whole number greater than
rr, let _ so that the annuity may be payable y times
m each of the intervals between the payments of interest,
or the conversion thereof into principal.
1
Then, at the expiration of the -th of a year, when the
for one of these intervals will be - (109), and the number
interest on the purchase-money is first payable or contro¬
vertible, the interest on all the y—1 payments of the an-
nuity previously made will be
of conversions of interest into principal in n years m; arV ‘ " "
to adapt the formula in No. 110 to this case,* we have 0a~1) + 0“'—2) + (/i —3)+ +3 + 2 + 1
only to substitute — for r, and m for n, in the equation
m — s(\ + r)n there given, whereby it will be transform¬
ed to this, m rr ^ ^1 + —y**.
118. According as v is equal to 1, 2, 4, or is infinite,
that is, according as the interest is convertible into prin¬
cipal yearly, half-yearly, quarterly, or continually, let m
be equal to y, h, «, or c ; so shall
Y — s(l + r)n,
Hny.
and c ~ s . n ;
n being the number of which nr is the hyperbolic lo¬
garithm, and nr x 0-43429448 its logarithm in Briggs’
System, and the common tables.
119. From No. 117 and 110, it follows that the present
value of s pounds to be received at the end of n years,
when the interest is convertible into principal at v equal
intervals in each year, is s ^1 +-j Vn.
120. When the present values and the amounts of an¬
nuities are desired, let the interest be convertible into
principal at v equal intervals in the year, while the annuity
is payable at cr intervals therein, the amount of each pay¬
_a ry(y—1) ... a
— ‘     ; to which adding the y payments of -
cr
v 2‘t
each (including the one only then due), the sum
a I- ry(y—1)~1
“ I ^ + ' ^  I, is the simple interest which the
xro 11» rv y-v „ ^ ^ ! a.  * 1J _ j. * _  * j*  i~*
value of the perpetuity should yield at the expiration of
each vth part of a year, in order to supply the deficiency
(both of principal and interest) that would be occasioned
during each of those periods, in any fund out of which the
several payments of the annuity might be taken, as they re¬
spectively became due; and since -: -f"/i +^^ 
v crU 27r
; S ['‘+H-L)]=0‘(r+H)’this last
pression will be the value of such perpetuity with imme¬
diate possession (8); the value of the same deferred n
years will therefore be a ^ + X ^1 + ^ 019)*
Wlience it appears that the present value of the annuity
to be entered upon immediately, and to continue n years,
wm he 0(I+^).[i_(1+£)-]=.,
123. Case 3. When, in consequence of the annuity
being always payable at the same time that the interest is
convertible, v—ir.
Since the interest of L.l at the expiration of the
ment being -.
121. Case 1. y being any whole number not greater
than v, let ~ — so that the interest may be convertible
1 . r
Peri°d - will be -, the value of the perpetuity will be
1
-a
‘r —a / \
y—-(8), whence, proceeding as before, we obtain the
into principal y times in each of the intervals between the
payments of the annuity.
Then will the amount of L.l at the expiration of the
period -be ^1 +-^ (H7), and the interest of L.l for the
v
present value of the annuity, - [i-o+y] =
Whence v=v, and consequently y = \, the values of v
given in the two preceding cases, will be found to coincide
/ r\ „ with this,
same time will be ^1 -p-j —1; whence the present va- 124. According as v and are each equal to 1, 2, 4, or
are infinite ; that is, according as the interest and the an¬
nuity are each payable yearly, half-yearly, quarterly, or
continually, let v be equal to y, h, q, or c, then will
lue of the perpetuity will be
1
- a
<ir
nr-
- (8), and the va-
Hi-ci+n
ANNUITIES.
244
Algebraical
View.
k=“
r
and c=-
r
-(i+|r2w
-(i+ir4”'
1 — n being as in No. 118.
nuity, we have
Kr-:
A , a \ vj
(,+;) '0+9
a
V ~ r
h' = -
, °
q—~
r
(1 +0” —1
and c — — (n —1 ) ; n being as in No. 118.
128. Example 1. What will L.320 amount to, when im¬
proved at compound interest during 40 years, the rate of
interest being 4 per cent, per annum ?
By the first formula in No. 116, the operation will be as
follows:
1 X r = 1-04 X 0-01703334
+ w = 40
0 + r)”X 0-6813336
s — 320 X 2-5051500
m = 1536-327 X 3.1864836
And the answer is L.1536. 6s. 6Xd.
129. Ex. 2. If the interest were convertible into princi¬
pal every half-}'car, the operation, according to No. 117,
would be thus:
1+2 = 1-02X0-00860017
X m= 80
Algebraic;
View.
0-6880136
s- 320X2-5051500
125. The amount of an annuity is equal to the sum to
which the purchase-money would amount if it were put
out and improved at interest during the whole term.
For, from the time of the purchase of the annuity, what¬
ever part of the money that was paid for it may be in the
hands of the granter, he must improve thus to provide for
the payments thereof; and if the purchaser also improve
in the same manner all he receives, the original purchase-
money must evidently receive the same improvement du¬
ring the term, as if it had been laid up at interest at its
commencement.
126. The periods of conversion of interest into princi¬
pal, and of the payment of the annuity being still desig¬
nated as in No. 120; since in n years the number of periods
of conversion will be vn, in the
ls£ Case, where the interest is convertible /x, times in
each of the intervals between the payments of the an-
—m. (117,
121, and 125.) In the 2d Case, when the annuity is pay¬
able (i times, in each interval between the conversions of
interest,
=m. (117, 122, and 125.)
And, in the 3d Case, when the annuity is always pay¬
able at the same time that the interest is convertible,
/ r\vn a,\ r m ”1
n + -j v = - (1 + -) —1 I =m.(117, 123, and 125.)
127. According as v and ware each equal to 1, 2, 4, or are
infinite ; that is, according as the interest and the annuity
are each payable yearly, half-yearly, quarterly, or conti¬
nually, let M be denoted by y', h', q', or d;
then will
1560-14X3-1931636
So that in this case the amount would be L.1560. 2s. 91d.
130. Ex. 3. Required the present value of an annuity
of L.250 for 30 years, reckoning interest at b per cent.
By the third formula in No. 116, the operation will be
thus:
X(l+r)-1 = xl-05 =1-9788107
X n = 30
(1 + r) = *23137704 X 1*3643210
1_(1 +r)-^ = *76862296 X 1*8857133
a = 250 X 2-3979400
r= *05x 1*3010300
v = 3843-114X3-5846833
And the required value is L.3843. 2s. 3^d.
131. Ex. 4. The rest being still the same, if the annuity
in the last example be payable half-yearly, in the formula
of No. 122 v will be equal to 1, w = 2, and /* = 2; that
formula will therefore become a+^ . [i-o+o-]
= v; and the operation will be thus :
1 (l + r)_n X T885713S1 N
a = 250X2-3979400 J JN0*1'iU*
-+j= 20-25 X 1-3064250
r 4
v = 3891-15X3-5900783
The value of the annuity will therefore in this case be
L.3891. 3s.
132. Ex. 5. To what sum will an annuity of L.120 for
20 years amount, when each payment is improved at com¬
pound interest from the time of its becoming due until
the expiration of the term, the rate of interest being 6
per cent. ?
The operation by the second formula in No. 116 is thus:
1 + 7-= 1-06X0-025305865
X ft = 20
(1 + 7-)” = 3*207135 X 0*5061173
(1 + t-)” — 1 ~ 2*207135X0*3438289
a= 120X2*0791812
r= *06 x 1-2218487
M = 4414-27 X 3-6448588
And the amount required is L.4414. 5s. 5d.
133. Ex. 6. The rest being the same as in the last ex¬
ample ; if both the interest and the annuity be payable
half- yearly, the amount will be determined by the second
of the formulae given in No. 127, which in this case will
become—^I (1-03)40—1 I, and the operation will be as
follows: ^
1-03X0-01283723
X 40
(T03)40 = 3*26204 X 0-5134892
(1-03)40—1 = 2-26204 X 0-3545003
X 2-0791812
*06x1-2218487
M = 4524-08 X 3-6555302
So that the amount in this case would be L.4524. Is.
7£d.
A N N U
irehraical
View.
II.—On the Probabilities of Life.
/ 134). Any persons, A, B, C, &c. being proposed, let the
numbers which tables of mortality (32) adapted to them
represent to attain to their respective ages be denoted by
the symbols a, b, c, &c.; while lives n years older than
those respectively are denoted thus, "A, nB, ”C, &c. and
the numbers that attain to their ages, by the symbols na,
nb, nc, <S:c.; also let lives n years younger than A, B, C,
&c. be denoted thus, An, Bn, Cn, &c., while the numbers
which the tables show to attain to those younger ages are
designated by the symbols an, bn, cn, &c.
Then, if A be 21 years of age, and we use the Carlisle
table, we shall have a = 6047, and ua 5362, the num¬
ber that attain to the age of 35, or that live to be 14 years
older than A.
Hence the number that are represented by the table to
die in n years from the age of A will be a — Ma, that is,
in 14 years, a — 14a ; and, by the Carlisle table, in 14 years
from the age of 21, that is, between 21 and 35, it will be
6047 — 5362 = 685.
135. Problem. To determine the probability that a pro¬
posed life A will survive n years.
Solution, a being the number of lives in the table of
mortality attaining the age of that which is proposed,
conceive that number of lives to be so selected (of which
A must be one), that they may each have the same pro¬
spect with regard to longevity as the proposed life and
those in the table, or the average of those from which it
was constructed ; then will the number of them that sur¬
vive the term be (134.)
So that the number of ways all equally probable, or the
number of equal chances for the happening of the event
in question, is na ; and the whole number for its either
happening or failing is a ; therefore, according to the first
principles of the doctrine of probabilities, the probability
of the event happening, that is, of A surviving the term,
. "a
is —.
a
If the age of A be 14, the probability of that life sur¬
viving 7 years, or the age of 21, will, according to the
Carlisle table, be — = or 0-95454.
a 6335
136. Since the number that die in n years from the age
of A is a — na (134), it appears, in the same manner, that
A 
the probability of that life failing in n years will be   
= 1 — ; which probability, when the life, term, and
table of mortality are the same as in the last No., will be
0-04546.
137. If two lives A and B be proposed, since the pro-
. na
bability of A surviving n years will be —, and that of B
• . . nb .
surviving the same term will be it appears from the
i • ... na nb n(ab)
doctrine of probabilities that — • -7- or i * * * v , will be the
a b ab
measure of the probability that these lives will both sur¬
vive n years.
In the same manner it may be shown, that the proba¬
bility ot the three lives A, B, and C all surviving n years,
na nb nc n(abc)
will be measured by —   — or
a b c,
abc
And, universal¬
ly, that any number of lives A, B, C, &c. will jointly sur¬
vive n years, the probability is
abc, &c.
I T I E S.
245
138.
T nb nr
Let — = na, ~ = h JL -
a b c
c , , Algebraical
nc, Ac.; also let view.
n(abc, &c.)
~abc, &c. ~ n(a^c’ ^c') ’ 80 ^iat ^le probabilities of A,
B, C, &c. surviving n years may be denoted by na, nb, nc,
&c. respectively; and that of all these lives jointly sur¬
viving that term by n(abc, &c.)
Then will the probability that none of these lives will
survive n years be (1 —na) . (1 —nb) . (1 —nC) . &c.
139. But the probability that some one or more of
these lives will survive n years will be just what the pro¬
bability last mentioned is deficient of certainty: its mea¬
sure, therefore, being just what the measure of that pro¬
bability is deficient of unit, will be
1 — 0 — n«) • (1 — rt>) • (1 — rfi) • &C.
140. Corol. 1. When there is only one life A, this
will be na.
141. Corol. 2. When there are two lives A and B, it
becomes na + n5 — n(ab).
142. Corol. 3. When there are three lives A, B, and
C, it becomes „a + + nc — Jab) — Jac) — Jbc) +
n(abc).
143. When three lives A, B, and C are proposed, that
at the expiration of n years there will be
living dead the probability is
ABC none   + Jobe)
AB C n(ab) . (1 — nc) = n(ab) — „(o^c)
AC B n(ac) . (1—nb) — n(ac) — n(abc)
BC A n(bc) . (1 — na)= n(bc) — n(abc)
And the sum of these four n(ab) + n(«c) + n(^) —
2n(abc), is the measure of the probability that some two
at the least out of these three lives will survive the term.
III.—Of Annuities on Lives.
144. Let the number of years’ purchase that an an¬
nuity on the life of A is worth, that is, the present value
of L.l to be received at the end of every year during the
continuance of that life, be denoted by a ; while the pre¬
sent value of an annuity on any number of joint lives A,
B, C, &c. that is, of an annuity which is to continue du¬
ring the joint existence of all the lives, but to cease with
the first that fails, is denoted by abc, &c.
Then will the value of an annuity on the joint conti¬
nuance of the three lives A, B, and C, be denoted by abc.
And on the joint continuance of the two A and B,
by ab.
145. Also let fA and At denote the values of annuities
on lives respectively older and younger than A, by t
years; while ^(abc, &c.) designates the value of an an¬
nuity on the joint continuance of lives t years older than
A, B, C, &c. respectively; and (abc, &c.)t that of an
annuity on the same number of joint lives, as many years
younger than these respectively.
146. Let
1
1 + r’
the present value of L.l to be received
certainly at the expiration of a year, be denoted by v.
Then will vn be the present value of that sum certain
to be received at the expiration of n years.
But if its receipt at the end of that time be dependent
upon an assigned life A surviving the term, its present
value will, by that condition, be reduced in the ratio of
certainty to the probability of A surviving the term, that
is, in the ratio of unit to na, and will therefore be nayn.
In the same manner it appears, that if the receipt of
the money at the expiration of the term be dependent
upon any assigned lives, as A, B, C, &c. jointly surviving
that period, its present value will be „(abc, &c.)vn.
246
Algebraical
ANNUITIES.
147. Let us denote the sum of any series, as 1(a&e)i> +
View, y^abc^v2 + ■5(<obc)vi + &c. thus, Sn(^abc)vn, by prefixing
the Italic capital S to the general term thereof. Then,
from what has just been advanced, it will be evident that
abc, &c. = Sn(abc, &c.)vn.
When there are but three lives, A, B, and C, this be¬
comes abc = Sn(abc)vn.
When there are but two, A and B, it becomes ab =
Sn(ab)vn.
And in the same manner it appears, that for a single
life A, a — Snavn.
148. n(abc, &c.)v" = ~w^lere the de¬
nominator (abc, &c.) is constant, while the numerator va¬
ries with the variable exponent n. And the most obvious
method of finding the value of an annuity on any assigned
single or joint lives, is to calculate the numerical value of
the term n(abc, &c.)vn for each value of w, and then to divide
Sn(ahr See \vn
the sum of all these values by abc, &c.; for —^—--—
J abc, &c.
= Sn(abc, &c.)vn = abc, &c.
In calculating a table of the values of annuities on lives
in that manner, for every combination of joint lives it
would be necessary to calculate the term n(abc, &c.)vn for
as many years as there might be between the age of the
oldest life involved and the oldest in the table; and the
same number of the terms navn for any single life of the
same age.
But this labour may be greatly abridged as follows:
Prob. I.
149. Given '(abc, &c.), the value of an annuity on any
number of joint lives, to determine abc, &c. that of an
annuity on the same number of joint lives respectively
one year younger than they.
Solution.
If it were certain that the lives abc, &c. would all sur¬
vive one year, the proprietor of an annuity of L.l depen¬
dent upon their joint continuance would, at the expira¬
tion of a year, be in possession of L.l (the first year’s
rent), and an annuity on the same number of lives one
year older respectively than abc, &c. ; therefore, in that
case, the required present value of the annuity would be
i;[l + '(abc, &c.)^. (146.)
But the probability of the lives A, B, C, &c. jointly
surviving one year is less than certainty in the ratio of
{abc, &c.) to unit; therefore abc, &c. — ,(abc, &c.)
«[1+'(abc, &c.)]. V '
150. Carol. 1. When there are but three lives, A, B,
and C, this becomes abc = {abc)v\\ + '(abc)].
151. Corol. 2. When there are only two, A and B.
ab ={ab)v[l + '(ab)].
152. Corol. 3. And for a single life A, it appears, in
the same manner, that a = /iv(1 + 'a).
153. Hence, in logarithms, we have these equations,
XA = Av + + X (1 + 'a),
XAB = Xr + X/a + X/5-f-X[l-}- '(ab)],
X abc =iXtt + X/t + X/6 + X/c + X[l + '(abc)],
&c. &c. &c.
Upon which it may be observed, that X v + X/z, the
sum of the first two logarithms that are employed in de¬
termining a from 'a, also enters the operation whereby
ab is determined from '(ab). And that X v + X/z + x/>,
the sum of the first three logarithms that serve to deter¬
mine ab from '(ab), is also required to determine abc
from '(abc) ; which observation may be extended in a si¬
milar manner to any greater number of joint lives.
154. By these means it is easy to complete a table of
the values of annuities on single lives of all ages, begin¬
ning with the oldest in the table, and proceeding regular- Algebraical
ly age by age to the youngest. v>ew.
Also a table of the values of any number of joint lives,
the Jives in each succeeding combination, in any one se¬
ries of operations (according to the retrograde order of
the ages in which they are computed), being one year
younger respectively than those in the preceding combi¬
nation.
And, if a table of single lives be computed first, then
of two joint lives, next of three joint lives, and so on, the
calculations made for the preceding tables will be of
great use for the succeeding.
155. Having shown how to compute tables of the values
of annuities on single and joint lives, we shall, in what
follows, always suppose those values to be given.
156. Let the value of an annuity on the joint continu¬
ance of any number of lives, A, B, C, &c. that is not to
be entered upon until the expiration of t years, be denot¬
ed by —|r(ABC, &c.).
Then, if it were certain that all the lives would survive
the term, since the value of the annuity at the expiration
of the term would be *(abc, &c.) (145), its present value
would be v*.*(abc, &c.) (146).
But the measure of the probability that all the lives will
survive the term is t(a^c> &c.), therefore —,<(abc, &c.) =
t(abc, &c.) v*. *(abc, &c.).
In the same manner, it appears, that for a single life
•A., "■1 -j<a —. . fA,
157. Let an annuity for the term of < years only, depen¬
dent upon the joint continuance of any number of lives,
A, B, C, &c. be denoted by —(abc, &c.); and, since this
temporary annuity, together with an annuity on the joint
continuance of the same lives deferred for the same
term, will evidently be of the same value as an annuity
to be entered upon immediately, and enjoyed during
their whole joint continuance, we have __(abc, &c.) +
—(abc, &c.) = abc, &c.; whence, _ (abc, &c.) =
ABC, &C. 5 (ABC, &C.).
And for a single life A, —A = a .«a.
S ’ t\ ^
Prob. II.
158. To determine the present value of an annuity on
the survivor of the two lives A and B (155) ; which we
designate thus, ab.
Solution.
The probability that the survivor of these two lives will
outlive the term of n years was shown in No. 141 to be
na f rf — n{.ab); therefore, reasoning as in No. 146, it
will be found that the present value of the nth year’s
rent of this annuity is [na +5 — n(ab)']vn, and the
value of all the rents thereof will be S\_na-\r J*—n (ab)-]vn,
or Snavn Snbvn — Sn(ab) v» ; so that ab r= a -j- b
— ab (147), agreeably to No. 48.
Prob. III.
159. To determine the present value of an annuity on
the last survivor of three lives, A, B, and C (155) ; which
we denote thus, abc.
Solution.
The present value of the rath year’s rent is
Cn« + — n(ab) — n(ac)  n(bc) + niabeffv*
(142 and 146); whence, it appears, as in the preceding
number, that abc = a + b + c — ab — ac — bc + abc,
agreeably to No. 52.
Igebraical
View.
Prob. IV.
y 160. To determine the present value of an annuity on
the joint existence of the last two survivors out of three
2
lives, A, B, C, (155); which we denote thus, abc.
Solution.
The present value of the nth year’s rent is
[„(ab) + „(ac) + n(bc) — 2n(a6c)]«" (143 and 146);
whence, reasoning as in the two preceding numbers, we
infer, that abc — ab + ac + bc — 2 abc, as was de¬
monstrated otherwise in No. 51.
161. Since the solutions of the last three problems were
all obtained by showing each year’s rent (as for instance
the rath) of the annuity in question to be of the same value
with the aggregate of the rents for the same year of all
the annuities (taken with their proper signs) on the single
and joint lives exhibited in the resulting formula; if any
term of years be assigned, it is manifest that the value of
such annuity for the term must be the same as that of the
aggregate of the annuities above mentioned, each for the
same term.
Prob. V.
162. A and B being any two proposed lives now both
existing, to determine the present value of an annuity re¬
ceivable only while A survives B.
Solution.
A rent of this annuity will only be payable at the end
of the rath year, provided that B be then dead and A
living; but the probability of B being then dead is 1 — nb,
and that of A being then living na, and these two events
are independent; therefore, the probability of their both
happening, or that of the rent being received, is (1 —nb)
na — na — „(«5) ; the present value of that rent is, there¬
fore, [„a — n(aby\vn; whence it follows, that the re¬
quired value of the annuity on the life of A after that of
B is a — ab, agreeably to No. 60.
163. If the payment for the annuity which was the sub¬
ject of the last problem is not to be made in present
money, but by a constant annual premium p at the end of
each year, while both the lives survive; since ab is the
number of years’ purchase (6) that an annuity on the joint
continuance of those lives is worth, the value of p will be
determined by this equation, p . ab ~ a — ab, whence
ANNUITIES.
and the sum of these being } „(m) + l„(fc)
the value of Cs interest is 4 ac 4- 4 bc —abc.
we have p = —
1 AB
1.
164. But if one premium p is to be paid down now, and
an equal premium at the end of each year while both the
lives survive, we shall have • (1 + ab) = a — ab, and
_ A — AB
^ 1 ”1“ AB
165. For numerical examples illustrative of the formulae
given from No. 158 to the present, see Nos. 66-74.
Prob. VI.
166. A and B are in possession of an annuity on the
life of the survivor of them, which, if either of them die
before a third person C, is then to be divided equally be¬
tween C and the survivor during their joint lives ; to de¬
termine the value of C's interest.
That at the end
of the rath year
there will be
dead
A
B
living
BC
AC
Solution.
the probability, multiplied by C's proportion of
the annuity in that circumstance, is
j (l—„a) . „(6cl = 4 ln(bc) —n(abc)~\
2 (! •— «*) • „(«c) = 4 [„(ac) — n(abc)~\ ;
the value of Cs interest is A ac + ^
Prob. VII.
167. An annuity, after the decease of A, is to be equal-
ly divided between B and C during their joint lives, and
is then to go entirely to the last survivor for his life ; it is
proposed to find the value of B’s interest therein.
Solution.
That at the end
of the rath year
there will be
247
n(abc), Algebraical
View.
dead
A
AC
living
BC
B
the probability, multiplied by B's proportion of
the annuity in that circumstance, is
 + ln(bc) — \n(abc)
— n(«5) — n(bc) + n(abc); and the sum
of these being nb — n(«^) ■
of B's interest is b — ab -
■ 2n(bc) + 2n(abc)> the value
4 BC + .1 ABC.
Prob. VIII.
168. A, B, and C purchase an annuity on the life of
the last survivor of them, which is to be divided equally
at the end of every year among such of them as may then
be living; what should A contribute towards the purchase
of this annuity ?
Solution.
That at the end
of ra years there
will be
dead
none
c
B
BC
living
ABC
AB
AC
A
the probability, multiplied by A's proportion
of the annuity in that circumstance, is
• +
— 1n(abc)
2n(ab).  2n\ ,
 2>i\^^) 2'nV^^)
lu—n(ab)—n(ac) + n(abc) ; and the sum
of these being na—•!•„(«&) — ^n(ac)-\-^n(cibc), the requir¬
ed value of A’s interest is a—^ AB — i AC + 3 ABC>
Prob. IX.
169. As soon as any two of the three lives, A, B, and
C, are extinct, B or his heirs are to enter upon an annui¬
ty, which they are to enjoy during the remainder of the
survivor’s life; to determine the value of B's interest
therein.
That at the end
of ra years there
will be
Sohition.
dead
living
The probability is
AB C nc—n(ac)—n(bc) + n(abc)
AC B nb—n(ab)—n(bc)n(abc)
BC A La—„(«4)—n(ac) + n(abc); and the sum
of all these being na-j~nb-j-nc—2n(ab)—2n(ac)—2„(bc)
-f- 3n(abc), the value of B’s interest is
a + b + c —2 AB 2 AC 2 BC + 3 ABC.
170. The last four may be sufficient to show the me¬
thod of proceeding with any similar problems.
171. Let ^Kabc, &c.) denote the probability that the last
m survivors out of ;ra + /ci lives A, B, C, &c. will jointly
survive the term of t years. And when ^=0, the expres¬
sion will become t(abc, &c.), the probability that the lives
will all survive the term. (138.)
When m = 1 it will become t(abc, &c.), the measure of
248
ANNUITIES.
Algebraical tire probability that the last survivor of them will outlive
the term, which it will be better to write thus, t(abc, &c.),
retaining the vinculum, but omitting the unit over it, as
in the notation of powers.
Also let abc, &c. denote the value of an annuity on the
joint continuance of the same number of last survivors out
of the same lives. Then, if p be equal to 0, it will be
abc, &x. the value of an annuity on the joint continuance
of all the lives ; when m=. 1, it will be abc, &c. the value of
an annuity on the last survivor of them. The values of an¬
nuities on the last survivor of two and of three lives will
be denoted as in Nos. 158 and 159 respectively; and that
of an annuity on the joint continuance of the last two sur¬
vivors out of three lives, as in No. 160.
The value of an annuity on the last m survivors out of
these lives, according as it is limited to the term of
t years, or deferred during that term, will also be denoted
by—abc, &e. or
J t\
.jfabc, &c. (156 and 157.)
Pros. X.
172. An annuity certain for the term of t-\-v years is
to be enjoyed by P and his heirs during the joint exist¬
ence of the last m survivors out of +^ lives, A, B, C,
&c.; and if that joint existence fail before the expiration
of t years, the annuity is to go to Q and his heirs for the
remainder of the term; to determine the value of Q's in¬
terest in that annuity.
Solution.
Q's expectation may be distinguished into two parts:
1st, That of enjoying the annuity during the term of
t years.
2d, That of enjoying it after the expiration of that
term.
The sum of the present values of the interests of P
and Q together in the annuity for the term of t years, is
manifestly equal to the whole present value of the annuity
certain for that term; that is, equal to    (113 and
146) ; and the value of P's interest for the term of t
years is _abc, &c. (171) ; therefore the value of Q's in¬
terest for the same term is
1 — v*
—ABC, &C.
The present value of the annuity certain for v years af-
. V«(1_VV) '
ter t years is v ^ 7 (114 and 146) ; and Q and his
heirs will receive this annuity if the joint continuance of
the last vi survivors above mentioned fail before the ex¬
piration of t years ; but the probability of their joint con¬
tinuance failing in the term is \—^abc, &c.) ; therefore
the value of Qs interest in the annuity to be received
after t years, is £ 1—,(a6c, &c.) JV ^ ; anci the
whole value of C^s interest is
l ^ • t{abc, &c.)] ——ABC, &c.
173. Corol. 1. When the whole annuity certain is a
perpetuity, and the value of Q's interest is
1 r (- \ -i ^ 
-I 1—t\abc, Stc./v* — abc, &c.
r k <1
174. Carol. 2. When the term t is not less than the
greatest joint continuance of any m of the proposed Algebraical
lives, according to the tables of mortality adapted to them, View.
(m \ m m W>
abc, &lcA — 0, and ^[abc, &c. r= abc, &c.; therefore,
in that case, the general formula of No. 172 becomes
1 tf+t  
 — abc, &c.; that is, the excess of the value of an
T
annuity certain for the whole term v-\-t, above that of an
annuity on the whole duration of joint continuance of the
last m surviving lives.
175. And if, in the case proposed in the last No., the
annuity certain be a perpetuity, as in No. 173, the formula
will become abc, &c. the excess of the value of the
r
perpetuity above the value of an annuity on the joint lives
of the last m survivors ; agreeably to No. 63.
176. Example 1. Required the present value of the ab¬
solute reversion of an estate in fee simple, after the ex¬
tinction of the last survivor of three lives, A, B, C, now
aged 50, 55, and 60 years respectively; reckoning inter¬
est at 5 per cent.
The general algebraical expression of this value has
just been shown to be - — abc.
But - = k - 20-000
r 0-5
And abc, = 14-001 (68.)
Therefore 5-999 years’ purchase is the
value required. And if the annual produce of the estate,
clear of all deductions, were L.100, the title to the rever¬
sion would now be worth L.599. 18s. —, agreeably to
No. 76.
177. Ex. 2. An annuity for the term of 70 years cer¬
tain (from this time) is to revert to Q and his heirs at
the failure of a life A, now 45 years of age; what is the
present value of Q's interest therein, reckoning the inter¬
est of money at 5 per cent. ?
In No. 174 the algebraical expression of the required
1 —
value is shown to be A.
r
But t.v-TL 1-05 ZZ r-9788107
X 70
-032866X2-5167490
1 _ ^70 _ .967134  
1—^70 -967134
•05
z= 19-34268
Subtract A zz 12-64800 (Tab. VI.)
remains 6-69468 years’purchase;
so that if the annuity were L.1000, the value of the rever¬
sion would be L.6694. 13s. 7d.
178. Ex. 3. An annuity for the term of 70 years cer¬
tain from this time is to revert to Q and his heirs at the
extinction of the survivor of two lives, A and B, now
aged 40 and 50 years respectively, the interest of money
being 5 per cent.; it is required to determine the value of
Q's interest in this annuity.
The algebraical expression of the value is,
1 —V70 _
 AB (174 and 171).
1
i,70
ZZ 19-3426&
But by the last example
/
and by No. 66, ab zz 15-06600
so that the required value is 4*27668 years'
■hraicai purchase ; and if the annuity be L.1000, the present value
of the reversion will be L.4276. 13s. 7d.
IV.—Of Assurances on Lives.
179. Let the present value of the assurance (77 and
78) of L.l on the life of A be denoted by the old English
capital and that of an assurance on the joint continu¬
ance of any number of lives A, JB, C, &c. by SII3C, &c.
Also, let the value of an assurance on the joint continu¬
ance of any m of them out of the whole number m t*
ANNUITIES. 249
— [""" m m ~1 Algebraical
® ~l_l —*(a4c, &c.) ^ +   abc, &c.J —
r m m
V L1 —t(abc, &c.)?;‘J -_(1 v)—.abc, &c.= 1—,(a*c, &c.)v*
Ejn m -j
1 (fec.)^ + —abc, &c. _J, whence
we have
be denoted by &c.
180. And, in every case, let us designate the annual
premium (83) for an assurance, by prefixing the charac¬
ter O to the symbol for the single premium; so that © ^
may denote the annual premium for an assurance on the
life of A; ©StiBC, Arc. the same for an assurance on the
joint continuance of all the lives, A, B, C, &c.; and
© —^ 33 C, &c. =
<1
V  1.
1 — f(aftc, &c.) v*
+
1—f(a6c, &c.)vf+—abc, &c.
t\
184. Corol. 1. When (t), the term of the assurance, is
not less than the greatest possible joint duration of any m
0 iBJC, &c. the annual premium for an assurance on the
joint continuance of the last m survivors out of the whole
number of those lives.
181. Then will —^ and 0 —% — ®33C, &c. and
t\ t\ t\
of the proposed lives, t(abc, &c.) = 0, __abc, &c. =
abc, &c., and the general formulae of the two preceding
numbers become respectively
©— ®33C, &c., _ ®33<T, Ac. and ©_&35C, Ac.
*1 *|
designate the single and annual premiums for assurances
on the same life or lives for the term of t years only.
Prob. XI.
S133C, Ac. = v — (1—«)abc, Ac.
m j
and © £133(it, Ac. = v — 1.
(—£I33C, Ac.)
182. To determine \_^33 0r, Ac.) the present value
of an assurance on the last m survivors out of ??? + /£ lives
A, B, C, Ac. for the term of t years only; that is, the
present value of L.l to be received upon the joint conti¬
nuance of these last m survivors failing in the term.
Solution.
By reasoning as in No. 79, it will be found that a per¬
petuity, the first payment of which is to be made at the
end of the year in which the last m survivors out of these
lives may fail in the term, will be of the same present
1 + abc, Ac.
185. Corol. 2. In the same manner it appears, that, for
a single life, & — v— (1 —v) a,
and © £1 zr 77-4 b v — 1.
1 + a
186. Corol. 3. Also that £t — a(l—^?/)—(1—v) .a
or—= a^l — ~v<)—(1—v) • —4”vf’*A)*
And © —<1 = Tj—1 *~;^f - +v—l;
i| 1 — tav~r—a
ralue as ^1 + -^ —^ ^ ^ pounds to be received in the
5ame event (112 and 146); but, in No. 173, the value of
the reversion of such a perpetuity in that event was
r   -i ^ 
y—^1 —t («*c> Ac.)vM ^|abc> &c.
that is, O ——
i a t
1 v(
a
+ v— 1.
1 + A — -V . (1 + ‘a)
shown to be
whence it is manifest that “Tj&ISC, Ac.
1 —t(aic, Ac.) v(_\— (1 — v) — abc, Ac.
183. Since the annual premium for this assurance must
be paid at the commencement of every year in the term,
while the last m surviving lives all subsist (83*); besides
the premium paid down now, one must be paid at the ex-
piration of every year in the term except the last, pro¬
vided that these last m survivors all outlive it; but the
present value of L.l to be received upon their surviving
187. Corol. 4. When the assurance is on the joint con¬
tinuance of all the lives, the formulae of No. 184 become
respectively
£t 33 C, Ac. = v — (1 — v) abc, Ac.
and © £133 C, Ac. = ——^v — 1.
1 4“ ABC, Ac.
And those of numbers 182 and 183,
Mm,
Habc, Ac.) . .. „
abc, Ac.   j—-—-v(. Habc, Ac.) I
abc, Ac. x A
and ©—lE33C, Ac. =
• I
, ‘(abc, Ac.) ,
1 r   -V*
abc, Ac.
that last year is t(abc, Ac.)*?4, therefore all the future pre- 1 + abc, Ac. Ac.)^j~~^ </ABG) ^C.)~J,
m m abc> &C- L J
miums are now worth — abc, Ac.—t(abc, Ac.) v* years’
PU’chase, and the present value of all the premiums, or
the total present value of the assurance, is
YOE. iu.
■f" v — 1.
188. Corol. 5. According as the assurance is in the last
survivor of two or of three lives, the formulae ol No. 184
become respectively
250
Algebraical
View.
ANNUITIES.
= V   (1   v) AB,
and O &3B =
1 +
-Lr + V—1;
AB
or v — (1 v) abc,
and O &2SC —: , + v — 1.
1 "t" ABC
And those of numbers 182 and 183 become
= ^J^l — — (1 — r) .ab,
. —— 1—t(ab)vt
and O aU=   = + ^-1;
<| 1—t^aojv* H—-jab
192. By substituting-^ for v (146) in the last ex-AIy^lc,
rn  _
pression, it becomes ABC’
1 +r
ABC, &c.
1 — r. ABC, &c.
or
; — ABC, &c.
T+I
r
And
 ABC, &c.
r
or
= vj^l——(1—v) .abc
^7 1 +-
'= &33C, &c. is the proposition enunciated
and © —= -j t-, ^ respec-
t\ l — t(abc)v*+—ABC r
tively.
Where t(ab) -=z ta tb — i(ai) (141),
and t(abc) = + tC— Q(a&) + t(ac) + t(bc)~\ +
t(abc). (142.)
For the values of ab, abc, -^ab, and _abc, see num¬
bers 157-159, and 161.
189. Carol. 6. When the assurance is on the joint con¬
tinuance of the two last survivors out of the three lives
A, B, C, the formulae of No. 184 become respectively
tlC = v —(1 —*>)W
2  1
and O — g- H v — 1.
1 + ABC
Those of numbers 182 and 183,
in No. 81; - being the value of the perpetuity. (112.)
193. Examples of the determination of the single pre¬
miums for assurances, and of the derivation of the annual
premiums from them, have been given in No. 82-88,
also in 95 and 96; but by the algebraical formulae given
here, the annual premiums may be determined directly,
without first finding the total present values of the assur¬
ances.
194. Example 1. Required the annual premium for an
assurance on the life A, now 50 years of age, interest 5
per cent.
According to No. 185, the operation is thus,
1 + A = 12-660 ~
' 2-8975663
1
-0789890
—a«c = i—J _ (i _ „)
_2 
1 — t^abc^v*
2  ~ 2
1 — tiabc^v* + -t, abc
q
and O
— ABC,
t\
V 1.
1 + A
adding v = -9523809, and subtracting unit,
we have © ^ -0313699, agreeably to No. 85.
195. Ex. 2. What should the annual premium be for
an assurance on the last survivor of three lives A, B, and
C, now aged 50, 55, and 60 years respectively, rate of in¬
terest 5 per cent. ?
Operation by No. 188.
(68) 1 + abc = 15-001 X
1 ^ 2-8238798
F-pABC “ -0666622
V = -9523809
Where t{abc) - t(ab) + ,(ac) + t(jc) _ 2 /abc).
(143.)
2  _2 
For the values of abc and __Abc see numbers 157,
160, and 161.
190,
I jn  “| m
^ L1 — t(abc, &c.yj _ (1 _ v) -^abc, &c.
the
value of an assurance on any life or lives for the term of t
years, which was given in No. 182, may also be express¬
ed thus: r
L1 + -7](abc* &c.) —f(aic, &c.yjw -ABC, &c.
And this, in words at length, is the rule given in No. 93.
191. When t is not less than the greatest possible joint
duration of any m of the proposed lives, the last expres¬
sion becomes
G&iBC = -0190431, agreeably to No. 88.
196. Ex. 3. Required the annual premium for an assur¬
ance for 10 years only, on a life now 45 years of age, in¬
terest 5 per cent.
Operation according Jo No. 186.
v10 = -613913 X 1-7881068
10a = 4073 X3-6099144
a = 4727 x 4-3254144
10or10 = -528976 X 1-7234356
1 + 10A = 11-347 X 1-0548811
Subtract 6-002 X 0-7783167
from 1 + A = 13-648
remains 7-646 x 1-1165657
1 —-471024 x1-6730430
(l + ABC, &C.) V-
+ ABC, &cj V ABC, &C.
which is also equivalent to the first in No. 184; and in
words at length, is the rule given in No. 97 for determin¬
ing the value of an assurance on any life or lives for their
whole duration.
•061604 X 2 7896087
v — -952381
© Tq-| ® = •013985, agreeably to No. 96.
WTiat has been advanced from number 99 to 109 needs
no algebraical illustration.
ANNUITIES,
251
TABLE I.
Showing the present Value of One Pound to be received at the End of any Number of Years not exceeding 50.
( See No. 9 12 of the preceding Article.)
Years.
2
per Cent.
21
per Cent.
3
per Cent.
4
per Cent.
i>
per Cent.
6
per Cent.
7
per Cent.
8
per Cent.
9
per Cent.
Years.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
•980392
•961169
•942322
•923845
•905731
•887971
•870560
•853490
•836755
•820348
•804263
•788493
•773033
•757875
•743015
•728446
•714163
•700159
•686431
•672971
•659776
•646839
•634156
•621721
•609531
•597579
•585862
•574375
•563112
•552071
•541246
•530633
•520229
•510028
•500028
•490223
•480611
•471187
•461948
•452890
•444010
•435304
•426769
•418401
•410197
•402154
•394268
•386538
•378958
•371528
•975610
•951814
•928599
•905951
•883854
•862297
•841265
•820747
•800728
•781198
•762145
•743556
•725420
•707727
•690466
•673625
•657195
•641166
•625528
•610271
•595386
•580865
•566697
•552875
•539391
•526235
•513400
•500878
•488661
•476743
•465115
•453771
•442703
•431905
•421371
•411094
•401067
•391285
•381741
•372431
•363347
•354485
•345839
•337404
•329174
•321146
•313313
•305671
•298216
•290942
•970874
•942596
•915142
•888487
•862609
•837484
•813092
•789409
•766417
•744094
•722421
•701380
•680951
•661118
•641862
•623167
•605016
•587395
•570286
•553676
•537549
•521893
•506692
•491934
•477606
•463695
•450189
•437077
•424346
•411987
•399987
•388337
•377026
•366045
•355383
•345032
•334983
•325226
•315754
•306557
•297628
•288959
•280543
•272372
•264439
•256737
•249259
•241999
•234950
•228107
•961538
•924556
•888996
•854804
•821927
•790315
•759918
•730690
•702587
•675564
•649581
•624597
•600574
•577475
•555265
•533908
•513373
•493628
•474642
•456387
•438834
•421955
•405726
•390121
•375117
•360689
•346817
•333477
•320651
•308319
•296460
•285058
•274094
•263552
•253415
•243669
•234297
•225285
•216621
•208289
•200278
•192575
•185168
•178046
•171198
•164614
•158283
•152195
•146341
•140713
•952381
•907029
•863838
•822702
•783526
•746215
•710681
•676839
•644609
•613913
•584679
•556837
•530321
•505068
•481017
•458112
•436297
•415521
•395734
•376889
•358942
•341850
•325571
•310068
•295303
•281241
•267848
•255094
•242946
•231377
•220359
•209866
•199873
T90355
•181290
•172657
T64436
•156605
•149148
•142046
•135282
•128840
•122704
•116861
•111297
•105997
•100949
•096142
•091564
•087204
•943396
•889996
•839619
•792094
•747258
•704961
•665057
•627412
•591898
•558395
•526788
•496969
•468839
•442301
•417265
•393646
•371364
•350344
•330513
•311805
•294155
•277505
•261797
•246979
•232999
•219810
•207368
•195630
•184557
•174110
•164255
•154957
•146186
•137912
•130105
•122741
•115793
•109239
•103056
•097222
•091719
•086527
•081630
•077009
•072650
•068538
•064658
•060998
•057546
•054288
•934579
•873439
•816298
•762895
•712986
•666342
•622750
•582009
•543934
•508349
•475093
•444012
•414964
•387817
•362446
•338735
•316574
•295864
•276508
•258419
•241513
•225713
•210947
•197147
•184249
•172195
•160930
•150402
•140563
•131367
•122773
•114741
•107235
•100219
•093663
•087535
•081809
•076457
•071455
•066780
•062412
•058329
•054513
•050946
•047613
•044499
•041587
•038867
•036324
•033948
•925926
•857339
•793832
•735030
•680583
•630170
•583490
•540269
•500249
•463193
•428883
•397114
•367698
•340461
•315242
•291890
•270269
•250249
•231712
•214548
•198656
•183941
•170315
•157699
•146018
•135202
•125187
•115914
•107328
•099377
•092016
•085200
•078889
•073045
•067635
•062625
•057986
•053690
•049713
•046031
•042621
•039464
•036541
•033834
•031328
•029007
•026859
•024869
•023027
•021321
•917431
•841680
•772183
•708425
•649931
•596267
•547034
•501866
•460428
•422411
•387533
•355535
•326179
•299246
•274538
•251870
•231073
•211994
•194490
•178431
•163698
•150182
•137781
•126405
•115968
•106393
•097608
•089548
•082155
•075371
•069148
•063438
•058200
•053395
•048986
•044941
•041231
•037826
•034703
•031838
•029209
•026797
•024584
•022555
•020692
•018984
•017416
•015978
•014659
•013449
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
252
ANNUITIES,
TABLE II.
Showing the present Value of an Annuity of One Pound for any Number of Years not exceeding 50.
(No. 9 12.)
Y ears.
2
per Cent.
91
* 2
per Cent.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
Perp.
•9804
1- 9416
2- 8839
3- 8077
4- 7135
5- 6014
6- 4720
7- 3255
8- 1622
8- 9826
9- 7868
10- 5753
11- 3484
12- 1062
12- 8493
13- 5777
14- 2919
14- 9920
15- 6785
16- 3514
17- 0112
17- 6580
18- 2922
18- 9139
19- 5235
20- 1210
20- 7069
21- 2813
21- 8444
22- 3965
22- 9377
23- 4683
23- 9886
24- 4986
24- 9986
25- 4888
25- 9695
26- 4406
26- 9026
27- 3555
27- 7995
28- 2348
28-6616
29- 0800
29-4902
29- 8923
30- 2866
30- 6731
31- 0521
31-4236
50-0000
•9756
1- 9274
2- 8560
3- 7620
4- 6458
5- 5081
6- 3494
7- 1701
7- 9709
8- 7521
9- 5142
10-2578
10- 9832
11- 6909
12- 3814
13- 0550
13- 7122
14- 3534
14- 9789
15- 5892
16- 1845
16- 7654
17- 3321
17- 8850
18- 4244
18- 9506
19- 4640
19- 9649
20- 4535
20- 9303
21- 3954
21- 8492
22- 2919
22- 7238
23- 1452
23-5563
23- 9573
24- 3486
24- 7303
25- 1028
25-4661
25- 8206
26- 1664
26-5038
26- 8330
27- 1542
27-4675
27- 7732
28- 0714
28-3623
3
per Cent.
40-0000
•9709
1- 9135
2- 8286
3- 7171
4- 5797
5- 4172
6- 2303
7- 0197
7- 7861
8- 5302
9- 2526
9-9540
10- 6350
11- 2961
11- 9379
12- 5611
13- 1661
13- 7535
14- 3238
14- 8775
15- 4150
15- 9369
16- 4436
16- 9355
17- 4131
17- 8768
18- 3270
18- 7641
19- 1885
19- 6004
20- 0004
20-3888
20- 7658
21- 1318
21-4872
21- 8323
22- 1672
22- 4925
22-8082
23- 1148
23-4124
23-7014
23- 9819
24- 2543
24-5187
24- 7754
25- 0247
25-2667
25-5017
25-7298
4
per Cent.
•9615
1-8861
2- 7751
3- 6299
4- 4518
5- 2421
6- 0021
6- 7327
7- 4353
8- 1109
8- 7605
9- 3851
9-9856
10- 5631
11- 1184
11- 6523
12- 1657
12- 6593
13- 1339
13- 5903
14- 0292
14-4511
14- 8568
15- 2470
15-6221
15- 9828
16- 3296
16-6631
16- 9837
17- 2920
17-5885
17- 8736
18- 1476
18-4112
18-6646
18- 9083
19- 1426
19-3679
19-5845
19-7928
19- 9931
20- 1856
20-3708
20-5488
20-7200
20- 8847
21- 0429
21-1951
21-3415
21-4822
5
per Cent.
33-3333 25-0000
•9524
1- 8594
2- 7232
3- 5460
4- 3295
5- 0757
5- 7864
6- 4632
7- 1078
7- 7217
8- 3064
8- 8633
9- 3936
9-8986
10-3797
10- 8378
11- 2741
11- 6896
12- 0853
12- 4622
12-8212
13- 1630
13-4886
13- 7986
14- 0939
14-3752
14-6430
14- 8981
15- 1411
15-3725
15-5928
15- 8027
16- 0025
16-1929
16-3742
16-5469
16-7113
16- 8679
17- 0170
17-1591
17-2944
17-4232
17-5459
17-6628
17-7741
17-8801
17- 9810
18- 0772
18-1687
18-2559
6
per Cent.
20-0000 16-6667
•9434
1- 8334
2- 6730
3- 4651
4- 2124
4- 9173
5- 5824
6- 2098
6- 8017
7- 3601
7- 8869
8- 3838
8- 8527
9- 2950
9-7122
10-1059
10-4773
10- 8276
11- 1581
11-4699
11- 7641
12- 0416
12-3034
12-5504
12- 7834
13- 0032
13-2105
13-4062
13-5907
13-7648
13- 9291
14- 0840
14-2302
14-3681
14-4982
14-6210
14-7368
14-8460
14- 9491
15- 0463
15-1380
15-2245
15-3062
15-3832
15-4558
15-5244
15-5890
15-6500
15-7076
15-7619
7
per Cent.
•9346
1-8080
2- 6243
3- 3872
4- 1002
4- 7665
5- 3893
5- 9713
6- 5152
7- 0236
7-4987
7- 9427
8- 3577
8- 7455
9- 1079
9-4466
9-7632
10-059]
10-3356
10-5940
10- 8355
11- 0612
11-2722
11-4693
11-6536
11-8258
11- 9867
12- 1371
12-2777
12-4090
12-5318
12-6466
12-7538
12-8540
12- 9477
13- 0352
13-1170
13-1935
13-2649
13-3317
13-3941
13-4524
13-5070
13-5579
13-6055
13-6500
13-6916
13-7305
13-7668
13-8007
8
per Cent.
14-2857
•9259
1- 7833
2- 5771
3- 3121
3- 9927
4- 6229
5- 2064
5- 7466
6- 2469
6- 7101
7- 1390
7-5361
7- 9038
8- 2442
8-5595
8- 8514
9- 1216
9-3719
9-6036
9-8181
10-0168
10-2007
10-3711
10-5288
10-6748
10-8100
10- 9352
11- 0511
11-1584
11-2578
11-3498
11-4350
11-5139
11-5869
11-6546
11-7172
11-7752
11-8289
11-8786
11-9246
11- 9672
12- 0067
12-0432
12-0771
12-1084
12-1374
12-1643
12-1891
12-2122
12-2335
9
per Cent.
Years.
12-5000
•9174
1- 7591
2- 5313
3- 2397
3- 8897
4- 4859
5- 0330
5-5348
5- 9952
6- 4177
6- 8052
7- 1607
7-4869
7- 7862
8- 0607
8-3126
8-5436
8-7556
8- 9501
9- 1285
9-2922
9-4424
9-5802
9-7066
9-8226
9-9290
10-0266
10-1161
10-1983
10-2737
10-3428
10-4062
10-4644
10-5178
10-5668
10-6118
10-6530
10-6908
10*7255
10-7574
10-7866
10-8134
10-8380
10-8605
10-8812
10-9002
10-9176
10-9336
10-9482
10-9617
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
11-1111 Perp
ANNUITIES
253
TABLE III.
Showing the Sum to which One Pound will increase when improved at Compound Interest during any
Number of Years not exceeding 50.
(No. 9 12.)
Years.
2
per Cent.
21-
^ 2
per Cent.
3
per Cent.
4
per Cent.
5
per Cent.
6
per Cent.
7
per Cent.
8
per Cent.
Y ears.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
1-02000
1-04040
1-06121
1-08243
1-10408
1-12616
1-14869
1-17166
1-19509
1-21899
1-24337
1-26824
1-29361
1-31948
1-34587
1-37279
1-40024
1-42825
1-45681
1-48595
1-51567
1-54598
1-57690
1-60844
1-64061
1-67342
1-70689
1-74102
1-77584
1-81136
1-84759
1-88454
1-92223
1-96068
1- 99989
2- 03989
2-08069
2-12230
2-16474
2-20804
2-25220
2-29724
2-34319
2-39005
2-43785
2-48661
2-53634
2-58707
2-63881
2-69159
1-02500
1-05063
1-07689
1-10381
1-13141
1-15969
1-18869
1-21840
1-24886
1-28008
1-31209
1-34489
1-37851
1-41297
1-44830
1-48451
1-52162
1-55966
1-59865
1-63862
1-67958
1-72157
1-76461
1-80873
1-85394
1-90029
1-94780
1- 99650
2- 04641
2-09757
2-15001
2-20376
2-25885
2-31532
2-37321
2-43254
2-49335
2-55568
2-61957
2-68506
2-75219
2-82100
2-89152
2- 96381
3- 03790
3-11385
3-19170
3-27149
3-35328
3-43711
1-030000
1-060900
1-092727
1-125509
1-159274
1-194052
1-229874
1-266770
1-304773
1-343916
1-384234
1-425761
1-468534
1-512590
1-557967
1-604706
1-652848
1-702433
1-753506
1-806111
1-860295
1-916103
1- 973587
2- 032794
2-093778
2-156591
2-221289
2-287928
2-356566
2-427262
2-500080
2-575083
2-652335
2-731905
2-813862
2-898278
2- 985227
3- 074783
3-167027
3-262038
3-359899
3-460696
3-564517
3-671452
3-781596
3- 895044
4- 011895
4-132252
4-256219
4-383906
1-040000
1-081600
1-124864
1-169859
1-216653
1-265319
1-315932
1-368569
1-423312
1-480244
1-539454
1-601032
1-665074
1-731676
1-800944
1-872981
1- 947901
2- 025817
2-106849
2-191123
2-278768
2-369919
2-464716
2-563304
2-665836
2-772470
2-883369
2- 998703
3- 118651
3-243398
3-373133
3-508059
3-648381
3-794316
3- 946089
4- 103933
4-268090
4-438813
4-616366
4-801021
4- 993061
5- 192784
5-400495
5-616515
5- 841176
6- 074823
6-317816
6-570528
6- 833349
7- 106683
1-050000
1-102500
1-157625
1-215506
1-276282
1-340096
J-407100
1-477455
1-551328
1-628895
1-710339
1-795856
1-885649
1- 979932
2- 078928
2-182875
2-292018
2-406619
2-526950
2-653298
2-785963
2- 925261
3- 071524
3-225100
3-386355
3-555673
3-733456
3- 920129
4- 116136
4-321942
4-538039
4- 764941
5- 003189
5-253348
5-516015
5- 791816
6- 081407
6-385477
6- 704751
7- 039989
7-391988
7- 761588
8- 149667
8-557150
8- 985008
9- 434258
9-905971
10-401270
10- 921333
11- 467400
1-060000
1-123600
1-191016
1-262477
1-338226
1-418519
1-503630
1-593848
1-689479
1-790848
1- 898299
2- 012196
2-132928
2-260904
2-396558
2-540352
2-692773
2- 854339
3- 025600
3-207135
3-399564
3-603537
3- 819750
4- 048935
4-291871
4-549383
4- 822346
5- 111687
5-418388
5- 743491
6- 088101
6-453387
6- 840590
7- 251025
7- 686087
8- 147252
8- 636087
9- 154252
9-703507
10-285718
10- 902861
11- 557033
12- 250455
12- 985482
13- 764611
14- 590487
15- 465917
16- 393872
17- 377504
18- 420154
1-070000
1-144900
1-225043
1-310796
1-402552
1-500730
1-605781
1-718186
1-838459
1- 967151
2- 104852
2-252192
2-409845
2-578534
2-759032
2- 952164
3- 158815
3-379932
3-616528
3- 869684
4- 140562
4-430402
4- 740530
5- 072367
5-427433
5- 807353
6- 213868
6- 648838
7- 114257
7- 612255
8- 145113
8- 715271
9- 325340
9-978114
10- 676581
11- 423942
12- 223618
13- 079271
13- 994820
14- 974458
16- 022670
17- 144257
18- 344355
19- 628460
21- 002452
22- 472623
24- 045707
25- 728907
27-529930
29-457025
1-080000
1-166400
P259712
1-360489
1-469328
1-586874
1-713824
1-850930
1- 999005
2- 158925
2-331639
2-518170
2-719624
2- 937194
3- 172169
3-425943
3-700018
3- 996020
4- 315701
4- 660957
5- 033834
5-436540
5- 871464
6- 341181
6- 848475
7- 396353
7- 988061
8- 627106
9- 317275
10-062657
10- 867669
11- 737083
12- 676050
13- 690134
14- 785344
15- 968172
17- 245626
18- 625276
20- 115298
21- 724522
23-462483
25-339482
27-366640
29-555972
31-920449
34-474085
37-232012
40-210573
43-427419
46-901613
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
254
ANNUITIES,
TABLE IV.
Showing the Amount to which One Pound joer Annum will increase at Compound Interest in any
Number of Years not exceeding 50.
(No. 9 12.)
Years, per Cent.
2|
per Cent.
3
per Cent.
4
per Cent.
5
per Cent.
6
per Cent.
7
per Cent.
Years.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
1-0000
2-0200
3- 0604
4- 1216
5- 2040
6- 3081
7- 4343
8- 5830
9- 7546
10-9497
12- 1687
13- 4121
14- 6803
15- 9739
17- 2934
18- 6393
20-0121
21- 4123
22- 8406
24- 2974
25- 7833
27- 2990
28- 8450
30-4219
32- 0303
33- 6709
35-3443
37- 0512
38- 7922
40-5681
42-3794
44-2270
46-1116
48- 0338
49- 9945
51-9944
54-0343
56-1149
58-2372
60-4020
62-6100
64-8622
67-1595
69-5027
71-8927
74-3306
76-8172
79-3535
81-9406
84-5794
1-0000
2- 0250
3- 0756
4- 1525
5- 2563
6- 3877
7- 5474
8- 7361
9- 9545
11*2034
12- 4835
13- 7956
15- 1404
16- 5190
17- 9319
19- 3802
20- 8647
22- 3863
23- 9460
25-5447
27- 1833
28- 8629
30-5844
32-3490
34-1578
36- 0117
37- 9120
39-8598
41-8563
43-9027
46-0003
48-1503
50-3540
52-6129
54-9282
57-3014
59-7339
62-2273
64-7830
67-4026
70-0876
72-8398
75-6608
78-5523
81-5161
84-5540
87-6679
90-8596
94-1311
97-4843
1-000000
2- 030000
3- 090900
4- 183627
5- 309136
6- 468410
7- 662462
8- 892336
10- 159106
11- 463879
12- 807796
14- 192030
15- 617790
17- 086324
18- 598914
20- 156881
21- 761588
23-414435
25- 116868
26- 870374
28-676486
30-536780
32-452884
34-426470
36-459264
38-553042
40-709634
42-930923
45-218850
47-575416
50-002678
52-502759
55-077841
57-730177
60-462082
63-275944
66-174223
69-159449
72-234233
75-401260
78-663298
82-023196
85-483892
89-048409
92-719861
96-501457
100-396501
104-408396
108-540648
112-796867
1-000000
2- 040000
3- 121600
4- 246464
5- 416323
6- 632975
7- 898294
9-214226
10-582795
12- 006107
13- 486351
15- 025805
16- 626838
18-291911
20- 023588
21- 824531
23-697512
25-645413
27-671229
29-778079
31-969202
34-247970
36-617889
39-082604
41-645908
44-311745
47-084214
49-967583
52-966286
56-084938
59-328335
62-701469
66-209527
69-857909
73-652225
77-598314
81-702246
85-970336
90-409150
95-025516
99-826536
104-819598
110-012382
115-412877
121-029392
126-870568
132-945390
139-263206
145-833734
152-667084
1-000000
2- 050000
3- 152500
4- 310125
5- 525631
6- 801913
8- 142008
9- 549109
11- 026564
12- 577893
14- 206787
15- 917127
17-712983
19-598632
21-578564
23-657492
25-840366
28-132385
30-539004
33-065954
35-719252
38-505214
41-430475
44-501999
47-727099
51-113454
54-669126
58-402583
62-322712
66-438848
70-760790
75-298829
80-063771
85-066959
90-320307
95-836323
101-628139
107-709546
114-095023
120-799774
127-839763
135-231751
142-993339
151-143006
159-700156
168-685164
178-119422
188-025393
198-426663
209-347996
1-000000
2-060000
3- 183600
4- 374616
5- 637093
6- 975319
8- 393838
9- 897468
11-491316
13- 180795
14- 971643
16-869941
18-882138
21-015066
23-275970
25-672528
28-212880
30-905653
33-759992
36-785591
39-992727
43-392290
46-995828
50-815577
54-864512
59-156383
63-705766
68-528112
73-639798
79-058186
84-801677
90-889778
97-343165
104-183755
111-434780
119-120867
127-268119
135-904206
145-058458
154-761966
165-047684
175-950545
187-507577
199-758032
212-743514
226-508125
241-098612
256-564529
272-958401
290-335905
1-000000
2- 070000
3- 214900
4- 439943
5- 750739
7- 153291
8- 654021
10- 259803
11- 977989
13-816448
15-783599
17-888451
20-140643
22-550488
25-129022
27-888054
30-840217
33-999033
37-378965
40-995492
44-865177
49-005739
53-436141
58-176671
63-249038
68-676470
74-483823
80-697691
87-346529
94-460786
102-073041
110-218154
118-933425
128-258765
138-236878
148-913460
160-337402
172-561020
185-640292
199-635112
214-609570
230-632240
247-776496
266-120851
285-749311
306-751763
329-224386
353-270093
378-999000
406-528929
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
255
ANNUITIES.
TABLE V.
Exhibiting the Law of Mortality at Carlisle. (No. 32.)
Age.
0
1 Month
2 Months
3
6
9
1 Year
2 Years
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Number who
complete
that
Age.
10000
9467
9313
9226
8970
8715
8461
7779
7274
6998
6797
6676
6594
6536
6493
6460
6431
6400
6368
6335
6300
6261
6219
6176
6133
6090
6047
6005
5963
5921
5879
5836
5793
5748
5698
5642
5585
die in
the next
interval.
533
154
87
256
255
254
682
505
276
201
121
82
58
43
33
29
31
32
33
35
39
42
43
43
43
43
42
42
42
42
43
43
45
50
56
57
57
Age.
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
Number who
complete I die in
that [their next
Year.
5528
5472
5417
5362
5307
5251
5194
5136
5075
5009
4940
4869
4798
4727
4657
4588
4521
4458
4397
4338
4276
4211
4143
4073
4000
3924
3842
3749
3643
3521
3395
3268
3143
3018
2894
2771
2648
56
55
55
55
56
57
58
61
66
69
71
71
71
70
69
67
63
61
59
62
65
68
70
73
76
82
93
106
122
126
127
125
125
124
123
123
123
Age.
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
Number who
complete
that
die i:
their next
Year.
2525
2401
2277
2143
1997
1841
1675
1515
1359
1213
1081
953
837
725
623
529
445
367
296
232
181
142
105
75
54
40
30
23
18
14
11
9
7
5
3
1
124
124
134
146
156
166
160
156
146
132
128
116
112
102
94
84
78
71
64
51
39
37
30
21
14
10
7
5
4
3
2
2
2
2
2
1
TABLE VI.
Showing the Value of an Annuity on a Single Life at every Age, according to the
Carlisle Table of Mortality, when the Rate of Interest is Five per Cent. (No. 65.)
Age. Value. Age. Value. Age. Value. Age. Value. Age. Value. Age. Value.
0
1
2
3
4
.5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
12- 083
13- 995
14- 983
15- 824
16- 271
16-590
16-735
16-790
16-786
16-742
16-669
16-581
16-494
16-406
16-316
16-227
16-144
16-066
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
15-987
15-904
15-817
15-726
15-628
15-525
15-417
15-303
15-187
15-065
14-942
14-827
14-723
14-617
14-506
14-387
14-260
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
14-127
13-987
13-843
13-695
13-542
13-390
13-245
13-101
12-957
12-806
12-648
12-480
12-301
12-107
11-892
11-660
11-410
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
•154
■892
■624
•347
•063
•771
•478
•199
940
712
487
258
016
765
503
227
941
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
6-643
6-336
6-015
5-711
5-435
5-190
4-989
4-792
4-609
4-422
4-210
4-015
3-799
3-606
3-406
3-211
3-009
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
2-830
2-685
2-597
2-495
2-339
2-321
2-412
2-518
2-569
2-596
2-555
2-428
2-278
2-045
1-624
1-192
0-753
0-317
256
ANNUITIES.
TABLE VII.
Showing the Value of an Annuity on the Joint Continuance of Two Lives according to the
Carlisle Table of Mortality, when the difference of their ages is five years, and the Rate
of Interest Five per Cent. (No. 65.)
Ages.
0 &
1 &
2 &
3 &
4 &
5 & 10
6 & II
7 & 12
8 & 13
9 & 14
10 & 15
11 & 16
12 & 17
13 & 18
14 & 19
15 & 20
16 & 21
17 & 22
18 & 23
19 & 24
Value.
10-551
12- 331
13- 258
14- 019
14-402
14-649
14-731
14*736
14-689
14-606
14-500
14-389
14-284
14-178
14-069
13-959
13-853
13-746
13-636
13-520
Ages.
20 & 25
21 & 26
22 & 27
23 & 28
24 & 29
25 & 30
26 & 31
27 & 32
28 & 33
29 & 34
30 & 35
31 & 36
32 & 37
33 & 38
34 & 39
35 & 40
36 &c 41
37 & 42
38 & 43
39 & 44
Value.
13-398
13-272
13-137
13-000
12-867
12-742
12-615
12-482
12-344
12-208
12-078
11-944
11-806
11-661
11-508
11-354
11-204
11-056
10-907
10-753
Ages.
40 & 45
41 & 46
42 & 47
43 & 48
44 & 49
45 & 50
46 & 51
47 & 52
48 & 53
49 & 54
50 & 55
51 & 56
52 & 57
53 & 58
54 & 59
55 & 60
56 & 61
57 & 62
58 & 63
Value.
10-598
10-444
10-287
10-121
9-937
9-737
9-519
9-292
9-054
8-799
8-528
8-242
7-950
7-657
7-375
7-106
6-860
6-615
6-370
Ages.
59 & 64
60 & 65
61 & 66
62 & 67
63 & 68
64 & 69
65 & 70
66 & 71
67 & 72
68 & 73
69 & 74
70 & 75
71 & 76
72 & 77
73 & 78
74 & 79
75 & 80
76 & 81
77 & 82
78 & 83
Value.
6-127
5-895
5-678
5-458
5-230
4-988
4-737
4-469
4-207
3-961
3-731
3-528
3-319
3-127
2-948
2-767
2-623
2-467
2-333
2-194
Ages.
79 &
80 &
81 &
82 &
83 &
84 &
85 &
86 &
87 &
88 &
89 &
90 &
91 &
92 &
93 &
94 &
95 & 100
96 & 101
97 & 102
98 & 103
Value.
2-045
1-895
1-747
1-626
1-535
1-433
1-279
1-203
1-192
1-219
1-214
1-167
1-161
1-181
1-215
1-191
1-038
0-828
0-555
0-249
TABLE VIII.
Showing the Value of an Annuity on the Joint Continuance of Two Lives according to
the Carlisle Table of Mortality, when the difference of their Ages is ten years, and
the Rate of Interest Five per Cent. (No. 65.)
Ages.
0 & 10
1 & 11
2 & 12
3 & 13
4 & 14
5 & 15
6 & 16
7 & 17
8 & 18
9 & 19
10 & 20
11 & 21
12 & 22
13 & 23
14 & 24
15 & 25
16 & 26
17 & 27
18 & 28
Value.
10-649
12- 275
13- 087
13- 769
14- 106
14-334
14-419
14-432
14-395
14-321
14-221
14-106
13-987
13-864
13-737
13-608
13-483
13-359
13-235
Ages.
19 & 29
20 & 30
21 & 31
22 & 32
23 & 33
24 & 34
25 & 35
26 & 36
27 & 37
28 & 38
29 & 39
30 & 40
31 & 41
32 & 42
33 & 43
34 & 44
35 & 45
36 & 46
37 & 47
Value.
13-117
13-008
12-896
12-776
12-648
12-510
12-365
12-214
12-058
11-900
11-747
11-607
11-474
11-342
11-207
11-063
JO-912
10-750
JO-579
Ages.
38 & 48
39 & 49
40 & 50
41 & 51
42 & 52
43 & 53
44 & 54
45 & 55
46 & 56
47 & 57
48 & 58
49 & 59
50 & 60
51 & 61
52 & 62
53 & 63
54 & 64
55 & 65
Value.
10-396
10-195
9 984
9-766
9-548
9-329
9-104
8-870
8-626
8-372
8-111
7-851
7-601
7-370
7-142
6-911
6-669
6-418
Ages.
56 & 66
57 & 67
58 & 68
59 & 69
60 & 70
61 & 71
62 & 72
63 & 73
64 & 74
65 & 75
66 & 76
67 & 77
68 & 78
69 & 79
70 & 80
71 & 81
72 & 82
73 & 83
74 & 84
Value.
6-156
5-881
5-600
5-319
5-044
4-779
4-529
4-302
4-094
3-921
3-746
3-580
3-407
3-210
3-020
2-807
2-616
2-430
2-260
Ages.
75 &
76 &
77 &
78 &
79 &
80 &
81 &
82 &
83 &
84 &
85 &
86 &
87 &
88 &
89 &
90 & 100
91 & 101
92 & 102
93 & 103
Value.
2-100
1-956
1-838
1-759
1-657
1-515
1-450
1-460
1-479
J-468
1-443
1-397
1-324
1-280
1-192
0-950
0-733
0-508
0-235
(j. M.)
A N 0
Ai ular
ANNULAR, resembling a ring or circle.
Annular Crustal, in Mineralogy, is a hexahedral prism
Uo alous wjtf, sjx^ or an octahedral prism with eight marginal faces
disposed in a ring about the base; or these prisms truncated
on all their terminal edges.
Annular Eclipse, in Astronomy, is caused by the dark
body of the moon intervening so as to obscure the whole of
the sun’s disc except a marginal ring of light.
ANNUL ARIA, Sternberg’s designation for a fossil genus
of plants of the coal formation, with leaves disposed in whorls.
ANNULET, a little circle, borne as a charge in coats of
arms, as also added to them as a difference. Among the
Romans it represented liberty and nobility. It also denotes
strength and eternity, by reason of its endless form.
ANNULOSA (from annulus, a ring or segment), a term
in zoology, applied by naturalists to a great division of the
animal kingdom. It contains five classes, viz., Crustacea,
Myriopoda, Arachnides, Insecta, and Vermes.
ANNUNCIADA, Annuntiada, or Annunciata, an
order of knighthood in Savoy, instituted by Amadeus I., in
the year 1049. Their collar was of 15 links, interwoven one
with another in form of a true lover’s knot; and the motto
F. E. R. T., signifying Fortitudo ejus Rhodum tenuit.
Amadeus VIII. gave the name Annunciada to this order,
which was formerly known by that of the knot of love;
changing at the same time the image of St Maurice, patron
of Savoy, which hung at the collar, for that of the Virgin
Mary; and, instead of the motto above mentioned, substi¬
tuting the words of the angel’s salutation.
ANNUNCIATION, the tidings brought by the angel
Gabriel to the Virgin Mary of the incarnation of Christ.
Annunciation is also a festival kept by the church on the
25th of March in commemoration of these tidings. This
festival appears to be of very great antiquity. There is
mention made of it in a sermon which goes under the name
of Athanasius. Others carry it up to the time of Gregory
Thaumaturgus, because there is a sermon likewise attributed
to him upon the same subject. But the best critics reject
both these writings as spurious. However, it is certain that
this festival was observed before the time of the council of
Trullo, in which there is a canon forbidding the celebration
of all festivals in Lent excepting the Lord’s Day and the
Feast of the Annunciation; so that we may date its origin
from the seventh century. In the Romish church, on this
feast, the pope performs the ceremony of marrying or
cloistering a certain number of maidens, who are pre¬
sented to him in the church, clothed in white serge, and
muffled up from head to foot. An officer stands by, with
purses containing notes of 50 crowns for those who make
choice of marriage, and notes of 100 for those who choose
the veil.
Annunciation is likewise a title given by the Jews to a
part of the ceremony of the Passover.
ANNUS Deliberandi, in Scots Law, the space of a
year which is allowed an heir for deliberating whether he
will enter on possession.
A NO A, a quadruped, seemingly of the antelope genus,
the horns of which have lately been brought from Celebes;
but it is otherwise unknown to naturalists.
ANODYNE (from a, negative, and o8vvrj, pain), a term
applied to medicines which ease pain and procure sleep.
ANOMALISTICAL Year, in Astronomy, the time
that the earth takes to pass through her orbit: it is also
called the Periodical Year. The space of time belonging
t° year *s greater than the tropical year, on account of
the precession of the equinoxes.
ANOMALOUS (from a, priv., and vdyuos a law), a term
applied to whatever is irregular, or deviates from the rule
observed by other things of the like nature.
vol. m.
A N 0 257
ANOM(EA NS, in Ecclesiastical History, the name byAnomceans
which the pure Arians were called in the fourth century, in II
contradistinction to the Semi-Arians. The word is derived Anotta-
from the Greek dvd/xotos, different, dissimilar; for the pure
Arians asserted that the Son was of a nature different from
and in nothing like, that of the Father; whereas the Semi-
Arians acknowledged a likeness of nature in the Son, at the
same time that they denied, with the pure Arians, the con-
substantiality of the Word. The Semi-Arians condemned the
Anomceans in the council of Seleucia ; and the Anomceans
in their turn, condemned the Semi-Arians in the councils
of Constantinople and Antioch, erasing the word oyaoios, like
out of the formula of Rimini and that of Constantinople.
ANONYMOUS (a, priv., and ovoya), something that is
nameless, or of which the name is concealed. It is a term
applied to books and to contributions to journals and other
periodical works published without the name of the author.
Anonymous writing is, no doubt, like the gifts of Provi¬
dence, liable to abuse, especially when it is employed to
slander private character, or to circulate unfair criticisms on
literary subjects: against the first of these the courts of law
are some protection, and a free press will counteract the
other. It is, however, in the discussion of public measures
that its influence is most important. While an individual
might be deterred from openly exposing himself to the per¬
secutions of authority, or the malevolence of arbitrary power,
he is enabled, without danger, under the shelter of the im¬
personal character of the press, to denounce the dangerous
or flagitious character of measures proposed by the govern¬
ment. But it is not only against the vengeance of govern¬
ments and statesmen that anonymous writing is a protection.
It equally shields from the rage of vulgar and unscrupulous
opponents the writers who attempt to dispel the illusions
which from time to time are produced by the declamatory
harangues and usurped ascendency of dangerous agitators;
and it is doubtful if freedom could long be sustained in a
country where anonymous writing is prohibited.
The law passed by the National Assembly of France
during the days of the last republic, by which the writers in
public journals were compelled to sign their articles, inju¬
riously affected the independence and dignity of the press,
and contributed in some measure to prepare the public mind
for the subversion of free institutions. The Dictionnaire
des Anonymes et des Pseudonymes, by Barbier, is a very
valuable work, and throws much light on the history of many
anonymous and pseudonymous publications.
ANOPLOTHERIUM, a fossil genus of pachyderm
quadruped, discovered by Cuvier in the gypsum of the
Paris basin. It had divided hoofs. The two species are
A. commune, and A. gracilis.—See Ossem. Fossil, and
Buckland’s Bridgewater Treatise.
ANORTHITE, a crystallised mineral, a silicate of alu¬
mina and lime, found principally in the dolomite ejected
from Vesuvius. The crystals are vitreous, white, and in
doubly oblique prisms.
ANOSMIA (a, priv., and o<rp.^, odor), a deprivation of
the olfactory sense: a singular affection, and fortunately of
rare occurrence. Anosmia has sometimes occurred as a con¬
genital defect; but it more generally has its origin in a dis¬
eased state of the membrana mucosa itself. The habitua¬
tion of the olfactories to strong stimuli has been known to
produce a similar effect.
ANOTTA, or Arnotto, in dyeing, a yellowish red
colour, formed from the pellicles or pulp of the seeds of the
Bixa Orellana, a tree common in South America. It is also
called Terra Orellana, and Roucou.
The manner of making anotta is as follows:—The red
seeds, cleared from the pods, are steeped in water for seven
or eight days, or longer, till the liquor begins to ferment;
2 K
258 A N Q
Anquetil. then strongly stirred, stamped with wooden paddles and
beaters, to promote the separation of the red skins : this pro¬
cess is repeated several times, till the seeds are left white.
The liquor, passed through close cane sieves, is pretty thick,
of a deep red colour, and an offensive smell; in boiling, it
throws up its colouring matter to the surface in form of
scum, which is afterwards boiled down by itself to a due
consistence, and made up while soft into balls. The anotta
commonly met with among us is moderately hard and dry,
of a brown colour on the outside, and a dull red within. It
is not easily acted upon by water, and tinges the liquor only
of a pale brownish yellow colour. It very readily dissolves
in rectified spirit of wine, and communicates a high orange
or yellowish red. Hence it is used as an ingredient in var¬
nishes, for giving more or less of an orange cast to the
simple yellows. Alkaline salts render it perfectly soluble in
boiling water, without altering its colour. Wool or silk
boiled in the solution acquires a deep, but not a very durable,
orange dye. Its colour is not changed by alum or by acids,
any more than by alkalies ; but when imbibed in cloth, it
is discharged by soap, and destroyed by exposure to the air.
It is used to colour cheese.
ANQUETIL, Louis Piekke, a French historian, was
born at Paris on the 21st of January 1723. At the age of
17 he entered the congregation of St Genevieve, where he
taught theology and literature with ability and success. He
afterwards became director of the academy at Rheims ; and
in 1759 he was appointed prior of the abbey de la Roe, in
Anjou. Soon after this he was sent, in the capacity of
director, to the college of Senlis. In 1766 he obtained the
curacy or priory of Chateau-Renard, near Montargis, which
he exchanged, at the commencement of the Revolution, for
the curacy of La Villette, in the neighbourhood of Paris.
During the reign of terror he was imprisoned at St Lazare.
On the establishment of the National Institute, he was
elected a member of the second class, and was soon after¬
wards employed in the office of the minister for foreign
affairs. He died on the 6th of September 1808, in the 86th
year of his age. On the evening previous to this event, he
is reported to have said to one of his friends, “ Come and
see a man who is dying full of life.”
As an author, M. Anquetil does not stand very high in
the ranks of literature. He possessed more industry in
research than ability or judgment in execution. His style
is censurable in many respects, and he appears to have been
almost entirely destitute of the critical discernment and philo¬
sophical sagacity which are requisite to form the character
of a good historian. The following is a list of his principal
works :—
1. Histoire Civile et Politique de la Ville de Reims.
1756-57, 3 vols. 12mo. The history is brought no farther
down than 1657 : a fourth volume should have been added,
but it never appeared. Anquetil is said to have written this
work in concert with one Felix de la Salle, and it is, perhaps,
the best of all his productions. 2. Almanack de Reims.
1754, 24mo. 3. Pk,sprit de la Ligue, ou Histoire Politique
des Troubles de France pendant les 16 17 siecles. 1767
3 vols. 12mo. This work has been frequently reprinted.
4. Intrigue du Cabinet sous Henri IV. et sous Louis XIII.
ter mime par la Fronde. 1780, 4 vols. 12mo. 5. Louis
XIV. sa Cour et le Regent. 1789, 4 vols. 12mo ; reprinted
in 1794, 5 voU 12mo. 6. Vie du Marechal de Villars,
ecrite par lui-meme, suivie du Journal de la Cour de 1724
d 1734. Paris, 1787, 4 vols. 12mo; reprinted in 1792.
7. Precis de VHistoire Universelle. 1797, 9 vols. 12mo •
reprinted in 1801 and 1807, in 12 vols. 12mo. This work
has been translated into English, Spanish, and Italian. 8.
Motifs des Guerres et des Trades de Paix de la France,
pendant les regnes de Louis XIV., Louis XV., et Louis
A N Q
XVI. 1798, 8vo. 9. Histoire de France depuis les Gaules Anquetj
jusqu’d la fin de la Monarchic. 1805 et seqq. 14 vols. Perron,
12mo. This work was composed in haste, and is of no great
value. 10. Notice sur la Vie de M. Anquetil du Perron.
M. Anquetil likewise wrote several papers in the Memoirs
of the Institute. (See Biographie Universelle?) (j. c.)
Anquetil du Pekron {Abraham Hyacinthe), brother
of the subject of the preceding article, was born at Paris
on the 7th of December 1731. Having distinguished him¬
self as a student at the university of that city, and ac¬
quired a considerable knowledge of the Hebrew language,
he was invited to Auxerre by M. de Caylus, then the bishop
of that diocese. This prelate made him study theology, first
at the academy of his diocese, and afterwards at that of
Amersfort, near Utrecht; but Anquetil had no desire to
embrace the ecclesiastical vocation, and devoted himself
with ardour to the study of the different dialects of the He¬
brew, and of the Arabic and Persian. Neither the solici¬
tations of M. de Caylus, nor the hopes of rapid preferment,
had the power to detain him at Amersfort after he thought
he had acquired everything that was to be learnt there. He
returned to Paris, where his diligent attendance at the Royal
Library, and his ardour in the prosecution of his favourite
studies, attracted the attention of the Abbe Sallier, keeper
of the manuscripts, who introduced him to the acquaintance
of his associates and friends, whose united exertions pro¬
cured for him a small salary, as student of the oriental lan¬
guages. He had scarcely received this appointment, when,
having accidentally laid his hands on some manuscripts in the
Zend, he formed the project of a voyage to India, with the
view of discovering the works of Zoroaster. At this period
an expedition was preparing at the port of L’Orient, which
was destined for India. M. du Perron, however, applied in
vain, through his protectors, for a passage; and seeing no
other means of accomplishing his plan, he enlisted as a com¬
mon soldier, and set out from Paris, with a knapsack on his
back, on the 7th of November 1754. His friends procured
his discharge; and the minister, affected by his romantic
zeal for science, granted him a free passage, a seat at the
captain’s table, and a salary, the amount of which was to be
fixed by the governor of the French settlements in India.
After a passage of nine mouths, Anquetil landed, on the 10th
of August 1755, at Pondicherry. Here he remained no
longer than was necessary to make himself master of the
modern Persian, and then hastened to Chandernagore, where
he thought to acquire the Sanscrit. But in this he was de¬
ceived ; and he was on the point of returning, wdien a serious
complaint threatened his life. He had scarcely escaped from
this danger, when war was declared between France and
England ; Chandernagore was taken ; and Anquetil resolved
to return to Pondicherry by land. After a journey of one
hundred days, in the course of which he encountered many
adventures, and suffered many hardships, he arrived at Pon¬
dicherry. Here he found one of his brothers who had ar¬
rived from France, and embarked with him for Surat; but,
with the view of exploring the country, he landed at Mahe,
and proceeded on foot. It was at Surat that he succeeded, by
perseverance and address in his intercourse with the native
priests, in acquiring a sufficient knowledge of the languages
to enable him to translate the Dictionary called iheVedidad-
Fade, and some other works. From thence he proposed going
to Benares, to study the languages, antiquities, and sacred laws
of the Hindus ; but the capture of Pondicherry obliged him
to return to France. He accordingly embarked on board
an English vessel, and landed at Portsmouth in the month
of November 1761. After spending some time in London,
and visiting Oxford, he set out for Paris, where he arrived
on the 4th of May 1762, without fortune or the desire of
acquiring any, but esteeming himself rich in the possession
♦
<
A N S
zisae. of one hundred and eighty oriental manuscripts, besides
-yW other curiosities. The Abbe Barthelemy, and his other
friends, procured for him a pension, with the title and ap¬
pointments of Interpreter of the oriental languages at the
royal library. In 1763 the Academy of the Belles Lettres
received him among the number of its associates; and from
that period he devoted himself to the arrangement and pub¬
lication of the materials he had collected during his eastern
travels. In 1771 he published a work in three volumes 4to,
under the title of Zend-Avesta, containing collections from
the sacred writings of the Persians, among which are frag¬
ments of works ascribed to Zoroaster ; and he accompanied
this work with an account of the life of that sage. This
publication must be considered as constituting a very im¬
portant accession to our stores of oriental literature. A re¬
cent historian, and very competent judge, refers to the Zend-
Avesta, as certainly the most authentic source from which
we can derive information regarding the religion and insti¬
tutions of the great Persian legislator. (Sir John Malcolm’s
Hist, of Persia, vol. i. p. 193, note. To the Zend-Avesta
M. du Perron prefixed a discourse, in which he treated the
university of Oxford, and some of its learned members, with
I ridicule and disrespect. Mr (afterwards Sir William) Jones
replied to these invectives in an anonymous letter, addressed
to the author, written in French, with uncommon force and
correctness of style, but at the same time with a degree of
asperity which could only be justified by the petulance of
M. du Perron. In 1778 he published his Legislation Ori¬
ental, in 4to, a work in which he controverts the system
of Montesquieu, and endeavours to prove that the nature of
oriental despotism has been misrepresented by most authors:
that in the empires of Turkey, Persia, and Hindustan, there
are codes of written law which equally bind the prince and
subject; and that in these three empires the inhabitants
possess both movable and immovable property, which they
enjoy with perfect security. His Recherches Historiques et
Geographiques sur VInde appeared in 1786, and formed
part of Thieffenthaler’s Geography of India. They were
followed in 1789 by his treatise De la Dignite du Com¬
merce et de VEtat du Commergant. The Revolution seems
to have greatly affected him. During that period he aban¬
doned society, shut himself up in his study, and devoted
himself entirely to literary seclusion. In 1798 he published
Linde en Rapport avec VEurope, &c. in 2 vols. 8vo; a work
which is more remarkable for its virulent invectives against
the English, and for its numerous misrepresentations, than
for the information which it conveys, or the soundness of
the reflections which it contains. In 1804 he published a
Latin translation from the Persian of the Oupnek’hat or
Upanischada, i. e., Secrets which must not be revealed, in 2
vols. 4to. On the re-organisation of the Institute, M. An-
quetil was elected a member, but soon afterwards gave in his
resignation. He died at Paris on the 17th of January 1805.
Besides the works we have already enumerated, M. An-
quetil read to the academy several memoirs on subjects con¬
nected with the history and antiquities of the East. At the
time of his death he was engaged in revising a translation
of the Travels of Father Paulin de St Barthelemy in India,
which work was continued by M. Silvestre de Sacy, and pub¬
lished in 1808, in 3 vols. 8vo. He also left behind him a
great number of manuscripts, among which his biographers
particularly notice the translation of a Latin treatise on the
Church, by Doctor Legros, in 4 vols. 4to. See Biographic
Vniverselte; Monthly Review, vol. 61; Lord Teignmouth’s
Life of Sir William Jones. (j. c.)
ANS7E, in Astronomy, implies the parts of Saturn’s ring
projecting beyond the disc of the planet. The word is Latin,
and properly signifies handles ; these parts of the ring ap¬
pearing like handles to the body of the planet.
A N S 259
ANSARIANS, a people of Syria, also called Ensarians, Ansarians
properly A assaris and Ansayri. The territory occupied by II
the Ansarians is that chain of mountains which extends from Anselm.
Antakia to the rivulet called Nahr-el-Kahir, or the Greatv v J
River. They are divided into several tribes or sects, among
which are distinguished the Shamsia, or adorers of the sun;
the Kelbia, or worshippers of the dog; and the Kadmousia,
who are said to pay a particular homage to that part in
women which corresponds to the priapus. This last tribe
appears from Colonel Chesney’s account, to be the same as
the Ismaili, who implicitly obey their chief Sheikh-al-Ha-
shishin. They are the tribe of Assassins, whose principal
seat is in the mountains of Persia.—Expedition to Euphrates
and Tigris, vol. i. p. 543. Their name is now believed to be
derived from the narcotic hemp, Cannabis indica, which
is called in Persia haschis-sin, and is employed to intoxicate.
The Ansarians have strongholds in the mountains of Tri¬
poli ; but their chief seat is in Persia. They are a more
vigorous race than most Orientals; browner than the Turks,
but fairer than the Arabs. It is said they can muster
40,000 fighting men.
ANSBACH, or Anspach, a fortified city of Bavaria, the
capital of the circle of Middle Franconia, and of the baili¬
wick of the same name. It stands on the river Rezat, twenty-
five miles south-west of Nuremberg, and in 1846 contained
12,254 inhabitants. It has a royal castle, once the residence
of the Margraves of Anspach; a gymnasium, hospital, or¬
phan-asylum, public library, &c., and manufactures of wool¬
len and cotton stuffs, earthenware, tobacco, cutlery, playing-
cards, &c.
ANSE, an ancient town of France, in the Lyonnois, on
the river Saone. It is the capital of a canton in the depart¬
ment of the Rhone, and formerly bore the title of barony.
Pop. 1750. 13|- miles north of Lyons. Long. 4.44. E. Lat.
45. 55. N.
ANSELM, St, archbishop of Canterbury, in the reigns
of William Rufus and Henry I. He was born in the year
1033, at Aosta, a town in Piedmont, at the foot of the Alps.
He became a monk in the abbey of Bee in Normandy, of
which he was afterwards chosen prior, and then abbot. In
the year 1092 he was invited over to England by Hugh earl
of Chester; and in the year following was prevailed on to
accept the archbishopric of Canterbury. He enjoined celi¬
bacy on the clergy, for which he was banished by King
Rufus; but recalled by Henry on his coming to the crown.
In conformity to Pope Urban’s decree, he refused to conse¬
crate such bishops as were invested by the king, denying it
to be the royal prerogative: for this he was banished again,
till, the pope and king agreeing, he was recalled in 1107.
In short, from the day of his consecration to that of his death,
he was continually employed in extending the encroach¬
ments of the church against the prerogative of the crown ;
and for that purpose spent much of his time in travelling
between England and Rome, for the advice and direction of
his Holiness. He may be regarded as having been, besides
A’Becket, the only English prelate who strenuously pursued
in his ecclesiastical relations that policy distinguished as
ultramontane. At the council of Bari, in the kingdom of
Naples, the pope being puzzled by the arguments of the
Greeks against the Holy Ghost’s proceeding from the Father,
called upon Anselm to answer their objections, which he did
with great success. He wrought many miracles, if we may
believe the author of his life, both before and after his death,
which happened at Canterbury in the 76th year of his age,
a.d. 1109, and was canonized in the reign of Henry VII.
“ His death was that of a saint and a philosopher; his ardour
for science glowed upon his death-bed. His disciples were
around him weeping and praying; the last holy rites had
already enveloped him in the atmosphere of eternity; infi-
260 A N S
Anselm nite truths were now to be unfolded to him in clear vision;
il when at this last moment he cast his thoughts over the
Anson, obscurities of earthly science, and recalling the efforts he
had made to render them more clear, said to his disciples,
‘ I could have wished before my death to have put down
in writing my ideas upon the origin of evil, for I had got
some explanations which will now be lost.’ A few moments
after he passed to where all problems are solved.”
Anselm deserves to be remembered as one of the prin¬
cipal revivers of literature, after three centuries of profound
ignorance. In a philosophical relation, he may be regarded
as the founder of the scholastic metaphysics, and his ontolo¬
gical argument for the existence of Deity entitles him to
be considered as one of the acutest of natural theologians.
His speculations on that subject are contained in his two
treatises entitled Monologium, and Proslogium, composed
while he was prior of the Abbey of Bee. The arguments
used in the first of these are to be found in the writings of
previous philosophers, though not so fully and rigorously de¬
veloped as is done by Anselm. But the argument contained
in the Proslogium, originally suggested by St Augustine,
and afterwards known as the Cartesian argument, is that
on which the peculiar fame of Anselm as a metaphysician is
founded. It may be briefly expressed thus,— The human
mind possesses the idea of a Being than whom it can con¬
ceive none other higher. This perfect Being is in virtue of
that very perfection conceived as really existent. Therefore
he does so exist. Anselm sought a general principle for the
foundation of all science, a principle such as should unite
logical and real universality, i. e., at once comprehend all
other ideas and express a reality conceived as the source
of all other realities. This principle he found in the idea
of God—of infinite perfection. To deny to this idea a
corresponding reality involves a contradiction, for then
there must be a higher perfection conceivable, viz., this
absolute perfection not merely as possible but as existing,
since it is more perfect to exist than to be merely possible.
Here Anselm found the principle he was in search ofj
this idea of God involving both logical and real univer¬
sality, since on the one hand all other ideas are contained
under this, as the lesser is contained in the greater; and
on the other, it constitutes the necessary source of all finite
existences.
This argument of Anselm seems not to have been gene¬
rally admitted during the middle ages, and was decisively re¬
jected by such men as Aquinas. It was replied to in his
own time by a monk named Gaunilon, in a treatise entitled
Liber pro insipiente adversus Anselmi in Proslogio ratio-
cinationem, which contains implicitly all the objections sub¬
sequently raised against it as developed by Descartes ; the
principal and fatal objection being the logical incompetency
of deducing the reality of existence from the necessity of
thought, of passing from the finite ideas of the human mind
to the infinite reality of a Divine existence.
The works of Anslem have been often reprinted. The
best edition is that of Father Gerberon, printed at Paris in
1675, in two vols. folio.
Anselm of Laon, a famous theologian, who taught at
Paris with great success about the year 1076. With the
assistance of his brother Ralph de Laon, he established in
his native place a school of philosophy, which became famous
throughout Europe. Anselm died in 1117. His interlinear
gloss on the Scriptures has frequently been printed.
ANSON, George, Lord, the famous circumnavigator,
was the second son of William Anson, Esq. of Shuckborough
Manor, Staffordshire, where he was born on the 23d April
1697. Showing an early inclination for the sea, he received
a suitable education. The first command he enjoyed was
that of the Weasel sloop in 1722 ; but the most memorable
A N S
action of his life, and the foundation of his future good for- Anste
tune, took place on his receiving the command of five ships, || ^
a sloop, and two victuallers, equipped to annoy the Spaniards ^nstrutti<
in the South Seas, and to co-operate with Admiral Vernon
across the Isthmus of Darien ; an expedition the principal
object of which failed by the unaccountable delay in the fit¬
ting out. He sailed, however, in September 1740; doubled
Cape Horn in a dangerous season ; lost most of his men by
the scurvy; and with only one remaining ship, the Centu¬
rion, crossed the Great Pacific Ocean. If no considerable
national advantage resulted from this voyage, Commodore
Anson made his own fortune, and enriched his surviving
companions, by the capture of a rich galleon on her passage
from Acapulco to Manilla, with which he returned home
round the Cape of Good Hope. If he was lucky in meeting
this galleon, he was no less fortunate in escaping a French
fleet then cruising in the Channel, by sailing through it
during a fog. He arrived at Spithead in June 1744. In a
short time after his return he was appointed rear-admiral of
the blue, and one of the lords of the admiralty. In April
1745 he was made rear-admiral of the white, and the follow¬
ing year vice-admiral of the blue, at which time he was
chosen to represent the borough of Heydon in parliament.
In 1747, being on board the Prince George of 90 guns, in
company with Admiral Warren and 12 other ships, he in¬
tercepted, off Cape Finisterre, a powerful fleet, bound from
France to the East and West Indies; when, by his valour
and conduct, he again enriched himself and his officers, and
at the same time strengthened the British navy, by taking
six men of war and four East Indiamen, not one of them
escaping. The French admiral, M. Jonquiere, on present¬
ing his sword to the conqueror, said, Monsieur, vous avez
vaincu VInvincible, et la Gloire vous suit—“ Sir, you have
conquered the Invincible, and Glory follows you;” pointing
to the ships named the Invincible and the Glory, which he
had taken. For his signal services he was created baron of
Soberton in Hants. The same year he was appointed vice-
admiral of the red; and, on the death of Sir John Norris,
was made vice-admiral of England. In 1748 he was made
admiral of the blue : he was afterwards appointed first lord
of the admiralty, and was at length made admiral and com¬
mander-in-chief of His Majesty’s fleet, in which rank he
continued, with a very short interval, until his death; and the
last service he performed was to convey Queen Charlotte to
England. He died in June 1762. No performance ever
met with a more favourable reception than the account of
Anson’s voyage round the world. Though it is printed
under the name of his chaplain, it was composed under his
lordship’s own inspection, and from the materials he him¬
self furnished, by Mr Benjamin Robins.
ANSTEY, Christopher, a comic writer, who published
in 1766 The New Bath Guide, a satirical poem, abounding
in coarse humour, and which obtained a degree of popularity
almost unparalleled at that period; so much so, indeed, that
Dodsley the bookseller, with a liberality scarcely less re¬
markable, presented the copyright again to the author, in
consideration of the profit he had realized by its sale.
Anstey was the son of the Rev. C. Anstey, D.D. of Brink-
ley, and was educated at King’s College, Cambridge, where,
as a fellow, he continued to reside till the year 1754. Suc¬
ceeding to some family estates at Trumpington, he made
that place his home, and soon afterwards married. He
died in 1805, aged eighty-one. His several poems were col¬
lected and published in 1808, in 1 vol. 8vo. He was honoured
with a cenotaph in “ Poet’s Corner,” in Westminster Abbey,
a distinction which has been conferred in more instances
than this with too little discrimination.
ANSTRUTHER, Easter, a royal burgh and parish of
Scotland, in the county of Fife, on the north shore of the
ANT
nstmther F'jrth of Forth. It possesses an excellent harbour. Popu-
lation of burgh in 1851, 1161. Ten miles south of St An-
^ , drews. Dr Chalmers was a native of this place.
*Anstruther, Wester* a parish and small seaport of Scot¬
land, situated close to Easter Anstruther, with which, and
the towns of St Andrews, Cupar, Crail, Pittenweem, and
Kilrenny, it unites in returning a member to parliament.
The parish includes the Isle of May. Population of burgh
in 1851, 365. Long. 2. 44. W. Lat. 56. 14. N.
ANT. The history of a tribe of insects so long cele¬
brated for their industry and frugality, and for the dis¬
play of that sagacity which characterizes some of the
higher orders of animals, is peculiarly calculated to oc¬
cupy the attention of modern naturalists. The ancients,
indeed, had often noticed the habits and economy of the
ant; but their accounts, at all times deficient in accuracy
from the want of precise definitions and logical arrange¬
ment of the objects they describe, are in this instance
so mixed up with fanciful notions and chimerical doc¬
trines, and so coloured by the vivid imagination and cre¬
dulity of the narrators, as to have retarded rather than
advanced the progress of real knowledge. Aristotle and
Pliny report, for instance, that the labours of ants are in
a great measure regulated by the phases of the moon;
and the latter mentions a species found in the northern
parts of India, whose size was said to equal that of the
wolves of Egypt, whose colour was the same as that of a
cat, and whose occupation in winter consisted in digging
up gold from the bowels of the earth; while the inhabi¬
tants in the summer robbed them of their treasures, after
having decoyed them, by stratagem, from their nests.
Great mistakes have prevailed, even in later times, from
the circumstance of the larvae of ants bearing a resem¬
blance to grains of corn, which it was supposed these in¬
sects hoarded up as a provision for winter consumption.
The form of the eggs and of the larvae, and the attention
paid to them by the ants, were described by Dr King
in the 23d number of the Philosophical Transactions;
but Leeuwenhoeck was the first who distinguished with
precision the different forms which the insect assumes in
the several stages of its growth. He traced the succes¬
sive changes from the egg to the larva, the nymph, and
the perfect insect. Swammerdam pursued his scrutiny
into these successive developments with greater minute¬
ness ; and, unrivalled in the art of microscopic dissection,
discovered the wonderful encasement of all the parts of
the future ant at every preceding stage, and showed that
it appears under such different forms only from the nature
of its envelopes, each of which, at the proper period, is in
its turn cast off. Linnaeus (Memoirs of the Royal Acade-
my of Sciences at Stockholm, vol. ii.) ascertained some of
the leading facts with regard to the distinction between
the sexes, and determined that the ants which are fur¬
nished with wings are the only individuals that exercise
the sexual functions. Several particulars with regard to
the economy of the ants were published by Mr Gould, in
a book entitled An Account of English Ants, of which an
abstract is given in the Philosophical Transactions for
1747, by the Rev. Dr Miles. The facts are there stated
with tolerable correctness; but some errors have been
committed by following too closely the analogy with bees.
Geoffroy ( Histoire des Insectes qui se trouvent aux Environs
, , ar*f)> though a good naturalist on other topics, is a
bail authority on the subject of ants. The most complete
scries of observations on the natural history of these in¬
sects, is that for which we are indebted to the celebrated
wedish entomologist De Geer (Memoires pour servir d
Histoire des Insectes), an observer on whose fidelity the
most implicit reliance may be placed.
In the Encyclopedia Methodique, under the article
ANT
261
Fourmi, Olivier has drawn up an able statement of all Ant
ie material facts that had been established by preceding
naturalists ; without, however, adding any original obser¬
vations of his own, excepting the description of five or six
undescribed species. A full account of the habits of those
ants which for a long period infested the island of Mar¬
tinique, is contained in some of the earlier numbers of
the Journal de Physique (vols. ix. and x.) The author
of these memoirs, M. Barboteau, has given many curious
details on this subject, and has cited a number of facts on
various authorities; and the account might now be swell¬
ed by the reports of subsequent travellers in different
parts of the world ; but these statements are often made
upon slender authority, and are too much tinctured with
the marvellous to admit of much credit being attached to
them. The narrative given to us by Bonnet in the second
volume of his Observations sur les Insectes, of the proceed¬
ings of a colony of ants which had established itself in the
head of a large thistle, and which he transported into his
house, is highly interesting; but it elucidates only a few
points of their economy, and leaves us to regret that so
patient and indefatigable an observer had not bestowed
more of his attention to the study of this tribe of insects.
In the Philosophical Transactions for 1790 we find an in¬
teresting memoir on the sugar-ant, a species which, for
a period of ten years, committed dreadful ravages in the
sugar plantations throughout the whole island of Grenada.
The most methodical account of this tribe of insects that
has yet appeared is that of Latreille, in his Histoire Na-
turelle des Fourmis, published at Paris in 1802, a work
which alone would have secured the reputation of the
author as an able and scientific naturalist. His merit is
particularly conspicuous in the clearness and accuracy of
his descriptions of each species, and the luminous method
of arrangement which he has adopted in their classifica¬
tion. He gives an account of one hundred species which
he had himself observed, and of twenty-four which he has
described from the reports of others : these he distributes
into nine natural families, according to the situation and
structure of the antennae, and the form of the abdominal
scales. But the work which contains the most copious
collection of facts relative to the habits and economy of
ants is that of Mr P. Huber of Geneva, entitled Traite
des Mceurs des Fourmis Indigenes, published in 1810. By
means of an apparatus which he contrived so as to admit
of his obtaining a view whenever he pleased of the inmost
recesses of their habitation, he was enabled to observe
what was going on in the interior of the nest, and to in¬
vestigate with success some of the most important and in¬
teresting features of their history. The results of his re¬
searches, as they are reported in his work, are highly
curious and instructive, and open a wide field of specula¬
tion and inquiry to the philosophical entomologist. They
have not only elucidated many obscure points with regard
to one tribe of insects, but have disclosed some general
views of the instincts and faculties of this order of the
creation, which are totally new, and must tend, in a con¬
siderable degree, to exalt our conceptions of the inex¬
haustible powers and resources of nature.
Having thus pointed out the principal sources of infor-E conomv
mation in this department of entomology, we shall proceed and policy
to give an outline of the leading facts that have been°^ants‘
ascertained relative to the economy and domestic policy
of these remarkable insects.
In common with many tribes of hymenopterous insects, Functions
ants present the remarkable peculiarity of a threefold dis-of the neu-
tinction of sex among the individuals of the same species ;ters*
a circumstance which is met with in no other order of
the animal kingdom, and which appears, as far as obser¬
vation has extended, to be totally excluded from the plan
262
ANT.
Ant. of the vegetable creation. Besides males and females,
there exists an apparently intermediate order of neuters,
which are also denominated labouring or working ants.
The neuters, thus exempted from every sexual function,
exercise, on the other hand, all the other offices neces¬
sary for the existence and welfare of the community to
which they belong. It is they who collect supplies of
food, who explore the country for this purpose, and seize
upon every animal substance, whether living or dead,
which they can lay hold of, and transport to their nest.
It is they who construct every part of their dwelling-
place, who attend to the hatching of the eggs, to the
feeding of the larvae, and to their removal, as occasion
may require, to different situations favourable to their
growth and development; and who, both as aggressors
and as defenders, fight all the battles of the common¬
wealth, and provide for the safety of their weaker and
more passive companions. Thus all the laborious and
perilous duties of the state are performed solely by this
description of ants, who act the part of helots in these
singularly constituted republics of insects. We find, how¬
ever, on closer examination, that, in all probability, this
anomaly in point of sex is more apparent than real; and
that, however different in external conformation from the
productive females, they nevertheless originally and es¬
sentially belong to the same sex. There is every reason to
believe that the development of the sexual organs in the
former is the consequence of some difference in the cir¬
cumstances in which the larva is placed during its growth.
That such is the case with bees, is now perfectly well
established; and the analogy of bees with ants, in many
points of physiology, must be admitted as a strong argu¬
ment in corroboration of this theory. In all the essential
features of internal structure, the supposed neuters agree
with the female, and differ from the male of the same
species. In all hymenopterous insects, which are armed
with stings, a difference exists in the two sexes, as to the
number of articulations composing the antennae; those of
the female consisting of fewer pieces than those of the
male. The accurate observations of Mr Kirby {Mono-
graphia Apurri) have determined that in the bee the an¬
tennae of the male have fifteen articulations, while those
of the female and the neuter have only fourteen. In the
ant, likewise, we find thirteen articulations in the male,
and only twelve in the female; and likewise only twelve
in the neuter. In the male ant the abdomen has seven
rings, in the female and neuter only six. In the two lat¬
ter classes the head is broader, and the mandibles very
large and powerful compared with those of the male, and
are furnished with serrated edges, and a sharp and often
hooked point. The external sexual organs of the female
and of the neuter are so nearly similar in appearance,
that Latreille declares he was unable to perceive the
least difference between them. On the other hand, it is
to be observed, that in the neuter the principal deviation
from the model of the female consists in the absence of
wings; a circumstance which, as it regards the organs of
locomotion only, is one of subordinate importance in the
economy ; and their presence may, without difficulty, be
conceived to be connected with a certain condition of the
sexual organs, as are the horns of the deer, and the
beard in the human species. But although of so little
consequence in a physiological point of view, it is a cir¬
cumstance materially affecting their external condition.
It dooms them to severe toil and exertion in traversing
the ground, and in climbing up the steep paths that may
lie in their route ; while their more luxurious and favoured
associates are fluttering in the spacious realms of air in
search of amusement, and wafted to the objects of their
gratification on the light breezes of the summer.
Ants appear to be endowed with a greater share of Ant.
muscular strength than almost any other insect of the
same size. Of this we have sufficient proofs in the viva-^ens'hve
city of their movements, the incessant toil which many!^er80^
undergo, the great loads which they are seen to carry,
often exceeding ten or twelve times their own weight,
and the agility which they exert in making their escape
from danger. This high degree of irritability is conjoined,
apparently, with a corresponding share of the power of
sensation; a power which is manifested in their suscepti¬
bility to a variety of impressions capable of affecting the
organs of sense. They have a quick perception of all
changes of temperature, as well as of other conditions of
the atmosphere ; and are readily and disagreeably affect¬
ed by moisture. In the perfection of the sense of sight
they seem to be nearly on a level with other insects; and
the males and females are provided with both the descrip¬
tions of eyes peculiar to this class, namely, the composite
and the simple eyes. The labouring ants, indeed, who
never fly, are frequently destitute of the latter kind; a
circumstance which appears to confirm the suspicion that
has often been entertained, that the simple eyes are chiefly
instrumental in the vision of distant objects. Latreille
describes two species of ants, in which he could not dis¬
cover the least appearance whatsoever of eyes, although
he employed a high magnifying power in examining them.
One of these (the Formica cceca) is a foreign species, in¬
habiting the forests of Guiana, and of which the history
is therefore little known. The other (the Formica con-
tracta) is met with in the vicinity of Paris. It always
conceals itself during the day under stones, or in obscure
recesses, where no light can penetrate ; and emerges from
its retreat only during the night. It is much less social
in its habits than other ants, collecting in groups only of
about a dozen individuals, and appears to be far inferior
in sagacity to the rest of the tribe.
Ants possess a considerable acuteness of smell, a sense
which appears to be useful not only in directing them to
their food, but also, as Bonnet first remarked, in enabling
them to follow by the scent the track of their companions.
If the end of the finger be passed two or three times
across the line of their march, so as to brush off the odo¬
rous particles with which the ants who had already passed
that way may have impregnated the track, those who fol¬
low immediately stop on arriving at the place where the
experiment has been made, and afterwards direct their
course irregularly, till they have passed over the space
touched by the finger, when they soon find the path, and
proceed with the same confidence as before. Bonnet re¬
peated this experiment frequently, and always with the
same result. Latreille has endeavoured to discover the
seat of smell, which had long been suspected to reside in
the antennae. He, with this view, deprived several la¬
bouring ants of these organs, and replaced them near their
nests. When thus mutilated, they wandered to and fro in
all directions, as if they were delirious, and utterly uncon¬
scious of where they were going. Some of their compa¬
nions were seen to notice their distress, and, approaching
them with apparent compassion, applied their tongues to
the bleeding wounds of the sufferers, and anointed them
with a liquor which they caused to flow from their own
mouths. This trait of sensibility was repeatedly witnessed
by Latreille, while he was observing their actions with a
magnifying lens.
It is indeed evident that, in all insects, the antennae are
organs of the greatest utility in conveying impressions
from external objects. But in the ant, independently of
their importance as organs of touch, they appear to be of
still greater consequence to the welfare of the individual,
and of the community to which it belongs, by being the
Ant.
'neir
nod, and
epreda-
ions.
ANT.
chief instruments which enable them to communicate to sensible parts, which havp ttm finocf ^ f- t a
'one another intelligence in which they are mutually inte- mulatina' in irrpat 1 cutlSle ’ andj accu"
rested, and on which they are called upon immediately to animal by interrupting TesdratL^ Ne^rops^-^ ^
act. Mr Huber, to whom we are indebted for a variety had difficulty in keeping the ant^ f ^eSroes Ylth f)res
of curious observations on this subject, has given the Their power of destructfon kppnin/ ass?,]*lng the.m-
name of Language Antennal to this species of intercourse, crease of numbers, it is hardlv nossihW^ W1‘th m"
l-he situation of the autennat which are placed in front either; and the u^d LSfh tl^rfns cTh^
of the head, their great mobility, their peculiar mecha- often become formidable to man himself A
msm which presents a series of phalanges having great lated by Prevost, in his Histoire Generale des VouLl nf
freedom of p ay, and endowed with exquisite sensibility, an Italian missionary, resident in Congo, who wafawaked
conspire to fit them admirably for the function which he by his negroes in great alarm at the house beins invaded
assigns to them, that of producing a variety of different by an immense army of ants, which poured in ifke a tor
impressions, when apphed in different ways to the anten- rent, and before he could rise had already mounted unon
me or other parts of those ants with which they come in his legs. They covered the floor and passages, forming a
contact. Thus the signal of danger, which consists in stratum of considerable depth. Nothing but fire was i n-
the ant which gives the alarm striking its head against pable of arresting their progress. He states that cows
the corslet of the other, is propagated from ant to ant have been known to be devoured in their stalls bv these
with astonishing quickness, throughout the whole society, daring devastators. Smith, in his Voyages to Guinea re-
tor a few minutes a general ferment prevails, as if they ports that at Cape Corse the castle was attacked by le-
were deliberating what measures to pursue ; but their re- gions of ants, who were preceded by thirty or forty anna-
sol ution is soon formed, and they are ready to rush in a rently acting as guides. It was at day-break when they
body against the enemy. Any small animal that is disco- made this incursion, entering first by a chapel on the
vered to have insolently invaded their repose is certain of floor of which some negro servants were lying. Assailed
falling a victim to their resentment, unless he can make by this new enemy, they fled with precipitation, and gave
a precipitate retreat, which he seldom effects without the alarm to their master, who, on awaking, could hardlv
being covered with the bites of these furious insects, recover from his astonishment at beholding the advancing
I hey are not, however, equally jealous of the intrusion of multitude, which extended for a quarter of a mile before
every kind of insect, for woodlice are often found in the him. There was not much time for deliberation • and a
intenor of the nest, to whom, according to Latreille, they happy expedient was adopted of putting a long train of
offer no molestation. Ants appear to be incapable of emit- gunpowder across the line of their march, and extending
ting sounds, so as to communicate with one another at a it to their flanks, which had already begun to deploy and
d‘!ta"Ce ’ and t^re ind^d’ no ev.^ence that they pos- setting fire to the whole, millions were destroyed at one
263
sess the sense of hearing. The consideration of the sense
of taste naturally comprehends that of their food, to which
we shall therefore next proceed.
Very erroneous opinions were prevalent with regard to
the food of ants, which have often been supposed to con¬
sume corn, and to do great injury to plants by devouring
their roots or stems. The truth is, that they are chiefly
blow; which so intimidated the rest, that the whole army
retreated in disorder, and did not renew the attack.
Descriptions of ant-hills of immense size abound in
books of travellers who have visited tropical regions. Mr
Campbell (Account of Travels in South Africa, published
in 1815) observed in the district of Albany, at the Cape,
an ant-hill, five feet high, and twelve in circumference.
. . . ; ’ r . j an aut-xmi, nvc icta mgii, ana twelve m circumterence.
carnivorous insects, preying indiscriminately on all the In the forests of Guiana, according to M. Malouet they
softer parts of animals, and especially the viscera of other attain the height of from fifteen to twenty feet’ and
insects. Iliese, indeed, they will often attack when alive, when viewed from a distance on these widely extended
and overpower by dint of numbers; either devouring their savannas, resemble the rude huts of savages - but they
on ^the spot, or^ dragging it a prisoner into the in- contain a race more ferocious than the savage or the tiger
terior of the nest. If, however, the game should be too
bulky to be easily transported, they make a plentiful
meal, and exert, like the bee, a power of disgorging a
portion, and of imparting it to their companions at home:
himself, and cannot be approached by men without the
utmost danger of being devoured. When new settlers,
who are clearing the country, meet with any of these in
their progress, they must immediately desist from their
* , . ' r" &   nwiiiL. men pi unless, intjy musi immeuiateiy desist trom their
and it appears that they are even able to retain at pleasure task, and even abandon the neighbourhood, unless they
the nutncious juices unchanged for a considerable time, can speedily destroy the enemy in the very heart of the
ihe rapidity with which they consume, and in fact ana- citadel which protects him, and from which he is able to
tonnze, the carcass of any small bird or quadruped that pour an overwhelming number of combatants. The only
happens to fall in their way, is well known, and furnishes method of accomplishing this is to dig a trench all round
an easy method of obtaining natural skeletons of these the ant-hills, and, after having filled it with dry wood and
animals, by p acing their dead bodies in the vicinity of a set fire to it on every side, by lighting it quickly in differ-
populous ant-hill. In hot climates, where they multiply ent places, so as to cut off all retreat to the ants, to batter
to an amazing extent, their voracity and boldness increase down the edifice with cannon. The ants, thus scattered,
with their numbers. Bosnian, in his description of Gui- soon perish in the flames.
nea, suites that, in one night, they will devour a sheep, The chief, if not the only vegetable substance which is
leaving it a hue skeleton; while a fowl is for them only at all alluring to their appetite, is sugar. They not only
vmvtamUfemfint i an h?-U-‘ In theSe sltuations they wil1 eat ^ in substance, but are fond of all fluids that contain
1? it i attack even llvmg animals of considerable size, it in any quantity,—such as the secretions which exude
•intc fr miCu ° , b?come their victims. The sugar- from many trees, and compose what has been termed the
‘ i ^ _ rena a c eared every plantation which they visit- honey-dew ; and the saccharine juice which is excreted
i . a,s.an °tlcr vermin, which they probably effected from the bodies of many of the insects belonging to the
y a ac mg t icir young. Poultry, or other small stock, genus Aphis. This latter species of food they appear to
i ou c no e laised without the greatest difficulty; and relish above all others: it resembles honey in its qualities,
^ie eyes, nose, and other emunctories of the bodies of and is sucked with avidity from the insect which yields it,
c ymg or c tac animals, were instantly covered with them, and which appears in no respect to suffer from the opera-
11} geneia y, indeed, begin their attacks on the most tion. Boissier de Sauvages was the first who noticed this
Ant.
264
A N T.
Ant.
singular fact; and Mr P. Huber has ascertained a number
-’of curious circumstances attending it. He conceives that
the liquor is given out voluntarily by the aphis, at the so¬
licitation of the ant, who for this purpose strikes it gent¬
ly and repeatedly with its antennae, using the same motions
as it does when caressing its young; and remarks, that the
aphis retains this liquor for a longer time, where the ants
are not at hand to receive it. A single aphis may often
be seen surrounded by three or four ants who are feeding
on the honey, and deriving from it a plentiful meal. It
does not appear that the aphis uses any exertion to avoid
the ants, who are thus dependent on its bounty; for those
provided with wings are quite as passive under these cir¬
cumstances as the rest. They are, however, of an ex¬
tremely sluggish nature, and may be seen for days on the
same stem, in a state of indolent repose, and averse to use
their wings. j u r>
A singular observation has been recently made by rro-
fessor Savi (the younger) of Pisa, in relation to a species
of Italian ant, the nest of which is inhabited by a small
grasshopper. These animals do not appear to dwell in the
same excavations in a merely casual manner, but they are
united by some unaccountable bond of union, which ren¬
ders the society of the one indispensable to the comfort of
the other. The association of the ant and the aphis before^
alluded to is of a dissimilar nature, being the result of
force on the one hand, and of necessity on the other. But,
as far as it is possible to judge from the observations
hitherto recorded, the cohabitation of the ant and the
Grasshopper is of a more refined and disinterested kind.
It is really impossible at present to account for it on any
other principle than that of an affectionate interest in each
other’s society; for no direct advantage appears to result
to either party. On this account Signor Savi has named
the grasshopper gryllus myrmecophilw.1 He proved the
friendly alliance which subsists between these species, by
watching the migratory and other movements of the ants
themselves, during which he discovered that they always
carried their little grasshoppers along with them. These
latter, during fine weather, are seen to sport and play in
the vicinity of the ant-nests, into which they immediately
betake themselves during any unfavourable change of the
air, or the approach of threatened danger.
The cultivation of the sugar-cane in the West Indian
islands has often been severely checked by the ravages of
ants; but the injury they occasion arises altogether from
their undermining the roots, in order to establish their
nests where they can be protected from heavy rains, and
secured against agitation from violent winds; advantages
which the sugar-cane affords them in a very great degree.
No part of the plant constitutes their food; and the same
is true of those trees among the roots of which they burrow,
and of which they speedily occasion the destruction, by
preventing the access of moisture.
Ripe fruits are often attacked by ants, probably on ac¬
count of the sugar they contain ; and, for the same reason,
the buds of trees are infested with these insects, and often
injured by their depredations. There is no evidence that
they at any time feed upon corn or other vegetable seed.
This point has been well established by Mr Gould ; and
Bonnet, who kept a colony of ants prisoners in his study,
observed, that, however long they had been kept without
food, still they never touched the corn that he put before
them. Honey and sweetmeats have strong attractions for
ants, who, if they once discover their way to a magazine
of these dainties, will immediately communicate the tidings
to the rest of the society, and, leading them to the spot,
Ant.
a regular path will soon be established, which will con¬
tinue to be crowded with a train of depredatois so long'^^v^.
as any thing remains to be pilfered. It is, however, cer¬
tain, notwithstanding the assertion of Bomare, who com¬
pares them to the miser, whose chief pleasure consists in
contemplating the riches he has amassed in his coffeis,
that ants are not in the habit of hoarding provisions for
future consumption. They grow torpid when the cold ex¬
ceeds 27° of Fahrenheit, and in that state require no food ;
and the aphis affords them sufficient nourishment at other
periods of the winter.
In building their nests, each species of ant follows its Their
own peculiar mode of construction, and employs differentnests-
materials for this purpose. Many form them of clay, and
particularly the smaller species; one set building up a
regular series of apartments in successive stories, often
forty in number, with materials which are furnished to
them by another set of workers, who are excavating the
ground below. The cielings are supported throughout
by small pillars in some parts, and by vertical walls in
others ; while broad arches are in other places raised, in
order to protect larger spaces, and to admit of lengthen¬
ed passages of communication throughout a long extent
of apartments. These ants can proceed in the building
only at such times as the earth has been softened by rain
or dew, and the atmosphere is at the same time sufficient¬
ly moist to allow of the materials cohering firmly before
they dry. Such are probably the ants which Pliny men¬
tions as working by moonlight. On one occasion, when
the ants, under the inspection of Mr Huber, had discon¬
tinued their labours on account of too great dryness in
the atmosphere, he succeeded in getting them to renew
their operations by sprinkling water upon them with a
wet brush, in imitation of a natural shower. They care¬
fully close the doors of their habitations every night, in
order to prevent the intrusion of other insects ; and a few
remain on the outside during the night as sentinels, to
give alarm in case of danger. Some species of ants collect
fragments of leaves, of bark, or of straw, with which they
construct more permanent and artificially constructed
nests than the former. Others employ nothing but the
fine powder which they collect from decayed wood. Some,
for greater security, establish themselves under a large
stone, or in the crevices of decayed buildings. Several
tribes, on the other hand, penetrate into the solid sub¬
stance of wood, which they scoop out into numerous cells,
leaving only intermediate partitions of extreme tenuity,
just of the strength sufficient to enable the whole fabric
to support itself; while it crumbles into powder when
pressed between the fingers.
We shall now take a brief review of the principal c*rcum'^U”nd
stances relating to the fecundation of the ant, and the
evolution and growth of the young. The former is effect- t^e-r
ed very generally during the flight of the females, in young,
which they are accompanied by the males; both appear¬
ing to be provided with wings chiefly for this object. A
certain number of the females that are impregnated, are
also, by the assistance of their wings, enabled to reach
distant situations, where they become respectively the
founders of new colonies. The males, on the other hand,
having fulfilled the office for which nature had destined
them, are left to perish on the spot where they descend,
being removed from those who formerly administered to
them food, and being destitute of the means of procuring
subsistence for themselves. Immense swarms of ants are
occasionally met with; and some have been recorded of
such prodigious density and magnitude as to darken the
1 Biblioteca Italiana, tomo xv. p. 217«
ant.
Ant air like a thick cloud, and to cover the ground to a consider-
able extent where they settled. Mr Gleditsch describes,
in the History of the Berlin Academy for 1749, shoals of
a small black ant which appeared in Germany, and form¬
ed high columns in the air, rising to a vast height, and
agitated with a curious intestine motion, somewhat re¬
sembling the aurora borealis. A similar flight of ants is
spoken of by Mr Acolutte, a clergyman of Breslaw, which
resembled columns of smoke, and which fell on the
churches and the tops of the houses, where the ants
could be gathered by handfuls. In the German Ephe-
merides, Dr Charles Rayger gives an account of a large
swarm, which passed over the town of Posen, and was
directing its course towards the Danube. The whole town
was strewed with ants, so that it was impossible to walk
without trampling on thirty or forty at every step. And
more recently, Mr Dorthes, in the Journal de Physique
for 1790, relates the appearance of a similar phenomenon
at Montpellier. The shoals moved about in different di¬
rections, having a singular intestine motion in each co¬
lumn, and also a general motion of rotation. About sun¬
set they all fell to the ground; and, on examining the
ants, they were found tc belong to the Formica nigra of
Linnaeus.
The swarming of ants does not appear to be at all ana¬
logous to that of bees: its object seems to be confined to
the propagation of the species, and is not the result of
any co-operation of numbers, who associate together in
search of a new habitation, in which an already populous
assemblage may establish themselves. It would appear
that the infant colonies consist of very small numbers,
and are perhaps wholly the offspring of a common parent,
who has migrated alone, or with but a few companions.
The greater number of impregnated females alighting in
the neighbourhood of the nest, are laid hold of by the la¬
bouring ants, who drag them to the nest, where they keep
them prisoners till they are ready to deposit their eggs.
It is very generally asserted that they also deprive them
of their wings; but the later observations of M. Huber
disprove that opinion. The impregnated females cast
their wings of their own accord. They twist and contort
these organs in various directions, till they finally drop
off. Such as are unimpregnated have not been observed
to perform this singular action. Each female is at this
period attended by a numerous retinue of labourers, who
treat her with the greatest deference, and are solicitous
to anticipate all her wants. Contrary to what happens
among bees, many females inhabit the same nest, and live
together in the utmost harmony. The eggs, when first
deposited, are very small, but become considerably larger
before the larva is excluded, being apparently nourished
by absorption ; for the ants to whose care they are con¬
fided are perpetually licking them with their tongues,—
a fact which, however curious, is by no means a solitary
one in the history of insects. The larva comes forth at
the end of a fortnight, and appears in the form of a trans¬
parent maggot, with a head and wings, but without any
external organs of motion. They are in this state fed by
their nurses with a fluid disgorged from their stomachs;
and, in the course of their transformation to the state of
nympha, and of perfect insect, are still dependent upon
their assistance. These affectionate guardians help them
to extricate themselves from the web of the cocoon, to
unfold the duplicatures of their wings, and supply them
with food, till they are capable of procuring it for them¬
selves. The young ant is an exceedingly tender and de¬
licate animal, easily destroyed by any considerable varia¬
tion of temperature, or by excessive humidity; and great
care and attention appear to be required to bring it to
maturity: it appears to be the constant business of the
VOL. in.
265
Ant.
ants which remain at home to convey them to different
parts of the nest, where the temperature is suited to'1
them ; and whenever danger threatens they show the
utmost solicitude to remove them to situations of se¬
curity.
Very different degrees of sagacity belong to different Their sa-
tribes of ants. Many traits in the history of the largerf?achy*
kinds, as related by Huber, are of so singular a character
as to be scarcely credible if we had received them from
a less reputable authority, and if we wrere not already pre¬
pared to admit them, from our knowledge of many equal¬
ly curious circumstances in the economy of bees, which
have been established by the concurrent testimony of the
most scrupulous observers. Some tribes of ants, accord¬
ing to this naturalist, who are peculiarly fond of the honey
which exudes from the aphis, convey many of these in¬
sects into their own nests, lodging them near the vege¬
tables on which they feed, but keeping them prisoners
within their habitations, and assigning to them distinct
apartments in the subterranean recesses of their dwell¬
ings. As if conscious of the future advantages they may
derive from these insects, they collect their eggs, and su¬
perintend their hatching with the same care which they
bestow on the eggs of their own species. The aphis lives
in perfect harmony with its keepers, who, so far from mo¬
lesting it, defend it with courage against ants belonging
to other nests, who frequently attempt to get possession
of them. Occasionally they are lodged by the ants in
fortified buildings, which they construct at a distance
from the nest, in situations where they are most secure
from invasion. The aphis is not the only genus of insect
which furnishes this kind of provision to the ant; the
kermes and gall-insect are employed occasionally for the
same purpose, and are found domesticated in the nests of
ants, at the same time that they contain several species of
aphis, and from all of which they collect nutriment.
This picture of domestic harmony is strongly contrast--pheir
ed with the scenes of ferocious contention which are oc-wars.
casionally exhibited between the inhabitants of neighbour¬
ing nests; nature appearing to have instilled, together
with the love of social order, the same passions of rival¬
ry, of ambition, and of revenge, of which we deplore the
operation among beings of a higher order. War, the
scourge of the human species, exerts its desolating power
among the tribes of gregarious insects, and tends to check
their otherwise excessive increase of number. The bat¬
tles which take place between rival colonies of ants are
often on a scale of prodigious magnitude: millions of com¬
batants engage on either side with a fury and pertinacity
that is truly astonishing. Their weapons of offence are
the jaws, which are capable of inflicting a deep bite, and
of instilling into the wound a highly acrid liquor; and
also, in many species, a sting resembling in situation and
structure that of the bee, and likewise containing a ve¬
nomous juice. The liquor is well known to possess acid
properties, and is now found to consist of two acids, and
a volatile one, the formic, of which the constitution is
C2 H2 04. It has been ascertained by the German chemist
Dobereiner, that an acid analogous to this animal secre¬
tion may be artificially obtained by chemical means. See
Chemistry. It is extremely volatile and pungent, and
is capable of being thrown out by the ant, when irritated,
in considerable quantities. Roux, in the Journal de Medi¬
cine for 1762, reports a number of experiments which
were made by exposing animals to its influence, frogs
were killed by the vapour from an ant’s nest in less than
five minutes; and persons breathing it, when of a certain
intensity, were nearly suffocated, or were seized with
fever, followed by an extensive cutaneous eruption, which
terminated in desquamation of the cuticle.
266
ANT.
Ant Some of the most daring and courageous species, such
^v-^as that which M. Huber calls the Amazon-ant, make it
the business of their lives to attack the nests of the weak¬
er species, and succeed, after a desperate conflict, in
plundering them of their eggs and larvae, which they con¬
vey to their own nests. These are hatched and reared by
ants of the same species as themselves, who may be con¬
sidered as auxiliaries to the amazons, and who had them¬
selves, at some former period, been kidnapped from their
parent nest by the amazons. Thus, a society is formed
among different species of insects, to which no parallel ex¬
ists but in the human race. The amazons live without
labour; they are attended, fed, and cherished by the ants
which they have procured by this kind of slave-trade, and
who take as much care of their offspring as they do of
those of their own species. Perfect order is preserved,
and the natural instinct of hostility, which in another con¬
dition of the society exists between the two tribes, seems
in the auxiliaries completely extinguished, by their being
educated with the race of their original oppressors.
Ants have numerous enemies among quadrupeds and
birds; and some, as the ant-eater, dasypus, and manis or
pangolin, together with the tribe of woodpeckers, devour
a very large proportion. The Formica Iconis, or niyime-
lion, feeds almost wholly on these insects. The bees at
the Cape, according to Mr Campbell, frequently drive out
the ants from their nests, of which they take possession
themselves. Ants are also infested by lice, which, as may
well be imagined, are so minute as to be invisible without
the assistance of a very high magnifying power. They
are stated by Redi, who discovered them, to resemble in
shape those of the fowl and the dove.
Mode of The most effectual mode of destroying ants is to pour
destroying boiling water into their nests, which destroys at once both
ants- the perfect insects and their eggs and larvae ; so that
those who, being from home, had escaped the general
catastrophe, finding it impossible to repair the loss, aban¬
don the spot, and disperse. The addition of urine, or of
soot, or still better of tobacco, which may be infused in
the water, will render it much more efficacious. A decoc¬
tion of walnut-leaves or lime-water will also generally
answer. The night is the best time for applying these
remedies, as the ants are then all collected in the nest.
Arsenic is exceedingly destructive to ants, and affords
another ready mode of getting rid of those that intrude into
cupboards or pantries: it may, for this purpose, be mixed
with sugar, or kneaded with any kind of provision, and
placed in the paths they are observed to frequent. Cor¬
rosive sublimate is also highly poisonous to them, and
myriads of the sugar-ants at Grenada were destroyed by
means of it; and it is stated to have had the effect of
rendering the ants so outrageous that they destroyed each
other, as could be seen by a magnifying glass, and even,
though less distinctly, by the naked eye. It appears also
that this effect was produced even when they only came
in contact with the poison. The whole island, however,
was so overrun with these ants, that the numbers that
could be destroyed by these means bore no sensible pro¬
portion to the whole; and recourse was had to fire as
more applicable to destruction on a larger scale. It was
observed that when wood, burnt to the state of charcoal,
without flame, and immediately taken from the fire, was
laid in their way, they crowded to it in such amazing
numbers as soon to extinguish it, though thousands perish¬
ed by so doing. Holes were therefore dug at proper dis¬
tances in a cane-piece, and fire made in each of them.
Prodigious quantities perished in this w'ay; for those
fires, when extinguished, appeared in the shape of mole¬
hills, from the numbers of dead that were heaped upon
them. But as none of the females or young brood were
destroyed by this expedient, the ants soon re-appeared in
as great numbers as before; and the island would pro¬
bably have continued subject to this scourge, had it^not
been for the occurrence of the great hurricane of 1/80,
which at once cleared all the islands of this dreadful pest,
bv which the sugar-cane plantations had been threatened
with total ruin. (p* M- R')
For the specific descriptions and systematic arrange¬
ment of the different kinds of ants, see Entomology.
AxT-Eater. See Mammalia, Index.
Ant-HUIs are little hillocks of earth which the ants
throw up for their habitation and the breeding of their
young. They are a very great mischief to dry pastures,
not only by wasting so much land as they cover, but by
hindering the scythe in mowing the grass, and yielding
a poor hungry food, pernicious to cattle. The manner
of destroying them is to cut them into four parts from
the top, and then dig into them so deep as to take out the
core below, so that when the turf is laid down again it may
lie somewhat lower than the level of the rest of the land.
By this means it will be wetter than the rest of the land,
and this will prevent the ants from returning to the same
place, which otherwise they would certainly do. The
earth that is taken out must be scattered to as great a
distance every way as may be, otherwise they will collect
it together, and make another hill just by. The proper
time for doing this is winter; and if the places be left
open, the frost and rains of that time of the year will de¬
stroy the rest; but in this case care must be taken that
they are covered up early enough in the spring, otherwise
they will be less fertile in grass than the other places. In
Hertfordshire they use a particular kind of spade for this
purpose. It is very sharp, and formed at the top into the
shape of a crescent, so that the whole edge makes up more
than three fourths of a circle ; this cuts in every part, and
does the business very quickly and effectually. Others
use the same instruments that they do for mole-hills.
Human dung is a better remedy than all these, as is proved
by experiment; for it will kill great numbers of them,
and drive all the rest away, if only a small quantity of it
be put into their hills. ,
ANTACIDS, an appellation given to all medicines pro¬
per to correct acid in the stomach. Under the class of ant¬
acids come, 1. Absorbents, as chalk, magnesia, carbonates of
the alkalies, and pure alkalies; 2. Obtundents, as oils and fats.
ANTT5. See Architecture.
ANTiEOPOLIS, in Ancient Geography, the capital of
the Nomos Antaeopolites, was situated on the right bank of
the Nile, in Lat. 27.11. N. Its site is now occupied by the
village of Gau-el-Kebir.
ANTiEUS, in Fabulous History, a giant of Libya, son ot
Neptune and Terra. Designing to build a temple to his
father of men’s skulls, he slew all he met. In his combat
with Hercules he is said to have received strength from the
earth every time he was thrown upon it, which Hercules
perceiving, lifted him up from the ground and squeezed him
to death. . .
ANTALO, a considerable town of Abyssinia, capital ol
the flat and fertile district of Enderta, which is dependent
on Tigre. It contains not more than 1000 houses, which,
with the exception of that destined for the residence of t ic
Ras or sovereign of Tigre, are no better than clusters of huts,
with conical thatched roofs.
ANTANACLASIS (dvri and dvaK\dw), literally a re¬
flexion or echo, in Rhetoric, a figure which repeats the same
word, but in a different sense ; as, dum vivimus, vivamus.
ANT ANAGOGE (dvri and dvayoryrj), in Rhetoric, a
figure by which, when the accusation of the adversary is un¬
answerable, we charge him with the same or other crimes.
ANTAR. the hero of an Arabian romance, translated, in
Ant
II
Antar.
Antedilu¬
vians.
ANT
Antartic 1819, by Hamilton, who was long secretary to the British
embassy at Constantinople. Antar was a real personage, a
Bedouin Arab,who by his valour and enterprise raised him¬
self to distinction about the close of the fifth century.
ANTARCTIC, in a general sense,denotes something op¬
posite to the northern or arctic pole. Hence antarctic circle
is one of the lesser circles of the sphere, and distant only
23° 3(r from the south pole, which is likewise called antarc¬
tic for the same reason. See Polar Regions.
ANTARES, or the Scorpion’s Heart, in Astronomy,
the name of a double star, having a small and very close
companion. Its R.A. on 1st January 1853, was 16 h. 20 m.
24*020 s.; D. 26° 6' 3-99v.
ANTEAMBUEONES, in Homan Antiquity, servants
who went before persons of distinction to clear the way be¬
fore them. They used this formula, Date locum domino
meo, i. e., Make room, or way, for my master ; and whenever
this exclamation did not suffice, they made free use of their
hands and elbows.
ANTECESSOR, one that goes before. It was an ap¬
pellation given to those who excelled in any science. Jus¬
tinian applied it particularly to professors of the civil law ;
and, in the universities of France, the teachers of law used
to take the title of antecessors in all their theses.
ANTECURSORES, in the Homan Armies, a party of
horse detached before, partly to get intelligence, provisions,
&c., and partly to choose a proper place to encamp in. These
were otherwise called antecessores, and by the Greeks irpo-
SpOfJ-OL.
ANTEDILUVIANS, a general name for all mankind
who lived before the flood, thus including the whole of the
human race from Adam to Noah and his family.
As Moses has not set down the particular time of any
transaction before the flood, except only the years of the
fathers’ ages in which the several descendants of Adam in
the line of Seth were begotten, and the length of their se¬
veral lives, it has been the business of chronologers to, en¬
deavour to fix the years of the lives and deaths of those
patriarchs, and the distance of time from the Creation to the
Deluge. In this there could be little difficulty were there
no varieties in the several copies we now have of Moses’s
writings; which are, the Hebrew, the Samaritan, and the
Greek version of the Septuagint; but as these differ very
considerably from one another, learned men have been much
divided in opinion concerning the chronology of the first
ages of the world.
That the reader may the better judge of the variations in
the three copies in this period, they are exhibited in the fol¬
lowing table, with the addition of those of Josephus as cor¬
rected by Dr Wells and Mr Whiston.
A Table of the Years of the Antediluvian Patriarchs.
ANT
267
Their Ages at their Sons* Birth.
Adam 
Seth 
Enos 
Cain an 
Mahalaleel 
Jared 
Enoch 
Methuselah 
Lamech 
Noah was aged)
at the Flood }
Heb. Sam.
130 130
105 105
90 90
Sept. Jos.
230 130
205 105
190 90
70
65
162
70
65
62
65 65
187 67
182 53
600 600
170
165
162
165
167 187
188 182
600 600
To the Flood... 1656 1307 2242 1556
Years they lived
after their Sons’
Birth.
Heb. Sam. Sept.
800 800 700
807 807 707
815 815 715
840 840 740
830 830 730
800 785 800
300 300 200
782 653 802
595 600 565
Ileb. Sam. Sept.
930 930 930
912 912 912
905 905 905
910 910 910
895 895 895
962 847 962
365 365 365
969 720 969
777 653 753
All our authentic information respecting this long and in¬
teresting period is contained in 49 verses of Genesis (iv. 16, to
vi. 8), more than half of which are occupied with a list of names
and ages, invaluable for chronology, hut conveying no parti- Antedilu-
culars regarding the primeval state of man. Some additional vians.
information, though less direct, may he safely deduced from
the history of Noah and the first men after the Deluge ; for it
is very evident that society did not begin afresh after that
event; hut that, through Noah and his sons, the new families
of men were in a condition to inherit, and did inherit, such
sciences and arts as existed before the Flood. This enables us
to understand how settled and civilised communities were esta¬
blished, and large and magnificent works undertaken, within
a few centuries of the Deluge.
The human race probably had before the Deluge what¬
ever knowledge or civilisation their agricultural and pastoral
pursuits required. It is remarkable that of the strictly savage
or hunting condition of life there is not the slightest trace be¬
fore the Deluge. After that event, Nimrod, although a hunter
(Gen. x. 9), was not a savage, and did not belong to hunting
tribes of men. In fact, savagism is not discoverable before the
confusion of tongues, and was in all likelihood a degeneracy
from a state of cultivation, eventually produced in particular
communities by that great social convulsion. That a degree of
cultivation was the primitive condition of man, from which
savagism in particular quarters was a degeneracy, and that he
has not, as too generally has been supposed, worked himself
up from an original savage state to his present position, has at
least been powerfully argued by Dr Philip Lindsley, and is
strongly corroborated by the conclusions of modern ethnogra¬
phical research; from which we learn that, while it is easy for
men to degenerate into savages, no example has been found of
savages rising into civilisation but by an impulse from without,
administered by a more civilised people; and that, even with
such impulse, the vis inertice of established habits is with dif¬
ficulty overcome.
All that was peculiar in the circumstances of the antedilu¬
vian period was eminently favourable to civilisation. “ The
longevity of the earlier seventeen or twenty centuries of human
existence is a theme containing many problems. It may be
here referred to for the purpose of indicating the advantages
which must necessarily have therefrom accrued to the mecha¬
nical arts.”
By reason of their length of life, the antediluvians had also
more encouragement in protracted undertakings, and stronger
inducements to the erection of superior, more costly, more
durable, and more capacious edifices and monuments, public
and private, than exist at present.
But probably the greatest advantage enjoyed by the an¬
tediluvians, and which must have been in the highest degree
favourable to their advancement in the arts of life, was the
uniformity of language. Nothing could have tended more
powerfully to maintain, equalise, and promote whatever ad¬
vantages were enjoyed, and to prevent any portion of the hu¬
man race from degenerating into savage life.
The opinion that the old world was acquainted with astro¬
nomy, is chiefly founded on the ages of Seth and his descen¬
dants being particularly set down (Gen. v. 6, sqq.), and the
precise year, month, and day being stated in which Noah and
his family, &c., entered the ark, and made their egress from it
(Gen. vii. 11 ; viii. 13).
That the antediluvians were acquainted with music is cer¬
tain ; for it is expressly said that Jubal (while Adam was still
alive) became ‘ the father of those who handle the L’u-
nur and the hugab.’ The kinnur, was evidently a
stringed instrument resembling a lyre; and the hugab was
without doubt the pandsean pipe, composed of reeds of different
lengths joined together.
With regard to architecture, it is a singular and important
fact that Cain, when he was driven from his first abode, built
a city in the land to which he went, and called it Enoch, after
his son. This shows that the descendants of Adam lived in
houses and towns from the first, and consequently affords an¬
other confirmation of the argument for the original cultivation
of the human family. _ .
That they were acquainted with agriculture, is obvious
from a reference to the case of Noah, who, immediately alter
the Flood, became a husbandman, and planted a vineyard. He
also knew the method of fermenting the juice of the grape; lor
268
ANT
Antego
it is said that he drank of the wine, which produced inebria¬
tion (Gen. ix. 20, 21). This knowledge he doubtless obtained
Antequera.from his progenitors anterior to the destruction of the old
" impossible to speak with any decision respecting the
form or forms of government which prevailed before the Deluge.
The slight intimations to be found on the subject seem to favour
the notion that the particular governments were patriarchal,
subject to a general theocratical control—God himself mani¬
festly interfering to uphold the good and check the wicked.
The right of property was recognised, for Abel and J abal pos¬
sessed flocks, and Cain built a city. As ordinances of religion
sacrifices certainly existed (Gen. iv. 4), and some think that
the sabbath was observed; while some interpret the words,
“ Then men began to call upon the name of the Lord (Gen.
iv. 26), to signify that public worship then began to be prac-
tlSMarriage, and all the relations springing from it, existed
from the beginning (Gen. ii. 23-25); and although polygamy
was known among the antediluvians (Gen. iv. 19), it was most
probably unlawful; for it must have been obvious that it more
than one wife had been necessary for a man, the Lord would
not have confined the first man to one woman. The marriage
of the sons of Seth with the daughters of Cain appears to have
been prohibited, since the consequence of it was that universal
depravity in the family of Seth so forcibly expressed m this
short passage, “All flesh had corrupted its way upon the earth
(Gen vii 11).—Gritica Biblica, iv. 14-20; Faber’s Jlorce Mo-
saicce • P Lindsley, D.D., On the Primitive State of Mankind,
in Am. Bib. Repos, iv. 277-298 ; vL 1-27. See also Anc. Univ.
Hist.i. 142-201.'—'Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature, by Jvitto.
ANTEGO. See Antigua.
ANTEJURAMENTUM, by our ancestors called j?W«-
mentum calumnice, an oath which anciently both accuser
and accused were to take before any trial or purgation. The
accuser was to swear that he would prosecute the criminal;
and the accused to make oath, on the day he was to undergo the
ordeal, that he was innocent of the crime charged against him.
ANTELOPE. See Mammalia, Index.
ANTELUCAN, {ante and lux) denotes what occurs
during the night, or before day. We find frequent mention
of the antelucan assemblies {Ccetus antelucani) of the ancient
Christians in times of persecution for religious worship.
ANTEMN AE, a very ancient city of Latium, situated im¬
mediately below the confluence of the Anio with the Tiber.
Being only three miles from Rome, the inhabitants were soon
engaged in war with that rising city, but were vanquished by
Romulus, and became a dependency of Rome. No traces of
this city remain.
ANTEMURALE, in the Ancient Military Art, denotes
much the same with what the moderns call an outwork.
ANTENATI, in Modern English History, is chiefly un¬
derstood of the subjects of Scotland born before King James
the First’s accession to the English crown, and alive after it.
In relation to these, those who were born after the accession
were denominated Postnati. The antenati were considered
as aliens in England, whereas the postnati claimed the pri¬
vilege of natural subjects.
ANTENCLEMA, {dvfi and e/KX^/xa) in Oratory, is
where the whole defence of the accused turns on criminating
the accuser. Such is the defence of Orestes, or the oration
for Milo : Occisus est, sed latro : Exsectus, sed raptor.
ANTENOR, an Athenian sculptor, b.c. 509, celebrated
for his bronze statues of Harmodius and Aristogiton. Wink-
elmann calls him Agenor.
Antenor, a Trojan prince, said to have come into Italy:
he expelled the Euganians on the river Po, and built the
city of Padua, where his tomb is said to be still extant.
ANTEPILANI, in the Roman Armies, the first two lines
of troops, consisting of the Hastati and Principes, in contradis¬
tinction to the third line, the Triarii, who were called Pilani.
ANTEQUERA, a city of Spain, in the province of Ma-
A N T
laga. It is situate in a beautiful and fertile valley, covered ^nteros
with olive-trees, around which, in all directions, lofty moun- y
tains rise to a great height, which contain valuable quairies Anthes-
of marble of every description. Near it is a saline lake, teria.
which supplies the inhabitants of the district with salt for all IT 'f***
their culinary purposes. As long as the Moors possessed
the kingdom of Granada, this city, from being the point
which commands the southern entrance to the plain, was a
military post of vast importance, and its possession was per¬
petually contested by the rival monarchs on both sides of it.
An ancient castle still remains, in which are preserved spe¬
cimens of the various military weapons and accoutrements
both of the Moors and the Christians of the fourteenth cen¬
tury. It contains about 17,000 inhabitants, employed in
agriculture and in the manufacture of cloth and leather.
ANTEROS, in Mythology, one of the two Cupids. They
are placed at the foot of the Venus de Medici. Anteros is
represented with a heavy and sullen look, agreeably to the
poetical description of him, as the cause of love’s ceasing.
The other was called Eros.
ANTESIGNANI, in the Roman Armies, the first line
or first body of troops, so called from their being placed be¬
fore the standards.
ANTESTARI, in Roman Antiquity, signifies to bear
witness against any one who refused to make his appearance
in the Roman courts of judicature on the day appointed,
and according to the tenor of his bail. The plaintiff finding
the defendant after such a breach of his engagement, was
allowed to carry him into court by force, having first asked
any of the persons present to bear witness. The person
asked to bear witness in this case expressed his consent by
turning his right ear, which was instantly taken hold of by
the plaintiff; and this was to answer the end of a subpoena.
The ear was touched upon this occasion, says Pliny, as being
the seat of memory, and therefore the ceremony was a sort
of caution to the party to remember his engagement.
ANTHELMINTICS, remedies against intestinal worms.
ANTHEM, a church song performed in cathedral service
by choristers, who sung alternately. It was used to denote
both psalms and hymns when performed in this manner;
but at present, anthem is used in a more confined sense,
being applied to certain passages of the Scriptures adapted
to a particular solemnity. Anthems were first introduced,
in the reformed service of the English church, in the be¬
ginning of the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
ANTHEMIS, a genus of plants of the natural order of
the Compositae, to which belong A. nobilis or chamomile,
A. tinctoria, A. Pyreihrum.
ANTHEMIUS, a celebrated architect of the time of
Justinian, to whom we are indebted for the church of Sta
Sophia at Constantinople. He was the first architect who
ventured “ to suspend a cupola in air.” Its diameter of li5
feet, and its perfect preservation, after the lapse of more
than thirteen centuries, shows the boldness of the architect s
conception, and the scientific skill of its execution. He did
not live to see the temple completed, having died in 554:
Sta Sophia was not finished until three years thereafter.
ANTHESPHORIA, in Antiquity, a Sicilian festival in
honour of Persephone. The word is derived from av0os,
Jlower, and (frepoy, I carry ; because that goddess was forced
away by Pluto when she was gathering flowers in the fields.
Yet Festus does not ascribe the feast to Persephone, but says
it was thus called because ears of corn were carried on this
day to the temples. Anthesphoria seems to be the same
thing with the Jlorifertum of the Latins, and answers to the
harvest-home among us.
ANTHESTERIA, in Antiquity, was a feast celebrated
by the Athenians in honour of Bacchus. The most natural
derivation of the word is from the Greek dv#os {flos), a
*
«
ANT
^nthes- flower, it being the custom at this feast to offer garlands of
teiion flowers to Bacchus.
Jl <te The anthesteria lasted three days, the 11th, 12th, and
It raci e. 0f moofh^ gagh 0f which had a name suited to the
proper office of the day. The first day of the feast was
called mOoLyia, because on this day they tapped the vessels
and tasted the wine of the preceding year. The second
day they called ^oes, from the cup, and seem to have
devoted it to drinking; on this they practised the Ascolia,
with other merriments. The third day they called x^TP°h
kettles : on this day they boiled all sorts of pulse in kettles ;
which, however, they were not allowed to taste, as being
offered to Hermes.
ANTHESTERION, in Ancient Chronology, the eighth
month of the Athenian year. It contained 29 days, and an¬
swered nearly to our February. It received its name from
the festival anthesteria kept in it.
ANTHOLOGION, the title of the service-book used in
the Greek church. It is divided into 12 months, containing
the offices sung throughout the year, on the festivals of our
Saviour, the Virgin, and other remarkable saints.
ANTHOLOGY, a discourse of flowers, or a selection of
beautiful passages from various authors. It is also the name
given to a collection of epigrams from Greek poets.
ANTHONY, Saint, was born in Egypt in 251, and inr
herited a large fortune, which he distributed among his
neighbours and the poor, retired into solitude, founded a
religious order, built many monasteries, and died a.d. 356.
Many ridiculous stories are told of his conflicts with the devil,
and of his miracles. There are seven epistles extant attri¬
buted to him.
St Anthony is sometimes represented with a fire by his
side, signifying that he relieves persons from the inflamma¬
tion called after his name; but always accompanied by a
hog, on account of his having been a swine-herd, and cur¬
ing all disorders in that animal. To do him the greater
honour, the Romanists in several places keep at common
charges a hog denominated St Anthony's hog, for which
they have great veneration. Some have St Anthony’s pic¬
ture on the walls of their houses, hoping thereby to be pre¬
served from the plague; and the Italians who do not know
the true signification of the fire painted at the side of their
saint, concluding that he preserves houses from being burnt,
invoke him on such occasions. Painters and poets have
made very free with this saint and his followers ; the former
by the many ludicrous pictures of his temptation, and the
latter by various epigrams on his disciples.
Anthony, or Knights of St Anthony, a military order in¬
stituted by Albert duke of Bavaria, when he designed to
make war against the Turks in 1382. The knights wore a
collar of gold made in form of a hermit’s girdle, from which
hung a stick cut like a crutch, with a little bell, as they are
represented in St Anthony’s pictures.
St Anthony's Fire, a name given to the erysipelas. It
was so named from the saint above mentioned, who was
especially invoked for its cure.
ANTHOPHORUM, in Botany, the columnar process
within the calyx, upon which the petals, stamens, and pistil
are placed.
ANTHORISMUS (from dvrt and opos), in Rhetoric, a
definition of a thing contrary to that given by the adverse
party. Thus, if the plaintiff urge, that to take any thing
away from another without his knowledge or consent, is a
frieft; this is called opos, or definition. If the defendant
reply, that to take a thing away from another without his
knowledge or consent, but with the design to return it to
him again, is not theft; this is an avOopurgos-
ANTHRACITE, or blind coal, which burns without
flame. Kilkenny coal is of this kind. See Coax.
ANT 269
ANIHRAX, a Greek term, literally signifying a burn- Anthrax
mg coal, used by the ancients to denote a gem, as well as a II
disease more generally known by the name of carbuncle. Anthropo-
ANTHROPOGLOTTUS, among Zoologists, an appel- v ^
lation given to such animals as have tongues resembling that
of mankind, particularly to the parrot kind.
ANTHROPOLOGY, a discourse upon human nature.
It is sometimes applied to designate the speculations and in¬
quiries that have obtained concerning the varieties of the
human race. See Man.
ANTHROPOMORPHISM, a term in theology used
to denote that figure whereby words derived from human
objects are employed to express something which relates
to the Deity. As a finite being can have no intuitive know¬
ledge of an infinite, so no language of rational creatures
can fully express the nature of God and render it com¬
prehensible. All further knowledge of God must be commu¬
nicated by words used to express ourselves intelligibly con¬
cerning human and other terrestrial objects. Such words and
phrases have their foundation in a resemblance, which, ac¬
cording to our conceptions, exists between the Deity and
mankind.
Anthropomorphitic phrases, generally considered, are such
as ascribe to the Deity mixed perfections and human imper¬
fections. These phrases may be divided into three classes,
according to which we ascribe to God:—1. Human actions
(avOpwrroTroiycni). 2. Human affections, passions, and suf¬
ferings (avOpemoaraBlia). 3. Human form, human organs,
human members (av6pwopi6p(f>io-p.o<s).
A rational being, who receives impressions through the
senses, can form conceptions of the Deity only by a consi¬
deration of his own powers and properties. Anthropomor¬
phitic modes of thought are therefore unavoidable in the re¬
ligion of mankind; and although they can furnish no other
than corporeal or sensible representations of the Deity, they
are nevertheless true and just when we guard against trans¬
ferring to God qualities pertaining to the human senses. It
is, for instance, a proper expression to assert that God knoivs
all things; it is improper, that is, tropical or anthropomor¬
phitic, to say that He sees all things. Anthropomorphism
is thus a species of accommodation, inasmuch as by these
representations the Deity, as it were, lowers himself to the
comprehension of men. And it is altogether consonant to
his wisdom and benevolence in communicating divine re¬
velations to address mankind in language adapted to their
inferior capacities. Therefore it is that this figure is called
by the Fathers Divine Economy (Theodoret, Dialog. 2.) and
Condescension (Gregory of Nazianzus, Or at. 1).
ANTHROPOMORPHITES, in Ecclesiastical His¬
tory, a sect of ancient heretics, who, taking every thing
spoken of God in Scripture in a literal sense, particularly
that passage of Genesis in which it is said God made man
after his own image, maintained that God had a human
shape. They are likewise called Audeans. See Audeus.
The modern doctrine of the Mormonites is of the same tenor
with this.
ANTHROPOMORPHOUS, something that bears the
figure or resemblance of a man. Naturalists give instances
of anthropomorphous plants, anthropomorphous minerals, &c.
These generally come under the class of what are called
lusus naturce, or monsters.
ANTHROPOPHAGI (of avOpeyn-os, a man, and (fxlyeiv,
to eat, Men-Eaters). That there have been, in almost all
ages of the world, nations who have followed this barbarous
practice, we have abundant testimony.
The Cyclopes, the Laestrygons, and Scylla, are all repre¬
sented in Homer as Anthropophagi, or man-eaters; and the
female phantoms, Circe and the Sirens, first bewitched with
a show of pleasure, and then destroyed. This, like the other
270 ANT
Anthropo- parts of Homer’s poetry, had a foundation in the manners
phagi. of the times preceding his own. According to Herodotus,
among the Essedonian Scythians, when a man’s father died,
the neighbours brought several beasts, which they killed,
mixed up their flesh with that of the deceased, and made a
feast. Among the Massagetae, when any person grew old,
they killed him and ate his flesh; but if he died of sick¬
ness they buried him, esteeming him unhappy. The same
author also assures us that several nations in the Indies
killed all their old people and the sick, to feed on their flesh.
He adds, that persons in health were sometimes accused of
being sick, to afford a pretence for devouring them. Ac¬
cording to Sextus Empiricus, the first laws that were made
were for the preventing of this barbarous practice, which
the Greek writers represent as universal before the time of
Orpheus.
Of the practice of anthropophagy in later times, we have
the testimonies of all the Romish missionaries who have
visited the interior parts of Africa, and even some parts of
Asia. When America was discovered, this practice was
found to be almost universal, so that several authors have
attributed it to a want of other food, or the indolence of the
people to seek for it; though others ascribe its origin to a
spirit of revenge. It prevailed to an almost incredible extent
among the ancient Mexicans, by whom it was associated with
their religious ceremonies, and that at a time when they had
attained to a comparatively high civilisation and refinement.
(See Prescott’s History of the Conquest of Mexico. Lond.
1843. Vol. i. p. 71-76, &c.)
It appears pretty certain, from recent investigations, that
the New Zealanders, inhabiting a country where the larger
animals were unknown, were accustomed to devour the
bodies of their enemies, and were even epicures in the choice
of human flesh. This may have arisen originally from a
deficiency of animal food, but cannot be ascribed, as a sys¬
tematic practice, to the cravings of starvation; for defi¬
ciency of all food must have limited population ; and that
sustenance which fed the victims must have supplied the
necessities of their immolators. There can be no doubt
that cannibalism has prevailed in some ages and rude so¬
cieties ; but when wre reflect how often national hatred
has brought this same charge against a detested people,
as in the mutual recriminations of the Saracens and Chris¬
tians of the west, we must receive the accounts of the
systematic anthropophagy of various nations, by our early
voyagers and travellers, as either gross exaggerations or
fictions. (See Cruise's Voyage; New Zealanders—Lib.
Ent. KnowL)
Mr Marsden informs us that this horrible custom is prac¬
tised by the Battas, a people in the island of Sumatra.
“ They do not eat human flesh,” says he, “ as a means of
satisfying the cravings of nature, owing to a deficiency of
other food; nor is it sought after as a gluttonous delicacy,
as it would seem among the New Zealanders. The Battas
eat it as a species of ceremony ; as a mode of showing their
detestation of crimes, by an ignominious punishment; and
as a horrid indication of revenge and insult to their unfor¬
tunate enemies. The objects of this barbarous repast are
the prisoners taken in war, and offenders convicted and con¬
demned for capital crimes.” This has been confirmed by
Raffles.
It may be said, that whether the dead body of an enemy
be eaten or buried is a matter perfectly indifferent. But
whatever the practice of eating human flesh may be in it¬
self, it certainly is relatively, and in its consequences, most
pernicious. It manifestly tends to eradicate a principle
which is the chief security of human life, and more frequently
restrains the hand of the murderer than the sense of duty
or the dread of punishment. Even if this horrid practice
ANT
originates from hunger, still it must be perpetuated from Anthyp0.
revenge. Death must lose much of its horror among those phora
who are accustomed to eat the dead; and where there is II
little horror at the sight of death, there must be less repug- f'Dtichri8t-
nance to murder.
ANTHYPOPHORA, in Rhetoric, a figure of speech,
being the counterpart of an hypophora. See Hypophora.
ANTI (dvri), a Greek preposition, which forms part of
many compounded words, meaning against or opposite;
sometimes it refers to place, as Antiparos, sometimes to cha¬
racter, as Antichrist.
ANTIARINE, and Antiaris. The last is the name of
a genus of poisonous plants, to which the noted upas tree of
Java belongs. Antiarine is the chemical constituent of this
poison, which is obtained from the inspissated juice of the
plant in shining whitish crystals, soluble in water. The
fables relating to the upas tree may be seen in the notes to
The Botanic Garden, of Darwin; the real history of the
plant in Dr Horsfield’s paper in vol. 7, Batavian Transac¬
tions, and Raffle’s Java, vol. i. 44. The native name of
this tree is anchor. It is a monoecious plant, growing with
a stem to the height of 70 or 80 feet. The bark is whitish,
and on being wounded, yields the yellowish-white poisonous
juice in large quantity. The stem sends off a few stout
branches nearly horizontal, which subdivide into an irregu¬
lar hemispheric crown. It is only found in deep forests, in
fertile soils. The inner bark is fibrous; and when long
steeped in water is formed into coarse cloth, like the finer
bark of the Morus papyrifera, but it is apt to inflame the
skin when worn, unless thoroughly beaten and long soaked
in water.
ANTIBACCHIUS, in Ancient Poetry, a foot consisting
of three syllables, the first two long, and the last one short:
such is the word ambire.
ANTIBES, anciently Antipolis, a strongly fortified sea¬
port town of France, in the department of Var, situated on
the Mediterranean, 10 miles south-east of Grasse. Its port
is good and easy of access, with a lighthouse on a rock at
the entrance. Population in 1846, 4515, chiefly engaged
in the fishing and curing of sardines and anchovies, and in
trading in dried fruits and oil. Lat. 43. 34. 40. N. Long.
7. 7. 50. E.
ANTICHRIST. The meaning attached to this word
has been greatly modified by the controversies of various
churches and sects. In Scripture, however, and the early
Christian writers, it has an application sufficiently distinct
from partial interpretations. Antichrist, according to St
John, is the ruling spirit of error, the enemy of the truth of
the Gospel as it is displayed in the divinity and holiness of
Christ. This is the primary meaning of the term, and we
are led at once to consider it as the proper title of Satan.
But the same apostle speaks of the existence of many anti¬
christs ; whence we learn that it is applicable to any being
who opposes Christ in the high places of spiritual wicked¬
ness. St Paul speaks of “ the man of sin” as not yet re¬
vealed, and it is supposed by most interpreters that antichrist
is to be understood as the object alluded to by the apostle;
but if we attend strictly to his words, the antichrist of whom
he spoke must have been then, and at the time when he
was writing, “ opposing and exalting himself above all that
is called God,” although awaiting some distant season for
the open display of his power and wickedness. Justin
Martyr, in his Dialogue with Tryphon, describes him as ex¬
ercising his wrath against Christians with especial fury in
the period immediately preceding the Second Advent. Cyril
of Jerusalem represents him as reigning three years and six
months preparatory to the entire destruction of his dominion
at the second coming of Christ. The same Father says that
he will deceive both Jews and Gentiles; the former, by re-
ANT
/ ich- presenting himself as the Messiah ; the latter, by his magi-
t 'nes Cal arts and incantations. St Chrysostom observes, on the
II passage in the 2d Epistle to the Thessalonians, that antichrist
Ardoms. w|]jnotlead men to idolatry, but will rather abolish the wor-
^ip of false gods as well as that of the true God, commanding
the world to worship himself alone as the only Deity.
These views of the early writers, as well as the expres¬
sions of Scripture, have been perverted by many men of
warm imaginations to the worst purposes of controversy.
The effects of general corruption have often been charged
upon offices and individuals; and the appellation of anti¬
christ as readily applied to them as if it had actually been
coupled in Scripture with their name and titles.
ANTICHTHONES (dvrt and yd<iiv), in Geography, an
appellation given to the inhabitants of opposite hemispheres.
ANTICIPATION, in Music. See Music.
ANTICLIMAX, in Rhetoric, a declension in the force
or dignity of the ideas at the close of a sentence, as in the
following celebrated distich :—
“ The great Dalhousie, he, the god of war,
Lieutenant-colonel to the earl of MarP
ANTICOSTI, a barren island in the Gulf of St Law¬
rence, North America, with an estimated area of2600 square
miles. There are no good harbours on its coast, and the
southern shore is low and dangerous. The lighthouse on its
south-west point is in Lat. 49.23.53. N. Long. 63. 38.47. W.
ANTICUM, in Ancient Architecture, the front door
of a house, called s\so janua, and in Greek by the several
terms Ovpa. avXeios, avXeta, avXta. The back door in Roman
houses was called posticum, postica, or posticula, in Greek
iro.pd.6vpa or irapaOvptov; and Cicero (Post Red. 6) uses
pseudothyron in contradistinction to janua. It was ac¬
counted ominous to set the left foot on the threshold; hence
the steps of a temple were of an uneven number, so that by
commencing the ascent with the right foot, the danger would
be avoided. (See Vitruvius, iii. 4.) The door of a temple
was called foris and valva, in Greek o-avts, /cAio-ias, or Ov-
perpov, these words being generally used in their plural form
to denote the two halves of a folding-door. Bivalve doors
were also used in private apartments.
ANTICYRA, in Ancient Geography, the name of three
cities of Greece. (1.) In Phocis, on the Bay of Anticyra,
in the Corinthian Gulf. Its modern name is Aspra Spitia,
where some remains are still visible. (2.) In Thessaly, on
the right bank of the River Sperchius, near its mouth. Both
these places were celebrated for their hellebore. (3.) In
Locris, on the left side of the entrance to the Corinthian
Gulf, and not far from Naupactus.
ANTIDESMA, a genus of plants of the class Dioecia, and
order Pentandria.
ANTIDORON, in Ecclesiastical Writers, a name given
by the Greeks to the consecrated bread, out of which the
middle part, marked by the cross, wherein the consecration
resides, being taken away by the priest, the remainder is dis¬
tributed after mass to the poor.
ANTIDOSIS, in Antiquity, denotes an exchange of
estates, practised by the Greeks on certain occasions with
peculiar ceremonies, and first instituted by Solon.
When a person was nominated to an office, the expense
of which he was not able to support, he had recourse to the
antidosis ; that is, he was to seek some other citizen of bet¬
ter substance than himself, who was free from this and other
offices; in which case the former was excused. In case the
person thus substituted denied himself to be the richer, they
were to exchange estates after this manner: the doors of
their houses were shut up and sealed, that nothing might
be conveyed away; both took an oath to make a faithful
discovery of all their effects, except what lay in the silver
mines, which by the laws were exempted from all imposts.
ANT
271
Accordingly, within three days, a full discovery and exchange Antiga-
of estates was made. lactic
ANTIGALACTIC, a term applied to medicines and II )
other means employed to diminish the secretion of milk. 7 n ‘S01^1^
ANTIGONUS I., one of the captains of Alexander the ~
Great, was the son of Philip a Macedonian nobleman. After
Alexander’s death, in b.c. 323, a division of the provinces
taking place, Pamphylia, Lycia, and Phrygia Major fell to
his share. But Perdiccas, well acquainted with his ambitious
spirit and great abilities, determined to divest him of his
government, and laid plans for his life, by bringing various
accusations against him. Antigonus, aware of the danger,
retired with his son Demetrius into Greece, where he ob¬
tained the favour and protection of Antipater, B.c. 321; and
when soon after, on the death of Perdiccas, a new division
took place, he was invested not only with the government
of the former provinces, but also with that of Susiana. He
was likewise intrusted with the command of the Macedonian
household troops ; and upon Eumenes being declared a pub¬
lic enemy, he received orders to prosecute the war against
him with the utmost vigour. At the commencement of this
war, Eumenes suffered a total overthrow, and was obliged
to retire with only 600 brave followers to a castle situated
on an inaccessible rock, where he might rest in safety from
all the assaults of Antigonus. In the interval, his friends
assembled a new army for his relief, which was routed by
Antigonus, who now began to exhibit the great projects of
his ambition. Polysperchon succeeding to the tutorship of
the young king of Macedon after Antipater’s death, Anti-
gonus resolved to set himself up as lord of all Asia. On
account of the great power of Eumenes, he greatly desired to
gain him over to his interest; but that faithful commander,
effecting his escape from the fortress where he was closely
blockaded, raised an army, and was appointed the royal
general in Asia. The governors in Upper Asia co-operating
with him, he succeeded in several engagements against
Antigonus; but was at last delivered up to him through
treachery, and put to death. Upon this the governor of
Upper Asia yielded to Antigonus. Those whom he sus¬
pected he either sacrificed to his resentment or displaced
from their offices. Then seizing upon all the treasures at
Susa, he directed his march towards Babylon, of which city
Seleucus was governor. Seleucus fled to Ptolemy, and
entered into a league with him, together with Lysimachus
and Cassander, with the intention of giving a check to the
exorbitant power of Antigonus, who, notwithstanding this,
made a successful attempt upon the provinces of Syria and
Phcenicia. But these provinces were soon after recovered
by Ptolemy, who defeated his son Demetrius, while he him¬
self was employed in repelling Cassander, who had made
rapid progress in Lesser Asia. They were again taken by
Antigonus, who, flushed with success, planned an expedition
against the Nabathaean Arabs dwelling in the deserts adja¬
cent to Judaea; but on the first enterprise against the town
of Petra, his general Athenaeus, with almost all his troops,
were cut to pieces by the Arabs. Antigonus then sent his
son against them, who returned after forcing them to reason¬
able terms. Demetrius then expelled Seleucus from Baby¬
lon ; and success attending his arms wherever he went, the
confederates were obliged to make a treaty with Antigonus,
in which it was stipulated that he should remain in posses¬
sion of all Asia, but that the Greek cities should continue
in possession of their liberty. This agreement was soon
violated, under the pretence that garrisons had been placed
in some of these cities by Antigonus. At first I tolemy
made a successful descent into Lesser Asia, and on severa
of the islands of the Archipelago ; but he was at length de¬
feated in a sea-fight by the successful arms of Demetrius,
who also took the island of Cyprus, with many prisoners.
272
ANT
ANT
Antigonus On this victory Antigonus was so elated that he assumed the
II title of king, and bestowed the same upon his son ; and from
^ .n lgUa'y ^lat ^rne> B>c* 306, his reign in Asia, and that of Ptolemy
in Egypt, and of the other captains of Alexander in their re¬
spective governments, properly commence.
Irritated at the hostile conduct of Ptolemy, Antigonus
prepared a numerous army and a formidable fleet; and
having taken the command of the army, he gave that of the
fleet to Demetrius, and hastened to attack Ptolemy in his
own dominions. After enduring the severest hardships, they
met in the vicinity of Mount Casius; but Ptolemy acted
with such valour and address that Antigonus could gain no
advantage over him ; and after several fruitless attempts, he
abandoned the undertaking. Demetrius attempted the re¬
duction of Rhodes ; but meeting with obstinate resistance,
he was obliged to make a treaty upon the best terms that he
could, having been called to join Antigonus against Cassan-
der, who at this time had formed a confederacy with Seleu-
cus and Lysimachus. When Demetrius united his forces
with those of Antigonus, they advanced to Phrygia, and hav¬
ing met the enemy at Ipsxis, a decisive battle was fought, in
which Antigonus fell in the 81st year of his age, b.c. 301.
Antigonus II., Gonatas, son of Demetrius Poliorcetes,
was the grandson of the former Antigonus. His character was
eminently distinguished by humanity and mildness of dispo¬
sition. When he besieged Thebes under the command of
his father, he strongly remonstrated against the loss of so
many lives for such an insignificant object. Filial affection
was so powerful in his mind, that when his father was taken
prisoner by Seleucus, he generously offered himself in his
stead ; and being rejected, he wore deep mourning, and re¬
frained from all festivals and amusements during his father’s
imprisonment. By the death of his father, in b.c. 283, he
became master of all the European dominions of Demetrius,
together with the kingdom of Macedon, and various other
cities in Greece. The Gauls invading his country, he de¬
feated and expelled them; but was soon after routed by
Pyrrhus, king of Epirus. Some time after, however, Pyrrhus
was slain at Argos ; and when his head was brought to An¬
tigonus by his son, he expressed the highest displeasure, and
throwing his robe over it, gave orders to search for the body,
and to inter it with all funeral honours.
In the evening of his reign he so cultivated the arts of
peace, that he secured the affections of his subjects both to
himself and his descendants. The taking of the citadel of
Corinth by intrigue was the meanest action of his reign;
but he improved that event in maintaining the freedom of
the smaller states of Greece, and in increasing his own do¬
minions. Ihe Achaeans, and Aratus their famous chief,
vigorously opposed his measures, and at length recovered
Corinth ; but Antigonus was so inclined to peace, that not¬
withstanding this event, he pursued his wonted plan, and
left his kingdom in peace, about the 80th year of his life and
the 44th of his reign, b.c. 239.
ANTIGRAPH US, a name used by writers in the middle
ages for a secretary or chancellor. The antigraphus is some¬
times called archigrophus. [ he term is also applied by
ecclesiastical writers to an abbreviator of the papal letters;
in which sense the word is used by Pope Gregory the Great
in his register.
ANTIGUA, one of the Antilles or Caribbee Islands,
situated 20 leagues east of St Christophers, in Long. 61. 45.
W. and Eat. IT. 6. N. It is about 50 miles in circumfe¬
rence, and is reckoned the largest of the British Leeward
Islands. This island having no rivers, and but few springs,
or such as are brackish, the inhabitants are obliged to pre¬
serve the rain-water in cisterns. The air here is not so
wholesome as in the neighbouring islands, and it is more
subject to hurricanes; but it has excellent harbours, parti¬
cularly English Harbour, which is capable of receiving the Antilego,
largest man-of-war in the navy. The principal trade, how- niena
ever, is carried on in the harbour of St John’s the capital
situated in the north-west part of the island, and which has
water sufficiently deep for merchant vessels. The island
contains an area of 108 British square miles, equal to 69,120
acres, of which about 34,000 are appropriated to the growth
of sugar, including pasture grounds. The other staples are
cotton, ginger, and tobacco.
The first attempt to establish a settlement in Antigua was
made by Sir Thomas Warner, but it did not succeed. It
was afterwards granted by Charles II. to Lord Willoughby,
who in 1632 settled a colony upon it. In 1850 the popu¬
lation was 37,357, of whom only about 2000 were whites.
The estimated value of the imports in 1851 was L.198,425
sterling ; of the exports, L.219,239, being an increase over
the preceding year of L.34,802, and L.87,357 respectively.
In 1851 the ordinary revenue was L.21,888, and the ex¬
penditure L.21,193. The island is under a governor, coun¬
cil, and assembly.
ANTILEGOMENA (avTikeyofieva, contradicted or dis¬
puted), an epithet applied by the early Christian writers to
denote those books of the New Testament which, although
sometimes publicly read in the churches, were not for a con¬
siderable time admitted to be genuine, or received into the
canon of Scripture. These books are so denominated in
contradistinction to the Homologoumena, or universally ac¬
knowledged writings. The following is a catalogue of the
Antilegomena:—The Second Epistle of St Peter; the
Epistle of St James; ihe Epistle of St Jude ; the Second
and Third Epistles of St John; the Apocalypse, ox Revela¬
tion of St John ; the Epistle to the Hebrews.
The earliest notice which we have of this distinction is
that contained in the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius,
who flourished a.d. 270-340.
ANTILLES, the French name for the Caribbee Islands.
ANTILOGARITHM, the complement of the logarithm
of a sine, tangent, or secant; or the difference of that lo¬
garithm from the logarithm of 90 degrees.
ANTILOGY, in Literature, an inconsistency between
two or more passages of the same book.
ANTILOIMICS ( avri and Aot/xds, pestilence), remedies
against infection, of which the most efficacious is chlorine,
the next in power the vapour of nitric acid, and thirdly,
that of the muriatic acid.
ANTIMENSIUM, a kind of consecrated table-cloth, oc¬
casionally used in places where there is no proper altar.
Antimensium, in the Greek church, answers to the altare
portabile, or portable altar, in the Latin church. They are
both only of late invention, though Habertus would have
them as old as St Basil. But Durant and Bona do not pre¬
tend to find them in any author before the time of Bede
and Charlemagne.—Antimensia is also applied to other
tables used in offices of religion, besides those whereon the
eucharist is administered ; such, e. g., are those whereon the
host is exposed, &c.
ANTIMERIA, in Grammar, a figure whereby one part
of speech is used for another ; e. g., Telle suum cuique est,
for voluntas sua cuique est; alsopiopulus late rex, forpo-
pulus late regnans. In a more restricted sense, it denotes
a figure where the noun is repeated instead of the pronoun.
This figure is frequent in the Hebrew, and is sometimes
retained in our version of the Old Testament: e. g., Hear
my voice, ye wives of Lamech,—for my xvives. Gen. iv. 23.
ANTIMONY, a metal very rarely found pure in nature,
but generally as a sulphuret, to which indeed the name of
Stibium, or 2Ttp,/xi, was applied by the ancients; and the
sulphuret, it is said, from a preparation of it having proved
fatal to the monks of a German convent, afterwards ob-
A.iinous
ANT
nino tained the name of antimony—quasi, anti monachos. Whe-
lttns ther this be true or not, this name soon became general for
■the sulphuret, and is now applied to the pure metal.
Antimony has a white colour, with nearly the lustre of
silver when fresh ; but it tarnishes slowly when freely ex¬
posed. Its specific gravity is only 6-7, and it melts at 810°
F. On cooling, it shows a tendency to crystallise, and as¬
sumes a foliated texture. When moderately heated in the
open air, it catches fire, and burns with a bright bluish-white
flame. It is brittle, and easily pounded.
It unites with oxygen into a white oxide, now generally
employed for obtaining antimonial medicines, especially
emetic tartar, which is a tartrate of antimony and potash.
The metal forms several compounds with sulphur; the most
important of which is the black sulphuret, the ore from which
antimony is always obtained for the arts. This substance,
as we have said, was the ancient Stibium, and is the mate¬
rial applied ages ago by the women of Eastern countries to
give increased lustre to their eyes by darkening the eye¬
lashes. The paint said in the Holy Scriptures to have
been used by Jezebel, seems to have been this substance;
for St Jerome, who knew the manners of Eastern women,
has, in the Vulgate, rendered the passage “oculos ejus posuit
stibio” All our antimonial preparations were formerly made
directly from the sulphuret; and it was used to form alloys
before its true nature was understood* The pure metal was
then termed regulus of antimony, and under this name it is
mentioned in the Currus Antimonii Triumphalis of Basil
Valentinus, a German monk and alchemist.
Alloys of antimony with other metals are of value. It is
added to gold in ornamental work, to give variety of colour;
it is added to bell-metal to increase the sonorous quality of
the compound; it is alloyed with lead and tin to give hard¬
ness and solidity to type-metal; a small addition of it to 11
parts of tin and 4 of copper, improves the quality of specula
for telescopes, and enables the compound to receive a higher
polish. See Chemistry. (t. s. Tt)
ANTINOMIANS, in Ecclesiastical History, certain he¬
retics who maintain that the law is of no use or obligation
under the gospel dispensation, or who hold doctrines that
clearly supersede the necessity of good works and a virtuous
life. The Antinomians took their origin from John Agri¬
cola about the year 1538, who taught that the law is nowise
necessary under the gospel; that good works do not promote
our salvation, nor ill ones hinder it; that repentance is not to
be preached from the Decalogue, but only from the Gospel.
I his sect sprung up in England during the protectorate
of Oliver Cromwell, and extended their system of libertin¬
ism much further than Agricola. Some of their teachers ex¬
pressly maintained, that as the elect cannot fall from grace,
nor forfeit the divine favour, the wicked actions they com¬
mit are not really violations of the Divine law; and that,
consequently, they have no occasion either to confess their
sins, or break them off by repentance.
J he doctrine of Agricola was in itself obscure, and per-
haps represented as worse than it really was by Luther, who
wrote with acrimony against him, and first styled him and
his followers Antinomians. Agricola stood on his own de¬
fence, and complained that opinions were imputed to him
w ich he did not hold. Nicholas Amsdorf fell under the
same odious name and imputation, and seems to have been
treatecl more unfkirJv than even Agricola himself.
‘ 1US, a beautiful Bithynian youth, celebrated as
the favourite of the Emperor Hadrian, who paid the most
extrav agant honours to his memory. Antinous was drowned
ni e i e, and near the spot where he perished, on the site
of the ancient Besa, the emperor founded a citv which he
^^ AntinoopoUs. At Mantinea in Arcadia a temple was
t e o . ntinous, m which he was worshipped as a deity,
ANT
arid there, and at Bithynium, his birthplace, Hadrian insti¬
tuted annual sacrifices and quinquennial games, called An-
tinoeia. A constellation into which his soul was supposed
to have passed still bears his name.
The death of Antinous (about the year 122) constitutes
an era in the history of art, from the stimulus given to sculp¬
ture by the demand for busts and statues commemorative of
his extraordinary beauty. Many of these are extant. They
are supposed to be of Grecian execution, though wrought in
Italian marble. (Levezow, Ueber den Antinous, &c - Ber¬
lin, 1801.)
ANTIOCH, a city of Syria, in Asia,on the RiverOrontes
m Long. 36. 10. E. Lat. 36. 11. N. It was built by Seleu-
cus Nicator, founder of the Syro-Macedonian empire, who
made it his capital. It stood on the above-mentioned river,
about 20 miles from the place where it falls into the Medi¬
terranean, being equally distant from Constantinople and
Alexandria in Egypt, that is, about 700 miles from each.
Seleucus called it Antioch^ from his father’s name accord-
ing to some, or, according to others, from that of his son.
He built in all sixteen cities bearing the same name, of
which one was situated in Pisidia. But that situated on the
Orontes by far eclipsed not only all the others of this name,
but all the cities built by Seleucus; and is probably that
where the name of Christians was first given to the followers
of Jesus Christ. Antigonus, not long before, had founded
a city in that neighbourhood, which from his own name he
had called Antigonia, and designed it for the capital of his
empire; but it was razed to the ground by Seleucus, who
employed the materials in building his metropolis, and also
transplanted the inhabitants thither.
Antioch was afterwards known by the name of Tetrapo-
lis, being divided as it were into four cities, each surrounded
with its proper wall, besides a common one which inclosed
the whole. The first of these cities was built by Seleucus
Nicator, as already mentioned; the second by those who
flocked thither on its being made the capital of the Syro-
Macedonian empire; the third by Seleucus Callinicus ; and
the fourth by Antiochus Epiphanes. About four or five miles
distant stood a place called Daphne, which was nevertheless
reckoned a suburb of Antioch. Here Seleucus planted a
grove, and in the middle of it built a temple, which he con¬
secrated to Apollo and Diana, making the whole an asylum.
To this place the inhabitants of Antioch resorted to indulge
in amusements and impure pleasures, by which it became at
last so infamous, that “ to live after the manner of Daphne”
was used as a proverb to express the most voluptuous and
dissolute life.
Though Antioch continued to be, as Pliny calls it, the
queen of the East, for near 600 years, yet scarcely any city
mentioned in history has undergone such calamities, both
iiom the attacks of its enemies, and the destructive shocks
of earthquakes. The first disaster mentioned in history
which befell the Antiochians happened about 145 years be¬
fore Christ. Being at that time very much disaffected to
the person and government of Demetrius their king, they
were continually raising tumults and seditions. Wearied
with their turbulence, he at last solicited assistance from the
Jews, and was furnished by Jonathan, one of the Macca¬
bees, with 3000 men. With this reinforcement believing
himself sufficiently strong to reduce the mutineers by force,
he ordered them immediately to deliver up their arms. This
unexpected order caused a great uproar in the city. The
inhabitants ran to arms and invested the king’s palace, to
the number of 120,000, with a design to put him to death.
All the Jews hastened to his relief, fell upon the rebels,
killed 100,000 of them, and set fire to the city. On the
destruction of the Syrian empire by the Romans, Antioch
submitted to them, and continued for a long time under
2 M
273
Antioch.
ANTIOCH.
274
Antioch, their dominion. About the year 115, in the reign of the
's—Emperor Trajan, it was almost entirely ruined by one of the
most dreadful earthquakes mentioned in history. Trajan
himself happened to be there at the time, on his return from
an expedition against the Parthians; so that the city was
then full of troops and strangers from all quarters, either out
of curiosity or upon business and embassies. The calamity
was consequently felt in almost every province of the Roman
empire. The earthquake was preceded by violent claps of
thunder, unusual winds, and a dreadful noise under ground.
Tho shock was so terrible, that great numbers of houses
were overturned, and others rocked to and fro like a ship at
sea. Those who happened to be in their houses were for
the most part buried under their ruins; those who were
walking in the streets or in the squares, were dashed to the
ground by the violence of the shock, and most of them
either killed or dangerously wounded. The earthquake
continued, with small intermission, for several days and
nights. Trajan was much hurt, but escaped through a win¬
dow. Being an eyewitness of this terrible calamity, he
would very probably contribute largely towards the re-esta¬
blishment of Antioch in its ancient splendour. Its good
fortune, however, did not continue long ; for in 155 it was
almost entirely destroyed by a fire, when it was again restored
by Antoninus Pius.
When the Roman empire began to decline, Antioch be¬
came a source of contention between it and the Eastern
nations ; and accordingly, on the breaking out of a Persian
war, it was almost always sure to suffer. In 242 it was
taken and plundered by Sapor ; and though he was defeated
by Gordian, it underwent the same misfortune in the time
of Valerian, about 18 years after ; and subsequently to the
defeat and captivity of Valerian, it was a third time taken
by the Persian monarch, who not only plundered it, but
levelled all the public buildings with the ground. The Per¬
sians, however, being soon driven out, this unfortunate city
continued free from any remarkable calamity till about the
time of the division of the Roman empire by Constantine
in 331. It was then afflicted with so terrible a famine, that
a bushel of wheat was sold for 400 pieces of silver. During
this grievous distress, Constantine sent to the bishop 30,000
bushels of corn, besides an immense quantity of all kinds of
provisions, to be distributed among the ecclesiastics, widows,
orphans, See. In the year 347 Constantius II. caused a har¬
bour to be made at Seleucia, for the conveniency of An¬
tioch. This was effected at great expense; the mouth of
the Orontes, where the port was made, being full of sands
and rocks. When the Emperor Julian set out on his expe¬
dition against the Persians, he made a long stay at Antioch,
which then suffered severely from famine. In 381, in the
reign of Theodosius the Great, Antioch was again visited
by a famine, accompanied with a grievous plague. In 387
Theodosius, finding his exchequer quite drained, and being
obliged to be at an extraordinary expense in celebrating the
fifth year of the reign of his son Arcadius, and the tenth of
his own, an extraordinary tax was laid upon all the people
in the empire. Most of the cities submitted willingly to
this; but the people of Antioch assailed their governor,
broke some of the emperor’s statues, and dragged others
through the city, uttering the most injurious and abusive ex¬
pressions against him and his whole family. They were
dispersed by a body of archers, and the governor proceeded
against the offenders with the utmost cruelty, exposing some
to wild beasts in the theatre, and burning others alive.
Many fled from the city and never returned. On hearing
the news of the tumult, Theodosius was so much enraged
that he commanded the city to be destroyed, and its inha¬
bitants to be put to the sword without distinction ; but this
order was revoked before it could be put into execution,
and he contented himself with inflicting severe punishments Antioch,
on individuals. In the year 458 Antioch was again almost
entirely ruined by an earthquake, which happened on the
14th of September; scarcely a single house being left stand¬
ing in the most beautiful quarter of the city. It experienced
a similar misfortune in 526, during the reign of the Empe¬
ror Justin; and twelve years after, when taken by Chosroes
king of Persia, that insulting and haughty monarch gave
it up to his soldiers, who put all they met to the sword. The
king himself seized on all the gold and silver vessels be¬
longing to the great church, and caused all the valuable sta¬
tues, pictures, &c., to be taken down and conveyed to Persia,
while his soldiers carried off every thing else. The city
being completely plundered, he ordered his men to set fire
to it; and this was done so effectually, that none of the
buildings even without the walls escaped. Such of the in¬
habitants as escaped slaughter were carried into Persia and
sold as slaves. The city, however, was again restored, but
in a short time underwent its usual fate, being almost en¬
tirely destroyed by an earthquake in 587, by which 30,000
persons lost their lives. In 634 it fell into the hands of the
Saracens, who kept possession of it till the year 975, when
it was surprised by one Burtzas, and again annexed to the
Roman empire. The Romans continued masters of it for
some time, till the civil dissensions in the empire gave the
Turks an opportunity of mastering it, as well as the whole
kingdom of Syria. From them it was again taken by the
crusaders in 1098. In 1268 it was again taken by Bibaris,
sultan of Egypt, who put a final period to its glory.
The ancient walls of Antioch are of surprising solidity;
and are carried along the face of the precipitous hill on which
the acropolis stood. They inclose a space of nearly seven
miles in circumference, forming an irregular parallelogram.
The modern city, according to Chesney, covers but a small
part of the ancient Antioch, the remainder being occupied
with mulberry groves, vineyards, and fruit gardens.
In 1835 it contained 5600 inhabitants, and 6000 Egyp¬
tian soldiers, when it was the headquarters of Ibrahim Pasha.
It has never recovered the great earthquake of 1822.
Antioch, called by the Arabs Antakiyah, is now a ruinous
town, whose houses built with mud and straw, and narrow
and miry streets, exhibit every appearance of misery and
wretchedness. These houses are situated on the southern
bank of the Orontes, at the extremity of an old decayed
bridge : they are covered to the south by a mountain, upon
the slope of which is a wall built by the crusaders. The dis¬
tance between the present town and this mountain may be
about 400 yards, which space is occupied by gardens and
heaps of rubbish, but it presents nothing interesting. An¬
tioch was better calculated than Aleppo to be the emporium
of the Europeans. By clearing the mouth of the Orontes,
which is six leagues lower down, boats might have been
towed up that river, though they could not have sailed up,
as Pococke has asserted, its current being too rapid. The
natives, who never knew the name Orontes, call it, on ac¬
count of the swiftness of its stream, El Aasi, that is, the
rebel. Its breadth at Antioch is about forty paces. Seven
leagues above that town it passes by a lake abounding
in fish, and especially in eels. A great quantity of these
are salted every year, but not sufficient for the numerous
fasts of the Greek Christians. The plain of Antioch, though
the soil of it is excellent, is uncultivated and abandoned to
the Turkomans; but the hills on the side of the Orontes,
particularly opposite Serkin, abound in plantations of figs
and olives, vines and mulberry trees. Seleucus Nicator,
who founded Antioch, built also at the mouth of the Orontes,
on the northern bank, a large and well-fortified city, which
bore his name, but of which at pr esent not a single habita¬
tion remains ; nothing is to be seen but heaps of rubbish,
/ tioch
II
Aiiope.
ANT
and works in the adjacent rock, which prove that this was once
a place of very considerable importance. In the sea also may
be perceived the traces of two piers, which are indications of
^ an ancient port, now choked up. The inhabitants of the
country go thither to fish, and call the place Souaidia. Antioch
is situated in Long. 37.5. E. and Lat. 36. 20. N. (d. b—n.)
Antioch, in Pisidia. The ruins of this city, of great
magnificence, were discovered by Arundel, in 1833, about
a mile from Yalobatch, and are in Lat. 38. 18. N. Long. 31.
23. E.—Researches in Asia Minor.
It was to this Antioch that Paul and Barnabas came on
leaving Perga ; and after preaching here, a commotion being
raised against them by the Jewish inhabitants, “ they shook
off the dust of their feet.” The city is said by Strabo to be
in Phrygia, near Pisidia. The remains consist of an aque-
duct, a theatre, foundations of temples, and innumerable
fragments of fine cornices and columns.
Antioch ad Taurum, now Aintab ; which see.
ANTIOCHIAN Sect or Academy, a name given to
what was called the fifth academy, from its being founded
by Antiochus, a philosopher contemporary with Cicero.
The Antiochian academy succeeded the Philonian. As
to doctrine, the philosophers of this sect appear to have
restored that of the ancient academy, except in the article
of the criterion of truth. Antiochus was really a Stoic, and
only nominally an Academic.
Antiochian Epocha, a method of computing time from
the proclamation of liberty granted to the city of Antioch
about the time of the battle of Pharsalia,
ANTIOCHUS L, Soter, king of Syria, was the son of
Seleucus I., and began to reign in b.c. 280. He fell violently
in love with his step-mother Stratonice, who was resigned
to him by his father, on the discovery that this was the cause
of the distemper which threatened his life. He was slain in
battle against the Gauls in b.c. 261.
/
The most compact and unbroken account of the kings of this
dynasty is to be found in Appian’s book, De Rebus Syriacis,
at the end. The dates of the following table are taken from
Clinton’s Fasti Hellenici, vol. iii. Appendix, ch. iii.:—
1. Seleucus Nicator, b.c. 312-280.
2. Antiochus Soter, his son, 280-261.
3. Antiochus Theus, his son, 261-247.
4. Seleucus Callinicus, his son, 247-226.
5. (Alexander, or) Seleucus Ceraunus, his son, 226-223.
6. Antiochus the Great, his brother, 223-187.
7. Seleucus Philopator, his son, 187-176.
8. Antiochus Epiphanes, his brother, 176-164.
9. Antiochus Eupator, his son (a minor), 164-162.
10. Demetrius Soter, son of Seleucus Philopator, 162-150.
11. Alexander Balas, a usurper, who pretended to be son of
Antiochus Epiphanes, and was acknowledged by the
Romans, 152-146. See Alexander Balas.
[12. Antiochus Theus, or Alexander (a minor), son of the pre¬
ceding. He was murdered by the usurper Trypho, who
contested the kingdom till 140.]
12. Demetrius Nicator, son of Demetrius Soter, reigned
146-141, when he was captured by the Parthians.
13. _ Antiochus Sidetes, his brother, 141-128.
Kings of the same family reigned in Antioch until Pompey
reduced Syria to the form of a Roman province, b.c. 63.
ANT
275
^ ^PjCHUS of Ascalon, a celebrated philosopher, the
t iscip e o 1 Hilo of Larissa, the master of Cicero, and the
lent o Lucullus and Brutus. He was founder of a fifth
academy. See Antiochian Sect.
ANTIOl E, in Fabulous History, the wife of Lycus,
-mg o 1 hebes, who being deflowered by Zeus in the form
of a Satyr, brought forth Amphion and Zethus. Another
Anuope was queen of the Amazons, and, with the assistance
by Theseu.11111^ inva^et^ ^le Athenians, and was vanquished
AN TIPAIDOBAPTISTS (derived from dm, against, Antipsedo-
Trats, TratOos, child, and f3aTrr(£w, I baptize), is a distinguish- baPtists
mg denomination given to those who object to the baptism * J .
of infants. See Baptists. J 1 Antipater.
AN TIP AR OS, an island in the Archipelago, opposite
to Paros from which it is separated by a strait about seven
mdes wide. It is the Oleares or Oliaros mentioned by
Strabo Phny, Virgil, Ovid, &c.; and was, according to
Herachdes Ponticus, as quoted by Stephanus, first peopled
by a Phoenician colony from Sidon. According to Tour-
nefort, it is about 16 miles in circumference.
This island is remarkable for a subterraneous cavern or
grotto, accounted one of the greatest natural curiosities in
the world. It is 300 fathoms below the surface of the earth
and appears to be about 40 fathoms high and 50 wide, pene¬
trating far into the bosom of the island. It is full of large
and beautiful stalactites. There have been many descrip¬
tions of this celebrated grotto, of which that by Tournefort
is supposed to be very complete and exact.—Relation dun
Voyage du Levant.
ANTIPAS HEROD, or Herod-Antipas, the son of
Herod the Great, by one of his wives called Cleopatra, a
native of Jerusalem. Herod the Great, in his first will, ap¬
pointed Antipas his successor in the kingdom; but after¬
wards altering that will, he named his son Archelaus his
successor, giving to Antipas the title only of tetrarch of
Galilee and Peraea.
Antipas took a great deal of pains in adorning and forti-
fliG principal places of his dominions. He married the
daughter of Aretas, king of Arabia, whom he divorced about
the year of Christ 33, to marry his sister-in-law Herodias,
wife to his brother Philip, who was still living. John the
Baptist was, by his orders, imprisoned in the castle of Ma-
chaerus. Josephus attributes this imprisonment to Herod’s
fear lest John should make use of the authority which he had
acquired over the minds of the people to induce them to revolt.
But the evangelists, who, from their personal converse with
John and his disciples, were better informed than Josephus,
assure us that the true reason of imprisoning the Baptist
was the aversion which Herod and Herodias had conceived
against him for the liberty he had used in censuring their
scandalous marriage. The virtue and holiness of John were
such that even Herod feared and respected him ; but his
passion for Herodias would have induced him to kill that
prophet, had he not been restrained by his apprehensions of
the people, who esteemed John the Baptist as a prophet.
(Matt. xiv. 5, 6.) One day, however, while the king was
celebrating the festival of his birth with the principal per¬
sons of his court, the daughter of Herodias danced before
him, and pleased him so well, that he promised with an oath
to give her whatever she should ask of him. By her mother’s
advice she asked the head of John the Baptist; upon which
the king commanded John to be beheaded in prison, and
the head to be given her.
Aretas, king of Arabia, to revenge the affront which
Herod had offered to his daughter, declared war against
him, and overcame him in a very obstinate engagement.
Herod being afterwards detected as a party in Sejanus’s con¬
spiracy, was banished by the Emperor Caligula to Lyons in
Gaul, whither Herodias accompanied him. The time of his
death is unknown.
ANTIPATER, regent of Macedonia during Alexan¬
der’s eastern expedition. He gained this distinguished posi¬
tion by his faithful attachment and his prudence. In b.c.
330, he had to subdue the rebellious tribes of Thrace ; but
even before this insurrection was quelled, another broke out
in Peloponnesus, where the Spartan king Agis rose against
Macedonia. Having settled the affairs in Thrace as well as
he could, Antipater hastened with an army to the south,
276
ANT
ANT
Antipater and in a battle near Megalopolis, gained a complete victory
Antipathy. ov.e^ ^ie. ^nsnrSerits* He was much molested in his ad-
^ y ministration of Macedonia by the arrogance and ambition
of Olympias, the mother of Alexander. The repeated com¬
plaints which both parties sent to Alexander, induced the
latter to invite Antipater to Asia, and to appoint Craterus
regent in his stead. But before this could be effected, Alex¬
ander died at Babylon. In the first division of the empire
among the Macedonian generals, it was resolved that Anti¬
pater and Craterus should undertake the administration of
the European parts of the empire, with the exception of
Thrace, which was to be given to Lysimachus. The death
of Alexander tempted the Greeks to assert their indepen¬
dence, but the prudence and valour of Antipater crushed
all attempts in the Lamian war, and established the Mace¬
donian rule in Greece on a firm footing. At the same time
Craterus was engaged in a war against the /Etolians, when
news arrived from Asia which induced Antipater to con¬
clude peace with them ; for Antigonus reported that Per-
diccas was contemplating to make himself sole master of the
whole empire. Antipater and Craterus accordingly pre¬
pared for war against Perdiccas, and allied themselves with
Ptolemy, the governor of Egypt. Antipater crossed over
into Asia, b.c. 321 ; and while still in Syria, he received in¬
formation that Perdiccas had been murdered by his own sol¬
diers. Antipater now, as administrator of the empire, made
several newregulations, and having commissioned Antigonus
to continue the war against Eumenes and the other partizans
of Perdiccas, returned to Macedonia, where he arrived in b.c.
320. Soon after this he was seized by an illness which termi¬
nated his long and active life in b.c. 319. Passing over his
son Cassander, he appointed Polysperchon regent, a measure
which gave rise to much confusion and ill feeling, (l. s.)
Antipater, an Idumean of illustrious birth, and possessed
of great riches and abilities, taking advantage of the confu¬
sion into which the two brothers Hyrcanus and Aristobulus
plunged Judaea by their contest for the office of high priest,
took such measures as to gain for Hyrcanus that office, and
under his government to obtain the absolute direction of all
affairs. His great abilities raised him to such importance
that he was honoured as much as if he had been formally
invested with the royal authority. He was at last poisoned
by a Jew named Malichus, b.c. 43. He left, among other
children, the famous Herod, king of the Jews.
Antipater, Ccelius, a Roman historian, who wrote a
rhetorical history of the second Punic war, much valued by
Cicero. The emperor Hadrian preferred him to Sallust.
Antipater of Sidon, a Stoic philosopher, and likewise a
poet, commended by Cicero and Seneca. He flourished
about the 170th Olympiad. We have several of his epigrams
in the Greek Anthology.
ANTIPATHY, in Physiology, is formed from the two
Greek words, dvrt, contrary, and 7rd0os, passion. Literally
taken, the word sigmfes incompatibility : but for the most
part the term antipathy is not used to signify such incom¬
patibilities as are merely physical; it is reserved to express
the aversion which an animated or sensitive being feels at
the real or ideal presence of particular objects. ^ In this
point of view, which is the light in which we at present
consider the term, antipathy, in common language, signifies
a natural and involuntary aversion which a sensitive being
feels for some other object, whatever it be, though the per¬
son who feels this abhorrence is entirely ignorant of its
cause, and can by no means account for it. Such is, they
say, the natural and reciprocal hostility between the toad
and the weasel, between sheep and wolves. Such is the
invincible aversion of particular persons against cats, mice,
spiders, &c., a prepossession which is sometimes so violent
as to make them faint at the sight of these animals. To
explore the matter without prejudice, we shall find it neces¬
sary to abstract from this disquisition all such antipathies as
as are not ascertained, as that which is supposed to be felt
between the salamander and tortoise, and between the
weasel and the toad. We must abstract those which can
be extinguished or resumed at pleasure ; those fictitious
aversions which only certain persons feel or pretend to feel.
When we abstract aversions, the causes of which are known
and evident, we shall be surprised, after deduction of pre¬
tended antipathies, how small, how inconsiderable, is the
quantity of those which are conformable to our definition.
Will any one pretend to call by the name of antipathy those
real, innate, and incontestable aversions which prevail be¬
tween sheep and wolves ? Their cause is obvious : the
wolf devours the sheep, and subsists upon his victims; and
every animal naturally flies with terror from pain or destruc¬
tion : sheep ought therefore to regard wolves with horror,
which, for their nutrition, tear and mangle the unresisting
prey. From principles similar to this arises that aversion
which numbers of people feel against serpents, against small
animals, such as reptiles in general, and the greater num¬
ber of insects. During the credulous and susceptible period
of infancy, pains have been taken to impress on our minds
the frightful idea that they are venomous ; that their bite
is mortal; that their sting is dangerous, productive of tor¬
menting inflammations or tumours, and sometimes fatal:
they have been represented to us as ugly and sordid ; as be¬
ing for that reason pernicious to those who touch them ; as
poisoning those who have the misfortune to swallow them.
Is it then wonderful (if our false impressions as to this sub¬
ject have been corrected neither by future reflections nor
experiments) that we should entertain during our whole
lives an aversion for these objects, even when we have for¬
got the admonitions, the conversations, and examples, which
have taught us to believe and apprehend them as noxious
beings ? To explain these facts, is it necessary to fly to the
exploded subterfuge of occult qualities inherent in bodies,
to latent relations productive of antipathies, of which no
person could ever form an idea ?
To what then are those antipathies of which we have
heard so much reducible ? Either to legendary tales, or to
aversions against objects which we believe dangerous, or to
a childish terror of imaginary perils, or to a disrelish of which
the cause is disguised, or to an infirmity of the stomach,—
in a word, to a real or pretended dislike to things which are
either invested or supposed to be invested with qualities hurt¬
ful to us. Too much care cannot be taken in preventing
or regulating the antipathies of children ; in familiarizing
them with objects of every kind; in discovering to them,
without emotion, such as are dangerous; and in teaching
them the means of defence and security, or the methods of
escaping their noxious influence.
Antipathy, in Ethics, hatred, aversion, repugnancy.
Hatred is entertained against persons, aversion and anti¬
pathy indiscriminately against persons or things, and re¬
pugnancy against actions alone.
ANTIPHILUS of Egypt, an eminent painter of anti¬
quity, distinguished for the airy elegance of his style. He
was the contemporary of Apelles, whose life he greatly en¬
dangered by falsely accusing him of treason before Ptolemy,
—but his vile design being brought to light, Apelles was ac¬
quitted, and Antiphilus in turn was loaded with chains, and
condemned to perpetual slavery.—(Plin. xxxv.; Lucian,
De Calumn., lix.)
ANTIPHLOGISTIC (from dvriand <^Adyo)(ns, inflam¬
mation), is a term applied in medicine to the treatment of
inflammation by the abstraction of blood, either local or
general, the use of purgatives, nauseants, diaphoretics, re¬
frigerants, &c., according to the exigencies of the case.
Antiphlo.
gistic.
A tiphon
"ll
A ipodes
1
ANT
ANTIPHON, the most ancient of the ten Athenian
orators contained in the Alexandrine canon. He was born
' in b.c. 480 at Rhamnus. During the Peloponnesian war he
several times was entrusted with the command of detach¬
ments of the Athenian forces, and took an active part in the
political affairs of Athens. He had a hand in the overthrow
of the democracy, and the establishment of the oligarchy
of the Four Hundred in b.c. 411 ; but as the new govern¬
ment was soon after changed, Antiphon was accused of high
treason, and put to death. He must be regarded as the
founder of political oratory at Athens, for he was the first
that reduced the art of the orator to certain rules and prin¬
ciples. He wrote speeches for others, but never addressed
the people himself except at his own trial. Seventeen ora¬
tions have been preserved under his name, but two or three
of them may be spurious. They are printed in the various
collections of the Greek orators. From this Antiphon the
orator we must distinguish two others; one a philosopher,
mentioned by Xenophon (Memor. i. 6), who is said to have
written about dreams, and the other, a tragic poet, who
lived at the court of the elder Dionysius. (l. s.)
ANTIPHONARY, Antiphonaritjm, a service-book,
which contained all the invitatories, responsories, collects,
and whatever else was sung or said in the choir, except the
lessons. This is otherwise called responsorium, from the
responses contained therein. The author of the Roman
antiphonary was Pope Gregory the Great. We also read
of nocturnal and diurnal antiphonaries, for the use of the
daily and nightly offices ; summer and winter antiphonaries;
also antiphonaries for country churches, &c. By the pro¬
vincial constitutions of Archbishop Winchelsea, made at
Merton a.d. 1305, it is required that one of these should
be found in every church within the province of Canter¬
bury. The use of these and many other popish books was
forbidden by the 3d and 4th of Edward VI., c. 10.
ANTIPHONY, the answer made by one choir to an¬
other, when the psalm or answer is sung between two.
Antiphony sometimes denotes a species of psalmody,
wherein the congregation, being divided into two parts, re¬
peat the psalms verse for verse alternately. In this sense
antiphony stands contradistinguished from symphony, where
the whole congregation sing together.
Antiphony differs from responsorium, because in this
latter the verse is only spoken by one person, whereas in
the former the verses are sung by two choirs alternately.
The original of antiphonal singing in the Western churches
is referred to the time of St Ambrose, about the year 374.
That father is said to have first introduced it into the church
of Milan, in imitation of the custom of the Eastern church,
where it appears to be of greater antiquity, though as to the
time of its institution authors are not agreed. It was pro¬
bably introduced at Antioch between the years of Christ
347 and 356. Antiphony is also used to denote the words
given out at the beginning of the psalm, to which both the
choirs are to accommodate their singing. In a more modern
sense it denotes a kind of composition made of several verses
extracted out of different psalms, adapted to express the mys¬
tery solemnised on the occasion.
ANTIPODES, in Geography, a name given to those in¬
habitants of the globe that live diametrically opposite to
each other. The word is Greek, and compounded of dvrt,
opposite, and Trows, a foot, because their feet are opposite to
each other. Plato is regarded as the first who thought it
possible that antipodes existed, and is looked upon as the
inventor ot the word. As this philosopher apprehended the
earth to be spherical, he had only one step to make to con¬
clude the existence of the antipodes. The ancients in
general treated this opinion with the highest contempt, never
being able to conceive how men and trees could subsist
ANT 277
suspended in the air with their feet upwards, for so they Antiquarii
apprehended they must be in the other hemisphere. They II
never reflected that these terms upivards and doicnwards ^iseP-
are merely relative, and signify only nearer to, or farther , t
fi om, the centre of the earth, the common centre to which ^ '
all heavy bodies gravitate.
ANTIQUARII, a name given to copiers of old books.
After the decline of learning among the Romans, and when
many religious houses were erected, learning was chiefly in
the hands of the clergy, the greater number of whom were
regulars, and lived in monasteries. In these houses were
many industrious men, who were continually employed in
making new copies of old books, either for the use of the
monastery or for their own emolument. These writing
monks were distinguished by the name of Antiquarii.
ANTIQUARY, a person who studies and searches after
monuments and remains of antiquity, as old medals, books,
statues, sculptures, and inscriptions, and, in general, all
curious pieces that may afford any insight into antiquity. In
the chief cities of Greece and Italy there were persons of
distinction called antiquaries, whose business it was to show
strangers the antiquities of the place, to explain the ancient
inscriptions, and to give them all the assistance they could
in this kind of learning. Pausanias calls these antiquaries
’E^T/rat. The Sicilians called them mystagogi.
Antiquary is also used by ancient writers for the keeper
of the antiquarium or cabinet of antiquities. The officer is
otherwise called archceota, or antiquary of a king, a prince,
a state, or the like. Henry VIII. gave John Leland the
title of his antiquary-
ANTIQUE, in a general sense, something that is an¬
cient : but the term is chiefly used by sculptors, painters,
and architects, to denote such pieces of their different arts
as were made by the ancient Greeks and Romans. Thus
we say, an antique bust, an antique statue, &c.
ANTIQUITIES. See Archaeology.
ANTIRRHINUM, snap-dragon, a genus of plants of
the natural order of Scrofularinae. The best known are the
A. majus, and A. orontium.
ANTISABBATARIANS, a modern religious sect, who
oppose the observance of the Christian sabbath. The great
principle of the Antisabbatarians is, that the Jewish sabbath
was only of ceremonial, not moral obligation, and conse¬
quently is abolished by the coming of Christ.
ANTISCII (uvtl and cnaa), those living on different sides
of the equator, whose shadows at noon are projected opposite
ways. Thus the people of the north are Antiscii to those
of the south; the one projecting their shadows at noon to¬
wards the north pole, and the other towards the south.
ANTISEPTICS, from ovtl, and 01777x0$, putrid, of 017770,
I putrefy, an appellation given to such substances as resist
putrefaction. We have some curious experiments in rela¬
tion to antiseptic substances by Dr Pringle, who has ascer¬
tained their several virtues. Thus, in order to settle the
antiseptic virtue of salts, he compared it with that of common
sea-salt, which, being one of the weakest, he supposes equal
to unity, and expresses the proportional strength of the rest
by the higher numbers, as in the following table :—
Salts, their antiseptic virtue.
Sea salt 1
Sal gemma 1 +
Tartar vitriolated 2
Spiritus Mindereri 2
Tartarus solubilis 2
Sal diureticus 2 +
Crude sal ammoniac ...3
Saline mixture  3
Nitre  4 +
Salt of hartshorn  4 +
Salt of wormwood  4 +
Borax  12 +
Salt of amber 20 +
Alum 30 +
In this table the proportions are marked in integral num-
278
ANT
A^!'”- ^ers 5 “"‘y "> some t^e is added the sign +, to show that
those salts are possessed of a stronger antiseptic virtue than
Antithesis. , ?u™ber ln the table expresses, by some fractions ; un-
, 111 tbe tbree a^t’ where the same sign imports that the
sal t may be stronger by some units. To these add kreasote,
alcohol, and various metallic salts.
ANTISPASMODICS are medicines proper for the cure
ot spasms and convulsions. Opium, ammonia, musk, and
the essential oils of many vegetables, are the principal in
this class of medicines.
ANTISTASIS, in Oratory, a defence of an action from
the consideration that, had it been omitted, worse would
have ensued. This is called by Latin writers comparativum
cvrgumentum ; such, c. g., would be the general’s defence who
had made an inglorious capitulation, that, without it, the
whole army must have perished.
AN IISTHENES, a Greek philosopher, and founder of
the sect of the Cynics, who flourished about 380 b.c. He
was born at Athens, and passed the early part of his life as
a soldier. He was first a pupil of the sophist Gorgias, but
afterwards became a zealous disciple and friend of Socrates,
whom he faithfully attended till his death. The exhortations
of his master to temperance and simplicity of life were car-
ried by him into practice with a strictness bordering on
fanaticism. Permitting his beard to grow, he went about
the streets in a thread-bare coat, scarcely to be distinguished
from a common beggar; an affectation of severity that called
forth the satirical remark of Socrates, “ that the pride of
Antisthenes peeped out through the holes of his cloak.”
He prided himself upon the most rigid virtue, and thought
it his duty to attack the vicious wherever he found them.
This gave him some reputation in the city; but it may be
supposed that, in the luxurious city of Athens, he had
more enemies than disciples. His philosophy was exclu¬
sively practical; despising speculative science, he held the
nature of things to be undefinable, and all opinions to be
identical. Virtue, which he held to be the supreme good,
consisted, with him, in temperance, and freedom from the
dominion of the passions, by means of which the wise man
becomes independent of all external circumstances, and
possesses m himself all the sources of felicity and perfection.
irtue is the only beauty; vice the only deformity; all
things else are indifferent (dStd^opa) and unworthy of pur¬
suit. Regarding the Deity, as Cicero {De Nat. Deor. i. 13)
informs us, he held “ that the gods of the people were many,
but that the true God was One.” Notwithstanding the re¬
pulsive austerity of his manners, the elevated ethical teach-
ing of Antisthenes drew around him a numerous body of
disciples (see Cynics), of whom the most celebrated was
Diogenes of Sinope; and by his twofold influence, positive
and negative, he may be regarded as the parent of Stoicism
on the one hand, and of Pyrrhonism on the other.
The works of Antisthenes formed, according to Diogenes
Laertius, ten books ; of these there are now extant only two
discourses entitled Ajax and Ulysses; and some letters.
TuricT l 84^ fragmentS Were Pubbsbed by Winckelmann.
ANTISTROPHE, among Lyric Poets, that part of a
song and dance in use among the ancients, which was per¬
formed before the altar, in returning from west to east • in
opposition to strophe.
ANTITACT/E in Ecclesiastical History, a sect of
Gnostics, who held that not God but a creature had created
evil; and consequently that it is our duty to oppose our¬
selves to (dvra-dcrcreo-ftai) this enemy of God.
ANTI THESIS, in Rhetoric, a contrast or opposition of
words or sentiments. Such is that of Cicero, in the second
Catilmarian: “ On one side stands modesty, on the other
impudence; on one fidelity, on the other deceit; here pietv
ANT
there sacrilege; here continency, there lust.” A judicious Antitrini.
use ot this figure imparts much force and spirit to style; but tanam
its ostentatious recurrence becomes tedious. The poetry of II
Pope may be cited as an example. Antoeci.
ANTI TRINITARIANS, those who deny the Trinity
and teach that there are not three persons in the Godhead!
Thus the Samosatenians, who do not believe the distinction
of persons in God; the Arians, who deny the divinity of the
Word; and the Macedonians, who deny that of the Holy
Spirit, are all properly Antitrinitarians/ Among the mo¬
derns, the term is particularly applied to Socinians, called
also Unitarians.
The Bibliotheca Antitrinitariorum is a posthumous work
of Christopher Sandius, an eminent Antitrinitarian, in which
he gives a chronological list of all the Socinian or modern
Antitrinitarian authors, with a brief account of their lives
and a catalogue of their works.
ANTITYPE, a Greek word, properly signifying a type
or figure corresponding to some other type. The word oc¬
curs twice in the New Testament, viz., in the Epistle to the
Hebrews, ix. 24, and in St Peter’s 1st Ep. iii. 21, where its
genuine import has been much controverted. The former
says that “ Christ is not entered into the holy places made
with hands, which are, avrl-nm-a, the figures or antitypes of
the true now to appear in the presence of God for us ”
Now tvttos signifies the pattern by which another thing is
made ; and as Moses was obliged to make the tabernacle, and
all things in it, according to the pattern shown him in the
mount, the tabernacle so formed was the antitype of what
was shown to Moses: anything, therefore, formed according
to a model or pattern is an antitype.
Antitype, among the Ancient Greek Fathers, and in the
Greek liturgy, is also applied to the symbols of bread and
wme in the sacrament. Hence it has been argued by many
Protestants, that the Greeks do not really believe the doc¬
trine of transubstantiation, because they call the bread and
wine antitypes, avrirma, q. d., figures, similitudes, and this
even after the consecration.
ANTIUM, a celebrated city of the Volsci, on the coast
of Latin m, now Porto d’Anzo. It was the refuge of Corio-
lanus, and afterwards became a Roman colony. In the
time of Cicero it was a favourite retreat of the wealthy citi¬
zens. The extent of the ruins shows its importance in an¬
cient times. It is thirty-two miles south-east of Rome.
NTIVARI, or Bar, a strongly-fortified frontier town
and harbour in the Gulf of Venice, in the Turkish pachalic
ot Iscander or Scutari. It is the seat of a Catholic bishop,
and contains 6000 inhabitants, many of whom own vessels,
winch are hired for the coasting trade of the Adriatic. Lat.
42. 2. N. Long. 19. 10. E.
ANTLIA, an ancient machine, supposed to be the same
wit our pump. Hence the phrase in antliam condemnari,
according to the critics, denotes a kind of punishment where-
by criminals were condemned to drain ponds, ditches, or
t le like. But prior to the invention of the pump this word
was applied indifferently to any implement for drawing
water; and even so late as the time of St John S.vrX'qim is
used to signify merely a bucket with a rope. See c. iv. 11.
Antlia, in Entomology, the oral instrument of lepidop-
terous insects, used for suction.
ANTCECI {avTi and oIkIoj), those who live under the
same meridian, and at the same distance from the equator;
the one toward the north, and the other toward the south.
Hence they have the same longitude ; and their latitude is
a so the same, but of a different denomination : they are in
t le same semicircle of the meridian, but in opposite paral-
e s. they have precisely the same hours of the day and
mg it, but opposite seasons; and the night of the one is
always equal to the day of the other.
ANT
■ jitoine ANTOINE, St, a town of France, in the department of
II Isere, with a celebrated abbey. It is seated among the
oniano. mountains, eight miles W.N.W. of St Mareellin. Pop. 2007.
ANTONELLO Da Messina, the first Italian painter
who used oil colours. Having seen, in the palace of Alfonso
I. of Naples, a picture of Jan Van Eyck in this style, he set
out for Flanders, and obtained the secret from the painter
of Bruges, with whom he remained until the death of Van
Eyck in 1445. After that he returned to Messina for a
time; but in 1450 set out for Venice, where he communi¬
cated the important Flemish secret to Domenico Veneziano.
He then paid a long visit to Milan ; but finally returned to
Venice, where he died in 1493. He seems to have freely
communicated the modes of painting in oil, especially in this
latter period of his life, and had a salary from the state. He
had a high reputation, and was the most illustrious artist in
the first epoch of the Neapolitan school.—See Ridolji Vi¬
le de Pittori, Zanetti Pint. Venez., and Lanzi Storia Pit-
torica, tom. ii. (t. s. t.)
ANTONIA, a fortress in Jerusalem, on the north side
of the area of the temple, originally built by the Maccabees,
under the name of Baris, and afterwards rebuilt with great
strength and splendour by the first Herod. Josephus states
that the fortress stood upon a rock or hill fifty cubits high,
at the north-west corner of the temple area, above which its
walls rose to the height of forty cubits. Within, it had the
extent and appearance of a palace, being divided into apart¬
ments of every kind, with galleries and baths, and broad
halls or barracks for soldiers; so that, having everything
necessary within itself, it seemed a city, while in magnifi¬
cence it resembled a palace. The fortress communicated
with the northern and western porticoes of the temple area,
and had flights of stairs descending into both, by which the
garrison could at any time enter the courts of the temple,
and prevent tumults. This is the “castle” into which Paul
was carried from the temple by the soldiers : and from the
stairs of which he addressed the people collected in the ad¬
jacent court (Acts xxi. 31-40).
ANTONIAN Waters, medicinal waters of Germany,
very pleasant to the taste, and esteemed in many chronic
and hypochondriac cases.
ANTONIANO, Silvio, a man of great learning, who
raised himself from a low condition by his merit, was born
at Rome in the year 1540. At the age of ten he could
make verses impromptu on any subject proposed. The duke
of Ferrara, coming to Rome to congratulate Marcellus II.
on his elevation to the pontificate, was so charmed with the
genius of Antoniano, that he carried him to Ferrara, where
he made him professor of literature at the age of sixteen.
From thence he was sent for by Pius IV., who made him
professor of the belles lettres in the college of Wisdom at
Rome. Antoniano filled this place with so much reputa¬
tion, that, on the day when he began to explain the oration
of Cicero pro Marcello, he had among his numerous audi¬
tors no less than twenty-five cardinals. He was afterwards
chosen rector of the college; and after the death of Pius
IV., being seized with a spirit of devotion, he joined himself
to Filippo Neri, and accepted the office of secretary to the
sacred college, offered him by Pius V., which he held for
twenty-five years. He refused three bishoprics which Gre-
gory XIV. would have given him; but he accepted the
office of secretary to the Briefs, offered him by Clement
VIII., who made him his chamberlain, and afterwards a car¬
dinal. His excessive application to study brought on a sick¬
ness, of which he died in the sixty-third year of his age. A
work of his on education was published at Verona in 1584,
4to; and some Orations appeared after his death in 1610,
4to, Rome. He wrote, besides, numerous discourses and
poems, both in Latin and Italian.
ANT 279
ANTONIDES, Hans, surnamedVANDER Goes, an emi- Antonides
nent Dutch poet, was born at Goes in Zealand on the 3d of 0
Apiil 1647. His parents were Anabaptists, people of good'^nton*nus'
character, but in poor circumstances. They went to live ~1
at Amsterdam when Antonides was about four years old ;
and in the ninth year of his age he began his studies, under
the direction of Hadrian Junius and James Cocceius. The
study of the Latin poets first awakened his poetic spirit. His
earliest attempts were translations from Horace and Ovid;
and, having formed his taste on these excellent models, he
at length ventured to write a tragedy, entitled, Trazet, or
the Invasion of China; which, however, his modesty pre¬
vented him from publishing.
His parents designed him for an apothecary ; but his re¬
markable genius for poetry soon gained him the esteem and
friendship of several persons of distinction, and particularly
of Buisero, one of the lords of the admiralty at Amsterdam,
who sent him at his expense to pursue his studies at Leyden.
There he took his degree of doctor of physic, after which his
patron gave him a place in the admiralty. He died on the
18th September 1684, at the early age cf 37. A complete
edition of his works, with a life of the poet, was printed at
Amsterdam, 4to, 1714. The most esteemed of his poems,
which are characterised by warmth and vigour, is his epic
on the river Y, entitled Y-stroom.
ANTONIN, St, a town of France, department of Tarn
and Garonne, in a valley at the confluence of the rivers
Aveyron and Bonnette, 22 miles north-east of Montauban.
It is the capital of a canton, and has 2691 inhabitants. The
manufactures are linen, leather, woollens, &c.
ANTONINI Itinerarium. See Itinerary.
ANTONINUS Liberalis, a Greek grammarian, who
probably lived about a.d. 147. His work on metamorphoses
is chiefly valuable for the study of Greek mythology. One
of the best editions is that of Koch, Leipz. 1832, 8vo.
Antoninus, Marcus Aurelius, surnamed the Philosopher,
a very eminent Roman emperor, born at Rome on the 20th
of April, a.d. 121. He was called by several names till he
was admitted into the Aurelian family, when he took that
of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. Hadrian, upon the death
of Ceionius Commodus, turned his eyes upon Marcus Au¬
relius; but, as he was not then 18 years of age, and conse¬
quently too young for so important a station, he fixed upon
Antoninus Pius, whom he adopted, upon condition that he
should likewise adopt Marcus Aurelius. The year after this
adoption, Hadrian appointed him questor, though he had not
yet attained the age prescribed by law. After the death of
Hadrian, Aurelius married Faustina, the daughter of An¬
toninus Pius, by whom he had several children. In the year
139 he was invested with new honours by the Emperor Pius,
which he bore in such a manner as endeared him to that
prince and the whole people.
On the death of Pius, in the year 161, he was invested
by the senate with the imperial power, taking as his col¬
league L. Ceionius Commodus, thenceforward called L.
Aurelius Verus. Dion Cassius says that he was induced to
this by his ill health, and the desire of leisure to pursue his
studies; Lucius being of a strong, vigorous constitution, and
consequently more fit for the fatigues of war. The same
day he assumed the name of Antoninus, which he bestowed
likewise on his colleague Verus, to whom, at the same time,
he betrothed his daughter Lucilla.
The happiness which the empire began to enjoy under
the two emperors was soon interrupted. In the year 162, a
dreadful inundation of the Tiber destroyed a vast number of
cattle, and occasioned a famine at Rome. This calamity
was followed by the Parthian war; and at the same time the
Catti ravaged Germany and Rhsetia. Lucius Verus went
in person to oppose the Parthians; and Antoninus remained
280
ANT
Antoninus, at Rome, where his presence was necessary. Less through
the ability of Verus than the conduct of his lieutenant, the
war with the Parthians was successfully terminated. The
two emperors shared the honours of a magnificent triumph
at Rome in the year 166, and were honoured with the title
of Fathers of their country. In this year the city was ra¬
vaged by famine and by a terrible pestilence which spread
itself over the whole world. It was likewise in this year that
the Marcomanni, and many other people of Germany, took
up arms against the Romans ; but the two emperors, having
marched in person against them, obliged them to sue for
peace. The war, however, was renewed the year following,
and the two emperors again opened the campaign in person.
Lucius Verus was seized with an apoplectic fit, and died at
Altinum. The whole conduct of the war now devolved on
his successor, who found his resources so straitened, that to
save the people from new taxes, he parted with the plate and
furniture of his palace, and even with the empress’s jewels,
in order to meet the demands of the war. His self-deny¬
ing and vigorous exertions were crowned with the greatest
success.
During this war, in 174, a very extraordinary event is
said to have happened, which, according to Dion Cassius,
was as follows: Antoninus’s army being blocked up by the
Quadi in a very disadvantageous place, where there was no
possibility of procuring water, and being worn out with fa¬
tigue and wounds, oppressed with heat and thirst, and in¬
capable of retiring or engaging the enemy, in an instant the
sky was covered with clouds, and there fell a vast quantity
of rain. The Roman army were about to quench their thirst
when the enemy came upon them with such fury, that they
must certainly have been defeated, had it not been for a
shower of hail, accompanied with a storm of thunder and
lightning, which fell upon the enemy without the least an¬
noyance to the Romans, who by this means gained the vic¬
tory.1 In 175 Antoninus made a treaty with several nations
of Germany. Soon after, Avidius Cassius, governor of Syria,
urged on by Faustina, revolted from the emperor. This in¬
surrection, however, soon ended in the murder of Cassius by
his own partisans. Antoninus behaved with great lenity to¬
wards those who had been engaged in Cassius’s party: he
would not put to death, nor imprison, nor even sit in judg¬
ment himself upon any of the senators engaged in this re¬
volt ; but he referred them to the senate, fixing a day for
their appearance, as if it had been only a civil affair. He
wrote also to the senate, desiring them to act with indul¬
gence rather than severity; nor to shed the blood of any
senator or person of quality, or of any other person what¬
ever ; but to allow this honour to his reign, that, even un¬
der the misfortune of a rebellion, none had lost their lives
except in the first heat of the tumult. In 176 Antoninus
visited Syria and Egypt. The kings of those countries, and
ambassadors also from Parthia, came to visit him. He staid
several days at Smyrna ; and, after settling the affairs of the
Kast, went to Athens; on which city he conferred several
honours, and appointed public professors there. From
thence he returned to Rome with his son Commodus, whom
he chose consul for the year following, though he was then
but 16 years of age, having obtained a dispensation for that
purpose. On the 27th of September in the same year he gave
him the title of Imperator ; and on the 23d of December
ANT
he entered Rome in triumph with Commodus, on account Antoni
of the victories gained over the Germans. Dion Cassius
tells us that he remitted all the debts which were due to
himself and the public treasury during 46 years, and burnt
the writings relating to these debts. In the year 177 he left
Rome with his son Commodus, to march against the Mar¬
comanni and other barbarous nations. In the following year
he gained a considerable victory over them, and would in all
probability have entirely subdued them, had he not been
seized with an illness, which carried him off on the 17th of
March 180, in the 59th year of his age, and 20th of his
reign. The character of this prince affords the highest in¬
stance of what the Stoical philosophy could do in moulding
a disposition naturally tranquil and benevolent. Alike in his
public and private life, Antoninus moved like a superior being
among the rest of mankind. Master of himself, and ever
influenced by the highest motives which heathen morality
could suggest, he was deeply and universally beloved; and
a people who believed in the divine descent of Romulus and
his bodily return to heaven, might well celebrate with more
than empty ceremony the apotheosis of Antoninus, and re¬
verently set up his statue in their houses. But his perse¬
cution of the Christians, to which, doubtless, he was insti¬
gated by evil counsellors, is an indelible stain on a character
otherwise so estimable. The martyrdom of Justin at Rome,
of the venerable Polycarp, with many others at Smyrna, took
place about the 7th year of his reign ; and that he sanctioned
the horrible atrocities perpetrated at Vienna and Lyons ten
years later, is confirmed by the answer returned to the Ro¬
man governor, who applied for instructions, that all who pro¬
fessed Christianity should be put to death. The only work Eusebius,
of his that remains, besides some letters in the remains
Fronto, discovered by Mai at Rome, is his book of Medi¬
tations, originally written in Greek (rwv tis kavrov /3i/3Ata
SulSe/ax). It consists of miscellaneous reflections on moral
and religious subjects, expressive of the thoughts and feel¬
ings of the writer, in the midst of the daily business of life,
the manifold cares and routine of a court, or the distracting
tumult of the camp. Together with the writings of Epictetus,
these form the most valuable remains of the Stoical school,
and faithfully describe the mode of self-discipline by which its
higher representatives formed their minds in the habit of
virtue. The best edition is that of Gataker, Cantab. 1652,
reprinted, London, 1697, with Dacier’s notes and life of An¬
toninus, translated into Latin by Stanhope. It has been
frequently translated. The best English version is that by
Drs Moor and Hutcheson, 2 vols. 12mo, 1749.
Antoninus, Titus Aurelius Fulvus Boionius Arrius,
surnamed Pius, emperor of Rome, was born a.d. 86, at
Lanuvium in Italy. The family of his father, from whom
he inherited great wealth, was originally from Nismes in
Gaul. Both his father and grandfather had held the office
of consul. Arrius Antoninus, his maternal grandfather, by
his amiable disposition and love of literature, had acquired
an eminent character, and was very intimate with Pliny the
younger. Under him the young Titus, after his father’s
death, completed his education. His character, on arriving
at the age of maturity, manifested itself in the most pro¬
mising manner. To an outward mien at once mild and
dignified, he joined a cultivated understanding, a virtuous
heart, and a manly eloquence. Simple in his tastes, and
have oreatlv differed a<s tn the t0 ^1^emont (art- xvi. p. 621), have acknowledged the truth of this prodigy, but
\ntoninus’s^nillar the o-lnrv 5a S'} °i tSU<t a.™lr^u^0u8 event, the former ascribing it, some to one magician and some to another. In
at the nraver of the ClfrisUan anlrU ^ e S0<1 of rain and thunder. But the Christians affirmed that God granted this favour
of which thev rLeiverfthe utle Of th ,Romanr army. "ho are said to have composed the twelfth or Melitene legion; in consequence
, fh they received the title of the Thundering Legion. (Euseb. Eccles. Hist, lib v. cap. 5.) Mr Moyle, in the letters published in
a^ mr More'reZGv S t0 eXpl0de this ^ °f the Sundering Legion, to wMdt Mr Whiston published an
portance M * tly th subJect has been extensively argued on both sides, with an ingenuity scarcely demanded by its im-
ANT
An ninus. guided by temperance in all his sentiments and actions, he
was entirely free from the usual vices of imperial rank.
In the year 120, among the many public honours which
his birth and connections gave him a claim to, he was ele¬
vated to the high post of consul, and was afterwards ap¬
pointed by Hadrian to be one of the four consulars among
whom the supreme power of Italy was divided. Becoming
in his turn proconsul of Asia, he acquitted himself with such
reputation that he even excelled his grandfather Arrius, who
had formerly enjoyed that high trust. Returning from Asia,
he was received into the favour and confidence of Hadrian.
He married Annia Faustina, the daughter of Annius Verus,
whose character was far from being irreproachable ; but his
lenient disposition induced him to avoid public scandal, and
he behaved towards his aged father-in-law with the most be¬
coming respect. Two sons and two daughters were the fruits
of this marriage. The sons died young, and the eldest daugh¬
ter, who was married to Lamia Syllanus, died, when Titus pro¬
ceeded towards his Asiatic government. Faustina, the young¬
est, married Marcus Aurelius, who was afterwards emperor.
After the death of Verus, Hadrian adopted Antoninus as
his successor in the Roman empire, with the title of Caesar,
a.d. 138; and at the same time created him his colleague
in the proconsular and tribunitian offices. Extending his
plans of adoption still farther, he caused Antoninus to adopt
the son of Verus, then seven years of age, and Marcus An¬
nius, afterwards named Aurelius, then seventeen years of
age, a relation of Hadrian’s, and nephew to his own wife.
The dutiful and merited attention which Antoninus be¬
stowed on Hadrian during the last months of his illness,
justifies, in conjunction with his general character, the epi¬
thet afterwards bestowed upon him. On July 10, a.d. 138,
he succeeded to the empire amidst the universal acclama¬
tions of the senate and people, who anticipated in his well-
tried virtues that happiness which a good and wise sove¬
reign is able to bestow upon his subjects.
The Roman world enjoyed such tranquillity under his
reign that it affords few materials for history ; yet it is to be
regretted that Capitolinus is the only historian from whom
any direct information can be received concerning this peace¬
ful period, and he is none of the most perspicuous. It how¬
ever appears that the usual honours and titles, together with
the addition of the surname of Pius, which the general tenor
of his life and his zeal in defending and honouring the me¬
mory of his predecessor united to suggest, were willingly con¬
ferred upon him by the senate. In the beginning of his
reign there were several conspiracies formed against him ;
but these only afforded him opportunities of signalizing his
singular clemency. Though unable to prevent the course
of justice against the ringleaders, he prohibited the prosecu¬
tion of their accomplices, and took the son of Attilius, one
of the principal conspirators, under his protection. Various
commotions were raised in several parts of the empire ; but
by the vigilance of his lieutenants these were easily quelled.
1 he incursions of the Brigantes in Britain were restrained,
and a new wall which was built to the north of that of Hadrian,
extending from the Forth to the Clyde, and which was called
the Wall of Antoninus, was fixed as the boundary of the
Roman province in Britain. The reign of Antoninus, upon
the whole, was singularly peaceful, and realised a saying of
Scipio, that “ he preferred saving the life of one citizen, to
destroying a thousand enemies.”
Jurisprudence was to this emperor, as it was to his prede¬
cessor, an interesting subject for improvement; and several
c ecrees which he issued display his commendable spirit of
equity. 1 he natural consequence of this equity was, that
Antoninus acquired a reputation and fame which no military
achievements could have conferred ; and his friendship was
courted by the neighbouring princes.
vol. m.
ANT
281
There is scarcely a blot to be found to tarnish his cha- Antoni-
racter; and frugality, modesty, and harmless amusement nus’s Wall
continued to employ his private hours. In the management
of his complicated business he was exact to such a degree
that it was even ridiculed by some; but he found the daily
advantage of this accuracy. I he growing virtue of Marcus
Aurelius soon drew his attention after he ascended the
throne, and having given him his daughter in marriage, he
declared him Caesar. Nor was he mistaken in his choice;
for Aurelius acted with the utmost fidelity and affection amid
all the honours that he continued to confer upon him. But
his prosperous reign was drawing to a close: in the 75th
year of his life he was seized with a fever at his favourite
country-seat of Lorium. Assured of his approaching death,
he convened the principal officers of the state, confirmed his
election of Aurelius, and gave him the imperial ensigns. A
delirium ensued, in an interval of which the tribune of the
night-watch having came, as was customary, to receive the
pass-word, the dying emperor uttered the stoical watchword
JEquanimitas, and calmly resigned his breath in the 23d
year of his reign. His ashes were consigned to the tomb
of Hadrian, and divine honours paid to his memory. He
was universally regretted, and succeeding emperors for more
than a century bore his name as a title of honour. The
senate and his successor erected a sculptured pillar to his
memory, which still exists as one of the chief ornaments of
the city of Rome.
ANTONINUS’S Wall, the name of the third rampart
or defence that had been built or repaired by the Romans
against the incursions of the North Britons. It is called by
the people in the neighbourhood Graham's Dike, from the
opinion that one Graham, or Grimus, first made a breach in
it after the retreat of the Romans out of Britain. The first
barrier erected by the Romans was the chain of forts made
by Agricola from the firth of Forth to that of Clyde, in the
year 81, to protect his conquest from the inroads of the
Caledonians. The second was the vallum or dike thrown
up by Hadrian in the year 121. It terminated on the western
side of the kingdom at Axelodunum or Brugh, on the Sol¬
way sands, and at Pons AEhi or Neivcastle on the eastern.
The rampart of Hadrian was situated much farther south
than Agricola’s chain ; the country to the north having been
either recovered, according to some authors, by the native
Britons after the departure of Agricola, or, according to
others, voluntarily slighted by Hadrian. However, this
work of Hadrian’s did not long continue to be the extreme
boundary of the Roman territories to the north in Britain;
for Antoninus Pius, the adopted son and immediate succes¬
sor of Hadrian, having, by his lieutenant Lollius Urbicus,
recovered the country once conquered by Agricola, com¬
manded another rampart to be erected between the firths of
Forth and Clyde, in the track where Agricola had formerly
built his chain of forts. The great number of inscriptions
which have been found in or near the ruins of this wall or
rampart, to the honour of Antoninus Pius, leave us no room
to doubt its having been built by his direction and command.
If the fragment of a Roman pillar with an inscription, now
in the college library of Edinburgh, belonged to this work,
as is generally supposed, it fixes the date of its execution in
the third consulship of Antoninus, which was a.d. 140, only
twenty years after that of Hadrian, of which this seems to
have been an imitation. This wall or rampart, as some
imagine, reached from Carriden on the firth of Forth to
Old Kirkpatrick on the Clyde; or, as others think, from
Kinniel on the east to Dunglass on the west. These differ¬
ent suppositions hardly make a mile of difference in the
length of this w ork, which, from several actual mensurations,
appears to have been 37 English or 40 Roman miles. Capi¬
tolinus, in his life of Antoninus Pius, directly affirms that
. 2 N
282
ANT
ANT
Antoni- the wall which that emperor built in Britain was of turf.
r‘us 3 VVal|- This in the main is unquestionably true, though it is evident
^ ^ 1 (from the vestiges of it still remaining, which not very many
years ago were dug up and examined for near a mile to¬
gether) that the foundation was of stone. Mr Camden also
tells us that the principal rampart was faced with square
stone, to prevent the earth from falling into the ditch. The
chief parts of this work were as follows: 1. A broad and
deep ditch, whose dimensions cannot now be discovered with
certainty and exactness, though Mr Pont says it was 12 feet
wide. 2. The principal wall or rampart was about 12 feet
thick at the foundation, but its original height cannot now
be determined. This wall was situated on the south brink
of the ditch. 3. A military way on the south side of the
principal wall, well paved, and raised a little above the level
of the ground. This work, as well as that of Hadrian, was
defended by garrisons placed in forts and stations along the
line of it. The number of these foils or stations, whose
vestiges were visible in Mr Font’s time, was 18, situated at
about the distance of two miles from each other. In the
intervals between the forts there were turrets or watch-
towers ; but the number of these, and their distance from
each other, cannot now be discovered.
It is not a little surprising, that though it is now more than
1700 years since this work was finished, and more than 1400
since it was neglected, we can yet discover, from authentic
monuments which are still remaining, by what particular bo¬
dies of Roman troops almost every part of it was executed.
This discovery is made from inscriptions upon stones, which
were originally built into the face of the wall, and have been
found in or near its ruins. From these inscriptions it ap¬
pears in general, that this great work was executed by the
second legion, the vexillations of the sixth legion and of the
twentieth legion, and one cohort of auxiliaries. Some of
these inscriptions have suffered greatly by the injuries of
time and other accidents ; so that we cannot discover from
them with absolute certainty how many paces of this work
were executed by each of these bodies of troops. The sum
of the certain and probable information contained in these
inscriptions, as it is collected by Mr Horsley, stands thus:
. -races.
ine second legion built H (303
The vexillation of the twentieth legion  7,411
The vexillation of the sixth legion   7',801
All certain 26 815
The vexillation of the twentieth legion, the monument
certain, and the number probable 
The same vexillation on a plain monument, no number
visible, supposed  
The sixth legion, a monument, but no number, supposed
Cohors prima Cugernorum 
Total   y20
or 39 Roman miles 726 paces, nearly the length of the wall.
It would be both useful and agreeable to know how lono-
these troops were employed in the execution of this great
work. But of this we have no information. Neither do we
know what particular bodies of troops were in garrison in
the several forts and stations along the line of this wall
because these garrisons were withdrawn before the Notitia
Imperii was written.—See Gordon’s Itinerarium Septen-
trionale, and Maitlands History of Scotland.
Though we cannot discover exactly how many years this
wall of the Emperor Antoninus continued to be the boundary
of the Roman territories in Britain, yet we know with cer¬
tainty that it was not very long. For we are told by an
author of undoubted credit (Dion Cassius, lib. Ixxii.), that
in the reign of Commodus, a.d. 180, “he had wars with
several foreign nations, but none so dangerous as that of
3,411
3,500
3,000
3,000
Britain ; for the people of the island having passed the v/all Anton1
which divided them from the Romans, attacked them, and || °
cut them to pieces.” Antonins,
ANTONIO, Nicholas, knight of the order of St James
and canon of Seville, was born at Seville in 1617, being the
son of a gentleman whom King Philip IV. made president
of the admiralty established in that city in 1626. After
having gone through a course of philosophy and divinity in
his own country, he studied law at Salamanca. Upon his
return to Seville, he. shut himself up in the royal monastery
of Benedictines, where he employed himself several years
in writing his Bibliotheca Hispanica, having the use of the
books of Bennet de la Sana, abbot of that monastery, and
dean of the faculty of divinity at Salamanca. By this help,
and about 30,000 volumes in his own library, joined to con¬
tinual labour and indefatigable application, he was at last
enabled to finish his Bibliotheca Hispanica, in four volumes
folio, two of which he published at Rome in the year 1672.
The work consists of two parts; the one containing the
Spanish writers who flourished before the fifteenth century,
and the other those since the end of that century. After the'
publication of these two volumes, he was recalled to Madrid
by King Charles II. At his death, which took place in 1684,
he left nothing but his vast library; and his two brothers
and nephews being unable to publish the remaining volumes
of his Bibliotheca, sent them to Cardinal d’Aguisine, who
paid the expense of the impression, and committed the super¬
intendence of it to M. Martin, his librarian, who added notes
in the name of the cardinal. These two volumes were pub¬
lished in 1696. Improved editions of both these works, by
F. P. Bayer, were published at Madrid in 4 vols. folio, in
1783-8. A work by Antonio was published for the first
time at Valencia in 1742, entitled Censura de Histories
Fabulas, obra postuma, folio.
ANTONIUS, Marcus, a famous Roman orator. While
he filled the office of praetor, Sicily fell to his lot, and he
cleared the seas of the pirates which infested that coast.
He was made consul with A. Postumius Albinus, in the
year b.c. 99, when he opposed the turbulent designs of Sex¬
tus Titus, tribune of the people, with great resolution and
success. Some time after he was made governor of Cilicia,
in quality of proconsul, where he performed so many great
exploits that he obtained the honour of a triumph. He was
one of the greatest orators ever known at Rome; and it
was owing to him, according to the testimony of Cicero,
that Rome might boast herself a rival even to Greece itself
in the art of eloquence. He never would publish any of
his pleadings, that he might not, as he said, be proved to
say in one cause what might be contrary to what he should
advance in another. He was killed, b.c. 87, during those
bloody confusions raised at Rome by Marius and Cinna.
His hiding-place being discovered, soldiers were sent to de¬
spatch him ; but the power of his eloquence so moved them,
that none but he who commanded them, and had not heard
his discourse, had the cruelty to kill him. His head was
exposed before the rostra, a place which he had adorned with
his triumphal spoils.
Antonius, Marcus, the triumvir, was born about the year
b.c. 83. He was grandson to M. Antonius the orator, and
the son of that M. Antonius who was surnamed in derision
Creticus, from the place where he died, after plundering the
provinces he was appointed to defend. Antonius being very
young when his father died, he was brought up by Cornelius
Lentulus, who married his mother Julia, and was afterwards
put to death by Cicero as one of Catiline’s conspirators; an
act afterwards fatally revenged by Antony, whose hatred
for Cicero was sharpened by his philippics against himself
After involving his affairs deeply by dissipation and extra¬
vagance, in his twenty-fifth year he joined the army in Syria,
283
A N T
ANT
ono
lia.
where he served with distinction under A. Gabinius; and
during the three succeeding years he took part in the cam¬
paigns against Aristobulus in Palestine, and in the restora¬
tion of Ptolemy Auletes to the throne of Egypt. He served
afterwards under Caesar in Gaul; and when the civil war
broke out, he took Caesar’s part, and was made a tribune of
the people, in which office he did Caesar great service. Cae¬
sar, having made himself master of Rome, gave Antony the
government of Italy. At the battle of Pharsalia Caesar con¬
fided so much in him, that he gave him the command of the
left wing of his army, while he himself led the right. After
Caesar was made dictator he made Antony general of the
horse, though he had never been praetor; in which com¬
mand he exerted his power with the utmost violence. He
was made consul when Caesar enjoyed that honour for the
fifth time, the last year of that usurper’s life. On Caesar’s
death he harangued the populace with great art, and raised
their fury against his murderers, flattering himself that he
should easily get into the place which Caesar had filled; but
his haughty behaviour lost him all the advantages his affected
concern for Caesar had gained him. His ill-treatment of
Octavius, and quarrel with him, produced another civil war,
which ended in an accommodation between him, Octavius,
and Lepidus, fatal to the peace of Rome. They agreed to
share the supreme power among them; and many of the
most illustrious Romans were sacrificed by proscription to
cement this bloody league, which is known by the name of
the Second Triumvirate. The year b.c. 42 was remark¬
able for the decisive victory gained by Antony and Octa¬
vius over the republican forces at Philippi, and the death of
Brutus and Cassius. But the triumvirs were too ambitious,
and hated one another too much, to be long united. An¬
tony went into Asia to raise money for his soldiers, and
during his absence Fulvia, his wife, quarrelled with Octa¬
vius. When Antony was in Asia, indulging himself in all
manner of luxury, the famous Cleopatra inspired him with
the most violent passion. Hearing of the quarrel between
Fulvia and Octavius, and finding Octavius was become pub¬
licly his enemy, Antony entered into a confederacy with
Sextus Pompeius, who was still master of Sicily. He then
went into Italy to fight against Octavius; but Fulvia, who
had been the author and promoter of this war, dying, Oc¬
tavius and Antony came to an agreement. One of the con¬
ditions of this new peace was, that they should together
attack Pompey, though the former had lately made an alli¬
ance with him. Antony then married Octavia, sister of
Octavius, as a pledge of their renewed friendship, but re¬
turning soon after to his beloved Cleopatra, he sent back
Octavia to her brother. Antony now assumed the state
and ceremony of an Eastern prince. His invasion of Par-
thia had been attended with a severe defeat; but more for¬
tunate in Armenia, he obtained possession of the person of
king Artavasdes, and carried him to Alexandria. His arbi¬
trary conduct having at length alienated many of his friends
and supporters, Octavius seized the opportunity to accom¬
plish his ruin. They engaged in the memorable sea-fight
off Actium, on the 2d Sept. b.c. 31, when the untimely
flight of Cleopatra with the greater part of the fleet hastened
Antony s defeat. They fled together to Alexandria, where
m the following year Antony, betrayed by Cleopatra and
assailed by Octavius, put an end to his own life by falling
on his sword. See Cleopatra.
AN I ON OM ASIA, from dvT6 and ovofxa, a figure of
rhetoric by which a substitution is used for a proper name,
t may be either the employment of a patronymic, a cha-
lactenstic epithet, or the substitution of another name for
vi *nt^v^uaL Thus Homer uses “ Pelides” and
. trides for Achilles and Agamemnon; Aristotle is de¬
nominated “ the StagyritePope designates Charles XII.
and Alexander the Great “ the Swede,” and “ Macedonia’s
madman Thomson terms Charles “ the frantic Alexander
of the north.”
ANTOSIANDRIANS, a sect of rigid Lutherans, who
opposed the doctrine of Osiander relating to justification,
ihese are otherwise denominated Osiandromastiges. The
Antosiandrians deny that man is made just with that justice
wherewith God himself is just; that is, they assert that he
is not made essentially, but only imputatively, just; or, that
he is not really made just, but only pronounced so.
ANTRIM, a maritime county in the northern extremity
of Ireland, in the province of Ulster, situate between 54.26.
and 55. 12. 16. N. Lat. and 5. 47. and 6. 52. W. Long. It
comprises, according to the Ordnance survey, an area of
745,177 acres or 1164 square miles, of which 503,288 are
arable, 176,335 uncultivated, 10,358 in plantations, 1908 in
towns, and, including a portion of Lough Neagh, 53,288
under water. In addition to the above, the county with the
town of Carrickfergus contains 16,700 acres, or 26 square
miles; of which 12,483 are arable, 4088 uncultivated, and
129 in the town, making the total area of the county 761,877.
Antrim presents a considerable line of coast to the northern
Ocean, by which it is bounded on the north, and the Irish
Channel, which forms its eastern boundary ; Carrickfergus
Bay, or Belfast Lough, and the River Lagan, divide it
from the county of Down. The winding shores of Lough
Neagh and Lough Beg, together with the River Bann, form
its boundaries on the west until the River Bann touches the
liberties of Coleraine, which then complete the western
boundary. In superficial extent Antrim is exceeded by
eight other counties in Ireland, but the extensive county of
Cork alone supports a more numerous population.
In 1584-5, the county was divided by the lord-deputy,
Sir John Perrot, into eight baronies; but of late years, by
the subdivision of six of the old baronies into upper and
lower, it has been divided into fourteen baronies, viz., An¬
trim, Lower and Upper ; Belfast, Lower and Upper ; Cary
Dunluce, Lower and Upper ; Glenarm, Lower and Upper;
Kilconway, Massareene, Lower and Upper; Toome, Lower
and Upper. There are also smaller divisions, as parishes,
granges, manors, and townlands. The number of parishes,
and parts of parishes, is 75, all of which are in the diocese
of Connor, except the parish of Aghalee, in the barony of
Upper Massareene, which is in Dromore diocese. There are
seven poor-law unions in the county,—Antrim, Ballycastle,
Ballymena, Ballymoney (partly in Londonderry county), Lis¬
burn (partly in Down county), and Larne. There is a reve¬
nue police-station at Ballymoney, and 21 coast-guard stations,
with 145 officers and men. The headquarters of the con¬
stabulary force, which consists of 229 officers and men, are at
Ballymena, the county being divided into six districts. An¬
trim is in the Belfast military district, the headquarters of
which, and also of the county militia, are at Belfast. The
fishery districts are Ballycastle and Carrickfergus, comprising
121 miles of maritime boundaries, which in 1852 had 764
registered vessels, employing 2468 men and boys. The
amount of property valued under the Act 6th and 7th Will.
IV. cap. 84 (Griffith’s valuation), was L.479,934, and the net
annual value of property rated to the poor is L.702,917. The
county sends six members to the imperial parliament, two
for the shire,—constituency, in 1851, under 13th and 14th
Viet., c. 69, 8207; two for Belfast borough,—constituency
2697; and one for each of the boroughs of Carrickfergus
and Lisburn, constituencies, 720 and 188.
The assizes, formerly held at Carrickfergus, are now held
at Belfast, which has recently been proclaimed the county
town. Quarter-sessions are held at Antrim, Ballymena,
Ballymoney, Belfast, and Carrickfergus. There are three
savings-banks in the county, Belfast, Gracehill, and Lisburn,
Antosian¬
drians
Antrim.
*284
ANTRIM.
Antrim.
the deposits in which amounted in 1851 to L.l 16,424, a
- sum exceeding that deposited in the savings-bank of any
other county in Ireland except Cork. The principal towns
are—Belfast, population in 1851, 100,300; Carrickfergus,
3543; Antrim, 2324; Ballymena, 6136; Larne, 3076;
and Lisburn, 6569.
The earliest known inhabitants were of Celtic origin, and
the names of the townlands or subdivision, supposed to have
been made in the thirteenth century, are pure Celtic. In
addition to the intrusion of the Danish marauders, who in¬
fested all the eastern part of Ireland, Antrim was exposed
to the inroads of the northern Scots, who ultimately effected
permanent settlements here. The antiquities of the county
consist of cairns, mounts, or forts, remains of ecclesiastical
and military structures, and round towers. The principal
cairns are—one on Colin mountain, near Lisburn ; one on
Slieve True, near Carrickfergus; and two on Colinward.
The cromlechs most worthy of notice are one near Cairn-
grainey, to the north-east of the old road from Belfast
to Templepatrick; the large cromlech at Mount Druid,
near Ballintoy; and one at the northern extremity of
Ireland, Magee. The mounts, forts, and intrenchments,
are very numerous. There are four round towers in the
county : one at Antrim 95 feet high (of which part only is
standing), in the churchyard of Armoy, about four miles from
Ballycastle; one on Ram island in Lough Neagh 43 feet
high, a portion of which has evidently fallen ; and the frag¬
ment of one between Lisburn and Moira, near the old church
of Trummery. Of the ecclesiastical establishments enumer¬
ated by Archdall, there are some remains of those of Bona-
margy> Kells, Glenarm, Glynn, Muckamore, and White
Abbey. The noble castle of Carrickfergus, together with
some additions, is the only one in perfect preservation.
There are, however, remains of other ancient castles, of
which the most interesting is the old castle of Dunluce, re¬
markable for its great extent and romantic situation.
A large proportion of the surface of the county consists
of mountains and bogs. The mountains, occupying about
one-third of the area of the county, stretch from south to
north, terminating on the northern shore in abrupt and almost
perpendicular declivities; they attain their greatest eleva¬
tion near the coast, having a gradual descent inland, so that
many of the principal streams have their source near the sea
and flow thence into Lough Neagh. The eastern portion
ot the county is mountainous, nearly destitute of wood and
abounding in bogs, which, from their situation appear irre-
c aimable; this character also, in some measure, applies to
the northern portion, and it is computed that about 120,000
acres are incapable of improvement. On the western side
o the mountain range, the valleys expand to a considerable
width and are of great fertility, especially that of Six-mile-
water, stretching towards the town of Antrim and the beau¬
tifully undulating surface of the valley of the Lagan. As it
approaches the River Bann, the inclination of the mountain¬
ous region becomes less rapid, and is occupied by turf bogs
susceptible of improvement. In the southern part of the
barony of loome, and along the shores of Lough Nean-h
lies the most extensive level tract of well cultivated and fer¬
tile land within the county. From Belfast to Carrickfergus
and from thence to Larne between the mountain rano-e and
the sea, are tracts of very fertile land. The most remarkable
ranges of cliffs are those of perpendicular basaltic columns
(see Giants Causeway), which extend for many mile*
along the northern shore, and are most strikingly disnlaved
in Fair Head and the Giant’s Causeway.
Lough Neagh, the largest lake in the United Kingdom
and, excepting Lake Ladoga, Lake Vener, and the Lake of
Geneva, the most extensive in Europe, is principally in the
county of Antrim. It is about 20 miles in length 12 in
breadth, and 80 miles in circumference, comprising 98 2'5'U. i
statute acres, of which 50,025 are in Antrim, and the remain! 'w
der in the counties of Armagh. Down, and Londonderry Tk
greatest depth is 45 feet; and, according to the Ordnanrp
survey, it is 48 feet above the level of the sea at low water
I he lower River Bann, which is obstructed by weirs ami
rocks, being the only outlet for the waters of the lake thp
surrounding country is injuriously inundated in winter
I he waters of Lough Neagh are supposed to possess petrU
fymg powers, but it is probable that these exist in the soil
as petrifactions are only found in the lake near the shore and
are also found at considerable heights inland. It is con
nected with Belfast, Newry, and Coal Island by means of
canals. North of Lough Neagh, and connected with it bv
a narrow channel, is Lough Beg or “ the small lake,” con¬
taining 3145 acres, partly in the county of Antrim.’ This
lake is generally 15 feet lower than Lough Neagh, and con¬
tains 4 small islands, one of which, Ram Island, belongs to
Antrim. Its banks are more diversified and pleasing than
those of Lough Neagh, which, owing to the want of wood
are monotonous.
The Rivers Bann and Lagan, both of which rise in the
county of Down and form the southern and western boun¬
daries of the county of Antrim, are the only rivers of impor¬
tance. The rivers strictly belonging to the county, none
ot whch are navigable, mostly rise in the mountains near the
coast, and run into Lough Neagh. They are generally ra¬
pid streams, peculiarly valuable as furnishing water-power
for turning the numerous corn, flour, and cotton mills esta¬
blished on their banks. Surrounded by a wild and troubled
sea, about 7 miles from the northern coast off Ballycastle
lies the Island of Rathlin, 6^- miles in length and fe in
breadth, of similar basaltic and limestone formation with the
mainland in that district. It contains 3399 acres, one-
fourth of which is arable, and in 1851 was inhabited by
'83 persons, inhabiting 130 dwellings. On the northern
coast of the island are some vestiges of a castle, said to have
afforded refuge in 1306 to Robert Bruce, who, according to
the legend, learned in this place a lesson of indomitable per-
severance under difficulties, whilst observing the continued
exertions of a spider in the construction of its web.
The county of Antrim is of exceeding interest to the geo¬
logist, both on account of its peculiar character, and because
the arrangement and alternations of strata are so openly dis¬
closed as to enable the geologist to observe the secrets of
nature more closely than can be done elsewhere. The pe¬
culiarities of the county are the basaltic pillars, the whin-
dikes, stupendous walls which cut through the precipices,
and without much intermission, line the coast for a length
of neaily sixty Irish miles, the basaltic hummocks, generally
stratified, scattered over the face of the county, and of va-
lious magnitudes, from the gigantic mountain to the most
diminutive hillock.
Besides basalt, there are found limestone, gypsum, coal,
sm turbrand or fossil wood, freestone, and marble. Chalk is
not met with in any other part of Ireland. The fossil wood, or
wood-coal, in most places, as at Ballintoy and Killymorris, is
covered with columns of basalt. In burning it emits a dis¬
agreeable smell, resembling that of rotten wood. Notwith¬
standing the compressed state in which it is found, the bark
and knots are quite distinct, and the rings denoting the
annual growth of the wood may be counted. In some in-
stances the roots of the trees may be traced. Their heads
all lie to the east, and seem as if laid down by a storm. The
Antrim coal district is situated in the northern extremity of
c,?unty ’ and in point of geological position, is remark-
able from its association with the great basaltic mass which
*he characteristic of the neighbouring scenery, and
miters from all the other coal districts in Ireland, as wanting
ANT
•im. the underlying limestone, and resting directly on mica slate.
The district extends to the west and south of the magni¬
ficent promontory of Fair Head, from Ballycastle to Mur-
lough Bay. The workings at the Ballycastle collieries are
probably the oldest in the kingdom. Dr Hamilton, in his let¬
ters on the north coast of the county of Antrim, relates that,
in 1770, the miners accidentally discovered a passage cut
through the rock. It was very narrow, owing to incrus¬
tations formed on its sides. On being sufficiently widened,
some workmen went through it, and on minute examination
this subterranean wonder was found to be a complete gallery
which had been driven forward many hundred yards into the
bed of coal, branching out into thirty-six chambers, dressed
quite square, and in a workmanlike manner. Some remains
of the tools, and even of the baskets used in the work were
discovered, but in such a decayed state, that on being touched
they fell to pieces. No tradition remaining in the neigh¬
bourhood of the mine having been anciently worked, the ex¬
cavation must have been made at a very remote period.
The coal of some of the beds is bituminous, and of others
anthracitous, but the quantity now remaining in the district
is very small. Petrifactions are found in Lough Neagh, and
valuable hones are made of the petrified wood. In the white
sand on the shores of the lake are found very hard and beau¬
tiful stones, chiefly chalcedony, known by the name of Lough
Neagh peebles, susceptible of a fine polish, and often con¬
verted into seals and necklaces.
Besides the fish usually found in fresh-water lakes, the
char, a species of trout called dollagher, and the pullan, or
fresh-water herring, are found in Lough Neagh, and swans,
teals, widgeons, herons, bitterns, and several other kinds of
birds frequent its shores.
The mineral waters of the county are in the neighbour¬
hood of Antrim, Ballycastle, Belfast, Carrickfergus, and
Larne, and may be generally described as chalybeates of
various degrees of strength. No thermal springs have yet
been discovered; a circumstance the more remarkable, as
it is in the vicinity of basaltic or volcanic rocks that thermal
waters are most frequently met with. There are thick beds
of rock-salt and salt-springs near Carrickfergus. The chief
bathing-places are Ballycastle, Cushendall, Cushendun,
Glenarm, Port Ballintrae and Portrush. They are exposed
to the easterly winds prevalent in spring, but are desirable
summer residences. There is much variety of scenery in
the county from the low and somewhat monotonous shores
of Lough Neagh and the dreary bog and mountain land of
the interior, to the wild romantic scenery of the northern
coast, and the fantastically beautiful shores about Glenarm.
The climate of Antrim is very temperate, and less rain falls
than is generally supposed. The rain gauge at Belfast has
varied in different years from 20 to 35 inches. The greatest
height of the barometer between the year 1796 and 1809
was 31 inches, the lowest 28 inches. The greatest height
of the thermometer during that period was 78‘80, the lowest
25. The mean temperature of Belfast is about 50 degrees,
or one degree higher than that of London. The phenomenon
of the mirage, similar to the Fata Morgana, is often observed
in the strait which separates the island of Ilathlin from the
mainland.
In 1112 the number of dwelling-houses in the county of
Antrim was 19,268; in 1726, 18,916; in 1791 the number
was 30,314, of which 22,353 paid the tax for one hearth, and
the remainder were returned as inhabited by paupers unable
to pay. According to the population returns, the county
contained in 1813, 42,258 dwelling-houses and 231,548 in¬
habitants ; in 1821, 270,883; in 'l831, 325,615; in 1841,
354,153; and in 1851, 352,264, inhabiting 58,281 houses,
being a decrease of 1889 persons, and 1084 houses since
RIM.
• es*:a*:cs Antrim are in general freehold, being
either immediate grants from the crown, or held under those
grants. the only exceptions are the properties held under
the see of Connor. Some of the estates are very large.
The Marquises of Hertford and Donegal, and the Antrim
family, possess the fee of the greater part of the county.
Fhe estate of the first includes 11 parishes, containing
nearly 80,000 English acres. I he other chief proprietors
are Lord O’Neill, Viscount Massereene, Captain Packen-
ham, and Lord Templetown. The estate of the last is only
leasehold under the Marquis of Donegal.
The farms in Antrim are usually small, but, as in other
parts in Ireland, the number of small holdings has for se¬
veral years been steadily on the decrease. In 1851 there
were 395 holdings not exceeding 1 acre; 2443 above 1
and not exceeding 5 acres; 6996 between 5 and 15 acres ;
7220 between 15 and 30 acres; and 5796 above 30 acres,
making a total of 22,850 holdings, being 361 less than in
the previous year.
The principal feature in the tillage system of a great part
of the county is the potato fallow. The quantity of potato
land is commonly regulated by the manure that can be col¬
lected : of late years the culture of potatoes has been much
increased by the use of lime. After potatoes, wheat or oats
are sown; if the latter, two or three crops are successively
taken. When the ground is exhausted, potatoes are again
planted, or the land is suffered to rest for a year or two,
until it is covered with natural grass, in which state it is
termed lea. The sowing of wheat is chiefly confined to the
baronies of Belfast, Antrim, and Massereene.
Flax is also sown after potatoes, except in the lower or
northern part of the county, and its cultivation is largely on
the increase, although it still forms but a small proportion in
the general crop. In 1847 the land in the county under
the flax crop was 2516 acres, and in 1851, 11,912. The
cultivation of wheat, oats, and barley is decreasing, whilst
the culture of potatoes and other green crops, meadow and
clover land and flax, increases annually. The export of flax
from Belfast was in 1850, 1457 tons; in 1851, 4001 tons,
and in 1852, 6258 tons, whilst the import of foreign flax
has decreased owing to the greatly increased cultivation of
flax in Ireland. The extent of land under crops in 1847
was 202,888 acres, and in 1851, 227,453 acres, being an
increase of 12 per cent, in four years. In 1851 the number
of acres under the several species of crop was as follows :—
wheat, 9938; oats, 98,594; barley, 1397; beans, 4614;
potatoes, 41,013; turnips, 13,302; mangel-wurzel, and
other green crops not previously enumerated 2806; flax,
11,912 ; meadow and clover, 52,272. The total produce of
corn, beans, and pease in 1851 was 78,779 tons, being a de¬
crease of 17,123 tons since 1847 ; and the number of barrels
of potatoes grown in 1851 amounted to 1,746,510, being
the largest quantity produced in any county in Ireland ex¬
cepting the four counties of Cork, Down, Mayo, and Tip¬
perary. The minute subdivision of the land somewhat re¬
tards the progress of improvement in agriculture and agri¬
cultural implements.
There is now but little natural wood in the county. The
woods of Portmore and Glenarm have long since yielded to
the axe; and the extensive plantings at Antrim, Temple-
patrick, Ballyclare, and Clementshill, have shared a similar
fate. Many thriving plantations of trees have, however, been
planted of late years near noblemen and gentlemen’s seats,
which already add much to the appearance of the face of
the country. The plantations of Lord O’Neill at Shanes-
castle and Claggan, and those of the late Lord Macartney
near Lochguile, are the most extensive. On the Hertford
estate, near Lough Neagh, many orchards are planted.
The cattle of Antrim have no feature to distinguish them
Antrim.
286 ANT
Antrim, as being allied to any particular stock. Of late years, con-
siderable attention has been paid by gentlemen farmers to
the improvement of the breed, by crossing with the Dutch,
Leicester, and Ayrshire cattle, which is said to have im¬
proved much those kept for milk, and large quantities of
butter are annually exported from Belfast. Sheep are little
attended to, and are mostly of an inferior kind. Few goats
are kept, and those chiefly by cottagers. Pigs are reared
and kept in considerable numbers, and on these the small
farmers and cotters depend chiefly to make up their rents ;
so that it is not uncommon to find from two to eight or ten
of these animals about a farmer’s house. During the salting
season, which may be said to commence in September and
end in May, the number brought to market is very large. In
1851, the live-stock in the county consisted of 27,673 horses,
450 mules and asses, 131,818 cattle, 42,361 sheep, 43,528
pigs, 1054 deer, 1609 goats, and 237,059 poultry, of the
total value of L.1,186,762.
Antrim has long been distinguished for its linen manu¬
facture, which may still be considered the staple manufac¬
ture of the county. It is a peculiarity of this occupation
that it does not remove the peasant from the comforts and
healthiness of rural life. In Antrim the weaver and the
labourer of the soil are united in the same person. Many
weavers have small farms, and only employ themselves in
weaving during the intervals of their farming occupations ;
and almost all who pursue this occupation possess gardens and
ground for potatoes. Formerly the wages for weaving a fine
web varied from 14s. to 20s., but the rate is now much less,
and consequently many weavers have become day labourers.
I he price of linen yarn, which formerly sold at lOd. or Is.
per hank, is now much reduced. This is in a great mea¬
sure owing to the spinning of flax by machinery, which of
late years has much increased. In 1841 there were about
240,000 spindles in operation, and now upwards of 500,000
are employed. The quantity of linen yarn exported from
Belfast in 1852 was 6,679,680 lb. in 5963 bales, being an
increase of 1962 or 2,185,440 lb. over the quantity expoi’ted
in 1850.
Cotton spinning by jennies was first introduced in 1777,
by Robert Joy and Thomas M‘Cabe of Belfast, under the
direction of a female spinner from Glasgow, and in 1800 it
M as computed that upwards of 13,000 people were directly
employed in the cotton manufacture, and including others
indirectly employed, the number was estimated at 27,000,
within a circuit of ten miles, comprehending the towns of
Belfast, Lisburn, and Carrickfergus. For many years alter
the introduction of the trade, the greater part of the yarn
used for warps, and much of the weft yarn, was imported
from Manchester or Scotland, but of late years cotton yarn
ms been exported from Belfast. The cotton manufacture
has not increased of late years in Antrim.
A gieat source of employment for females has latterly
sprung UP in the working of patterns on muslin with the
needle. Belfast is the centre of this trade, hut large num¬
bers of females are employed in various parts of Ireland
in the production of these sewed muslins, and the gross
value of the goods, when manufactured, amounts to about
L.1,400,000. 1 here are also extensive paper-mills in the
county, and various manufactures in connection with the
trade of the district. The exports are linen, linen yarn, all
kinds of grain, pork, bacon, hams, beef, butter, eggs, lard,
potatoes, soap, and candles.
There are extensive salmon-fisheries at Carrick-a-Rede,
near Balintoy, along the coast north of Glenarm, and in
the Rivers Bann and Bush. These fish frequent the other
rivers of the county except the Lagan. All the rivers
abound with eels, which are chiefly taken at weirs in the
River Bann, where they are very plentiful.
ANT
Antrim has been supposed to contain a greater propor- Ant'
tion of Protestants than any other county in Ireland; and n |iini
of the Protestants a very great proportion are Presbyterians Antwwp.
The greater part of these are in connection with the o-ene-
ral Synod of Ulster, the others are Remonstrants, who Sepa¬
rated from the Synod in 1829—United Presbyterians, Cove¬
nanters, Independents; and at Gracehill, near Ballymena
there is a Moravian settlement. In several parishes, how¬
ever, a decided majority are Roman Catholics.
The number of children attending schools in 1841 was
in rudimental schools, males 9737, females, 7743 ; in supe¬
rior schools, males, 794, females, 448; total, 18,722. In
1851 there were 339 national schools in operation, attended
by 28,763 children, 15,746 males, and 13,017 females.
The educational establishments in Belfast are numerous and
well conducted, including the Belfast Academy, the Royal
Academical Institution, the Lancasterian or Ragged Schools
the National Schools, the Ulster Institution for the Deaf
and Dumb and the Blind, the Educational and Industrial
School, the Queen’s College, and the Government School
of Design.
The character of the people of Antrim reveals their Scot¬
tish origin. They have not the devotion to pleasure and
sociality which is observable in other portions of the island,
wanting in consequence some of the southern polish, but com¬
pensating in depth and solidity for any deficiency in superfi¬
cial qualities.
Antrim, a town of Ireland, in the county of the same
name, situated half a mile from Lough Neagh, on the banks
of the Six-mile-water, in one of the most fertile and beauti¬
ful valleys of the county, 13 miles north-west of Belfast, and
106 north of Dublin. It gives the title of earl to the noble
family of MacDonnell, and prior to the Union was a pot¬
walloping borough, returning two members to Parliament by
virtue of letters patent, granted to the inhabitants in 1666,
by Charles II. It was under the patronage of the Skeffington
family.
Although much improved of late years, there is no¬
thing in the town particularly worthy of notice ; but the en¬
virons, including Shane’s castle and the grounds of Mas-
sareene castle, possess considerable interest. About a mile
from the town, surrounded by wood, above which rises its
gray conical head, is one of the most perfect of the round
towers of Ireland. It is 95 feet high, and 49 in circumfer¬
ence at the base. Markets are held each Tuesday and
Thursday, and fairs on January 1, May 12, and November
12. In 1851 the town contained 504 dwelling-houses, and
2324 inhabitants. The manufacture of paper has been car¬
ried on here for many years, and there are flour and meal
mills near the town. The Belfast and Ballymena railway
passes a short distance from the north of the town. On the
7th of June 1798 a smart action was fought in the town be¬
tween the king’s troops and a large body of rebels, in which
the latter were defeated. In this action Lord O’Neill was
mortally wounded by a pike. (h. S—R.)
ANTWERP (in French, Anyers), one of the provinces
of the kingdom of Belgium, is bounded on the north by North
Brabant, on the east by Limburg, on the south by South
Brabant, and on the west by Zealand and East Flanders.
It contains 824 geographical square miles, or 283,311 hec¬
tares, equal to 7 70,924 English imperial acres, and is divided
into 3 arrondissements, 22 cantons, and 146 communes.
The province is an extensive plain scarcely diversified by
an elevation. 1 he arable land, which contains a great pro¬
portion of sand, is very fertile, but a considerable part of the
country is morass and heath, particularly in the north and
east. 1 he population in the beginning ofT851 amounted to
420,556. &
Antwerp, one of the three arrondissements of the above
Anfcerp. province, comprehends 7 cantons and 57 communes. In
—1851 it had a population of 199,891.
Antwerp, the capital of the above arrondissement and
province, is situated on the right bank of the river Schelde,
26 miles north of Brussels, in Lat. 51. 13. 16. N. Long.
4.24.10. E. The city is well built, in the form of a crescent,
containing many fine streets and squares, and is fortified.
The houses are large and handsome, and some of its public
buildings are of great splendour and antiquity. The citadel,
a strong pentagonal structure, was built by the Duke of
Alva in 1567, and is celebrated in recent times for the de¬
fence made here by General Chasse in the end of the year
1832. One of the most beautiful specimens of Gothic
architecture in the Netherlands is the cathedral of Notre
Dame, founded in the early part of the fifteenth century,
but not finished till the sixteenth : it is 500 feet long, 250
feet wide, and has a spire 403 feet high. Nor is the inte¬
rior inferior in grandeur to the exterior ; besides other pic¬
tures it possesses several by Rubens, one of which is the cele¬
brated “ Descent from the Cross.” The church of St James
is also very splendid in its internal decorations of marbles,
painted glass, carved wood, and monuments. Behind the
high altar, and covered by a slab of white marble, is the
tomb of Rubens, by whom the “ Holy Family” which
adorns the altar was painted. Sir Joshua Reynolds ob¬
serves, that for effect of colour this picture yields to none
of Rubens’s works. The churches of St Paul, St Andrew,
and St Augustine, likewise contain some fine paintings by
Rubens and others of the old masters. The exchange, built
in 1531, is one of the finest buildings of the kind in Europe;
and is said to have been chosen by Sir Thomas Gresham
as a model for the Royal Exchange in London. The town-
house is a handsome edifice in the Italian style, and ex¬
hibits the five orders of architecture, one over the other.
Antwerp contains many educational and literary institutions.
It has a Royal Athenaeum, in which most of the usual
branches of literature and science are taught, a higher
school, schools of navigation, medicine, and surgery, a
botanic garden, a public library, and various scientific and
literary societies. It has also a Royal Academy of the Fine
Arts, which affords gratuitous instruction in painting, sculp¬
ture, architecture, and engraving. At the competition
which takes place in one of these arts annually, the laureate
receives a pension of 2500 francs for four years, to enable
him to pursue his studies in Germany, France, and Italy.
1 he second prize is a gold medal of the value of 300 francs.
Among the numerous works in the Academy of Painting,
are 12 or 14 fine pictures by Rubens, 6 by Vandyck, and
several by Titian, Teniers, Jordaens, Quentin Matsys, and
other masters. T he charitable institutions include a foun¬
dation for foundlings, besides several other hospitals and asy¬
lums, courts of assize, commerce, &c.
Antwerp enjoys many facilities for commerce. The
Schelde at this point is about 2200 feet broad, with a depth
of from 30 to 40 feet at ebb tide, and a rise at spring tides of
from 12 to 14 feet; and as this depth increases towards the
sea, the largest vessels can, by means of the canals, come up
to the wharfs. 1 he advantageous situation of Antwerp did
not escape the penetrating eye of Napoleon, who spared no
labour or expense to render it the rival of London in com-
moice, and of Portsmouth as a military establishment. The
sums expended by him for this purpose are said to have
amounted to L.2,000,000 sterling, which he declared to be
nothing to what he intended. On the downfall of Napoleon,
ie dockyard, with its fortifications, was destroyed; but two
ai tee asms on the north side of the town, of the respective
areas of 17 and 7 English acres, have been preserved. They
are capable of admitting ships of the line ; and as commer¬
cial docks they are now of the greatest service to trade and
navigation. The junction of this city with Brussels by a rail¬
way, which was opened in 1836, has been of great advantage
to both cities. In 1850 the number of ships that entered its
harbour was 1406, of the aggregate burthen of233,760 tons;
and the number that left the port was 1456, with the gross
burden of 242,884 tons. The imports are principally coffee,
grain, seeds, raw sugar, cotton, tobacco, and colonial pro¬
duce; the exports are flax, woollen goods, refined sugar, me-
tals, glass, and tallow. It has regular steam-communication
with London and Hull.
The manufactures of Antwerp are various and consider¬
able, the principal being lace, silk, linen, cotton, tapestry, gal¬
loon, twine, sugar, white lead, litmus, starch, printers’ink, and
malt liquors. The lapidaries of Antwerp are celebrated for
their skill in cutting diamonds. The shipbuilding is consi¬
derable, and the timber used for that purpose is principally
brought by water from the interior. The National Bank of
Belgium has a branch here.
Antwerp, according to the general census of 15th Octo¬
ber 1846, contained 13,626 houses, and 88,487 inhabitants,
of whom 85,961 were Roman Catholics, 1312 Protestants,
and the remainder either Jews, or belonging to other sects.
The greater number of the inhabitants speak Flemish or
Dutch. According to the above census 81,947 spoke Flem¬
ish or Dutch, and 3915 French, or Walloon. The number of
births during the year 1850 was 3250, of whom 144 were
still-born ; the deaths amounted to 1914 ; and the popula¬
tion, in the beginning of 1851, was 95,501.
The present commercial condition and importance of
Antwerp is far inferior to what it was several centuries ago.
About the end of the fifteenth century it was the richest
and most flourishing city in Europe. No fewer than 500
ships would sometimes enter the port in one day, and as
many as 2500 vessels might be seen lying in the river at
one time. On an average, 500 waggons laden with goods
daily entered its gates ; and above 500,000,000 of guilders
were annually put in circulation. It had then 200,000 in¬
habitants ; and indeed all that is said of its commercial pros¬
perity and the immense riches of its merchants, is almost
incredible. The first blow to its prosperity was its capture
by the Spaniards in 1576, when it was plundered for three
days; and nine years afterwards, when besieged and ulti¬
mately captured by the Spaniards under the Duke of Par¬
ma, its trade was utterly ruined. After this event the
greater number of its merchants and principal inhabitants
removed to Amsterdam or other places. The Dutch, with
the view to lessen the importance of a place which had now
fallen into the hands of their enemies, built ports on the
river in order to intercept such vessels as might attempt to
get to Antwerp. By the terms of the peace of Westphalia
in 1648, the commerce of its harbour was closed. In 1794
it fell into the hands of the French, who opened its port,
and made it the capital of the department of the two Nethes.
It remained in their possession till 1814, when it was sur¬
rendered, after the treaty of Paris, by Carnot, who up to
this time had defended it with great spirit and bravery
against the allied army under the command of Graham.
From 1815 to 1830, Antwerp, with the rest of Belgium,
united with Holland to form the kingdom of the Nether¬
lands; and during this period its commerce increased so
rapidly as to excite the jealousy of Amsterdam. For the
part which Antwerp bore in the revolution of 1830, which
dissolved the union between Holland and Belgium, see
Netherlands.
Among the distinguished natives of the place are Van¬
dyck, the two Teniers, Jordaens, Floris, the geographer
Ortelius, and the engraver Edelinck. Here Rubens also,
though not a native, received his education, and resided.
ANUBIS, a symbolical deity of the Egyptians, was re-
288 A N U
Anubis. garded as the faithful companion of Osiris and of Isis.
Temples and priests were consecrated to him, and his image
was borne in all religious ceremonies. Cynopolis, situated
in the Lower Thebais, was built in honour of Anubis. The
temple in which he was worshipped, and where his festivals
were celebrated with great pomp by the priests, no longer
exists. The dog was consecrated to him as his living re¬
presentative ; and a number of these animals were kept in
the temple, and fed upon sacred aliment. Strabo, in his 17th
Book, speaks of the worship of Anubis in the Cynopolitan
nome and city, “ where honour and a certain sacred food is
allotted to dogs.” An event, however, related by Plutarch,
brought them into considerable discredit with the people :—
Cambyses having slain the god Apis, and thrown his body
into a field, all animals respected it except these, which
alone ate of his flesh. Recent investigation, and the study
of Egyptian sculptures, seem to prove that the head on the
human shoulders of Anubis are not those of any domestic
dog, but of the jackal.—See Wilkinson’s Egypt. Anubis
was recognised by the Greeks as a character of Hermes.
Cynopolis was not the only city which burned incense
on the altars of Anubis. He had chapels in almost all the
temples. In solemnities, his image always accompanied
those of Isis and Osiris. Rome having adopted the cere¬
monies of Egypt, the Emperor Commodus, to celebrate the
Isiac feasts, shaved his head, and himself carried the god
Anubis. The statue of this god was either of massive gold
or gilt, as well as the attributes that accompanied him. Anu¬
bis signifies gilded. The denomination was mysterious ;
and the Egyptian priests, it would seem, had not given it
without reason.
The signification of this emblematical deity is thus ex¬
plained by Plutarch : “ The circle which touches and sepa¬
rates the two hemispheres, and which is the cause of this
division, receiving the name of horizon, is called Anubis.
He is represented under the form of a dog, because that
animal watches day and night.” Clemens of Alexandria,
who was well informed in the mystic theology of the Egyp¬
tians, favours this explanation. “ The two dogs,” says that
writer, “ are the symbols of two hemispheres which environ
the terrestrial globe.” He adds in another place,—“ others
pretend that these animals, the faithful guardians of men, in¬
dicate the tropics, which guard the sun on the south and on
the north, like porters.”
According to the former of these interpretations the
priests, regarding Anubis as the horizon, gilded his statue,
to mark that this circle, receiving the first rays of the sun,
appears sparkling with brightness on his rising, and that at
his setting he reflects his last rays upon the earth. They
said, in their sacred fables, that Anubis was the son of
Osiris, but illegitimate. In fact, he only gives to the earth
a borrowed light, and cannot be esteemed, like Horus, as
the father of the day, or as the legitimate offspring of Osiris.
It may be added, that the visible horizon, turning with the
sun, is his inseparable companion.
In the latter of these explanations, where Anubis repre¬
sents the tropics, he is also the faithful guardian of Isis and
Osiris. In fact, the course of the sun and of the moon is
contained between the circles wherein the solstices are per¬
formed. They deviate neither to the right nor left. These
limits, assigned by the Author of nature, might therefore,
in hieroglyphic language, be represented by a divinity with
the head of a dog, who seemed to oppose the passage on the
side of the two poles. The other opinion, notwithstanding,
seems more natural, and more analogous to the ideas of the
priests.
Upon the whole, it is reasonable to imagine that Anubis
at first was only a symbolical image, invented by astrono¬
mers to give a sensible expression of their discoveries ; that
ANY
afterwards the people, accustomed to see it in their temples Anvil
which were the depositories of science, adored it as a deity - W
and that the priests favoured their ignorance by connecting ^
it with their religion. The worship of Anubis being intro¬
duced, the dog became his emblem. Almost all the gods of
the Gentiles have originated in this manner.
ANVIL, in Smithery, and other manufactures of the
malleable metals, is an instrument on which substances are
laid for the purpose of being hammered.
Eor some purposes anvils are made of cast iron; but
when the face of the anvil is required to possess great hard¬
ness, or a bright surface, it is made of wrought iron and
faced with steel. The core or body of wrought-iron anvils
is prepared at the forge, where malleable iron is first formed
into bars, or into masses for any particular purpose. The
body of the anvil is formed by welding a number of smaller
masses together under the forge-hammer. These are rude
blocks of different sizes, according to the size of the anvil.
Smaller masses are also furnished in this way, which the
anvil-maker occasionally welds to the large blocks, for giving
to the anvil any particular form.
The fire-place or hearth of the anvil-maker’s forge is
similar to the common smith’s forge. His bellows are not
double, like the latter. His fuel is cork, which produces a
great heat without much flame. Adjacent to the hearth is
a crane, which, turning upon a pivot, brings the heated
masses of iron from the fire to the anvil. The latter is a
large mass of cast metal, about 18 inches square on the face,
and about a foot from the ground. When the core of the
anvil to be formed is heated, the first thing is to make three
square holes, one in the bottom, and one at each end of the
anvil. These holes are about 1^ inch long, 1 inch broad,
and about 2 inches deep. They are for the purpose of re¬
ceiving a bar of iron, which is connected with the crane by
which the anvil is held in the fire, and by which it is turned
and guided while forming with the hammers.
The common smith’s anvil is generally made of seven
pieces, namely, the core or body; the four corners, for the
purpose of enlarging its base; the projecting end, which
contains a square hole, for the reception of a set, or chisel,
to cut off pieces of iron ; and the seventh piece is the beak,
or conical end, used for turning pieces of iron into a circular
form, welding hoops, &c. These pieces are each separately
welded to the core, and hammered so as to form a regular
surface with the whole. When large pieces are required to
be welded to the core, one fire is not sufficient to heat both
at the same time. In this case two hearths are employed.
The core and the piece are both raised to a welding heat.
The piece being put into its place, is hammered by a quick
succession of blows till it adheres. The whole is again heated
and hammered till the due form is obtained. The hammer¬
ing is performed by a number of men at the same time, each
using a large swing-hammer. The blows follow each other
in regular succession, great experience and care being re¬
quired to prevent the hammers from coming in contact with
each other.
When the anvil has received its due form, it then requires
to be faced with steel. This is performed by first prepar¬
ing the steel face to the size of the anvil. The anvil is then
heated to a strong welding heat in one fire, while the steel
facing is heated in another, but not so hot as the iron. The
anvil is now brought out and placed in a proper position, and
the facing is brought to it. The surfaces which are to be
brought together are brushed, and the facing is then laid on
and hammered as rapidly as possible, till it is closely united.
The whole is finished by repeated heating and hammering.
The next process is that of hardening the anvil. This
consists in heating the face, in particular, to a full red heat,
and quenching it in cold w ater. When a stream of water
ANY
ANY
289
Anvle. can be employed it is better. Where this cannot be had,
^^ the mass of water should be great, and the anvil moved about
as quickly as possible. The facing should be laid on as thin
as it can be firmly welded; when it is too thick it is apt to
crack in the hardening.
After hardening, the face is ground till it is perfectly
even, and the edges made sharp or round, as may be re¬
quired. When the anvil is required for planishing metals,
it is polished with emery, and afterwards with crocus.
The smith’s anvil is generally placed loose upon a wooden
block, the root-end of an oak-tree being preferred. The
anvils used in cutlery and for files are fastened into a large
block of stone, which is doubtless better than having the
anvil loose upon a small block. The more firmly the anvil
is connected with the earth and the substances it stands
upon, the greater will be the effect of the blow of the ham¬
mer. (c. S—R.)
ANVILLE, Jean Baptiste Bourguignon d’, a French
geographer of the highest eminence, and perhaps unsurpassed
in any age. This celebrated man was born at Paris on the
11th of July 1697. His passion for geographical research
displayed itself from his earliest years. At the age of 12,
while reading the Latin authors at college, he amused him¬
self with drawing maps of the countries which they described.
While he was thus busily employing himself one day in the
class, his master observed and was about to punish him ; but
upon casting his eye upon the performance, he immediately
judged him to be rather deserving of encouragement. D’An-
ville from this time devoted himself entirely to geography,
particularly that of the ancient world ; and at the age of 22
he began to delineate maps which attracted the attention of
the most eminent geographers.
There are two modes by which problems in geography
may be solved; one mathematically, by astronomical obser¬
vation or geometrical measurement; the other historically,
by the distances of places inferred from the narrative of his¬
torians and travellers. The former is certainly the most
satisfactory, and would supersede every other, could it be
extended over the whole surface of the globe. But, not¬
withstanding the splendid progress made since the era of
D’Anville, it is still far from such a degree of perfection.
In all countries the bulk of the positions must be filled up,
and in some the whole must be constructed from mere his¬
torical materials. Perhaps there is no department of science
which requires greater extent of knowledge and accuracy of
judgment. The variety of sources out of which the mate¬
rials must be drawn is almost infinite ; and their application
is equally nice and difficult. It must be regulated by a com¬
plete acquaintance with all the modes of measurement used
by all nations ; by a careful notice of those errors and con¬
tradictions which naturally arise from a partial and limited
observation ; and by the marking of certain delicate pro¬
cesses in the human mind, by which space and distance are
sometimes diminished, and more frequently exaggerated.
In the skilful geographer, sound natural judgment, en¬
lightened by experience, creates, as it were, a new sense,
which enables him to see consistency amid a labyrinth of
contradictions, and to elicit truth from a multitude of state¬
ments that are all erroneous. This art may be said to have
originated with D’Anville, and to have been brought by him
to its highest perfection.
1 he course of study on which D’Anville entered was
truly immense. Works professedly geographical formed the
least part of it; those of all the ancient and modern histo¬
rians, travellers, narrators of every description, were assidu¬
ously examined. He studied, but only for the sake of the
occasional geographical lights which they afforded, the phi¬
losophers, orators, and poets; for it was remarked that in
perusing these masterpieces of human genius, he was totally
vol. m.
indifferent to everything which did not tend to fix a geo - Anville.
graphical position. The object of this immense labour was
to effect a complete reform in the science of geography; to
banish the system of copying blindly from preceding maps,
and never to fix a single position without a careful exami¬
nation of all the authorities upon which it rested. By this
process he detected many and great errors in the works of
his most celebrated predecessors, while his own accuracy
was soon attested on all sides by the travellers and mariners
who had taken his works as their guide. His principles led
him also to another innovation, which was that of omitting
every name for which there existed no sufficient authority.
The public were at first amazed at seeing vast spaces, which
had before been covered with countries and cities, suddenlv
reduced to a perfect blank; but they soon recognised that
this was the only accurate course, and that the defect lay in
the science, not in the geographer.
D’Anville was at first employed in the humbler task of
illustrating by maps the works of different travellers, such as
Marchais, Charlevoix, Labat, and Duhalde. The question re¬
specting the figure of the earth coming to be much agitated,
he published, in 1735 and 1736, two treatises, with a view
to illustrate it. But this attempt to solve a geometrical
problem by historical materials was eminently unsuccessful.
Maupertius having gone to measure a degree within the
polar circle, the result was found directly opposite to our
geographer’s prediction. This, however, was considered by
the intelligent public rather as fixing limits to his mode of
investigation, than as implying any want of diligence and
ability in its employment.
Any loss of reputation which this failure might occasion
was completely retrieved by his map of Italy, published in
1743. It was marked by a species of investigation often
employed by D’Anville with peculiar success. This consisted
in the application of ancient materials to correct the existing
geography. By the diligent study of the Latin authors he
was enabled to trace numerous errors which had crept into
the delineation of this interesting country. A trigono¬
metrical survey which Pope Benedict XIV. almost imme-
, diately after caused to be made in the Ecclesiastical States
confirmed, in a surprising degree, all these alterations. On
this occasion he first set the example, which cannot be too
much applauded, of accompanying the map with a memoir
exhibiting a view of the data on which it had been con¬
structed.
He now applied himself to ancient geography, always his
favourite department, and the aspect of which, under his
hands, was soon completely changed. He illustrated suc¬
cessively, by maps, all the countries known to the ancients,
among which Egypt attracted his peculiar attention. To
render these labours more extensively useful, he published
in 1768 an Abridgment of Ancient Geography. His at¬
tention was finally turned to the middle ages, which were
illustrated by his Stales formed in Europe after the fall of
the Western Empire, and by some other works equally
learned. Entirely devoted to geographical inquiries, the
appearance of his successive publications formed the only
events by which his life was diversified. From causes which
are not explained, he was late in being admitted into the
literary societies. In 1754, at the age of 60, he became a
member of the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres,
whose transactions he enriched with many papers. In 1775
he received the only place in the Academy of Sciences
which is allotted to geography; and in the same year he
was appointed, without solicitation, first geographer to the
king. But these honours came too late to gladden a life
which was now drawing to its utmost verge. His last em¬
ployment consisted in arranging his collection of maps, plans,
and geographical materials. It was the most extensive in
2 O
290
Anwari
Aosta.
AOS
Europe, and bad been purchased by the king, who, however,
left him the use of it during his life. This task performed, he
sunk into a total imbecility both of mind and body, which con¬
tinued for two years, and ended only with his death in January
1782, when he had nearly reached the great age of 85.
D’Anville, with the qualities which form the great geogra¬
pher, united all the essentials of an honourable and worthy
character. The advancement of the science to which he
had devoted himself formed almost the sole passion of his
life ; and, mingling little with society, he conti acted pecu¬
liarities which solitary study is but too apt to engender. lie
talked with little interest on any subject except geography.
This topic necessarily led to that of his own discoveries, on
which he was never weary of expatiating. He boasted with¬
out any reserve of the services which he had rendered to that
science, using not unfrequently the expression of Augustus,
“ I found it of brick and left it of marble.” He, however,
did full justice to the merit of those who excelled in other
branches of knowledge ; and to such as furnished him with
materials for his researches his gratitude was unbounded. His
published memoirs and dissertations amounted to 78, and his
maps to 211. (n. m.)
ANWARI, a very eminent Persian poet, born of poor
parents in Khorassan early in the twelfth century. He enjoyed
the especial favour of the Sultan Sandjar, whom he attended
in all his warlike expeditions. On one occasion, when the
sultan was besieging a rebellious vassal in the fbi tress of
Hazarasp, a fierce poetical conflict was maintained between
Anwari and his old rival Rasheedi the poet, who was an in¬
mate of the beleaguered castle, by means of verses fastened
to arrows. Anwari died at Balkh in the year 1200. He is
considered as one of the best and purest of the Persian poets.
His chief work, The Tears of Khorassan, has been translated
into English verse by Captain Kirkpatrick, in the Asiatic
Miscellany.
ANWE1LER, or Annweiler, the capital of the canton
of the same name, in the district of Landau in Rhenish Ba¬
varia. Population 2800, employed in various manufactures.
Near it are the ruins of the castle of Triefels, where, under
the French emperors of Germany, the crown jewels were
kept, and where our Richard Cceur de Lion, in 1193, was
detained as a prisoner. Lat. 49. 13. N. Long. 8. E.
ANZIN, a village of France, department of Nord, close
to Valenciennes. Its coal mines, which are the most exten¬
sive in France, were discovered in 1734, and gave employ¬
ment to 16,000 persons. It has also several iron foundries
and glass works. Pop. in 1846, 3132.
AORIST, from a, priv., and opos, a boundary, in Gram¬
mar, a tense peculiar to the Greek language, expressing ac¬
tion in an indeterminate manner, without any regard to past,
present, or future.
AORISTIA,in the Sceptic Philosophy, denotes that state
of the mind wherein we neither assert nor deny anything
positively, but only speak of things as seeming or appearing
to us in such a manner. The aoristia is one of the great
points of scepticism to which the philosophers of that deno¬
mination had continual recourse by way of explication or sub¬
terfuge. Their adversaries the dogmatists charged them
with dogmatizing, and asserting the principles and positions
of their sect to be true and certain.
AOSTA, formerly a duchy of Piedmont, but now a pro¬
vince of the kingdom of Sardinia, lying south of Valais and
east of Savoy. It has an area of 1025 geographical square
miles, and in 1848 contained 81,232 inhabitants. The
country is in general mountainous; but there are several
valleys of great extent, particularly the Val d'Aosta. By
the industry of the inhabitants these low grounds are very
fruitful in wine, oil, and pasture; and the mountains abound
in iron and copper.
A P A
Aosta, the chief town of the foregoing duchy, and the Aosta
see of a bishop. It is situated on the river Doria, at the II
foot of the Alps, where the great commercial roads from ^Pathy.
Savoy and the Valais to Piedmont, over the Great and Little
St Bernard, meet each other. The town, though large, is
meanly built. It is remarkable for several monuments of the
Romans, and for being the birthplace of Anselm, archbishop
of Canterbury. Long. 7. 20. E. Lat. 45. 44. N. Pop. 7120.
AP/EDUSIA (a, priv., and -n-ouSevio, I instruct), denotes
ignorance or unskilfulness in what relates to learning and the
sciences. Hence also persons uninstructed and illiterate are
called apcedeutce. The term apcedeutcc was particularly used
among the French in the time of Huet, when the men of wit
at Paris were divided into two factions, one called by way of
reproach apeedeutee, and the other eruditi. The apcedeutce
are represented by Huet as persons who, finding themselves
either incapable or unwilling to undergo a severe course of
study in order to become truly learned, conspire to decry
learning, and turn the knowledge of antiquity into ridicule,
thus making a merit of their own incapacity. The apcedeutce
in fact were the men of pleasure, the eruditi the men of
study. The apcedeutce in everything preferred the modern
writers to the ancient, to supersede the necessity of study¬
ing the latter. The eruditi derided the moderns, and valued
themselves wholly on their acquaintance with the ancients.
APAGOGE, in 3Iathematics, is sometimes used to de¬
note a progress or passage from one proposition to another,
when the first, having been once demonstrated, is afterwards
employed in the proving of others.
APAGOGICAL Demonstration, an indirect way of
proof, by showing the absurdity of the contrary.
APAGON, a genus of fossil fishes, in the Cycloid Order
of Agassiz.
APAGYNOUS (from cwraf and yov-rj), a term applied to
plants that fructify but once. It is the same as Monocarpic.
APALACHIAN MOUNTAINS. See Allegany
Mountains.
APAMEA, in Ancient Geography, the name of several
Asiatic cities:—1. A large city of Syria, capital of Apamene,
in the valley of the Orontes. In the time of the Crusades, it
was called Famieh, and is supposed to be represented by the
extensive ruins at Kulat-el-Mudyk. 2. A city on the Tigris,
probably near its confluence with the Euphrates, where the
modern Korna now stands. 3. In Osroene, on the left bank
of the Euphrates, opposite to Zeugma. 4. The name given
to Myrlea of Bithynia, by Prusias L, who rebuilt it. Its
ruins lie near Medania. 5. A town of Phrygia, the site of
which is fixed at Denair. 6. A Greek city of Parthia, in
the district of Choarene.
APANAGE {Apanagium, Apanamentum, and probably
derived frompanis, or panaggio, provision), lands or feudal
superiorities assigned to the younger princes of a reigning
family. The apanage descended to the lawful heirs-male;
and in their default it reverted to the crown. It was cus¬
tomary for the sons of princes to derive their surnames from
the apanage.—See Pasquier’s Recherches, 1.2, c. 18; 1. 8,
c. 20. Henault’s Hist, de France, anno 1283.
APATHY, among the Ancient Philosophers, implied an
utter privation of passion, and an insensibility of pain. The
word is compounded of a, priv., and 7rdf?os, affection. The
Stoics affected an entire apathy: they considered it as the
highest wisdom to enjoy a perfect calmness or tranquillity
of mind, incapable of being ruffled by either pleasure or pain.
In the first ages of the church the Christians adopted the
term apathy to express a contempt for all earthly concerns,
a state of mortification such as the gospel prescribes. Cle¬
mens Alexandrinus, in particular, brought it greatly into use;
thinking thereby to draw to Christianity the philosophers who
aspired after such a sublime pitch of virtue.
APE
Apatite APATITE, a mineral often crj^stallised in six-sided
II prisms. It is a phosphate of lime. See Mineralogy.
Apelles. APATURIA, in Antiquity, a solemn feast celebrated by
—^ the Athenians in honour of Bacchus. The word is usually
derived from airdvr], fraud. It is said to have been insti¬
tuted in memory of a fraudulent victory obtained by Melan-
thus of Messenia, over Xanthus, king of Boeotia, in a single
combat, which they agreed upon to put an end to a debate
between the Athenians and Boeotians respecting their fron¬
tiers.
Other authors give a different etymology of this feast.
They tell us that the young Athenians were not admitted in¬
to the tribes on the third day of the apaturia, till their fathers
had first sworn that they were their own children; and that
till that time they were supposed in some measure to be with¬
out fathers, cbraTopes; whence the feast, say they, took its
name. Xenophon, on the other hand, informs us that the rela¬
tions and friends met on this occasion, and joined with the
fathers of the young people who were to be received into
the tribes; and that from this assembly the feast took its name;
that in dirarovpLa, the a, far from being a privative, being here
a conjunctive, signifies the same thing with dya, together.
This feast lasted three days: the first day those of the same
tribe made merry together; and this they called Sopma.
The second day, which they called dvdppvcn?, they sacrificed
to Zeus and Athena. The third day, which they called
Koupewris, such of their children as had not been registered
were admitted into their tribes. The following day, as in
other festivals, was called im/SSa.
APAULIA, in Greek Antiquity, the third day of a mar¬
riage solemnity. It was thus called because the bride, re¬
turning to her father’s house, lodged apart from the bride¬
groom (aTvavXL^crQai tov vvjjfiLov). Some will have the apau-
lia to have been the second day of the marriage, viz., that
whereon the chief ceremony was performed; thus called by
way of contradistinction from the first day, which was called
■n-poavXia. On the day called d-n-avXta (whenever that was) the
bride presented her bridegroom with a garment called curav-
XujLTripta.
APAUMEE, in Heraldry, denotes one hand extended
with the full palm appearing, and the thumb and fingers at
full length.
APE. See Mammalia, Index.
A-PEAK, in Seameris Language, signifies perpendicular;
thus the anchor is said to be a-peak when the stem of the
ship is brought directly over it by drawing in the cable.
APEL, or Apellus, Johann, professor of law in the Uni¬
versity of Wittemberg, and one of the most zealous partisans
of Luther in promoting the Reformation, was born at Nurem¬
berg in 1486. Having married a nun while canon of Warz-
burg, he published his Defensio Jo.Apellipro suo Conjugio;
cum prof. Lutheri, &c. 1523, 4to. His other works are en¬
titled Methodica Dialectices Ratio, ad Jurisprudentiam ac-
commodata, Norimb. 1535, 4to: and Rrachylogus Juris Ci-
vilis, sice Corpus Legum, a work much esteemed, and once
ascribed to the Emperor Justinian. He died in 1540.
APELLES, the most celebrated painter of antiquity. He
was born, according to Ovid and Pliny, in the island of Cos,
and flourished in the time of Alexander the Great, whom he
probably accompanied in his Asiatic expedition. Alexander
gave him a remarkable proof of his regard; for when he
employed Apelles to draw Campaspe, one of his mistresses,
having found that he had conceived an affection for her, he
resigned her to him. Either she, or Phryne, is said to have
been the model of his Yenus Anadyomene. It is well known
that Alexander forbade any one besides Apelles to paint his
portrait. We are not, however, to conclude from this that
Alexander was a more skilful judge of painting than he was
of poetry. Like Augustus, he cherished the fine arts more
APE 291
from vanity than taste. A remarkable proof is given of this Apelles,
prince s inability to discern merit, and of the painter’s free-
dom in expressing the mortification he felt when a work of
his was not sufficiently commended. “Alexander,” says
AJian, Var. Hist., lib. ii. c. 3., “ having viewed the picture
of himself at Ephesus, did not praise it as it deserved. But
when a hoise was brought in, and neighed at seeing the
figure of a horse in the picture, O king ! said Apelles, this
horse seems to be afar better judge of painting than you.”
It is related that on one occasion he had painted a horse re¬
turning from battle, and had succeeded to his wishes in de¬
scribing every other mark that could indicate a mettlesome
steed impatient of restraint; there was wanting nothing but
a foam of a bloody hue issuing from the mouth. He again
and again endeavoured to express this, but his attempts
were unsuccessful. At last, in his vexation, he threw against
the reins of the horse a sponge tinged with many colours;
the mixture of which produced the very effect he had de¬
sired.
One of the chief excellencies of Apelles’s pictures was
their exact resemblance to the originals; but the quality of
grace was claimed by him as his peculiar characteristic. His
pencil was so famous for drawing fine lines, that Protogenes
discovered by a single line that Apelles had been at his
house. Protogenes lived at Rhodes: Apelles sailed thither,
and went to his house with great eagerness to see the works
of an artist who was known to him only by name. Proto¬
genes was gone from home, but an old woman was left in
charge of a large canvass, which was fitted in a frame for
painting. She told Apelles that Protogenes was gone out;
and asked him his name, that she might inform her master
who had inquired for him. “ Tell him,” said Apelles, “ he
was inquired for by this person; ” at the same time taking
up a pencil, he drew on the canvass a line of great delicacy.
When Protogenes returned, the old woman acquainted him
with what had happened. That artist, upon contemplating
the fineness of the stroke, at once pronounced it to be the
work of none other than Apelles; but drawing a still finer
line of another colour within the first, he ordered the old
woman to show that line to Apelles if he came again; and
to say, “ This is the person for whom you are inquiring.”
Apelles returned and saw the line: he would not for shame
be overcome; and therefore, in a colour different from either
of the former, he divided the line of Protogenes by a third
so exquisitely delicate as to leave no space for the smallest
touch of the pencil. Protogenes now confessed the supe¬
riority of Apelles, flew to the harbour in search of him, and
resolved to leave the canvass with the lines on it for the
astonishment of future artists. It was afterwards carried to
Rome and preserved as a most wonderful work of art in the
palace of the Caesars.
Apelles was the first who made the works of Protogenes
to be valued as they deserved among the Rhodians. He
acknowledged that Protogenes was in some respects supe¬
rior to himself; but that in one particular he himself excel¬
led, viz., in knowing when to take his hand from the picture,
an art which Protogenes had not yet learned, and therefore
overworked his pieces. Apelles equally disapproved of too
elaborate diligence, or too hasty negligence in execution. A
studied work of Protogenes he esteemed less on the one ac¬
count ; and on the other, when a silly painter once brought
him a picture, and said, “ This I painted in a hurry,” he
replied, “ Though you had not told me so, I perceived it was
painted in haste; but I wonder you could not execute more
such pieces in the same time.”
It was customary with Apelles to expose to public view
the works which he had finished, and to hide himself behind
the picture, in order to hear the remarks of the passers by.
He once overheard himself blamed by a shoemaker for a
292
APE
Apellicon fault in the shoes of one of his figures : on the following day
II the shoemaker, finding the fault corrected, began to animad-
Apennines. vert on leg; upon which Apelles with some anger looked
x-—out from behind the canvass, and bade him keep to his own
province,—whence the proverb, “Ne sutor ultra crepidam.”
The works of Apelles, of which a list is given by Pliny,
were all admired; but the most celebrated were the picture
of Alexander in the temple of Artemis at Ephesus, and that
of Aphrodite emerging from the sea. Alexander was drawn
with a thunder-bolt in his hand; and such was the effect
produced by the chiaroscuro, that the hand and the thun¬
der-bolt seemed to start out from the canvass. This cele¬
brated picture gave rise to the saying that there were two
Alexanders ; the one invincible, the son of Philip, the other
inimitable, the offspring of Apelles. His Aphrodite Ana-
dyomene, representing the goddess of beauty rising out of
the sea, was esteemed the most exquisite figure which ever
pencil had created.—{Pliny, xxxv. 36, § 10, 11, &c.)
APPELLICON, a native of Teos, who lived at Athens,
and is chiefly remarkable for having collected a fine library,^
in which was then the only extant copy of the works of
Aristotle. Sylla purchased this library, and brought it to
Rome.—See Plutarch.
APELLITES, Christian heretics in the second century,
who affirmed that Christ received a body from the four ele¬
ments, which at his death he rendered back to the world,
and so ascended into heaven without a body.
APENNINES, that extensive range of mountains tra¬
versing the entire extent of the Italian peninsula, and form¬
ing, as it were, the backbone of that country. They detach
themselves from the maritime Alps, and pursue a general
course, first in an easterly and afterwards in a south-south¬
easterly direction, till towards their extremity they divide
to embrace the Gulf of Taranto. From the main chain
numerous branches extend towards the Mediterranean and
the Adriatic. This chain is inferior in beauty and grandeur
to some of the other mountain ranges of Europe; being
destitute of the glaciers and vertical needles of the Alps,
the sharp peaks of the Pyrenees, or the rocky cliffs and
escarpments of the Jura Mountains. Nowhere do they reach
the snow line, though some of their summits are covered
with snow during a great part of the year. Their mean
height is about 4000, and their highest point, Monte Carno,
or II gran sasso dItalia, the great rock of Italy, is 10,154
feet high ; Monte Amaro, the highest point of Monte Ma-
jella, is 9131 feet high, and Monte Velino 8207 feet. The
chain is little cultivated, and abounds with fine oaks and
other kinds of trees ; and the valleys are generally small and
narrow. Almost all the rivers of Peninsular Italy take their
rise in this range, but most of them are, with the exception
of the Arno and the Tiber, little more than mountain tor¬
rents.
The name Apennines is probably of Celtic origin, and de¬
rived from pen, properly signifying the head, but also used
for the summit of a mountain. By the Greek ansi Latin
writers the name is generally used in the singular, as Apen-
ninus JMons, O AttAvivos, to Attcwow opos. The name
may have been originally applied only to a particular moun¬
tain, and have afterwards been extended to include the
whole chain.
The Apennines may be considered as a southern branch
of the great Alpine system of Europe, and indeed there is
no real separation between them; which has caused great
differences of opinion among both ancient and modern geo¬
graphers as to the point where the Alps terminate and the
Apennines begin. Strabo, who gives a very accurate ac¬
count of the general features and direction of this chain,
considers it as beginning in the vicinity of Genoa, and in
this he is nearly followed by many modern geographers who
APE
place its commencement between that town and Savona, in Apennines
the valley of Bormida. The more natural commencement,
however, seems to be at Col de Tenda, in Long. 7. 40. N.
From Col de Tenda they run in a semicircle round the Gulf
of Genoa in a general direction from west to east; they
afterwards turn to the south and traverse the whole of the Ita¬
lian peninsula to the Strait of Messina. The entire length
of the chain is about 840 geographical miles, lying be¬
tween Lat. 38. and 44. N. and Long. 7. 40. and 18. 20. E.
They are divided into the Northern, Central, and Southern
Apennines.
The Northern Apennines are separated from the Mari¬
time Alps by the Tanaro and the Roya, which have their
sources in Monte Cassino, and extend to Monte Coronaro.
This division comprehends three subdivisions. The first, ex¬
tending to Monte Bocchetta, proceeds first in an easterly
direction, and afterwards, turning to the north-east, runs
almost parallel to the western coast of the Gulf of Genoa,
which it approaches so closely as to leave little more than a
mere passage. The principal passes here, between Pied¬
mont and the duchy of Genoa, are through the valleys of
the Tanaro, the Bormida, and the Lemme. From Boc¬
chetta the second subdivision extends in an eastern, and
afterwards in a south-eastern direction to the mountain
summit, under which the Reno rises. Its highest summits
are the Lopotorlo, Gottro, and Jorame, in which rise the
Trebbia, Taro, and Secchia, affluents of the Po. The chief
passes are those of Boffaloro Cento-Csoci, Pontremoli, Bra-
tello, Fiumalbo, and Monte Carelli or Pietra-Mala. This
subdivision forms the spacious bays of Rapallo and Spezzia,
and its deep ravines and precipitous sides are characteristics
which distinguish it from the rest of the chain. The third
subdivision extends in a south-south-east direction to Monte
Coronaro. The principal summits here are the Piano and
the Falterona. The only pass worthy of notice is that pro¬
ceeding fi'om the valley of the Lieve, over Borgo di San
Lorenzo, through the valley of the Lamore, and on towards
Eaenza.
The Central Apennines comprehend that part of the
chain between Monte Coronaro, in which the Tiber rises,
and Monte Velino, north of Lake Fucino. Its general direc¬
tion is from north-north-west to south-south-east, and nearly
parallel to the Tiber. The descent towards the Adriatic is
continuous and direct, but towards the Mediterranean it
forms two distinct inclined planes. The principal passes
from the north are at the village of Scheggia, over a con¬
necting ridge between Mounts Corno and Cucco, where the
Cantiano, an affluent of the Metauro rises; at Seravalle,
south-east of Monte Pennine, at the head of the valley of the
Chienti, a small river flowing into the Adriatic ; at Cas-
tellucio between Norcia and Arquate ; and finally, the
principal pass between Rieti and Aquila, to the east of
Antrodoco.
The Southern Apennines include the remaining portion
of this chain. From Monte Velino they proceed in a south¬
easterly direction to Acerenza in Basilicata, where they
divide into two unequal branches, the eastern proceeding
through the provinces of Bari and Otranto, and terminating
at Cape Santa Maria di Leuca; the other, or western
branch, running through Calabria to Cape dell’ Armi on
the Strait of Messina. In the upper part of the southern
Apennines a number of sharp pyramidical points raise them¬
selves above the mountain chain. Among these are Monte
Forcone at the source of the Sangro, Monte Sant’ Angelo,
above the sources of the Volturno and Trigno, and Monte
Calvello north-east of Salerno. The principal passes over
this part of the Apennines are the pass of Sulmona, near
the sources of the Volturno, so called from the town of Sul¬
mona where the roads from Rome, Pescara, and Aquila
APE
ipennines. unite ; the road going southwards by Pettorano, passing
—the upper Sangro, over Monte Janipro and the Iserina, and
then dividing itself into two roads, the one southwards to
Capua, the other eastwards by Campobasso towards Lucera
and Foggia. The passes above Castel Franco and Ariano
are the highest points of the road over the mountain ridge
from Benevento to Troja, and from Avellino to Foggia.
The eastern branch of the southern Apennines begins at the
Lake of Pesole, and proceeds in an easterly, and afterwards
in a southern direction to its termination at Cape Leuca.
At Monte Albano it approaches very near the coast of the
Adriatic. The best passages here are on the road from
Taranto to Canosa, and from Ofanto and Bari to Ostani,
Mesagna, and Lecca, which often contract into narrow de¬
files. The western branch extends in a southern direction
from the Lake of Pesole to Capo dell’ Armi. The principal
passes here are in Calabria on the road from Naples to
Sicily, and from Naples to Otranto passing by Taranto.
Connected with this main chain of the Apennines are
three distinct groups of mountains, which usually take the
distinguishing prefix of “ Sub.” These are the sub-Tuscan,
the sub-Roman, and the sub-Vesuvian Apennines.
The Sub- Tuscan Apennines are a distinct group of moun¬
tains, extending over Tuscany. They are separated from
the main range by the valleys of the Arno and Tiber, as
well as by the Chiana, whence they diverge in the form of
an obtuse angle towards the Mediterranean, covering with
their ramifications all the country between the Arno and
Po. On the top of the mountain range separating the Tiber
from the Arno is the Lake of Perugia, which has no visible
outlet. This range afterwards divides itself into several
branches, between the two principal of which lies the district
of the Maremma of Siena. The two principal passes here
are those from Florence to Rome; the eastern going by
Arezzo, thence above the Lake of Perugia to Foligno, &c.;
the other from Siena over the two highest points of the two
principal branches mentioned above, the one beyond Cas-
tiglioncello, the other on this side of Radicofani. From
Siena there are also communications to Leghorn, Piombino,
and Civita Vecchia.
The Sub-Roman Apennines detach themselves from the
main chain near Monte Velino. They commence in the
upper valleys of the Liri, Salto, Turano, and Sacco, where
they contain the mountains of Cantaro, Corglio, Acuto,
Carbonara, Ceraso, and Campatri, and afterwards lose them¬
selves below the Lake of Albano. From the extremity a
branch goes off almost in a straight line from Narni on the
Nera to Sora on the Liri, and forms the valley of Velino.
A second branch incloses the valley of the Anieno, the
upper part of the Teverone, and divides the Liri from the
Sacco. In the vicinity of Palestrina a third branch runs off
between the Sacco and the Garegliano on the east, and the
Pontine Marshes on the west, and terminates in a steep rocky
tongue of land, on which the Fort of Gaeta stands. The
extreme declivity forms the seven hills on which Rome is
built. Over the main branch of this group there are three
passes; the first, between the sources of the Liri and the
Sacco, is the means of communication between Lora and
lagiiacozzo, and hence it sends forth three branches to
Aquila, Rieti, and Rome; the second extends from Zaga-
iol° to Palestrina, on the direct route from Rome to Lora;
t ie third passes above the lake, and is the great road from
Rome to Naples by Terracina. Besides these there are
ot lei passes, as those from Rieti and Leonessa, the first
pint ceding to Viterbo and Rome, the other to Spoleto and
.,liul f. ’ ^ ^ fr°m Celano to Carsoli on the road from
i ivoh to Salmona; a by-way also goes from Carsoli in a
noi th-western direction to Rieti through the valley of
I urano.
APE 293
The Sub- Vesuvian Apennines derive their name from the Apenrade
volcano Vesuvius which, with Somma, are the principal II
mountains of this group, and from which ramifications pro- APex-
ceed in several directions. The only passage is that of
rorchia or Claudma, near Monte Sarchio, north-east of
Naples, and on the road to Benevento. See Vesuvius.
Fhe Apennines consist in part of white compact lime¬
stone containing no petrifactions or other heterogeneous sub¬
stances. This rock does not, however, prevail through the
whole range. From its junction with the Alps to Florence
the chain is composed of calcareous or slaty masses, and of
a serpentine rock called gabbro or granitello. This last
principally composes the summits of the Mountains of Genoa
rising from the Gulf of Spezzia. This part of the northern
Apennines is generally considered to belong to the primitive
formation, but some geologists contend that it belongs to
the transition class with a large quantity of graywacke. The
mountains extending from Florence to the Abruzzi and
hence to Calabria, are composed of limestone analogous to
that of the Jura range. In the last-mentioned province the
central part of the chain is formed of granite, gneiss, and
mica-schist, on which here and there repose some secondary
deposits.
The Sub-Apennines belong to the tertiary formation,
and are composed of marl, shale, gravel, sand, and conglo¬
merate. Gypsum and calcareous and volcanic tufa are also
seen here, but less frequently. Travertin, a limestone of
recent formation, is found abundantly in the vicinity of
Rome, and of it most of the edifices of that city are con¬
structed. The volcanic mountains are all on the south¬
western side of the chain, with only one exception (Monte
Voltore, near Melfi). The principal groups are those of
Santa Fiora and Viterbo; that of Latium; those of Sant’
Agatha and Rocca Monfina towards Sessa; and finally that
of Naples. There is no active volcano except Vesuvius.
Volcanic tufa forms a great part of the soil about Rome, and
the Capitoline, Quirinal, Esquiline, Aventine, &c., are princi¬
pally composed of it. Most of the lakes that surround Rome,
as the Albano, Nemi, &c., occupy ancient craters. The
environs of Modena abound in those small mud volcanoes
called Salzes. They sometimes disengage carburetted hy¬
drogen gas, and often this is inflamed, as may be seen at
Villeia, Pietra Mala, and Barigazza. The Apennines con¬
tain few metals; the principal is iron, found in Tuscany, and
particularly in the island of Elba. The coal mines are very
unimportant, but there are extensive saliferous depots near
Cosenza. The marbles of the Apennines, however, are
justly celebrated for their beauty, as those of Carrara, the
ancient Luni, Seravazza, and Sienna.
APENRADE, a city in the duchy of Schleswig, the capi¬
tal of the bailiwick of the same name. It contains 4200 in¬
habitants, chiefly occupied in agriculture, ship-building, and
the transit trade. The harbour is shallow, and vessels must
discharge below the town. The roadstead at the entrance
is without shelter. Long. 9. 25. E. Lat. 55. 2. N.
APER, the wild boar. See Sus Aper, Mammalia.
APERIENT, a term applied to those medicines which
act as deobstruents, and promote the secretions. See Cath¬
artics.
APERTURE, in Geometry, the space between two right
lines which meet in a point and form an angle.
Aperture, in Optics, a round hole in a turned bit of
wood or plate of tin, placed within the side of a telescope or
microscope, near to the object glass, by means of which
fewer rays are admitted, and a more distinct appearance of
the object is obtained.
APETALOSE, or Apetalous, among Botanists, an ap¬
pellation given to such plants as have no flower-leaves.
APEX, the vertex or summit of any thing.
294 A P H
Apex apex, m Antiquity, the crest of a helmet, but more es-
II pecially a kind of cap worn by the flamens.
Aphthar- Apex, among Grammarians, denotes the mark of a long
todocete. Sy]]a]3ie) faisely called a long accent.
' APHjERESIS (d7ro and atpew), a figure by which a
letter or syllable is cut off from the beginning of a word.
Thus ciconia, by aphseresis, is written conia ; contemnere,
temnere; omittere, mittere, &c.
APHEK, the name of several cities mentioned in Scrip¬
ture. 1. A city in the tribe of Asher, supposed to be the
same place with the vAc£a/«x. which Eusebius and Sozomen
place in Lebanon, on the river Adonis, where there was a
famous temple of Venus. A village called Afka is still
found in Lebanon, situated at the bottom of a valley, and
may possibly mark the site of this town. 2. A town near
which Benhadad was defeated by the Israelites (1 Kings
xx. 26, sqi); it seems to correspond to the Aphaca of Euse¬
bius, situated to the east of the Sea of Galilee, and men¬
tioned by Burckhardt, Seetzen, and others, under the name
of Feik. 3. A city in the tribe of Issachar, not far from
Jezreel, where the Philistines twice encamped before battles
with the Israelites (1 Sam. iv. 1 ; xxix. 1). Either this or
the first Aphek, but most probably this, was the Aphek
mentioned in Josh.xii. 18, as a royal city of the Canaanites.
APHELIUM, or Aphelion (cItto from, and r/Aios the
sun), in Astronomy, is that point in any planet’s orbit in
which it is farthest distant from the sun, being that end of
the greater axis of the elliptical orbit of the planet most re¬
mote from the focus where the sun is.
APHIOM, Karahissak. See Afium.
APHIS, the Puceron, Vine-fretter, or Plantlouse.
See Entomology, Index.
APHLASTON, in Latin Aplustre, a wooden ornament,
shaped like a plume of feathers, fastened on the goose’s or
swan’s neck used by the ancient Greeks in the heads of
their ships. The Aphlaston had much the same office and
effect in a ship that the crest had on the helmet. It seems
also to have had the further use of indicating the quarter of the
wind by the waving of a party-coloured riband fastened to it.
APHLOGISTIC (a,priv.,and or Flameless Lamp.
This lamp is formed by winding a close coil of fine platinum
wire loosely round the lower part of the wick of a spirit lamp.
When the flame is extinguished, the coil will continue in a
state of ignition till the spirit is consumed.
APHONIA (a, priv., and (puvrj), a suppression or total
loss of voice. It is never a primary disease, but a consequence
of many different disorders. The cure is to be effected by
removing the disorder from whence the aphonia proceeds.
APHORISM, a maxim or principle of a science, or a
sentence which comprehends a great deal in a few words.
The word comes from d^opt^w, 1 separate.
APHRACTI, in the Ancient Military Art, open vessels,
without decks or hatches, furnished only at head and stern
with cross planks, whereon the men stood to fight.
APHRODISIAS, the name given to several ancient
cities in honour of Aphrodite.
APHRODITE, in Grecian Mythology, the goddess of
love and beauty, one of the chief deities of Olympus. Ho¬
mer calls her the daughter of Zeus, and the marine deity
Dione. Hesiod derives her name from d^pos foam, as sprung
from the foam of the sea. The Venus of the Romans had
many of the attributes of Aphrodite ; but there would seem
to have been in the imagination of some of the ancients, a
heavenly and an earthly Venus.
APHTHARTODOCETiE, a name given to the fol¬
lowers of Julian of Halicarnassus, who taught, a.d. 519, that
the body of Christ changed its nature and became incorrup¬
tible (a^Oaprof) from the moment of his conception, by the
infusion of the divine nature. They were called also Docetm
API
Apiary,
and Phantasiastse, because their doctrine implied that the Aphthong
sufferings of Christ were not real but only seeming (SoxeV). U
This opinion was favoured by the Emperor Justinian, in
whose reign it was agitated with great warmth. (Mosheim,
p. 237, Reid’s edit.)
APHTHONG (from coro </>0dyyos), a letter or combina¬
tion of letters, not sounded in the pronouncing of a word;
as in a/mond, tongwe, apophthegm, psalm.
APHTHONIUS, of Antioch, lived about a.d. 315, and
was the author of an elementary treatise on rhetoric ivpo-
yvpv0.0-para), much read in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. He has also left about 40 Alsopic fables, ihe
earliest edition of the Progymnasmata was contained in
the Aldine Rhetores Greed, 1508. The best and latest
edition, including all the annotations, is in the “ Rhetores
Graeci” of Walz, Stuttg. and Tubing. 1832-35.
APHYLLOUS (a, priv., and <f>v\Xov), in Botany, a term
annlied to nlants which are leafless; such as the rush, mush¬
room, &c.
APIAN (properly Bienewitz), Peter, a distinguished
astronomer, born in 1495, was professor of mathematics at
Ingolstadt. His principal works are his Cosmographia, and
his Astronomicon Ccesareum; the latter of which is re¬
markable as containing observations on the comet of 1531,
subsequently known as Halley’s. This work was illustrated
with revolving paper planispheres. His son Philip was like¬
wise a distinguished mathematician.
APIARY. Under the article Bee, in this work, direc¬
tions will be given at considerable length as to the manage¬
ment of an apiary, and various methods detailed of procur¬
ing honey and wax from the hive without destroying the
bees themselves. Greater attention to this useful appendage
to the cottage would not only be productive of commercial
advantage, but would tend to improve the condition of the
lower order of peasantry. It is not generally known, in¬
deed, what profitable returns may be obtained, at a trifling
expense of time and labour, by very simple processes.
Mr Huish, the author of a valuable practical treatise on
the management of bees, has made a calculation, from
which he infers, that even supposing the first cost oi a
swarm to be one guinea, which is the price in the places
where they are sold the dearest, the cottager is almost
certain, by proper care and management, of clearing, in
five years, a net produce of nearly L.GO, and of having
besides, at the end of that period, ten good stocks of bees
in his garden.
The principal objects to be attained in the construction
and management of an apiary, are to secure the prosperity
and multiplication of the colonies ; to increase the amount
of their productive labour; and to obtain their products
with facility, and with the least possible detriment to the
stock. The apiary should afford to the bees the best shel¬
ter against moisture and the extremes of heat and of cold,
and especially against sudden vicissitudes of temperature;
it should protect them against their numerous enemies ;
it should afford them every facility of constructing their
combs, and of rearing their young; it should allow ol
every part of the combs being occasionally inspected, and
being capable of removal when requisite; and, while due
attention is paid to economy, it should be made of mate¬
rials that will insure its durability. Much ingenuity has
been displayed by different apiarians in the construction
of hives which should unite in the greatest possible de¬
gree all these advantages. Although it be in vain to hope
that every one of these objects can at once be perfectly
attained, yet there is still great room for improvement on
the hives that are at present in common use; and we shall
here point out a few of the more recent modes of con¬
struction.
Apiary.
»fr II ti¬
er’s hive.
API
WTiile some cultivators of bees have been chiefly anxi¬
ous to promote their multiplication, and to prevent the
escape of the swarms in the natural way, by procuring
what they have termed artificial sxuarms,—which they
effected by separating a populous hive, previous to its
swarming, into two parts, and allowing to each greater
room for the extension of their works; others have con¬
templated only the abundance of the products which they
yielded, and the facility of extracting them from the hive,
without showing any particular solicitude as to the preser¬
vation of the bees themselves. Another class of apiarians
have, on the other hand, had it more particularly in view
to facilitate the prosecution of researches in the natural
history and economy of bees. The hive invented by Mr
Huber is peculiarly calculated for the last of these objects,
and its construction is founded on an accurate knowledge
of the habits of these insects. He has given it the name
of ruche en livre ou enfeuillets, from its opening and shut¬
ting somewhat in the manner of the leaves of a book.
This book or leaf hive is composed of from eight to twelve
square wooden frames, placed vertically, and joined to¬
gether sidewise like the hoops of a cask. Each frame
consists of two uprights, one inch in thickness, a foot in
height, and an inch and a third in width, connected by
an upper and lower cross bar, ten inches long, and of the
same breadth and thickness as the former; so that all the
frames may be joined together, without leaving any inter¬
val. The two external frames are closed each by a pane
of glass, which is covered by a shutter on the outside;
and the whole is properly secured in its place, and further
protected by an external cover. An aperture must of
course be left in the lower part of one of the frames to
serve as a door. In order to determine the bees to con¬
struct their combs in the plane of each leaf, a small piece
of honeycomb is fixed, by means of pegs, to the top of
each in the proper position, as it is well known that bees
always complete their work in the direction in which they
find it begun, unless they meet with some insurmountable
obstacle. A proper distance is thus preserved between
the lateral surfaces of the perpendicular combs; and the
external ones, being only three or four lines distant from
the glass panes, may be easily inspected by opening the
shutters; and also by opening in succession the different
divisions of the hive, both surfaces of every comb may at
pleasure be fully brought into view. No difficulty is ex¬
perienced in introducing swarms into hives of this con¬
struction ; and after the lapse of a few days, when the
colony is fully established, the bees will very patiently
submit to be daily inspected.
Mr Huber’s hive is exceedingly well calculated for pro¬
ducing artificial swarms on the principle of Schirach’s dis¬
covery, of which a full account will be given in the article
Bee. It allows us to judge by inspection whether the
population is sufficient to admit of division,—if the brood
is of the proper age,—and if males exist, or are ready to
be produced, for impregnating the young queen ; all which
circumstances are of material consequence to the success
of the operation. It is essential that some of the larvae
should not have been hatched above three days before
this attempt is made. The frames must then be gently
separated at the middle of the hive, and two empty frames
be introduced in the interval between the former; each
of these new frames having a partition which closes them
completely, so as to enable the two portions to be entirely
separated without leaving any opening. The door of that
portion in which the queen happens to be at this time
may remain open, but the one belonging to the other part
must be closed, so as to retain the bees that have no queen
prisoners for 24 hours, allowing still, however, sufficient
circulation of air. After this interval of time they appear
API
295
to iave forgotten their queen, at least the}r are no longer Apiary
anxious to seek for her, but bestow all their solicitude in'^^S*^
the education of the larvse, so as to convert a certain num-
ber of them into queens to supply the loss they have sus¬
tained. Ihis they accomplish in ten days or a fortnight
after the operation. The two colonies are now perfectly
distinct, and are never found afterwards to intermix.
Another advantage attending a hive of this construc¬
tion consists in its enabling us to force the bees to pro¬
duce a much greater quantity of wax than they would
naturally do. The interval which separates the combs
when the bees have not been disturbed in their opera¬
tions is constantly the same, namely, about foyr lines.
Were they too distant, it is evident that the bees would
be much dispersed, and unable to communicate their heat
reciprocally, and the brood would not be preserved in a
sufficient degree of warmth. Were the combs too close,
on the contrary, the bees could not freely traverse the
intervals, and the work of the hive would suffer. It is
evident that we may avail ourselves of this instinct, and,
by separating farther asunder the combs that are already
built, induce the bees either to extend the breadth of
those they had begun, or to build others in the interval,
if sufficient space be allowed them for this purpose. Thus,
by interposing three empty frames, one between every al¬
ternate interval of the combs in a hive containing six
combs, three additional combs, if the proper season be
chosen, will be obtained at the end of a week; and if the
weather continue favourable, the operation may be re¬
peated, and the same number of additional combs pro¬
cured the week after.
The principal obstacles to the general employment of
Mr Huber’s hives are the expense of constructing them,
and the greater degree of attention which they perhaps
require from the cultivator. It has also been objected
that the flatness of the roof was prejudicial, by allowing
the moisture which exhales from the bees to collect at
the top, and to fall in drops at different parts, to the great
injury of the subjacent contents of the hive. Feburier Hives of
proposes therefore the employment of frames in the form other apia-
of a trapezium, so that the roof shall be considerably in-1™118*
dined to the horizon. He borrows this shape from Bose,
whose hive consists, however, only of two boxes joined
together sidewise, and separable in order to form artificial
swarms. This was an improvement upon Geheu’s hive,
which was formed of two square boxes united laterally.
Delator had recommended a still more simple form than
that of Bose, though less convenient; namely, that of a
triangle resting on its base. Mr Ravenel’s hive consists
of three square boxes instead of two; Mr Scrain’s is also
made up of three boxes, but they are low and of great
length, and are joined endwise,—a communication being
established between them by apertures made in the divi¬
sions which separate the boxes. It is now, however, well
established, that partitions of any kind are detrimental to
the prosperity of the colony. The same objection applies,
though perhaps in an inferior degree, to the system of
storied hives, or those which are divided into stories one
above another. A great variety of the latter description,
however, have been recommended by different cultiva¬
tors. In France they are known by the name of ruches en
hausses. Mr Thorley’s improved hive is of this class, and
Mr Lombard’s ruche villageoise may also be referred to the
same head, although it be of much simpler construction
than any other compound hive. Mr Lombard’s hive is com¬
posed of two parts, a body and a cover, forming together
an elevation of from seventeen to twenty inches, on a
uniform diameter of one foot, excepting the upper part,
which ought to be convex. The body is formed of bands
of straw, similar to that of the cottages in this country
296 API
Apiary. At the top and bottom of the body is placed an exterior
band, which forms a projecting border on each end, the
lower one giving the hive a firm station on its pedestal,
the upper one contributing to secure the attachment of
the cover, or allowing of another similar body being placed
above the first, if such an addition should be deemed ne¬
cessary. At the top of the body, and even with the up¬
per band, is placed a flooring board, made of a light plank,
ten inches in breadth in all directions, and the four cor¬
ners of which are sawed off in such a manner that the
breadth along the diagonal measures one foot. This
board is fixed by nails inserted in the upper double band,
and entering a little into the front. The four openings
that are left on the sides are necessary for the passage of
the bees, and for the escape of the vapours which are ex¬
haled from them in winter. A flat rod traverses the hive
immediately under the board, and projecting from the two
sides about an inch and a half, affords handles for lifting
the hive, and facilitates the fastening of the cover, which
has also a projecting rod corresponding with that of the
hive. At the bottom is an opening two inches broad and
nine lines in height for the ingress and egress of the bees.
The cover is formed in the shape of a dome, with a ver¬
tical handle at the top, and a cross bar at the lower part,
by the projecting ends of which it may be tied to the
ends of the bar in the body, and which serves also as a
support to the combs that are constructed in the cover.
For the latter purpose, also, two other bars are placed
crosswise, one above the other. All the hives and all the
bases of the covers are to be made of one uniform diame¬
ter, in order that the hives may, if occasion require it, be
placed upon each other, and the covers be adapted to any
of the hives that may happen to be at the top.
The pyramidal hive of M. Ducouedie, which the inven¬
tor extols in his book entitled La Ruche Pyramidale, avec
Tart cTetahlir et d'utiliser les ruches, &c. as leaving nothing
more to be wished for as to the cultivation of bees, differs
but little from that of Mr Thorley. A common straw
hive is taken, containing a swarm, which is allowed to re¬
main till the spring of the following year; it is then placed
on the top of a square box, with which it is made to com¬
municate by a round aperture at the top of the box. In
this state it is termed by the French la ruche Ecossaise,
or, ruche de M. de la Bourdonnaye. In the following
spring a second box is placed under the first, and the
whole now assumes the name of la ruche pyramidale. The
bees are still allowed no other ingress or egress but by a
single hole made in the lowest story. The upper stories
may then be removed in succession, while further room is
allowed below by the addition of fresh boxes. It is stated
by M. Ducouedie, that the bees in his pyramidal hive
never perish by hunger or by cold; for they always abound
in provisions, and are too numerous to be affected by the
most rigorous winter. When the bees are in groups, they
maintain the necessary warmth in the hive, and the brood,
on the return of spring, is hatched one month sooner than
in any other hive. Mr Huish has, however, made it clear¬
ly appear that these pretended advantages are much ex¬
aggerated, while its inconveniences are passed over in
silence. It is difficult, if not impossible, to proportion the
hives in all cases to the magnitude of the swarms, or to
the energy with which they labour. The honey being
taken from the oldest cells, is deteriorated by an admix¬
ture of pollen, communicating to it a degree of bitterness,
of which it is difficult to deprive it; and it is less abundant,
in consequence of the diminished capacity of the cells,
in which the coccoons of successive bees in their state of
nympha have accumulated. From their being divided
into different stories, the bees are obliged to live, as it
were, in different families; while their own preservation
A P I
and that of the brood requires them to live in the strict- Apicius
est union. The heat is also lessened by the division of ||
the bees into different groups. The upper part of these ^P!s-
hives being all necessarily flat (except the first or straw
hive), occasions a serious inconvenience, by allowing mois¬
ture to collect and drop down into the middle of the hive,
instead of trickling down the sides. The injury which
this does to the combs, and to the bees themselves, who
are constantly exposed to its influence, is, according to
Mr Huish, the most common cause of the loss of the
hives during the wdnter. The bees, he observes, always
begin their work in the most elevated point of the hive,
and seek for that purpose the central part of the roof. If
the top be flat, and especially if it be as spacious as in
the hives called pyramidal, the bees will not find this cen¬
tre ; they will work one year in one part, and the follow¬
ing year in another. This is without doubt one of the
causes which oblige a proprietor to wait three or four
years before any honey can be gathered from these hives.
The hive recommended by Mr Huish as affording suffi¬
cient facility for examining any of the combs, and perform¬
ing on them any operation at pleasure, is very similar in
form to that described as being used in Greece. The body
of the hive is a straw basket in the shape of a flower-pot,
that is, of a broader diameter above than below. Eight
pieces of well-seasoned wood, about eight inches broad
and half an inch thick, are laid parallel to one another, at
equal distances, over the top of the basket, and fastened
to an outer projecting band: they are then covered with
network, over which is placed a circular board, or what
is better, a convex cover of straw extending over the
whole of the top of the hive. This network obliges the
bees to fasten their combs to the transverse boards, by
means of which each comb can easily be lifted up with¬
out interfering with any other part of the hive, or occa¬
sioning the loss of a single bee; and the whole of the in¬
terior of the hive is thus open to inspection, and we are
enabled to trace the devastations of the moth, or to as¬
certain the presence of any other enemy.—See the arti¬
cle Bee. (p. m. r.)
APICIUS. There were at Rome three persons of that
name, all celebrated as epicures. The second, M. Gabius
Apicius, is the most famous of the three. He lived under
Tiberius, and invented various sorts of cakes and sauces
which bore his name. He squandered L.800,000 on his
luxurious appetite; and finding his fortune reduced to little
more than L.80,000, he grew alarmed at the prospect of
starvation, and poisoned himself. His last draught, accord¬
ing to Seneca, was the most commendable he had ever swal¬
lowed. His name was long venerated by the votaries of the
gastronomic art, as the highest of culinary authorities; and
rival schools of cookery claimed their descent from the great
Apicius. A treatise, De Re Culinaria, sive de Obsoniis, &c.,
by an unknown writer under the assumed name of Caelius
Apicius has been frequently reprinted. The best edition is
that of Lister, Lond., 1705, 8vo.
APINGADAM, or Appingadam, a town of Holland, in
the province of Groningen, and capital of the circle of the
' same name. Pop. 3600.
APION, a famous grammarian and commentator upon
the Homeric poems, born at Oasis in the land of Apis, though
he called himself an Alexandrian. He flourished a.d. 30,
and was conspicuous for his opposition to the Jews. Some
fragments of his writings are extant, including the story ol
Androclus and the Lion, preserved in Aulus Gellius; and
his treatise against the Jews, preserved with the works of
Josephus, who wrote a reply to it.
APIS, a divinity worshipped by the ancient Egyptians
at Memphis under the form of an ox, having certain exte¬
rior marks. The soul of Osiris was supposed to subsist in
Apiuni
II
Apoca¬
lypse.
A P O
the body of this animal. “ A white spot,” says Pliny, “ re¬
sembling a crescent, on the right side, and a lump under
the tongue, were the distinguishing marks of Apis.” When
j a cow, therefore, which was thought to be struck with the
rays of the moon, produced a calf, the sacred guides went
to examine it, and if they found it conformable to this de¬
scription, they announced to the people the birth of Apis.
“ Immediately,” says iElian, “ they built a temple to the
new god, facing the rising sun, according to the precepts
of Hermes, where they nourished him with milk for four
months. At the expiration of this term, the priests repaired
in pomp to his habitation, and saluted him by the name of
Apis. 1 hey then placed him in a vessel magnificently de¬
corated, covered with rich tapestry, and resplendent with
gold, and conducted him to Nilopolis, singing hymns and
burning perfumes. There they kept him for forty days.
During this space of time women alone had permission to
see him, and saluted him in a particular manner. After the
inauguration of the god in this city, he was conveyed to
Memphis with the same retinue, followed by an innumer¬
able quantity of boats sumptuously decked out. There they
completed the ceremonies of his inauguration, and he be¬
came sacred to all the world. Apis was superbly lodged, and
the place where he lay was mystically called the bed.”
There was a mysterious term fixed for his life. “ Apis,”
says Pliny, “ cannot live beyond a certain number of years.
When he has attained that period they drown him in the
fountain of the priests; for it is not permitted to let him
prolong his life beyond the period prescribed for him by
the sacred books.” When this event happened he was em¬
balmed, and privately let down into the subterraneous place
destined for that purpose, after which the priests announced
that he had disappeared; but when he died a natural death
before this period arrived, they proclaimed his death, and
solemnly conveyed his body to the temple of Serapis. Huet,
bishop of Avranches, has endeavoured to prove that Apis was
a symbolical image of the patriarch Joseph, and has supported
his opinion with all his erudition. Mr Bryant apprehends
that the name Apis was an Egyptian term for father; that it
referred to the patriarch Noah ; and that the crescent which
was usually marked on the side of the animal was a repre¬
sentation of the ark.
APIUM, a genus of Umbelliferce, of which the best
known is A. graveolens, celery.
APO {Greek d-Tro), a prefix to many words, signifying
from. It corresponds to the Latin ab, and the English off.
APOCALYPSE, Revelation, the name of one of the
sacred books of the New Testament, containing revelations
concerning several important doctrines of Christianity. The
word is Greek, and derived from dTroKaXvTnw, I reveal or
discover.
This book, according to Irenaeus, was written about the
year 96 of Christ, in the island of Patmos, whither St John
had been banished by the Emperor Domitian. But Sir Isaac
Newton places the writing of it earlier, viz., in the time of
Nero. Some attribute this book to the arch-heretic Cerin-
thus; but the ancients unanimously ascribed it to John, the
son of Zebedee, and brother of James, whom the Greek
fathers called the Divine, by way of eminence, to distin¬
guish him from the other evangelists. This book has not
at all times been esteemed canonical. There were many
churches in Greece, as St Jerome informs us, which did not
receive it; neither is it in the catalogue of canonical books
Prepared by the council of Laodicea, nor in that of St Cyril
of Jerusalem : but Justin, Irenseus, Origen, Cyprian, Cle¬
mens of Alexandria, Tertullian, and all the fathers of the
ourth, fifth, and the following centuries, quote the Reve-
ation as a book then acknowledged to be canonical. The
Alogians, Marcionites, Cerdonians, and Luther himself, re-
jected this book; but the Protestants have forsaken Luther
VOL. m.
APO
297
hisnHiRezahas strongly maintained,against Apocope
h^TL^ect^ns, that the Apocalypse is authentic and canonical. II
^re have been several other works published under the APocry-
title of Apocalypse. Sozomen mentions a book used in the pha'
^UiC pS.°f J alestl1ne, called the Apocalypse or Revelation
l- i He a S° mentiPns an Apocalypse of St Paul,
w ich the Copts retain to this day. Eusebius also speaks of
both these Apocalypses. St Epiphanius mentions an Apo¬
calypse of Adam; Nicephorus, an Apocalypse of Esdras;
Gratian and Cedrenus, an Apocalypse of Moses, another of
ot 1 nomas, and another of St Stephen ; St J erome, an Apo-
calypse of Elias. Porphyry, in his life of Plotinus, makes
mention of the Apocalypse or Revelations of Zoroaster, Zos-
trian, Nicothasus, Allogenes, &c.
APOCOPE (dvro and koVtw), among Grammarians, a
figure which cuts off a letter or syllable from the end of a
word ; as ingeni for ingenii.
APOCRISARIUS ((XTro/cptors an answer), in Ecclesias¬
tical History, a sort of resident in an imperial city, in the
name of a foreign church or bishop, whose office was to ne¬
gotiate, as proctor at the emperor’s court, in all ecclesiasti¬
cal causes in which his principals might be concerned. The
institution of the office seems to have taken place in the time
of Constantine, or not long after, when, the emperors having
become Christians, foreign churches had more occasion to
promote their suits at court than formerly. We find it, how¬
ever, established by law in the time of Justinian. In imita¬
tion of this officer, almost every monastery had its Apocri-
sarius, or resident in the imperial city. The title and quality
of apocrisary became at length appropriated to the pope’s
agent, or nuncio, as he is now called, who resided at Constan¬
tinople to receive the pope’s despatches and the emperor’s
answers.
APOCRUSTICS, in Medicine, the same with repellents.
APOCRYPHA {drroKpvfa, sc. /It/3 At a, hidden, secreted,
mysterious), a term in Theology, applied in various senses
to denote certain books claiming a sacred character. It is first
found in this use in Clemens Alexandrinus, Stromata, 13,
C. 4, C/C TWOS dlTOKpvcjiWV.
In the early ages of the Christian Church this term was
frequently used to denote books of an uncertain or anony¬
mous author, or of one who had written under an assumed
name. Its application, however, in this sense is far from
being distinct, as, strictly speaking, it would include canoni¬
cal books whose authors were unknown or uncertain, or
even pseudepigraphal.
In the Bibliotheque Sacree, by the Rev. Dominican
Fathers Richard and Giraud (Paris, 1822), the term is de¬
fined to signify—1^, anonymous or pseudepigraphal books;
2d, those which are not publicly read, although they may be
read with edification in private; 3d, those which do not
pass for authentic and of divine authority, although they
pass for being composed by a sacred author or an apostle, as
the Epistle of Barnabas; and, Ath, dangerous books com¬
posed by ancient heretics to favour their opinions. They
also apply the name “ to books which, after having been con¬
tested, are put into the canon by consent of the churches,
as 1 obit,” &c. And J aim applies it in its most strict sense,
and that which it has borne since the fourth century, to
books which, from their inscription, or the author’s name, or
the subject, might easily be taken for inspired books, but
are not so in reality. It has also been applied, by Jerome,
to certain books not found in the Hebrew canon, but yet
publicly read from time immemorial in the Christian church
for edification, although not considered of authority in con¬
troversies of faith. These were also termed Ecclesiasti¬
cal Books, and consisted of the Books of' Tobit, Wisdom,
Ecclesiasticus, Baruch, the first two Books of Maccabees,
the last seven chapters (according to Cardinal Hugo’s divi¬
sion) of the Book of Esther, and those (so called) parts of the
2 p
298
Apocry¬
pha.
A P O
Book of Daniel which are not found in Hebrew, viz., the
Song of the Children, the Speech of Azariah, the History of
Susannah, and the Fable (as Jerome calls it) of Bel and the
Dragon. These have been denominated, for distinction’s
sake, the deutero-canonical books, inasmuch as they were
not in the original or Hebrew canon. In this sense they
are called by some the Antilegomena of the Old Testa¬
ment. “ The uncanonical books,” says Athanasius, or the
author of the Synopsis, “ are divided into antilegomena
and apocrypha.” .
Among spurious and Apocryphal Books, as distinct from
Antilegomena or Ecclesiastical, are doubtless to be con-,
sidered the Third and Fourth Books of Esdras ; the Book of
Enoch ; the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs ; the As¬
sumption of Moses, &c. These books were ad known to
the ancient fathers ; and, although incontestably spuiious,
are of considerable value from their antiquity, as throwing
light upon the religious and theological opinions of the first
centuries. The most curious are the I bird and Fourth
Books of Esdras, and the Book of Enoch, which has been
but recently discovered, and has acquired peculiar interest
from its containing the passage cited by the apostle Jude.
Most of the apocryphal Gospels and Acts noticed by the
fathers, and condemned in the catalogue of Gelasius, are
generally thought to have been the fictions of heretics in
the second century, and have long since fallen into obli¬
vion. Of those which remain, although some have been
considered by learned men as genuine works of the aposto¬
lic age, the greater part are universally rejected as spurious,
and as written in the second and third centuries. A few
are, with great appearance of probability, assigned to Leu-
cius Clarinus, supposed to be the same with Leontius and
Seleucus, who was notorious for similar forgeries at the end
of the third century. The authorship of the Epistle of Bar¬
nabas is still a matter of dispute ; and there appear strong
grounds for believing the charge made by Celsus against
the early Christians, that they had interpolated or forged the
ancient Sibylline Oracles.
But, whatever authority is to be ascribed to these docu¬
ments, it cannot be denied that the early church evinced a
high degree of discrimination in the difficult task of distin¬
guishing the genuine from the spurious books. “ It is not
so easy a matter,” says the learned Jeremiah Jones, “ as is
commonly imagined, rightly to settle the canon of the New
Testament. For my own part, I declare, with many learned
men, that in the whole compass of learning I know no ques¬
tion involved with more intricacies and perplexing difficul¬
ties than this.” {New and Full Method, vol. i. p. 15.)
Testimony and tradition are the principal means of ascer¬
taining whether a book be canonical or apocryphal. In¬
quiries of this kind, however, must of necessity be confined
to the few. The mass of Christians, who have neither time
nor other means of satisfying themselves, must confide, in
questions of this kind, either in the judgment of the learned,
or the testimony at least, if not the authority, of the church.
The following are the principal apocryphal (or spurious)
books of the Old Testament, which have descended to our
times. The greater number of them can scarcely be con¬
sidered as properly belonging to the Apocrypha of the Old
Testament, as they have been most probably written since
the Christian era, and not before the second century:—
Third and Fourth Esdras, the Book of Enoch, the apocry¬
phal Book of Elias the Prophet, the Third, Fourth, and Fifth
Books of Maccabees (received by the Greek Church), the
Ascension of Isaiah, the Assumption of Moses.
Of the New Testament, the following are the extant spu¬
rious Gospels:—The History of Joseph the Carpenter, which
has been preserved in the East in an Arabic translation.
The Gospel of the Infancy; the Gospel of Thomas the
Israelite; the Protevangelion of James; the Gospel of the
A P O
Nativity of Mary; the Gospel of Nicodemus, or Acts of Apocynes
Pilate. Besides these, many are cited by the fathers which I!
no longer exist. rians*
Of spurious writings of the nature of Acts of Apostles the y
following are extant:—The Creed of the Apostles ; the Re-
cognitions of Clement, or the Travels of Peter; the Shep¬
herd of Hermas; the Acts of Paul, or the Martyrdom of
Thecla ; Abdias’ History of the Twelve Apostles ; the Con¬
stitutions of the Apostles ; the Canons of the Apostles; the
Liturgies of the Apostles. Of spurious Epistles,—The Epis¬
tles of Barnabas, Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp; the Epis¬
tle of Paul to the Laodiceans ; the Third Epistle of Paul to
the Corinthians ; the Epistle of Peter to James; the Epistles
of Paul and Seneca.
Besides these many other pretended sacred writings were
palmed upon the world, of which the titles alone are preserved,
and probably many more of which the very names have per¬
ished. See Fabricii Codex Pseudepigraphus V. 71,1713 and
1741,and CodexApocryphusNT., 1713-1722; Auctarium
Codicis Apocryphi N. T.Fabriciani, edidit And. Birch, 1804.
A New and Full Method of Settling the Canon of the N. T.,
by the Rev. Jeremiah Jones, 1827. Du Pin, Prolegomena,
1701, and Canon of the Old and New Testaments, 1700;
and Codex Apocryphus N. T., opera et studio T.C. Thilo,
tom. i., Lips. 1832, 8vo.
APOCYNEiE, a natural order of dicotyledonous plants.
It includes many deadly poisons, as Strychnos nux vomica, S.
toxicaria, cerbora, fyc.
APODECT^E (aTroSeVrai), in Antiquity, a denomination
given to ten general receivers appointed by the Athenians,
to receive the public revenues, taxes, debts, and the like.
The apodectae had also a power to decide all controversies
arising in relation to money and taxes, except those of the
most difficult nature and highest concern, which were reserved
to the courts of judicature.
APODICTIC (ttTroSaAs, a demonstration), a philosophi¬
cal term originating with Aristotle, and introduced into mo¬
dern usage by Kant, who applies it to those judgments that
are beyond all contradiction, as distinguished from such as
are merely empirical.
APODYTERIA (from airo^vopai), in the ancient baths,
the apartments for dressing and undressing.
APOGEE (cbro and yf), in Astronomy, that point in the
orbit of a planet which is at the greatest distance from the
earth. The apogee of the sun is that part of the earth s
orbit which is at the greatest distance from the sun; and,
consequently, the sun’s apogee and the earth’s aphelion are
one and the same point.
APOKERUXIS {aTTOKrjpvfc), was a legal process at
Athens, by which a father could cast off and disinherit his
son for deficiency in filial' duty, riotous living, and the like,
with power to reinstate him at pleasure.
APOLLINARIAN Games {Ludi Apollinares), in Ro¬
man Antiquity, were instituted in the year b.c. 212, after
the fatal battle at Cannae. The occasion was a kind of
oracle delivered by the ancient prophet Marcius, declaring
that, to expel the enemy, and cure the people of an infec¬
tious disease which then prevailed, sacred games were to
be annually performed in honour of Apollo ; the praetor to
have the direction of them, and the decemviri to offer sacri¬
fices after the Grecian rite. For some time they were
moveable or indictive, but at length were fixed, under P.
Licinius Varus, to the 6th of July, and made perpetual. The
Apollinarian games were merely scenical, and at first only
observed with singing, piping, and other sorts of music;
but afterwards there were also introduced all manner of
mountebank tricks, dances, and the like ; yet they still re¬
mained scenical, no chariot races, wrestling, or laborious
exercises of the body, being ever practised at them.
APOLLINARIANS, ApolLinarists, called also by
A P O
)ollinaris Epiphanius, Dimaritce, ancient heretics who denied the
II proper humanity of Christ, and maintained that the body
\ polio. w}1;c}1 jie assumed was endowed with a sensitive, and not a
rational soul, but that the Divine nature supplied the place
of the intellectual principle in man. This sect derived its
name from Apollinaris, bishop of Laodicea in the fourth
century.
APOLLINARIS, Sulpicius, a very learned gramma¬
rian, born at Carthage, lived in the second century under
the Antonines. He is supposed to be the author of the
verses which are prefixed to the comedies of Terence, and
which contain the arguments of them. He had for his
pupil Helvius Pertinax, who afterwards became emperor.
Apollinaris Sidonius, Caius Sollius, an eminent Chris¬
tian writer and bishop in the fifth century, was born of a
noble family in France. He was. educated under the best
masters, and made great progress in the several arts and
sciences, but particularly in poetry and polite literature. He
married Papianilla, the daughter of Avitus, who was consul,
and afterwards emperor, by whom he had three children.
But Majorianus, in the year 457, having deprived Avitus of
the empire, and taken the city of Lyons, in which our author
resided, Apollinaris fell into the hands of the enemy. The
reputation of his learning softened Majorianus’s resentment,
so that he treated him with the utmost civility; in return
for which Apollinaris composed a panegyric in his honour,
which was so highly applauded, that he had a statue erected
to him at Rome, and was honoured with the title of Count.
In the year 467 the Emperor Anthemius rewarded him for
the panegyric which he had written in honour of him, by
raising him to the post of governor of Rome, and afterwards
to the dignity of a patrician and senator. But he soon
quitted these secular employments for the service of the
church. The bishopric of Clermont being vacant in 472 by
the death of Eparchius, Apollinaris, who was then only a
layman, was chosen to succeed him. Clermont being be¬
sieged by the Goths, he animated the people to the defence
of that city, and would never consent to a surrender; so
that when it was taken, about the year 480, he was obliged
to retire. He was soon, however, restored by Evaric, king
of the Goths, and continued to govern the church as before.
He died on the 21st of August 482. He is esteemed one
of the most acute and vigorous writers of his age, both in
prose and verse. His chief works are his Panegyrics upon
the Emperors Avitus, Majorianus, and Anthemius, and a
collection of Letters and Poems. The best edition of these
productions is that by Sirmond, published in 1614, and re¬
published by Labbe in 1652, in 4to. There is a French
translation of his Letters.
APOLLO, in Mythology, a pagan deity worshipped by
the Greeks and Romans, who was originally the god of the
sun, and as such, synonymous with "HAios or Sol.
Apollo had a variety of other names, derived from his prin¬
cipal attributes, or the chief places where he was worshipped.
He was called the Healer (Akestor), from his enlivening
warmth and cheering influence; Nomius, or the shepherd,
from his fertilizing the earth, and thence sustaining the ani¬
mal creation ; Delius, from his rendering all things mani¬
fest ; Pythius, from his victory over Python ; Lycius,
Phoebus, and Phaneta, from his purity and splendour. As
Apollo is almost always identified by the Greeks with the
sun, it is no wonder that he should have been dignified with
so many attributes. It was natural for the most glorious
object in nature, whose influence is felt and seen by every
animated part ot creation, to be adored as the fountain of
light, heat, and life. The power of healing diseases being
chiefly given by the ancients to medicinal plants and vege¬
table productions, it was natural to exalt into a divinity the
visible cause of their growth. Hence he was also styled the
ijod of Physic ; and that external heat which cheers and
A P O 299
invigorates all nature, being transferred from the human Apollo
body to the mind, gave rise to the idea of all mental effer- Belvedere.
vescence coming from this god ; hence likewise, poets, pro- v v 
phets, and musicians, are said to be Numine afflati, inspired
by Apollo. r
Vossius has taken great pains to prove this god to be only
a metaphoi ical being, and that there never was anv other
Apollo than the sun. “ He was styled the Son of Jupiterf
says this author, “ because that god was reckoned by the
ancients the author of the world. His mother was called
Leto or Latona, a name which signifies hidden, because,
before the sun was created, all things were wrapped up in
the obscurity of chaos. He is always represented as beard¬
less and youthful, because the sun never grows old or de¬
cays ; and what else can his bows and arrows imply but his '
piercing beams?” And he adds, that all the ceremonies
which were performed to his honour had a manifest relation
to the great source of light which he represented.
Of the four Apollos mentioned by Cicero, it appears that
the last three were Greeks, and the first an Egyptian, who,
according to Herodotus, was the son of Osiris and Isis, and
called Orus. Pausanias is of the same opinion as Herodo¬
tus, and ranks Apollo among the Egyptian divinities. The
testimony of Diodorus Siculus is still more express ; for in
speaking of Isis, after saying that she had invented the prac¬
tice of physic, he adds, that she taught this art to her son
Orus, named Apollo, who was the last of the gods that
reigned in Egypt.
To the other perfections of this divinity the poets have
added beauty, grace, and the art of captivating the ear and
the heart, no less by the sweetness of his eloquence, than by
the melodious sounds of his lyre. One of the chief func¬
tions of this divinity was that of revealing the future to man,
whence he was the great oracular divinity among the ancients.
The defeat of the serpent Python formed a celebrated in¬
cident in the history of Apollo. The waters of Deucalion’s
deluge, says Ovid, which had overflowed the earth, left a
slime, from whence sprung innumerable monsters; and
among others the serpent Python, which made great havock
in the country about Parnassus. Apollo, armed with his
darts, put him to death; which, physically explained, im¬
plies that the heat of the sun having dissipated the noxious
steams, these monsters soon disappeared.
This event gave rise to the institution of the Pythian
games, so frequently mentioned in the Grecian history; and
it was from the legend of Apollo’s victory over the Python
that the god himself acquired the name of Pythius, and his
priestess that of Pythia. The city of Delphi, where the
famous oracles were so long delivered, was frequently styled
Pytho.
Apollo Belvedere, a representation of Apollo, gene¬
rally ranked as the masterpiece of ancient statuary. It was
so called from having been placed in the Belvedere of the
Vatican by Pope Julius II., where it remained till 1797,
when Rome was taken and plundered by the French. It
was again restored after the peace of 1815.
This celebrated statue was found in the ruins of ancient
Antium, now Capo d’Anzo, about the end of the fifteenth
century. The artist and the epoch of its execution are un¬
known. It has been supposed to agree with the description
of Pliny, Hist. Nat. xxxvi. 4, 10, and has been attributed
by some to Calamis, by others to Phyliscus, and by others
again to Praxiteles. The first was the opinion of Visconti
(see Feuerbach’s learned work, Der Vaticanische Apollo,
Nuremb. 1833, 8vo). But according to the most probable
opinion, this statue is sculptured in the Italian marble of Luni,
and was executed about the time of Nero. See liersch,
Epochen, &c. The hands and right arm which were want¬
ing in the original, were restored by Angelo da Montorsoli,
a pupil of Michael Angelo.
300 A P 0
A P O
Apollo-
dorus.
This wonderful work of art represents the highest ideal
of manly beauty. “ The lord of the unerring bow” has
just discharged his arrow at the serpent Python. His cloak,
his sole covering, lightly fastened round his neck, is flung
over his left shoulder, and hangs gracefully from his out¬
stretched arm, which grasps the still quivering bow. His
face expresses the calm and proud triumph of a god, who
needs but the putting forth of his hand to ensure him vic¬
tory. “ As the skilful artist,” says Winckelmann, “ wished
to personify the most beautiful of the gods, he expressed
only the anger in the nose—this organ, according to the
old poets, being its appropriate seat—and the contempt on
the lips. The latter emotion is manifested by the elevation
of the lower lip, by which the chin is raised at the same
time ; the former is visible in the dilated nostrils.” {Hist,
of Anc. Art among the Greeks, p. 159, English translation.
Lond. 1850.) The open right hand rests on the stump of
a tree, around which winds a serpent, at once emblematic
of the healing power of the god, and suggestive of the object
of his victory.
APOLLODORUS, a celebrated painter of Athens about
408 years before the birth of Christ, was the first who in¬
vented the art of mingling colours, and of expressing lights
and shades, on which latter account he received the name of
2/ctaypa^)os. He was admired also for his judicious choice of
subjects, and for beauty and strength of colouring surpassed
all the masters that went before him.
There was also a sculptor of this name who flourished
about the same period, and made statues in bronze. He
was surnamed the Mad, from his practice of breaking his
works in pieces when they did not realize his idea.
Apollodorus of Carystus, a Greek comic poet, about
300 years b.c., was a native of Euboea. He wrote, accord¬
ing to Suidas, 47 comedies, and gained the prize five times.
His plays were composed at Alexandria, where they were
greatly in esteem. The Hecyra and Phormio of Terence
are said to have been imitated from this writer.—Meineke,
Hist. Crit. Comic. Grcec.
Apollodorus, tyrant of Cassandria, subverted the liberty
of his country, b.c. 279, after having deceived the people
by an appearance of ardent attachment to their rights. He
was dethroned and put to death by Antigonus Gonatas.
Apollodorus of Gela, a Sicilian comic poet, said to have
been a contemporary of Menander, and frequently confounded
with Apollodorus of Carystus. Some fragments of his plays
are given in Meineke’s History.
Apollodorus the Athenian, a famous grammarian, the
son of Asclepiades and disciple of Aristarchus. He wrote
many works not now extant; but his most famous produc¬
tion is his Bibliotheca, which treats of the gods and the
heroic ages. It is supposed by some that this is only an
abridgment by another hand, and not the original work of
Apollodorus. In any view it is, however, of great value in
mythological inquiries. The best edition is that of Heyne,
in 4 vols. 8vo, published in 1803. A French translation,
with notes, was published at Paris in 1805, in 2 vols. 8vo.
Apollodorus of Pergamus, a Greek rhetorician, who
founded a school called after his name. He taught at Rome
and at Apollonia, and had Octavianus, afterwards Augustus,
as his pupil.
Apollodorus, an epigrammatic poet, supposed to have
been a native of Smyrna. He lived under Augustus and
Tiberius. Thirty of his epigrams are preserved in the Greek
Anthology.
Apollodorus, a famous architect under Trajan and Ha¬
drian, was born at Damascus. Among his principal works
were the Forum of Trajan, the Odeum, and various other pub¬
lic buildings at Rome; the triumphal arches at Beneven-
tum and Ancona; and the great bridge of stone which Tra¬
jan ordered to be built over the Danube in the year 104,
which was esteemed the most magnificent of all the wdrks of Apolionia
that emperor. One day as Trajan was discoursing with this II
architect upon the buildings he had raised at Rome, Ha-
drian ventured to give his judgment, and showed he under- v Mus'
stood nothing of the matter. Apollodorus turned upon him
bluntly, and said to him, “ Go, paint gourds, for you are very
ignorant of the subject we are talking upon.” Hadrian at
this time boasted of his painting gourds well. On Hadrian’s
elevation to the throne, Apollodorus was banished. He com¬
posed in his exile a treatise on Warlike Engines (TroXiop-
Kr/rLKo), in a preface to which he supplicated the indulgence
of the emperor. Hadrian sent him soon after the plan of
a temple of Venus, which he had himself designed. Apol¬
lodorus criticized its dimensions, and remarked, “ that if the
goddess wished to rise and go out of the temple, she could
not find room.” This, with the former freedom of Apollo¬
dorus, so offended Hadrian, that he put the artist to death,
on the pretext of imaginary crimes.—(Dion Cassius, Ixix.)
APOLLONIA, an ancient city of Illyricum, near the
mouth of the Avus, distinguished as a seat of learning to¬
wards the end of the Roman republic. This name was also
borne by many other places.
Apollonia, a propitiatory festival solemnized at Sicyon
in honour of Apollo and Artemis (Diana), to avert a pesti¬
lence. Pans. ii. 7. § 7.
APOLLONICON. See Organ.
APOLLONIUS of Alabanda, surnamed Molo, a dis¬
tinguished Greek rhetorician, the instructor of Caesar and of
Cicero. He settled at Rhodes, and in the dictatorship of
Sulla, was sent as ambassador from the Rhodians to Rome.
He was the first Greek who addressed the senate without
the aid of an interpreter. Cicero renewed his studies under
him when he afterwards visited Rhodes on his return from
Asia. The works of Apollonius have perished.
Another rhetorician of the same name, likewise a native
of Alabanda, and an inhabitant of Rhodes, was surnamed
the Effeminate (6 MuAukos). Both are mentioned by Cicero
with high respect.—Cicero, Brutus, 89, 90, 91; Be Inv. i.
56; Be Or at. i. 17, 28; Quintil. iii. 1. § 16; xii. 6, § 7, &c.
Apollonius, surnamed Byscolus (AixtkoAos), or the
Crabbed, was a native of Alexandria, and lived in the reigns
of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius. Priscian calls him u gram-
maticorum prbiceps.” He was the first systematic writer
on grammar, and his extant treatises on various branches ol
the science, display great ingenuity and vigour of thought.
These are, 1. On Syntax; 2. On the Pronoun ; 3. On Con¬
junctions ; 4. On Adverbs. The best edition of the Syntax
is that of Bekker, Berlin, 1817.
Apollonius of Perga, in Pamphylia, is one of the most
illustrious of the ancient Greek geometricians. The date
of his birth has not been precisely ascertained; but as he
flourished under Ptolemy Philopater, who died in the year
205 b.c., after a reign of 16 years, it is conjectured that
he was born about the middle of the third century before
our era, and that he was about 40 years posterior to Archi¬
medes. He studied at Alexandria under the successors
of Euclid, and is pre-eminently distinguished among the
disciples of that illustrious school, in which the mathema¬
tical sciences were at all times held in the highest esti¬
mation.
Few of the numerous compositions of Apollonius have
escaped the ravages of time ; but the description which
has been given of them by Pappus, in the preface to the
seventh book of the Mathematical Collections, explains
their nature and value, and gives the admirers of the an¬
cient analysis great reason to regret the loss of those
which have perished. The most celebrated of his produc¬
tions was the treatise on the Conic Sections; a work which,
according to the testimony of Geminius Rhodius, was re¬
garded with so much admiration by the contemporaries of
A P O
I ipollonius. its author, that they bestowed on him the title of the
Great Geometrician. This title is justified by the excel¬
lence of the work, which is unquestionably far superior to
any treatise on the subject which we know to have exist¬
ed among the ancients, and which has not indeed, in some
respects, been surpassed in modern times. But while we
bestow this praise on the treatise of Apollonius, we are
not to suppose that he was the inventor of all, or even the
greater part, of the properties which are demonstrated in
it. Several treatises on the conic sections are known to
have existed previously, in which the theory of these curves
seems to have been prosecuted to a very considerable
length. Pappus mentions, in particular, in terms of the
highest eulogy, the five books on Solid Loci, or the conic
sections, which were composed by Aristaeus the ancient,
who lived about 350 years b. c.; and the construction
given by Menechmus, of the problem to find two mean
proportionals between two given straight lines, which leads
to the duplication of the cube, shows that the disciples of
Plato had advanced far in the same department of geo¬
metry. In fact, as it was the object of Apollonius to give a
complete treatise of the conic sections, he did not scruple
to avail himself of the discoveries of his predecessors, and,
accordingly, embodied in his own work what had previously
been done by Aristaeus, Eudoxus of Cnidus, Menechmus,
Euclid, Conon, Thrasidaeus, Nicoteles, and others. It is
now impossible to distinguish the propositions which were
borrowed from his predecessors from those which were
invented by himself; but it is certain that he both made
great additions to the theory of the conic sections, and
improvements in the manner of treating it. Eutocius in¬
forms us that Apollonius was the first who showed that
all the three sections may be cut from the same cone, by
varying the position of the intersecting plane ; for previous
authors had always supposed the plane of the section per¬
pendicular to the side of the cone,—an hypothesis which
requires that the three sections be cut from three cones
of different species, namely, the parabola from a right-
angled cone, the ellipse from an obtuse, and the hyperbola
from an acute. It has, however, been established by Guido
Ubaldus, in his commentary on the second book of the
2Equiponderantes of Archimedes, that the Syracusan geo¬
meter was acquainted with the fact, that the three sec¬
tions may be derived from the same cone. The generali¬
zation is indeed so very obvious, that we can scarcely per¬
suade ourselves that it was not previously made by the
more ancient writers; and it is probable, that if they
usually assumed the cutting plane to have a particular
position with reference to the cone, it was only on account
of some facilities which that hypothesis afforded them in
establishing the fundamental properties of the sections.
Pappus ascribes to Apollonius the names by which the
three sections are now distinguished and characterized:
the term Parabola, however, occurs in the writings of
Archimedes.
Of the eight books which Apollonius composed on the
conic sections, the first four only have reached us in the
original Greek. Three more have been preserved through
the medium of an Arabic version ; the last is unfortunate¬
ly lost. A Latin translation of the first four was publish¬
ed by Memmius, at Venice, in 1537; and another, much
more accurate, by Commandine, in 1568, with the addi¬
tion of the commentary of Eutocius, and the lemmas of
Pappus to all the eight books. Hitherto the last four
books had not been discovered ; but as the nature of their
contents was sufficiently known from the indications of
Pappus, several attempts were made to supply their loss
by a restoration. Maurolycus, a Sicilian geometer of the
16th century, successfully commenced the theory of the
fifth and sixth books; and Viviani, the last and favoui'ite
A p o
disciple of the illustrious Galileo, was employed on theApoll
same subject, when two different manuscript versions
o the work of Apollonius were accidentally brought to
ig it. Among a number of Arabic manuscripts brought
from the East by Golius, one was found which contained
seven books of the conics. Golius was sufficiently in¬
structed in geometry to be aware of the value of his dis¬
covery ; he hastened to communicate it to the mathema¬
ticians of that time, and proposed to publish a transla¬
tion of the woik. This project, however, failed from some
cause which has not been explained; and, notwithstand¬
ing the intimation which had been given, the last four
books still continued to be regarded as lost, till the year
1658, when Alphonso Borelli, the celebrated author of the
treatise De Motu Animalium, happened to discover, in the
library of the Medici at Florence, an Arabic manuscript
with the following inscription: Apollonii Pergcei Conico-
rum Libri Octo. Borelli obtained permission to carry this
manuscript to Rome, where, with the assistance of Abra¬
ham Ecchellensis, he translated the fifth, sixth, and
seventh books. Notwithstanding the inscription, the
eighth book was wanting; and as this was also the case
with regard to the manuscript of Golius, it seems probable
that it had not been translated into Arabic.
The last four books of the conics of Apollonius formed a
considerable part of what may be termed the transcenden¬
tal geometry of the ancients ; and they exhibit some of the
most elegant and successful applications of the geometrical
analysis. The fifth book, for example, which treats of the
greatest and least lines that can be drawn from given
points to the peripheries of the curves, contains nearly all
the properties of normals and radii of curvature which
are now generally investigated by the aid of the differen¬
tial calculus, and almost anticipates the admirable theory
of involutes and evolutes which confers so brilliant a
lustre on the name of Huygens. The seventh book also
contains some theorems which, although they have now
passed into the elements, are sufficiently difficult and re¬
mote to afford scope for the exercise of address and in¬
genuity, even when their investigation is attempted by
the modern analysis. Dr Halley, guided by the descrip¬
tion of Pappus, divined the contents of the eighth book,
and published a magnificent edition of the whole at Ox¬
ford in 1710.
The other treatises of Apollonius which are mentioned
by Pappus are the following:—ls£, The Section of Ra¬
tio, or Proportional Sections; 2d, the Section of Space;
Sfi, the Determinate Sections; kth, the Tangencies; bth,
the Inclinations ; Qth, the Plane Loci. Each of these
was divided into two books, and, with the data of Euclid
and the porisms, they formed the eight treatises which,
according to Pappus, constituted the body of the ancient
analysis. Of the above treatises of Apollonius, the first
only has reached us through an Arabic translation. It was
discovered in Arabic among the Selden manuscripts in
the Bodleian Library at Oxford, by Dr Edward Bernard,
who commenced a translation of it, from which, however,
he was deterred by the difficulties occasioned by the ex¬
treme inaccuracy of the manuscript before he had finished
a tenth part. This small portion of the translation was
revised by Dr David Gregory ; the rest was translated, or
more properly speaking, divined, by Dr Halley, who pub¬
lished it in 1706, together with the analogous treatise on
the Section of Space, which he had restored after the in¬
dication of its contents given by Pappus. The general
problem resolved in the first treatise, although it is branch¬
ed out into a great variety of cases, may be comprehend¬
ed in the following enunciation : “ Two straight lines
being given by position, together with a point in each, it
is required to draw through a third given point a straight
802
A P O
A P O
Apollonius, line intersecting the two former straight lines, so that the
segments intercepted between the given points and the
points of intersection with the third line may be to each
other in a given ratio.” The problem which forms the
subject of the second treatise differs from the above only
in requiring that the intercepted segments on the two
straight lines given by position shall contain a given rect¬
angle.
The object of the treatise on the Determinate Sections
was “ to find a point in a straight line given by position,
the rectangles or squares of whose distances from given
points in the given straight line shall have a given ratio.”
A restoration of this and the two preceding treatises was
attempted by Snellius; but although he certainly resolved
the problems which had been proposed by Apollonius, his
solutions were far inferior in point of elegance to those
of the Greek geometer. The discovery of the treatise on
the Section of Ratio enabled a comparison to be made of
the restored with the original work. Some cases of the
Determinate Section were also resolved by Alexander An¬
derson of Aberdeen, in his supplement to the Apollonius
Eedivivus, published at Paris in 1612. But by far the
most complete and elegant restoration of the problem
was given by Dr Simson of Glasgow, with two additional
books on the same subject. It has been published among
his posthumous works.
The treatise on Inclinations,—the object of which was
to insert a straight line of a given length, and tending to
a given point, between two lines (straight lines or circles)
given by position,—was first investigated by Marinus
Ghetaldus, a patrician of Ragusa, afterwards by Hugo
de Omerique in his ingenious treatise on the Geometrical
Analysis, published at Cadiz in 1698. The different cases
of the problem have been resolved in a very elegant
manner by Dr Horsley, who published his restoration in
1770.
The treatise de Tactionibus, which relates to the con¬
tact of circles and straight lines, has afforded exercise for
the ingenuity of many modern mathematicians. The ge¬
neral problem which it embraces may be enunciated as
follows: Three things (points, straight lines, or circles)
being given by position, it is required to describe a circle
which may pass through the given points and touch the
given straight lines and circles. The most difficult case
of the problem is that in which the three things given are
circles ; the question being then to determine the centre
and radius of a circle, which shall touch these circles
given in magnitude and position. This problem, which is
now. considered as quite elementary, possesses an histori¬
cal interest on account of the great names connected with
its solution. It was proposed by Vieta, the most skilful
geometrician of the 16th century, to Adrianus Romanus,
who, in constructing it, employed the very obvious con¬
sideration of the intersection of two hyperbolas. Such a
solution of a plane problem, which ought to be construct¬
ed by means of straight lines and circles only, was very
far from being satisfactory to Vieta: he therefore himself
proposed a more geometrical construction, and restored
the whole treatise of Apollonius, in a small work which he
published at Paris in 1660 under the title of Apollonius
Gallus. The treatise of Vieta is entitled to the praise of
great ingenuity, but it falls far short of the geometrical
elegance of the known productions of Apollonius; and
simpler solutions have since been found of the more dif¬
ficult cases of the general problem. An algebraic solu¬
tion of the same question was attempted by Descartes •
but the equations at which he arrived were so exceed¬
ingly complicated, that he himself ingenuously confessed
that he should not be able to construct one of them in a
shorter time than three months. The Princess Elizabeth
of Bohemia, who carried on an epistolary correspondence Apollonius,
with Descartes, gave a solution of the same kind. New-
ton himself, in his Universal Arithmetic, condescended to
consider this problem ; but he succeeded little better than
Vieta, whose method he followed. In the 16th lemma
of the first book of the Principia, he has, however, given
a different and simpler investigation, and reduced with
great skill the two hyperbolic loci of Adrianus Romanus
to the intersection of two straight lines. Simple geome¬
trical solutions, since that of Dr Simson was published,
are to be found in every elementary work. In speaking
of this problem, Montucla observes, that it is one of those
to which the algebraic analysis applies with difficulty.
His opinion, however, would have been different had he
lived to see the extremely simple and elegant algebraic
investigation given by Gergonne in the Annales des Ma-
thematiques, not only of this, but of the analogous pro¬
blem in space which was proposed by Descartes to Fer¬
mat, viz. to describe a sphere touching four spheres given
by position. In fact, it would be difficult to select a pro¬
blem in elementary geometry better calculated to display
the resources and pliability of the algebraic calculus, than
this very one which had been considered as belonging so
exclusively to the analysis of the ancients. A very full
and interesting historical account of this problem is given
in the preface to a little work of Camerer, entitled Apol-
lonii Pergcei quce super sunt, ac maxime Lemmata Pappi
in hos libros, cum Observationibus, &c. Gothae, 1795, 8vo.
The last of the treatises mentioned by Pappus,—de
Locis Planis,—is only a collection of properties of the
straight line and circle, and corresponds to the construc¬
tion of equations of the first and second degree. It has
been restored in the true spirit of the ancient geometry
by Dr Simson, whose treatise well deserves the attention
of the student.
Besides the works which we have now enumerated, we
are informed, by the fragment of the second book of Pap¬
pus, published among the works of Dr Wallis, that Apol¬
lonius occupied himself with arithmetical researches, and
composed a treatise on the multiplication of large numbers.
Astronomy is also indebted to him for the discovery, or at
least for the demonstration, of the method of represent-
ing, by means of epicycles and deferents, the phenomena
of the stations and retrogradations of the planets. He
appears also to have been the inventor of the method of
projections, and has the distinguished merit of having been
the first who attempted to found astronomy on the prin¬
ciples of geometry, and establish an alliance between
these two sciences which has been productive of the great¬
est benefit to both.
Or the personal character of this most assiduous and
inventive geometrician, nothing is known excepting what
may be gathered from a few unfavourable hints thrown
out by Pappus. Pappus describes him as vain, arrogant,
envious of the reputation of others, and inclined to de¬
preciate their merit; and contrasts him with the amiable
and disinterested Euclid, who was always ready to allow
to every one his just share of praise, and who manifested
on every occasion the most benevolent feelings towards
all men, especially towards those who laboured to improve
or extend the science of geometry. The charge of ap¬
propriating to himself the discoveries of Archimedes,
which was brought against Apollonius by Heraclius, had
probably no other foundation than the boastful manner in
which he spoxe of his own discoveries, and affected to
despise those of other mathematicians; for, as has been
well remarked, pretensions pushed too far excite in the
rest of mankind a sort of re-action of self-love, which
leads them to contest the most legitimate titles. But
whatever may have been the case with regard to the per-
A P O
Apollonius, sonal qualities of Apollonius, the powers of his mind and
his unwearied industry command universal admiration.
The great value attached to his productions by the an¬
cients is manifest from the number and celebrity of the
commentators who undertook to explain them. Among
these we find the names of Pappus, the learned and un¬
fortunate Hypatia, Serenus, Eutocius, &c.
The remarkable editions of the works of Apollonius
are the following:—1. Apollonii Pergcei Conicorum libri
quatuor, ex versione Frederici Commandini. Bononiae,
1566, fol. 2. Apollonii Pergcei Conicorum libri v. vi. vii.
Paraphraste Abalphato Asplianensi nunc primum editi:
Additus in calce Archimedis Assumtorum liber, ex Codici-
bus Arabicis Manuscr.: Abrahamus Ecchellensis Latinos
reddidit: J. Alfonsus Porellus curam in Geometricis Ver-
sioni contulit, et Notas uberiores in universum opus adjecit.
Florentiae, 1661, fol. 3. Apollonii Pergeei Conicorum li¬
bri octo, et Sereni Antissensis de Sectione Cylindri et Coni
libri duo. Oxoniae, 1710, fol. (This is the splendid edi¬
tion of Dr Halley.) 4. The edition of the first four
books of the Conics given in 1675 by Barrow. 5. Apol¬
lonii Pergcei de Sectione Rationis libri duo ; Accedunt
ejusdem de Sectione Spatii libri duo Restituti: Prcemittitur,
&c. Opera et Studio Edmundi Halley. Oxoniae, 1706,
4to.
See Bayle’s Dictionary ; Bossut, Essai sur lHist. Gen.
des Math., tome i.; Montucla, Hist, des Math., tome i.;
Vossius de Scient. Math. ; Simson’s Sectiones Conicce, pre¬
face ; and Hutton’s Mathematical Dictionary. (t. <}.)
Apollonius, the author of the Argonautics, and sur-
named the Rhodian, from the pkice of his residence, is
supposed to have been a native of Alexandria, where he
is said to have recited some portion of his poem while he
was yet a youth. Finding it ill received by his country¬
men, he retired to Rhodes, where he is conjectured to
have polished and completed his work, supporting himself
by the profession of rhetoric, and receiving from the Rho¬
dians the freedom of their city. He at length returned
with considerable honour to the place of his birth, suc¬
ceeding Eratosthenes in the care of the Alexandrian li¬
brary in the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes, who ascended
the throne of Egypt in the year before Christ 246. That
prince had been educated by the famous Aristarchus, and
rivalled the preceding sovereigns of his liberal family in
the munificent encouragement of learning. Apollonius was
a disciple of the poet Callimachus; but their connection
ended in the most violent enmity, which was probably
owing to some degree of contempt expressed by Apollo¬
nius for the light compositions of his master. The learn¬
ed have vainly endeavoured to discover the particulars of
their quarrel. The only work of Apollonius which has
descended to modern times is his poem above mentioned,
in four books, on the Argonautic expedition. Both Lon-
ginus and Quintilian have assigned to this work the mor¬
tifying character of mediocrity. It was published for the
first time at Florence in 1496, with the ancient Greek
Scholia, in a 4to volume, now exceedingly rare. There is
an excellent edition by Brunck, published in 1780, and
another by Beck, published in 1797; but the best is that
of Professor Schafer, printed at Leipsic in 2 vols. 8vo, in
1810-13.
1 he Argonautics have been well translated into English
verse by Fawkes and Green in 1780; another translation
in English verse, with critical notes, was published by W.
Preston in 1803.
Apollonius and Tauriscus of Tralles, the sculptors of
the famous Larnese Bull, a group representing Zethus and
Amphion tying the revengeful Dirce to the tail of a wild
bull. 1 his work is now at Naples. There were several
other sculptors named Apollonius.
A P O
303
Another Apollonius, a sophist, wrote a Homeric Lexi- Apollonius,
con, which was first published by Villoison. His A&ets
OpripcKcu appeared in two vols. 4to, at Paris, in 1773
Apollonius of Tyana, a celebrated Pythagorean philo¬
sopher, was born at Tyana, the capital of Cappadocia, a
few years before the Christian era. At the age of 14 he
was sent by his father to Tarsus, to study grammar and rhe¬
toric under the Phoenician Euthydemus; but finding the
vain and luxurious manners of that city unfavourable to
serious study, he retired, with his father’s permission, to the
neighbouring town of ^Egse, where he spent most of his time
in the temple of Aesculapius, in the company of priests and
philosophers. Here he fell in with Euxenus, a philosopher
who professed the principles of Pythagoras, but followed in
his practice the less rigid maxims of Epicurus. Apollonius
received with enthusiasm the Pythagorean instructions of
Euxenus, and with more consistency than his masterj deter¬
mined at the age of 16 to mould his future life by the pre¬
cepts of the Samian sage. Thenceforth renouncing the plea¬
sures and luxuries of life, he devoted himself to the cultiva¬
tion of his soul, and the improvement of his fellow-men.
Abjuring the use of animal flesh and of wine, he fed on
the simple fruits of the earth, wore no clothing but linen,
and no sandals on his feet, suftered his hair to grow, and
slept on the hard ground. The still more difficult penance
of a five years’ silence, prescribed by Pythagoras to his dis¬
ciples, was a few years after strictly observed by Apollo¬
nius. This period he passed chiefly in Pamphylia and Cilicia,
enduring the painful trial of passing through scenes of vio¬
lence and disorder without suffering even a murmur to pass
his lips ; successful, however, if his admiring biographer may
be credited, in restraining tumult and excess by the look of
his countenance, or the silent eloquence of his hand. At the
city of Aspendus, he found the inhabitants rising in mutiny
against the governor, whom they unjustly blamed for the
general scarcity of corn. The presence of Apollonius awed
them into silence, and the governor urged in his own de¬
fence that the wealthy citizens who hoarded their corn were
the authors of the famine. The excited populace were hur¬
rying to take vengeance on the monopolizers, and plunder
their stores, when Apollonius, by silent signs, hushed their
fury, and the hoarders of the corn were brought into his
presence. With difficulty restraining his voice, amid the
tears of perishing women and children and old men, he
wrote on a tablet the following words:—“ Apollonius to the
monopolizers of corn in Aspendus, greeting! The earth is
the common mother of all, for she is just. You are unjust,
for you have made her only the mother of yourselves: and
if you will not cease from thus doing, I will not suffer you
to remain upon her.” This just rebuke, says Philostratus,
had the desired effect: the market was filled with grain, and
the city recovered from its distress. This story, whether true
or not, may be taken as a fair indication of the real charac¬
ter of Apollonius, both as to the general tenor of his moral
teaching, and his high and mysterious pretensions.
After spending some time at Antioch, Apollonius ex¬
tended his travels into the East, and wandered over As¬
syria, Persia, and India, conversing with Magi, Brahmins,
Gymnosophists, and priests, visiting the temples, preaching
a purer morality and religion than he found, and attracting
wherever he went admiration and reverence. At Nineveh
he met with Damis, who became his disciple and the com¬
panion of his journeyings, and left those doubtful records of
his life which Philostratus made use of, and probably im¬
proved upon. He afterwards visited Egypt, Greece, and
Italy, and died, as is supposed, at Ephesus, at a very ad¬
vanced age. His biographer has represented his death as
involved in doubt and mystery, with the view of heighten¬
ing the reverence due to his hero.
After his death Apollonius was worshipped with divine
304 A P 0
A polios, honours for a period of four centuries. A temple was raised
^ to him at Tyana, which obtained from the Romans the im¬
munities of a sacred city. His statue was placed among those
of the gods, and his name was invoked as a being possessed
of superhuman powers. The defenders of Paganism, at the
period of its decline, placed the life and miracles of Apollo¬
nius in rivalry to those of Christ; and some modern Deists
have not disdained to make the same unworthy comparison.
The life of Apollonius by Philostratus, composed about
120 years after the philosopher’s death, by order of Julia,
wife of the Emperor Severus, is the only source of our infor¬
mation regarding him. Founded, as it is, on the insufficient
testimony of Damis, combined with vague and exaggerated
traditions, we are left to draw our estimate of Apollonius
from mere probability. See Philostratus. It would seem,
then, that though he may very possibly have been led, in
his desire to strengthen his influence over men’s minds, to
use artifices and pretensions unworthy of a true sage, he was
far from having been a vulgar or shallow impostor. With
some of the spirit of a moral and religious reformer, he
appears to have attempted, though vainly, to animate with
a new and purer life the expiring breath of Paganism. His
journey to the East was probably directed by the wish
to trace the original traditions of the human race to their
native source, believing, as he seems to have done, that
these had been corrupted by the impure mythology of an
artful priesthood. The story already quoted illustrates his
doctrine that the earth was the common home of the human
family, and that its inhabitants could attain true happiness
only in the recognition of their mutual brotherhood. He
inculcated the uselessness of supplication and of sacrifice, as
unworthy of the Divine majesty, proclaiming the only ac¬
ceptable offering to be a pure and devout heart.
In a philosophical relation, Apollonius may be regarded
as the precursor of the Alexandrian philosophy, by bring¬
ing philosophy and religion into union, and attempting to
combine the philosophical spirit of Greece with the mysti¬
cal religion of the East. Of the authentic works of Apol¬
lonius none are extant but his Apology, preserved along
with the life by Philostratus.
APOLLOS, in Scripture History, a Jew of Alexandria,
who came to Ephesus during the absence of St Paul at Je¬
rusalem (Acts xviii. 24). Apollos was an eloquent man,
and well versed in the Scriptures, and preached in the syna¬
gogue, with zeal and fervour the doctrine of a Messiah, know¬
ing as yet “ only the baptism of John.” Aquila and Priscilla
having heard him, took him home with them, instructed
him more fully in the doctrines of the Gospel, and baptized
him.
Some time after this he travelled into Achaia; and, hav¬
ing come to Corinth, was there very useful in convincing the
Jews out of the Scriptures, and demonstrating to them that
Jesus was the Christ. Thus he watered what St Paul had
planted in this city. (1 Cor. iii. 6.) But the great affection
which his disciples entertained for him threatened to pro¬
duced a schism, some saying, I am of Paul, others, I am of
Apollos, I am of Cephas. This division, however, which St
Paul speaks of in the chapter last quoted, did not prevent
that apostle and Apollos from being closely united by the
bonds of charity. Apollos hearing that the apostle was at
Ephesus, went to meet him, and was there when St Paul
wrote the first epistle to the Corinthians; wherein he testi¬
fies that he had earnestly entreated Apollos to return to
Corinth, but hitherto had not been able to prevail with him;
that nevertheless he gave him room to hope that he would
go when he had an opportunity. St Jerome says that Apol¬
los was so dissatisfied with these divisions at Corinth, that
he retired into Crete with Zenas, a doctor of the law; and
that this disturbance having been appeased by St Paul’s let¬
ter to the Corinthians, Apollos returned to this city, and
A P O
became its bishop. The Greeks made him bishop of Duras, Apoliv0D
others say he was bishop of Iconium in Phrygia, and others 11*
that he was bishop of Caesarea. Aporia.
APOLLYON, a Greek word that signifies the destroyer, V'“V'W
and answers to the Hebrew Abaddon. See Abaddon.
APOLOGUE, in Literature, an ingenious method of con¬
veying instruction by means of a feigned relation called a
moral fable. The only difference between a parable and an
apologue is, that the former, being drawn from what passes
among mankind, requires probability in the narration; where¬
as the apologue, being taken from the supposed actions
of brutes, or even of things inanimate, is not tied down to
the strict rules of probability. The iEsopic fables are a mo¬
del of this kind of writing.
APOMYOS (aTrd, and gvia, afly), in the Heathen Mytho¬
logy, a name under which Zeus was worshipped at Elis, and
Hercules as well as Zeus at the Olympic games. These
deities were supplicated under this name to destroy or drive
away the vast number of flies which always attended at the
great sacrifices; and in those which accompanied the Olym¬
pic games, the first was always to the Apomyos, or Myia-
grus Theos, that he might drive away the flies from the rest.
The usual sacrifice was a bull.
APONO, Peter d’, one of the most famous philosophers
and physicians of his age, born in the year 1250, in a village
about four miles from Padua. He was suspected of magic,
and prosecuted by the Inquisition. “ The common opinion
of almost all authors,” says Naude, “ is, that he was the
greatest magician of his age; that he had acquired the know¬
ledge of the seven liberal arts by means of the seven familiar
spirits, which he kept inclosed in a crystal; and that he had
the dexterity to make the money he had spent come back
into his purse.” The same author adds, that he died before
the process against him was finished, being then in the 66th
year of his age ; and that, after his death, they ordered him
to be burnt in effigy, in the public place of the city of Pa¬
dua. He was the author of various works, the most remark¬
able of which are the following: Conciliator Diffcrenti-
arum Philosophorum, first published in 1471; De Venenis
eorumque Remediis, which was translated into French by
Boet in 1593 ; Expositio Problematum Aristotelis, 1475 ;
Geomantia, 1549; LHonocides digestus Alphabet. Ord.
1521.
APOPEMPTIC («7ro7re/x7rn.Kd), in Ancient Poetry, a
hymn addressed to a stranger on his departure from a place to
his own country. The ancients had certain holydays, wherein
they took leave of the gods with apopemptic songs, as sup¬
posing them returning each to his own country. The deities
having the patronage of divers places, it was but just to di¬
vide their presence, and allow some time to each. Hence it
was that among the Delians and Milesians we find feasts of
Apollo, and among the Argives feasts of Diana, called Epi-
demice, as supposing these deities then more peculiarly resi¬
dent among them. On the last day of the feast they dis¬
missed them, following them to the altars with apopemptic
hymns.
APOPHORETA (dirocfiop'rjTa), in Antiquity, presents
which the guests at an entertainment carried home with
them. This was a common practice at all times, but espe¬
cially at festivals, such as the Saturnalia.—See Martial. 1. 14.
Suet. Vesp. 19. Cal. 55. Aug. 75.
APOPHTHEGM (aTTo^Oeypa), a short, sententious, and
instructive remark.
APOPHYLLITE, a mineral belonging to the zeolite
family. See Mineralogy.
APOPLEXY (dTroirXrfLs), a distemper in which the pa¬
tient is suddenly deprived of all his senses, and of voluntary
motion.
APORIA (aVopta), a figure in Rhetoric, by which the
speaker shows that he doubts where to begin for the multi-
A P O
Aposio- tude of matter, or what to say in some strange and ambigu-
pesis ous thing, and, as it were, argues the case with himself.
II APOSIOPESIS, in Rhetoric, afterwards called reticency
' 1)03 % and suppression, a figure by which a person really speaks of
a thing, at the same time that he makes a show as if he
would say nothing of it. The word comes from dTrocrtcoTrdw,
1 am silent. Example: “ I declare to you that his conduct
—hut we must not now lose time in words.”
APOSPHRAGISMA (from d7rd, and a^payitfa, I seal),
in Antiquity, the figure or impression of a seal.
APOSTASY (dTrdoTacris), a going away, or defection from
one’s original profession or party.
A POSTERIORI. See A priori.
APOSTLE (ttTrdoToA-os), properly signifies a messenger
or person sent by another upon some business ; and hence,
by way of eminence, denotes one of the disciples commis¬
sioned by Jesus Christ to preach the gospel.
Christ selected twelve out of the number of his disciples
to be invested with the apostleship. Their names were
Simon Peter, Andrew, James the Greater, John, Philip,
Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James the Less, Jude,
surnamed Lebbeus or Thaddeus, Simon the Canaanite, and
Judas Iscariot. Of these, Simon, Andrew, James the Greater,
and John, were fishermen, and Matthew a publican, or re¬
ceiver of the public revenue; of what profession the rest
were we are not told in Scripture, though it is probable they
were fishermen.
Our Lord’s first commission to his apostles was in the
third year of his public ministry, about eight months after
their solemn election ; at which time he sent them out by
two and two. They were to make no provision of money
for their subsistence in their journey, but to expect it from
those to whom they preached They were to declare that
the kingdom of heaven, or the Messiah, was at hand; and
to confirm their doctrine by miracles. They were to avoid
going either to the Gentiles or to the Samaritans, and to
confine their preaching to the people of Israel. In obe¬
dience to their Master, the apostles went into all the parts
of Palestine inhabited by the Jews, preaching the gospel
and working miracles. The evangelical history is silent as
to the particular circumstances attending this first preaching
of the apostles, and only informs us that they returned and
told their Master of all that they had done.
Their second commission, just before our Lord’s ascen¬
sion, was of a more extensive and particular nature. They
were now not to confine their preaching to the Jews, but
to “ go and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Ac¬
cordingly, they began publicly, after our Lord’s ascension,
to exercise the office of their ministry, working miracles
daily in proof of their mission, and making great numbers
of converts to the Christian faith. This alarmed the Jewish
Sanhedrim ; whereupon the apostles were apprehended, and
being examined before the high priest and elders, were com¬
manded not to preach any more in the name of Christ.
But this injunction did not terrify them from persisting in
the duty of their calling; for they continued daily, in the
temple, and in private houses, teaching, and preaching the
gospel.
After the apostles had exercised their ministry for twelve
years in Palestine, they resolved to disperse themselves in
different parts of the world, and agreed to determine by lot
what parts each should take. According to this division,
St Peter went into Pontus, Galatia, and other provinces of
the Lesser Asia; St Andrew had the vast northern coun¬
tries of Scythia and Sogdiana allotted to his portion ; St
John s was partly the same with Peter’s, namely, the Lesser
Asia ; St Philip had the Upper Asia assigned to him, with
some parts of Scythia and Colchis; Arabia Felix fell to St
Bartholomew’s share; St Matthew preached in Chaldea,
VOL. m.
A P O
Persia, and Parthia ; St Thomas preached likewise in Par-
thia, as also to the Hyrcanians, Bactrians, and Indians; St
James the Less continued in Jerusalem, of which church he
was bishop ; St Simon had for his portion Egypt, Cyrene,
Libya and Mauritania ; St Jude, Syria and Mesopotamia ;
and St Matthias, who was chosen in the room of the traitor
Judas, Cappadocia and Colchis. Thus, by the dispersion
of the apostles, Christianity was verv early planted in a great
many parts of the world. We have but very short and im¬
perfect accounts of their travels and actions.
In order to qualify the apostles for the arduous task of
converting the world to the Christian religion, they were,
in the first place, miraculously enabled to speak the lan¬
guages of the several nations to whom they were to preach;
and, in the second place, were endowed with the power of
working miracles, in confirmation of the doctrines they
taught; gifts which were unnecessary, and therefore ceased,
in the after ages of the church, when Christianity came to
be established by the civil power.
St Paul is frequently called the apostle by way of emi¬
nence ; and the apostle of the Gentiles, because his minis¬
try was chiefly made use of for the conversion of the Gen¬
tile world, as that of St Peter was for the Jews, who is
therefore styled the apostle of the circumcision. The se¬
veral apostles are usually represented with their respective
badges or attributes: Peter with the keys ; St Paul with a
sword ; St Andrew with a cross or saltier ; St James minor
with a fullers pole ; St John with a cup, and a winged ser¬
pent flying from it; St Bartholomew with a knife; St Philip
with a long staff, whose upper end is formed into a cross ;
St Thomas with a lance; St Matthew with a hatchet; St
Matthias with a battle-axe ; St James major with a pilgrim’s
staff and a gourd bottle ; St Simon with a saw; and St Jude
with a club.
Apostle was also used among the Jews for a kind of
officer anciently sent into the several parts and provinces in
their jurisdiction, by way of visitor or commissary, to see
that the laws were duly observed, and to receive the monies
collected for the reparation of the temple, and the tribute
payable to the Romans.
Apostle, in the Greek Liturgy, is particularly used for a
book containing the Epistles of St Paul, printed in the order
in which they are to be read in churches through the course
of the year. Another book of the like kind, containing the
Gospels, is called EmyyeAiov, Gospel. The Apostle, of late
days, has also contained the other canonical epistles, the
Acts of the Apostles, and the Revelation. Hence it is also
called Acts of the Apostles, IIpa£a7rdoToAos; that being the
first book in it.
Apostle is also thought by many to have been the ori¬
ginal name for bishops, before the denomination bishop was
appropriated to their order. Thus Theodoret says expressly,
the same persons were anciently called promiscuously both
bishops and presbyters, while those who are now called bishops
were called apostles.
APOSTLES’ Creed, a formula or summary of the Chris¬
tian faith, drawn up, according to Rufinus, by the apostles
themselves, as a rule of faith, and as a word of distinction, by
which they were to know friends from foes. Baronius and
some other authors conjecture that they did not compose it
till the second year of the reign of Claudius, a little before
their dispersion. As to their manner of composing it, some
fancy that each apostle pronounced his article, which is the
reason of its being called symholum apostolicum ; it being
made up of sentences jointly contributed, after the manner
®f persons paying each their club {symholum) or share of a
reckoning.
But there are reasons which may induce us to question
whether the apostles composed any such creed as this. For,
first, neither St Luke in the Acts, nor any other ecclesias-
2Q
305
Apostle
II
Apostles’
Creed.
306 A P O
Apostoleis tical writer before the fifth century makes any mention of
II an assembly of the apostles in order to the composing of a
Apostolici. cree(j Secondly, The fathers of the first three centuries,
in disputing against the heretics, endeavoured to prove that
the doctrine contained in this creed was the same which the
apostles taught; but they never pretend that the apostles
composed it. Thirdly, If the apostles had made this creed,
it would have been the same in all churches and in all ages ;
and all authors would have cited it after the same manner.
But the case is quite otherwise. In the second and third
ages of the church there were as many creeds as authors,
and one and the same author sets down the creed after a
different manner in several places of his works, which is an
evidence that there was not at that time any cieed which
was reputed the production of the apostles. In the fourth
century Rufinus compares together the three ancient creeds
of the churches of Aquileia, Rome, and the East, which dif¬
fer very considerably in the terms. Besides, these creeds
differed not only in the terms and expressions, but even in
the articles, some of which were omitted in one or other of
them, such as those of the descent into hell, the communion of
the saints, and the life everlasting. From these reasons it
may be gathered, that though this creed may be said to be
that of the apostles in regard to the doctrines contained there¬
in, yet it is not to be referred to them as the authors and
first composers of it. Who was the true author of it, it is
not easy to determine, though its great antiquity may be
inferred from this, that the whole form, as it now stands
in the English liturgy, is to be found in the works of St
Ambrose and Rufinus, both of whom flourished in the fourth
century.
APOSTOLEIS (dTrocrToXets), ten public officers at Athens
who superintended the equipment and provisioning of the
fleet by the trierarchs.
APOSTOLIANS, a sect of the Mennonites, which first
sprung up in the year 1663, and derived its name from
Apostool, one of the Mennonite ministers at Amsterdam.
They concurred with them in doctrine, and admitted to
their communion those only who professed to believe all
the sentiments which are contained in their public confes¬
sion of faith. See Mexnoxites.
APOSTOLIC, in the Primitive Church, was an appel¬
lation given to all such churches as were founded by the
apostles ; and even to the bishops of those churches, as being
the reputed successors of the apostles. These were con¬
fined to four, viz., Rome, Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusa¬
lem. In after times other churches assumed the same
quality, on account, principally, of the conformity of their
doctrine with that of the churches which were apostolical
by foundation, and because all bishops held themselves suc¬
cessors of the apostles, or acted in their dioceses with the
authority of apostles.
APOSTOLICAL Fathers is an appellation usually
given to the writers of the first century who employed their
pens in the cause of Christianity. Of these writers, Cote-
lerius, and after him Leclerc, have published a collection in
two volumes, accompanied with their own annotations and
the remarks of other learned men.
APOSTOLICI, or Apostolics, was a name assumed
by three different sects, on account of their pretending to
imitate the manner and practice of the apostles. The first
apostolici, otherwise called Apotactitce and Apotactici, rose
out of the Encratitfe and Cathari in the third century. They
made profession of abstaining from marriage, and the use of
wine, flesh, money, &c. Gerhard Sagarelli was the founder
of the second sect; he obliged his followers to go from
place to place as the apostles did, to wander about clothed
in white, with long beards, dishevelled hair, and bare heads,
accompanied by women, whom they called their spiritual
sisters. They likewise renounced all kinds of property and
A P 0
possessions, inveighed against the growing corruption of the Apostoli-
church of Rome, and predicted its overthrow, and the esta- cum
blishment of a purer church on its ruins. Sagarelli was II
burnt alive at Parma in the year 1300, and was afterwards J,)”the'
succeeded by Dulcinus, who added to the character of an y ar^ ,
apostle that of a prophet and of a general, and carried on a
bloody and dreadful war for the space of more than two years
against Reynerius, bishop of Vercelli: he was at length de¬
feated, and put to death in a barbarous manner, in the year
1307. Nevertheless, the sect subsisted in France, Germany,
and other countries, till the beginning of the fifteenth cen¬
tury, when it was totally extirpated under the pontificate of
Boniface IX. The other branch of apostolici was of the
twelfth century. These also condemned marriage, prefer¬
ring celibacy, and calling themselves the chaste brethren
and sisters ; though each was allowed a spiritual sister, with
whom he lived in a domestic relation: and on this account
they have been charged with concubinage. They held it
unlawful to take an oath, they set aside the use of baptism,
and in many things imitated the Manichees. Bernard wrote
against this sect of apostolici.
APOSTOLICUM is a peculiar name given to a kind of
song or hymn, anciently used in churches. The apostoli-
cum is mentioned by Greg. Thaumaturgus as used in his
time. Vossius understands it as spoken of the apostles’ creed:
Suicer thinks this impossible, because the creed was then
unknown in the churches of the East.
APOSTROPHE (dTroo-Tpo^), in Rhetoric, a figure by
which a person who is either absent or dead is addressed as
if he were present and attentive to us. It also signifies a di¬
version from the main subject of a discourse; as when an
advocate, in an argument to the jury, turns and addresses
some incidental remark to the court.
Apostrophe, in Grammar, the contraction of a word by
the use of a comma; as call’d for called, thd for though.
APOTACTTJLE, or Apotactici. See Apostolici.
APOTEICHISMUS, in the Ancient Military Art, a kind
of line of circumvallation drawn round a place in order to
besiege it. This was also called periteichismus. The first
thing the ancients went about when they designed to lay
close siege to a place, was the apoteichismus, which some¬
times consisted of a double wall or rampart, raised of earth;
the innermost to prevent sudden sallies from the town, the
outermost to keep off foreign enemies from coming to the
relief of the besieged. This answered to what are called lines
of contravallation and circumvallation among the moderns.
APOTHECARY. In Scotland this term is restricted
to one who compounds and sells drugs, and is used synony¬
mously with the term Druggist or Pharmaceutical Chemist.
These have never in Scotland enjoyed any status higher
than that of ordinary shopkeepers. In England, again, the
term means a general practitioner in medicine who also dis¬
penses and sells drugs to his patients or the public; and the
Apothecaries’ Company of London is not only one of the city
corporations, but also by an act of parliament licenses the
general practitioners over England and Wales to deal in or
sell drugs.
From early records we learn that the different branches of
the medical profession were not regularly distinguished till
the reign of Henry VIII., when they had separate duties
assigned them, and peculiar privileges. In 1518 the phy¬
sicians of London were incorporated ; and the barber-sur¬
geons in 1540. These two bodies as soon as constituted
overstepped their jurisdiction by prosecuting all those prac¬
titioners who did not belong to either body, and who consti¬
tuted the great mass of the practitioners of the healing art.
It was necessary, therefore, to pass an act in 1543 for the
protection and toleration of these numerous irregular practi¬
tioners, to most of whom the term apothecary was applicable,
as they usually had shops for the sale of medicines.
A P P
Apothe- In April 1606 James I. incorporated the apothecaries as
cary. 0ne of the city companies, uniting them with the grocers.
■—On their charter being renewed in 1617 they were formed
into a separate corporation, under the title of the “ Apothe¬
caries of the city of London.” These apothecaries appear
very soon to have begun to prescribe as well as to dispense
medicines, which was resisted by the College of Physicians
as an encroachment on their rights, but apparently unsuc¬
cessfully, as the apothecaries made good their claims. In
1722 an act was obtained empowering the Apothecaries’
Company to visit the shops of all druggists who were not
members of the company, and to destroy such drugs as they
found unfit for use. They appear to have worked this act
so rigorously, or rather oppressively, as to put down all
druggists who were not members of their body. In 1748,
great additional powers were given to the company by an act
empowering them to appoint a board of ten examiners, with¬
out whose license none should be allowed to dispense medi¬
cines in London, or within a circuit of seven miles round it.
In 1815, however, an act was passed which gave the Apo¬
thecaries’ Company an entirely new position, empowering
aboard of twelve of their number to have the sole right of ex¬
amining and licensing apothecaries throughout England and
Wales. It also enacted that from the 1st of August that
year (excepting those already in practice), none but those
licensed by them should have right to practise as an apo¬
thecary ; and at the same time it was made imperative that
candidates for examination should have served a five years’
apprenticeship with a member of the company.
As in small provincial towns or villages, no one can prac¬
tise without keeping a supply of drugs for his patients, this
act has given the apothecaries the complete control of the
medical profession in England. Every general practitioner
must not only have their license, but must have served an
apprenticeship with a member - of their body. If a practi¬
tioner does not dispense drugs the Apothecaries’ Company
cannot interfere with him.
Before this act came into operation a large proportion of
the medical practitioners of England were graduates of the
universities of Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Dublin, or licentiates
of the Royal Colleges of Physicians or Surgeons—none of
whom could attain that status without a full and liberal course
of medical education, and undergoing a rigorous examina¬
tion. This act at once sunk the requirements of the medi¬
cal practitioner to the lowest ebb; and we have the avowal
of the company itself that the course of study required by
the company for its license was of a very inferior descrip¬
tion. Since 1832, chiefly in consequence of the outcry for
medical reform, a much superior course of study has been
demanded; but the practical working of the Apothecaries’
Act of 1815 has been most hurtful to the medical profession
in many respects, and justice demands that the attention of
the legislature should be turned to this subject with the view
of relieving the most pressing grievances. Though desir¬
able that every medical practitioner should know the drugs
he uses, and be able to dispense them, it does not follow that
only those are capable of doing this who are licensed at
Rhubarb Hall. All those who are recognized in any part of
Her Majesty’s dominions as regularly licensed practitioners,
by possessing the diploma of a chartered licensing medical
corporation, should most unquestionably be freed from the
operation of this act. Till this be granted, the Apothe¬
caries Act of 1815 must be considered as a foul blot on the
Statute Book; and if the medical profession, instead of wast¬
ing, as they have done, time and money in the many late vain
attempts at a chimerical uniformity of medical education and
general union of the whole profession, were to have united
for this point alone, it would never have been refused by
government, and have relieved them from the only real
grievance of w hich they have to complain. (j. s—k.)
A P P 307
APO1HECA (airoOrjiaj), a storeroom in the upper part Apotheca
of a house, where the Romans frequently kept their wine, II
in order that the smoke from below might mellow it. Hence APPari-
the expression in Horace, Descende, testa. Carm. iii. 21.7. tion-
APOTHEOSIS, in Antiquity, a ceremony, whereby
emperors and great men were enrolled among the gods.
The word is derived from d7ro, and ©eos, God. After the
apotheosis, which they also called deification and consecra¬
tion, temples, altars, and images were erected to the new
deity; sacrifices, &c., were offered, and colleges of priests
instituted. It was one of the doctrines of Pythagoras, which
he had borrowed from the Chaldees, that virtuous persons
after their death were raised into the order of the gods ; and
hence the ancients deified all the inventors of things useful
to mankind, and those who had done any important services
to the commonwealth.
APO THESIS (from airo and TLOrj/u), in the ancient
churches, was a place with shelves for holding books, vest¬
ments, &c., on the south side of the chancel.
APOTOME, dTroTOfirj, in Geometry, the difference be¬
tween two incommensurable lines.
Apotome, a term used by the ancient Greek theoretical
writers on musical sounds and intervals to signify that inter¬
val in the ratio of 2187 : 2048, which, being cut off from the
major tone 9 : 8, left the interval called a limma, Xei/xfia, or
minor semitone, in the ratio 256 : 243. Also, the interval
125 : 128 was called a major apotome, and 2025 :2048 a
minor apotome.
APOTROPiE (from aTrorpeTTO), I avert), in Ancient
Poetry, verses composed for averting the wrath of incensed
deities ; and the deities invoked for averting any threatened
misfortune were called Apotropaei. They were also called
Alexicaci, from dXe^w, I drive away; and Averrunci, from
averrunco, which denotes the same.
APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS. See Alleghany.
APPALACHICOLA, a river of Florida, North America,
which is formed by the union of the rivers Flint and Chat-
tahouchee, and falls into the Gulf of Mexico after a course
of 70 miles. It is navigable for small craft throughout its
course. On its banks is a small town of the same name,
with a good harbour, and a considerable cotton-trade.
APPANAGE. See Apanage.
APPARATUS, a term used to denote a complete set
of instruments, or other utensils, belonging to any artist or
machine.—Apparatus is also used as a title of several books
composed in the form of catalogues, bibliothecas, diction¬
aries, &c., for the conveniency of study.
APPAREILLE, in Fortification, the slope or ascent to
a bastion.
APPARENT Heir, in Law. No inheritance can vest,
nor can any person be the actual heir of another, till the
ancestor is previously dead. Nemo est Imres viventis. Be¬
fore that time the person who is next in the line of succes¬
sion is called heir apparent, or heir presumptive. Heirs
apparent are those whose right of inheritance is indefeasible,
provided they outlive the ancestor; as the eldest son or his
issue, who must by the course of the common law be heirs
to the father whenever he happens to die. Heirs presump¬
tive are those who, if the ancestor should die immediately,
would in the present circumstances be his heirs, but whose
right of inheritance may be defeated by the contingency of
some nearer heir being born. In Scottish law, according
to Erskine, he who is entitled to enter “ heir to a deceased
ancestor, is, before his actual entry, styled, both in our
statutes and by writers, apparent heir, though that applica¬
tion is used sometimes in vulgar speech to denote an eldest
son, even before his father’s decease.”
APPARITION, Circle of, in Astronomy, is that part of
the heavens in any given latitude within which the stars are
always visible, in contradistinction to the circle of occultation.
308
APPARITIONS.
Appari- An apparition may be defined a spectral illusion, invo-
tions. luntarily generated, by means of which figures or forms,
not present to the actual sense, are nevertheless depic¬
tured with a vividness and intensity sufficient to create a
temporary belief of their reality. It is the result of the
re-action of an excited imagination, renovating past feel¬
ing or impressions, with an energy proportioned to the de¬
gree of excitement; arranging them often in new and fan¬
tastical groups ; and thus surrounding us with a phantas¬
magoria of the bodiless creation of the brain, so distinct
both in outline and lineament, that, while the exciting
cause continues to operate, the illusion of reality predo¬
minates over the mind with an intensity generally equal
to, sometimes greater than, that of the impressions pro¬
duced by actual perceptions. But although the illusion
thus generated is necessarily co-existent with the state of
excitement in which it has its origin; or, in other words,
ceases to be active when the spectral phenomena vanish;
it does not therefore follow that the mind, when it regains
its ordinary condition, becomes immediately sensible of
the hallucination under which it has for a time been la¬
bouring, or capable of distinguishing between the percep¬
tions of sense and the phantasms of imagination. On the
contrary, observation proves, what theory equally sanc¬
tions, that the conviction of reality generally outlasts the
impressions which originally produced it; and that, so far
from any suspicion of illusion being entertained, or any
power of discriminating the actual from the imaginary
being evinced, this conviction takes entire possession of
the mind, and, in many instances, maintains its hold with
a firmness which all the force of argument and reason is
insufficient to overcome. Hence the tenacity, and we
may add the universality, of the belief in apparitions ; and
hence also the prodigious diversity of forms under which
these spectral illusions are presented in the popular legends
and superstitions of different ages and countries ;—a diver¬
sity, in fact, which seems commensurate with the incredi-
ble. variety of influences, whether morbific or other, by
which the imagination may be excited, and past feelings
or impressions vividly renovated in consequence of its re¬
action on the organs of sense.
But however this may be, every one must, we think,
agree that the subject of apparitions, viewed in connection
with the philosophy of the human mind, is one of no mean
importance: and, as it has more or less engaged the atten¬
tion of philosophers from the earliest times, a brief and
condensed historical view of the various theories which
have been formed to account for these illusions may prove
neither uninteresting nor uninstructive ; while, in a work
of this nature, intended to form a record of the great mass
of human knowledge, such an outline appears to be not
only requisite, but altogether indispensable.
In the ancient systems of philosophy we meet with the
most opposite and contradictory opinions on the subject
of spiritual essences, as well as in regard to their suppos¬
ed occasional manifestations to the eye of flesh and blood
Ocellus Lucanus, one of the earliest of the Greek philo¬
sophers whose works have come down to our times at¬
tempts to account for the appearances of the universe by
having recourse to eternity and the circle. The circle he
conceived to be the appropriate representative of eternity,
if not absolutely identical with it; and as form, time’
motion, and substance are without beginning and without Appari.
end, so the universe, of which these are but parts, cannot tions.
have been generated, and, for the same reason, must be
incapable of corruption. It is in fact a circle, without be¬
ginning and without end. But this stupendous circle is
divided into parts totally dissimilar, by an isthmus which
our fanciful author has placed somewhere in the neigh¬
bourhood of the moon, and which forms the boundary be¬
tween the residence of the gods, where all is invariable,
and the material universe, where every thing is in a state
of endless change and revolution ; the fates having drawn
this line of demarcation to separate the passible and cor¬
ruptible part from that which is impassive and incorrupti¬
ble, or, in other words, subject to neither motion nor change.
The changes on this side of the isthmus, however, are,
according to Ocellus, just as endless as the state of things
beyond it is immutable; for these changes revolve in a
circle, which has neither beginning nor end, and conse¬
quently must be eternal; and hence the only difference
between the two unequal compartments is, that, in the
one, every thing is in a state of eternal rest, while, in
the other, all is motion and revolution without end. It
seems to follow, therefore, that the fates, in tracing this
line of demarcation, have excluded the gods from all con¬
trol over the material or corruptible part of the universe;
and that the existence of an immortal essence, in the midst
of the confusion of our lower world, is wholly impossible.
Yet, in his fourth book, Ocellus speaks of the Deity con¬
ferring instincts and appetites on man: and, in a fragment
preserved by Stobaeus, he says that life is that which holds
the body together, and that the cause of life is the soul;
that the world is held together by harmony, and that the
cause of harmony is the Deity; that states are held toge¬
ther by agreement, and that the cause of this agreement
is the law;—sentiments which seem strangely at variance
with the transcendental doctrine of eternity and the circle,
by which all the varied phenomena of the universe were
to be explained.
The atomic theory of Democritus, which some have re¬
cently attempted to revive, was adopted with certain modifi¬
cations by Epicurus, and has been explained and illustrated
by Lucretius in his philosophical poem on the Nature of
Things; in which he enters with ardour and enthusiasm
into the views of his favourite master, assails his enemies
with thebitterest invective, combats every objection and dif¬
ficulty, palliates and mystifies what cannot be defended, and
pours forth his whole genius in support of the system which
Democritus imagined and Epicurus taught. But neither
the numbers nor the ingenuity of the poet have succeeded
in recommending to any rational mind a theory based on
the most extravagant assumptions, and involving conse¬
quences subversive of all those checks and restraints by
which society is held together. At the same time, Lu¬
cretius is the first ancient writer who makes a formal at¬
tack on the popular notions entertained respecting ghosts
and apparitions. These he justly regards as complete il¬
lusions ; and maintains, conformably to the philosophy of
Democritus and Epicurus, that so far from being spirits
returned from the mansions of the dead, they are nothing
more than attenuated films, pellicles, or membranes, cast
o from the surface of all bodies, like the exuviae or
s oughs of reptiles or, in other words, the mere shadows
1 It is often amusing as well as instructive to trace the hiVnrv c ■  
paritions are subtile films or images rising from the surfaces of bodies appearstoTaveenV ^ stran«e.noLion of Lucretius, that ap-
ui uouies, appears to have entered more or less into many of the systems
APPARITIONS.
Appari- of things which fear, and its offspring superstition, mistake
tions. for realities. The world, he observes, has long been in a
state of horror and despair from dread of these incorporeal
beings ; and he acknowledges that his principal object, in
expounding the doctrines of his master, is to rescue man¬
kind from their vain apprehensions, by showing that all
things are corporeal and dissoluble, not even excepting
the soul itself; and thus destroying that pneumatophobia
which, to use the language of Cudworth, makes men
“ have an irrational but desperate abhorrence from all
spirits or incorporeal substances.” Philosophy cannot
certainly be better employed than in endeavouring to
emancipate the mind from the unreal terrors by which it
is so frequently enslaved. But it can scarcely fail to
be a subject of regret that the philosophers of the Epi¬
curean school should have sought to accomplish a laud¬
able end by the intervention of means alike absurd and
pernicious. Material necessity, and by consequence athe¬
ism, is at the root of all their doctrines; nor can these,
therefore, be admitted to be true without overwhelming
religion in the same ruin with superstition. Hence they
are chargeable with the grievous fault of striking at a
mass in order to reach an individual; of attempting to hew
down the trunk in order to clear away a withered branch.
At the same time they have the unquestionable merit of
being the first who endeavoured, however unsuccessfully,
to account, upon natural principles, for those appearances,
which have in all ages more or less excited the fears
and mingled with the superstitions of mankind.
But, without dwelling on particular systems of philoso¬
phy, we may observe generally, that although the belief
in spectres or phantasms appears to be as old as the exis¬
tence of the human race, this belief has in every in¬
stance been modified, and we may almost say regulated,
by the prevalent pneumatological opinions respecting the
soul, whether these have been derived from the w'ritings
of philosophers and poets, or imbibed from sources pure¬
ly mythological. Strictly speaking, indeed, the character
of superstitious credulity has been in all ages the same;
but it is nevertheless true, that its particular objects have
varied, as the opinions of mankind have changed respect¬
ing the sentient principle or cause of the vital phenomena.
In the case of the Greeks and Romans this is peculiarly
remarkable; inasmuch as their superstitions afford ample
evidence of the diversity of opinion that prevailed re¬
garding the soul, yet are all more or less tinctured with
its predominant colour and complexion. Democritus and
Epicurus, as we have seen, considered it corporeal, but
differed widely as to its substance; the Stoics maintain¬
ed that it was ignited air; Hippo held that it was
water ; and Heraclitus was of opinion that, as the anima
mundi, or soul of the world, was a vapour or exhalation
from the moist elements, so the souls of animals were
vapours or exhalations from their own bodies, or some¬
thing external. Of those, again, who believed the soul to
be incorporeal, some maintained that it was a substance,
and immortal, while others asserted that it was neither.
Thales taught that it was always in motion, and itself the
origin or cause of that motion ; Pythagoras regarded it as
309
a self-moving monad or number; Plato thought it a sub- Appari-
stance conceivable only by the understanding, and moving tions.
according to harmony and number; Aristotle described it
as the first entelecheia, or, to use the language of the trans¬
lator of Nemesius, “ the first continuall-motion of a bo-
die-naturall, having in it those instrumental parts, where¬
in was possibility of life ; and Dinarchus considered it a
harmony of heat, cold, moisture, and dryness, or, in other
words, a contradiction. Some imagined that there is but
one universal soul, distributed in portions throughout all
bodies, animate and inanimate, which doctrine was subse¬
quently adopted by the Manicheans ; while others taught
that there is indeed one universal soul, but at the same
time many different species. The illustrious head of the
Platonic school seems to have believed in the existence
of an universal soul, by means of which all things were
supported in being ; but he conceived that those only were
to be accounted living creatures which had separate souls.
The doctrine of transmigration was a natural Consequence
of these opinions, and, what is not a little remarkable, it
seems to have been generally received among those phi¬
losophers who believed most firmly in the immortality of
the soul; some making it pass indiscriminately into the
bodies of plants and animals; others, into all organized
structures; while a third set, conceiving that every kind
of soul, whether rational or irrational, has a structure
exactly suited to its own faculties and no other, con¬
fined it to structures of the same species. Plato distin¬
guished these faculties into three classes, the vegetative,
sensitive, and rational; and assigned a separate residence
to each, the habitation of the last being, according to
him, in the head.
Indeed the practice of arranging the logical entities,
known by the names of powers, faculties, or functions, into
different classes, and ascribing them to different species
of souls, appears to have been prevalent at an early pe¬
riod, both among philosophers and poets. Empedocles
allotted a rational and a sensitive soul to every animal;
the rational one being derived from the gods, and the
sentient a product of the four elements. But the ancients
generally reserved the rational soul for man. In Homer’s
time the soul was divided into two species, the (pew and
the 6vpog, but afterwards, according to Diogenes Laertius,
into three; while the body was considered tripartite,
being composed of a mortal or crustaceous part,—a divine,
ethereal, or luciform portion, appropriated to the <ppriv,—
and an aerial, misty, or vaporous part, allotted to the
dv/jjog. After the dissolution of the mortal part, however,
the fgjjv was entirely separated from the 6\j[io{, and a dif¬
ferent habitation assigned to each. Hence we learn from
Homeir, that the of Hercules was actually feasting
with the gods, and making love to Hebe, at the very time
that Ulysses was conversing with his in Hades.
Similar notions were entertained by the Roman poets.
According to them, every man possessed a threefold soul,
which, after the dissolution of the body, resolved itself
into the Manes, the Anima or Spiritus, and the Umbra,
to each of which a different place was assigned. The
Manes descended into the infernal regions, to inhabit
on the same subject taught by the schoolmen in the middle ages, although the latter have not always remembered to acknowledge
their obligations to the Roman poet. A similar view may also be detected in the reveries of the sympathetic philosophers, and par¬
ticularly in the theory of the transmission of spirits propounded by Lavater ; nor are there wanting traces of its existence in the
popular superstitions both of ancient and modern times. Some of the older philosophers, on the other hand, appear to have con¬
strued the Epicurean doctrine of corporeal images much more literally than its great poetical expounder seems to have intended.
Psellus, for instance, stoutly contends for the heretical doctrine of the materiality of demons, in which he seems to have been a stanch
believer. Paracelsus, conceiving that the elements were inhabited by four kinds of demons—spirits, nymphs, pigmies, and salaman¬
ders—argues, in like manner, for the materiality of these non-descript beings, but seems inclined to think that they possessed caro
von-adaviica, which may easily be conceded to him. Cudworth maintains the materiality of angels; and some of his successors, im¬
proving upon their models, contend for the materiality of every thing in heaven above or in the earth beneath; thus completing the cycle
ot absurdity, and bringing us back at last to the Epicurean doctrine, from which we set out.
310
APPARITIONS.
Appari- either Tartarus or Elysium; the Anima ascended to the
tions. skies, to mingle with the gods ; while the Umbra hovered
around the tomb, as if unwilling to quit its connection
with the body, of which it was the wraith or shadow.
Hence Virgil represents Dido, when about to expire, as
threatening to haunt iEneas with her umbra, at the same
time consoling herself with the expectation that the tidings
of his punishment will reach her manes in the shades below.1
Nor are there wanting traces of an analogous belief in the
popular superstitions of modern times. It is an article of
ghostly faith, that apparitions are frequently seen near
the spot where the gross or crustaceous body lies, waiting
either until that body be interred, or until some crime be
confessed and expiated ; and, if tradition may be in aught
believed, the spectral appearances of individuals have oc¬
casionally been observed previous to their death, of which,
indeed, these illusions are the sure forerunners or har¬
bingers. Among the Greeks such spectres were denomi¬
nated <pa.vrct<S[Actra, ‘Kvi\)[Lurci, uhoika, apparitions, aerial forms,
likenesses; while the Romans called them spectra, umbrce,
simulacra, manes, imagines, visions, shades, similitudes,
ghosts, and images.
Some, however, thought that spectral illusions were souls
visibly expanded; but others doubted whether they were
the principles of life, or merely the vehicles of such
principles. The ghost of Hercules, which Ulysses saw in
Hades, was, according to Homer, his and uduXov, or
his corporeal likeness, animated by his 6upog; and such si¬
mulacra were supposed to speak, to complain, to feel hun¬
ger, and to receive nourishment, though probably at that
table only where spare fast diets with the gods. It may
also be observed, that, according to Virgil, the umbrce
were the animce or souls themselves, and were all sprung
from the same source as the soul of the universe, namely,
from ether or elemental fire. Hence, the umbrce which
Aeneas beheld in the shades below, when he went thither
to visit his father Anchises, were ethereal souls, receiving
rewards or suffering punishments for their past deeds;
some for inexpiable crimes, which rendered their punish¬
ments eternal; others for offences, the stains of which
might be obliterated, and who, consequently, were ex¬
posed for a series of ages to the action of air, water, or
fire, “ until the crimes done in their days of nature were
burned and purged away.” At the same time, it is quite
true, as Dr Barclay has remarked, that “ in most, if not in
all of these simulacra, the dress and its fashions were re¬
presented as well as the body; while, in all the poetical
regions of the dead, chariots and various species of ar¬
mour were honoured likewise with their separate simu¬
lacra; so that these regions, as appears from the Odys¬
sey, JEneid, and Edda, were just the simulacra of the
manners, opinions, customs, and fashions, that character¬
ized the times and countries in which their poetical his¬
torians flourished.”2
To the superstitions of Greece and Rome we are also in¬
debted for those subordinate spirits named demons or genii,
who for many centuries were the subject of numberless
spectral illusions. These intermediate beings were distin¬
guished by the Platonists from the superior deities of the
popular mythology on the one hand, and from heroes or
demigods on the other. They were divided into beneficent
and malignant spirits; and, according to the conceptions of
the Platonic philosophers, differed in no material degree
from the good and evil angels of the Christian belief. So¬
crates fancied himself constantly attended by a demon or
genius, to whose inspirations or suggestions he conceived
himself indebted for those views of practical wisdom and
philosophy which have rendered his name so deservedly
illustrious. Among the Romans, again, genii were sup¬
posed to be messengers of the gods, employed, on particular
occasions, to give intimation to men of approaching events,
or calamities soon to befall them. Of this kind was the
phantasm which appeared to Brutus sitting dejected in
his tent, and told him that they would meet again at
Philippi.3 Cornelius Sylla received a similar intimation
from an apparition, which accosted him by his name: and,
concluding that his death was at hand, the ex-dictator
prepared himself for the event, which took place the fol¬
lowing evening, in consequence of a sudden and violent
attack of fever. Cassius Severus, the poet, a short time
before he was slain by order of Augustus, saw, during the
night, a human form of gigantic size, with his skin black,
his countenance squalid, his beard grizzled, and his hair
dishevelled; a phantasm not unlike the evil genius so
powerfully described by Lord Byron as appearing to Man¬
fred in the hour of his agony.4 The emperor Julian, on
Appari.
tions.
' This notion of a threefold soul is well expressed in the following lines, attributed to Ovid:—
Bis duo sunt homini: Manes, Caro, Spiritus, Umbra:
Quatuor ista loci bis duo suscipiunt;
Terra tegit Carnem, tumulum circumvolat Umbra,
Orcus habet Manes, Spiritus astra petit.
1 Inquiry into the, Opinions, ancient and modern, concerning Life and Organization, p. 14. By John Barclay, M. D. Edinb. 1822, 8vo.
* Ihe observations of Sir Walter Scott on the spectre which appeared to Brutus on the eve of the battle of Philippi are equally
just and philosophical, in so far as regards the exciting cause:—“ The anticipation of a dubious battle, with all the doubt and uncer¬
tainty or its event, and the conviction that it must involve his own fate, and that of his country, was powerful enough to conjure up
to the anxious eye of Brutus the spectre of his murdered friend Caesar, respecting whose death he perhaps thought himself less justi¬
fied than at the Ides of March, since, instead of having achieved the freedom of Rome, the event had only been the renewal of civil
wars, and the issue might appear most likely to conclude in the total subjection of liberty. It is not miraculous that the masculine
spirit of Marcus Brutus, surrounded by darkness and solitude, distracted probably by the recollection of the kindness and favour of
the great individual whom he had put to death to avenge the wrongs of his country, though by the slaughter of his own friend, should
at length place before his eyes in person the appearance which termed itself his evil genius, and promised again to meet him at Phi-
lippi. Brutus own intentions, and his knowledge of the military art, had probably long since assured him that the decision of the
civil war must take place at or near that place; and allowing that his own imagination supplied that part of his dialogue with the
spectre, t eie is nothing else which might not be fashioned in a vivid dream or a waking reverie, approaching, in absorbing and en-
grossmg c mracter, the usual matter of which dreams consist. That Brutus, well acquainted with the opinions of the Platonists,
should be disposed to receive without doubt the idea that he had seen a real apparition, and was not likely to scrutinize very minutely
the supposed vision, may be naturally conceived; and it was also natural to think, that although no one saw the figure but himself,
Ins contemporaries were little disposed to examine the testimony of a man so eminent, by the strict rules of cross-examination and
CWHchlmft pV110nCn )WhlC1 nllg lt haVe t l0Ug lt aPPlicable to another person and a' less dignified occasion.” {Demonology and
* 'The description alluded to in the text is as follows; 
I see a dusk and awful figure rise
Like an infernal god from out the earth;
His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form
Robed as with angry clouds; he stands between
Thyself and me, but I do fear him not.
A P P AK
Appari- one occasion, while engaged in an expedition, beheld a
tions. spectre or apparition clad in rags, yet bearing in its hands
a horn of plenty, covered with a linen cloth; and thus
emblematically attired, the spirit stalked mournfully past
the hangings of the Apostate’s tent. Lastly, Dio of Sy¬
racuse was visited by one of the Furies in person, not in
the shape of a vixen, but of a horrid phantasm, the ap¬
pearance of which was considered by the soothsayers in¬
dicative of the death of his son (which occurred soon af¬
ter), as well as of his own approaching dissolution. Many
other instances might be given of similar illusiorts, evi¬
dently conjured up by the workings of an excited imagi¬
nation re-acting on the organs of sense, and believed to be
harbingers of “ coming eventsbut those we have men¬
tioned are sufficient to show the opinions entertained in
regard to such apparitions, and to exemplify the power
which superstition exercises over the mind when unen¬
lightened by a sound and rational philosophjr. We may
add, however, that demons or genii were frequently re¬
garded as private monitors, who by their insinuations” dis¬
posed each man to good or evil actions, and were not only
reporters of his crimes in this life, but registrars of them
against his trials in the next; an opinion which the Romans
evidently derived from the Greeks, among whom a similar
notion prevailed from an early period of their history.
Among the Jews and early Christians we find analogous
superstitions, though, as might have been expected, much
more varied and complex in their details. Like the Greeks
and Romans, the Jews believed in good and evil spirits,
to the latter of which the name of demons came to be ex¬
clusively appropriated; and this belief they founded part¬
ly on the statements contained in their own Scriptures,
partly on notions derived from the Pagans. Some of their
angels were supposed to be created out of the elements
of fire, others out of the wind; and both classes forfeited
their immortality whenever they issued from their allot¬
ted place. Their business was to instruct mankind in
wisdom and knowledge ; and every thing in the world was
conceived to be under their government. Even to the herbs
of the field, supposed to exceed twenty thousand in number,
presiding angels were assigned; and rain, hail, thunder,
lightning, fire, fishes, reptiles, animals, men, cities, em¬
pires, nations, were all respectively under the dominion
of spiritual powers. Nor were their demons less nume¬
rous than their tutelar genii or angels, as any one may
easily satisfy himself by consulting the Talmud, in which
this multitudinous array of spirits is very minutely de¬
scribed. Every form of evil, whether physical or moral,
was ascribed to the direct agency of one or other of this
subordinate tribe of devils, whose sole business it was to
work mischief, and who were also conceived to be inde¬
fatigable in the exercise of their calling; so much so that,
in the constant warfare carried on between the good and
evil spirits, it is far from being clear that the former had
always the advantage. Demoniacal possession is only one
form under which this infernal agency manifested itself.
In a word, the superstitious Jew who devoutly believed
in the wild vagaries engendered by the seething imagina¬
tions of the Rabbin, might have said with the Roman
satirist, Nostraregio tamplena est numinibus, utfaciliuspos-
sis deum quam hominem invenire.
It is not to be wondered at, however much it may
be regretted, that many of these notions accompanied
I T I O N S. 311
the spreading of the gospel, and communicated a taint Appari-
of Jewish superstition to the faith of the first Christ- tions.
ians. The mind is unable at once to emancipate itself
from the dominion of delusions, which have been conse¬
crated by time and sanctioned by authority, and which,
insensibly imbibed by education and habit, address them¬
selves to the natural fears and feelings of the human
heart. Hence it ought not to surprise us that, not only
at the commencement of the Christian dispensation, but
during a very long period afterwards, evident traces may
be discovered of the prevalence of the popular opinion
mentioned by Symmachus, namely, “ that the Divine Be¬
ing had distributed to cities various guardians, and that
as souls were communicated to infants at their birth, so
particular tutelary spirits were assigned to particular so¬
cieties of men.” On the other hand, some sects, puzzled
to account for the origin of evil, and affecting philosophy
without possessing a philosophical spirit, systematized the
Jewish superstitions, by combining them with the creed
of Zoroaster, and promulgating formally the doctrine of a
ceaseless antagonism between the good and evil principles,
personified in the Ormusd and Ahriman of the Persian
mythology; while others, again, imitating the classifica¬
tion of the different orders of spirits by Plato, attempted
a similar arrangement with respect to the hierarchy of an¬
gels.1 Both systems involved the constant agency of spirit¬
ual power in the government of the world, and admitted
also its occasional manifestation in the shape of apparitions.
Among the Fathers, however, great diversity of opinion
prevailed in regard to these illusions, which no one seems
to have dreamt of attempting to explain by reference to
natural causes. Origen, for example, conceived that souls,
tainted with the guilt of flagrant crimes, and not purged
from their impurity, were either confined in a species of
limbo, or attached to particular spots, where, within cer¬
tain limits, they might ramble about at will. Athanasius
maintained that souls, when they were once released from
their bodies, held no more communion with mortal men;
and the more rational of the early theologians condemned
all visions and apparitions that had not the unequivocal
sanction of the Deity, our Saviour, or the angels. Augus¬
tin also remarked that, if souls did actually walk and visit
their friends, he was convinced his mother, who had fol¬
lowed him by land and sea, would have shown herself to
him, in order to inform him what she had learned in an¬
other state, as well as to give him much useful advice.
Others, however, yielded to the current superstitions,
which they laboured to reconcile with the doctrines and
statements of Holy Writ.
But it was not until a much later period of Christianity
that more decided doctrines were established relative to
the origin and nature of demons; and it is principally to
the Papal Church of Rome that the unenviable honour is
due, of adopting and methodizing the vagaries of the Pa¬
gans, as well as the legends of the Talmud, and thus ori¬
ginating that system of demonology which, from various
causes, grew to such a monstrous height during the mid¬
dle ages, as completely to overwhelm Christianity under
its revolting and abominable fictions. When this church
recognised the doctrine, that the functions of ministering
angels were assigned to the spirits of departed saints, she
opened a door for the admission of the abominations of
Paganism in a new form,2 and the encouragement of su-
1 We allude to the Gnostics, according to whom the gradations in the hierarchy of angels stood thus:—The first and highest order
was named seraphim, and the second cherubim ; the third was the order of thrones, and the fourth that of dominions ; the fifth was
the order of virtues, the sixth of powers, the seventh of principalities, the eighth of archangels, and the ninth or lowest that of angels.
1'his fable, as Dr Hibbert remarks, was pointedly censured by the apostles; yet, nevertheless, it outlived the pneumatologists of the
middle ages, and is scarcely even now exploded.
* It is impossible not to feel that the reproaches which Reginald Scot casts upon the church of Rome, on account of her hea¬
thenism, are well merited, and that their chief bitterness is not so much in the unrelenting irony of that dauntless writer, as in
APPARITIONS.
312
Appari- perstitions, utterly subversive of all true religion; while,
tions. on the other hand, by countenancing and fostering the fran-
tic extravagances of the demonologists* more particularly
in regard to the impossible crime of witchcraft, she did all
in her power to perpetuate the empire of delusion, and at
the same time made herself responsible for the mul tiplied
atrocities which were committed under its influence. She
became, in fact, the nursing mother of lies, and the avowed
patroness of the powers of darkness. The devil and his
legions were everywhere and in every thing: diabolical
agency was supposed to be unremitting and universal.
The priests strengthened their dominion by practising
conjurations and exorcisms; while the monks fabricated
legends suited to the prevailing taste, and calculated to
thicken the delusion which added so greatly to their spirit¬
ual power. In the meanwhile Satan’s invisible world was
displayed with a topographical minuteness of detail, which
could scarcely have proved very agreeable to that great
personage. The nature, history, and rank of devils were
curiously inquired into, and the point of precedency in the
infernal hierarchy settled to a nicety; the various forms
assumed by them in the course of their operations upon
earth were^ also very fully described; the different tests
by which their presence might be detected were given
with something like scientific precision ; and, what is still
more extraordinary, the number of these fallen spirits was
determined to a fraction. In short, the wildest fictions
which imagination ever coined were gravely received as
matters of faith and doctrine; while a new impulse and
direction were thereby given to popular superstition, which
the ghostly legends of the Church had far outstripped in
point of extravagance.
At this period, accordingly, the belief in apparitions
was universal, and people would have sooner doubted
their own existence or identity, than ventured to call in
question the most grotesque fooleries which the human
fancy ever imagined. Even the Reformation, which over¬
threw so many errors, eradicated so many prejudices,
and destroyed so many delusions, left this one as hideous
as ever. And so far from proving himself superior to the
vain imaginations and follies of his time, Martin Luther
has left abundant evidence to show, that he was as deep¬
ly imbued with superstitious credulity, and believed as
firmly in diabolical apparitions, as the most illiterate monk Aptian,
in the church which he shook to its very foundations, tions.
He even fancied that the devil took a particular pleasure
in annoying him, doubtless from pique at the successful re¬
sistance he had opposed to the power and pretensions of
Rome; and he relates several conversations, or rather al¬
tercations, he had had with the Evil One, in which, by his
own showing, the reformer had clearly the best of it (so far
at least as abuse was concerned), and generally ended by
putting the fallen spirit to flight. On one occasion in par¬
ticular, when the Tempter had intruded himself rather un¬
seasonably, and had chosen to assume “ a glorious form of
our Saviour Christ,” the reformer, who at first expected a
revelation, lost all temper as soon as he discovered the real
character of his visitant, and exclaimed fiercely, “ Away,
thou confounded devil; I know no other Christ than he that
was crucified, and who, in his word, is pictured and preach¬
ed unto me ; whereupon,” he adds, “ the image vanished,
which was the very Devil himself." And all his narratives
of losses or misfortunes which happened to individuals in
whom he felt an interest commonly end with the pithy
solution, “ This did the devil.”1 Nor was he at all singular
in entertaining these notions, which in fact were equally
shared by the other reformers, and continued long after¬
wards to exert a most powerful influence upon the faith
of all Europe; particularly in regard to the imaginary crime
of witchcraft, for which so many unhappy wretches suf¬
fered death both in this and in other countries.
It would be vain to inquire whether, at the period in
question, or indeed for a long time afterwards, any attempt
was made to expose the impostures which were continual¬
ly practised, or to account, upon rational principles, for
those spectral illusions which are known to be generated
in particular states of the body and mind. Such an idea
seems never to have entered the head of any one; and
indeed if a sceptic had arisen bold enough to insinuate
even a suspicion of the fallacy of the received opinions,
he would have been sacrificed without mercy to the bloody
Moloch, who was then the object of almost universal ho¬
mage. He might perhaps have denied his God, and blas¬
phemed his Saviour with impunity; but if he had dared to
dispute the agency of the Devil, to doubt the reality of his ap¬
pearances, or in any manner of way to assail the creed of the
their truth. “ Surelie,” says he, “ there were in the Popish church more of these antichristian gods in number, more in com¬
mon, more private, more publicke, more for lewd purposes, and more for no purpose, than among all the heathen, either heretofore or
at this present time ; for I dare undertake, that for everie heathen idol I might pronounce twenty out of the Popish church. for
there were proper idols of every nation, as St George on horseback for England, St Andrew for Burgundie and Scotland, St Michael
for France, St James for Spain, St Patrike for Ireland, St Davie for Wales, St Peter for Home and some part ot Itahe. Had not
every citie in all the Pope’s dominions his severall patrone ; as Paule for London, Denis for Paris, Ambrose lor JMulen (Milan), Louen
for Gaunt, Roinball for Mackline, St Mark’s Lion for Venice, the three magician kings for Cullen, and so of other ? Y ea, had they
not for everie small towne and everie village and parish (the names whereof I am not at liberty to repeat) a several! idol: as St Se¬
pulchre for one, St Bride for another ; St All Hallowes, All Saints, and Our Ladie for all at once ? Had they not hee idols and shee
idols, some for men, some for women, some for beasts, and some for fowels ? And do you not thinke that St Martine might be op¬
posed to Bacchus? If St Martine be too weak, we have St Urbane, St Clement, and manie others to assist him. 'vus * enu® 311
Meretrix an advocate for whores among the Gentiles ? Behold, there were in the Romish church to encounter them, St Aplna, St
Aphrodite, and St Maudline. Was there such a traitor among the heathen idols as St Thomas Becket ? or such a whore as St Bridget
I warrant you, St Hugh was as good a huntsman as Anubis. Was Vulcane the protector of the heathen smithes ? Yea, forsooth, an
St Euloge was patron for ours. Our painters had Luke, our weavers had Steven, our miliars had Arnold, our potters had St Goie
with a devil on his shoulders and a pot in his hand. Was there a better horseleech among the gods of the Gentiles than St Loy. or
a better sow-welder than St Anthonie ? or a better tooth-drawer than St Apolline? I believe that Apollo Parnopeius was no bettei
a rat-catcher than St Gertrude, who hath the Pope’s patent and commendation therefore.” And so honest Reginald proceeds with
his expostulatory comparison, which, in the true spirit of his age (when the phantasms of demonology maintained their dominion even
over those minds which had cast off the fetters of the church of Rome), he concludes by declaring that “ all these antichristian gods,
otherwise called popish devils, are as rank devils” as any that are spoken of in the Psalms, or mentioned in other parts of Scripture.
(See Discourse on Devils and Spirits, appended to the Discourse of Witchcraft.) . , , t
1 Mr Coleridge, in his Friend, vol. ii. p. 336, gives the following natural and rational account of the origin of Luther s visions
“ Had Luther been himself a prince, he could not have desired better treatment than he received during his eight months’ stay m
the Wartzburg : and in consequence of a more luxurious diet than he had been accustomed to, he was plagued with temptations both
from the ‘ flesh and the devil.’ It is evident from his letters that he suffered under great irritability of his nervous system, the
common effect of deranged digestion in men of sedentary habits, who are at the same time intense thinkers; and this irritability add¬
ing to and vivifying the impressions made upon him in early life, and fostered by the theological systems of his manhood, is
abundantly sufficient to explain all his apparitions, and all his mighty combats with evil spirits.”
4
A P P A R
Ippari- demonologists, it would have been better for him thatamill-
tions. stone had been hanged about his neck, and he had been
*~v~Sk>castinto themidst of the sea. On the gibbet or at thestake,
he would infallibly have expiated the audacity of his unbe¬
lief. In process of time, however, humanity began to lift up
her voice, and reason seemed to recover from the long trance
into which the reign of delusion had thrown her. Scattered
rays of light broke in from various quarters ; as knowledge
advanced, the mind became expanded ; a spirit of inquiry
was gradually developed ; the learned began to reason and
to doubt; and the empire of superstition was shaken. For
long, the vulgar creed, which had been deeply tinged with
the monstrosities and follies we have alluded to, resisted
the influence of the causes which were now at work, sap¬
ping the foundations of the whole edifice of delusion ; and
even yet, amidst all the lightwith whichweare surrounded,
some corners of the world still remain unilluininated. But
a change had come over the spirit of the dream in which
the nations had so long been entranced; and men, having
begun to examine, soon learned to doubt and disbelieve.
About the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the
seventeenth century, various theories were suggested to
account for those extasies of imagination in which spectral
illusions have their origin; and, in the memorable experi¬
ment of palingenesis, or tbe resurrection of plants (a secret
known to Digby, Kircher, Schot, Gafferel, Vallemont, and
others), an explanation was sought of apparitions, which
were thought to be reproduced in a similar manner. To
this succeeded the doctrine of astral spirits, as they were
called; which was an attempt to combine the metaphysical
opinions then entertained respecting ideas, with the con¬
clusions deduced from the experiment of palingenesis, or
the reproduction of a rose, like the phenix from its ashes.
Others, again, referred all the phenomena of extasies,
hallucinations, and apparitions to the phantasy or imagi¬
nation, which was justly conceived to exert a powerful in¬
fluence over the mind, and to be primarily concerned in
the production of those illusions which give birth to a
belief in apparitions. Van Helmont, Hoffmann, and most
of the medical inquirers of that age, adopted this explana¬
tion ; and several passages in Hamlet show that such was
i T i o N s. 3i;
also the belief entertained by our immortal dramatist. If Appari-
the imagination, it was argued, can induce a particular form tions.
or mark upon the foetus in the womb, much more must'^^~v~x‘'
it be capable of vivifying and clothing ideas in the mind
so as to create an illusion of reality. IS or were these in¬
quiries confined to apparitions alone. In the year 1701 the
celebrated Thomasius distinguished himself by an inau¬
gural dissertation I)e Crimine Magice, in which he attack¬
ed, with irresistible force of reasoning, the prevalent belief
in witchcraft, and boldly exposed the insane and murder¬
ous delusions which had conducted whole hecatombs of
victims to the stake. This thesis, embodying a formal
attack on demonology, was publicly read in the univer¬
sity of Halle, which, to its honour, greeted with applause
the bold scepticism of the young jurisconsult; and so
well did the latter perform his task, that his juvenile pro¬
duction is still considered valuable, both for its facts and
its reasonings.
The approbation with which the inaugural dissertation
of Thomasius was at first received, and the merited cele¬
brity which it subsequently obtained, may be considered
as proofs that more rational opinions had already begun
to prevail, at least among the learned; and that the
minds of men were in some measure prepared for the re¬
ception of the new doctrines he so fearlessly promul¬
gated. Popular credulity, indeed, still continued gaping
and greedy: it still yearned, with an unabated craving, for
the supernatural and the diabolical. But the softening and
humanizing influence of knowledge had imperceptibly mi¬
tigated the ferocity which the belief in demonology had
originally inspired; and, although the public generally
were not more enlightened or less superstitious, the ma¬
gistrate had insensibly become more humane, and the fires
of persecution burned less frequently and fiercely. The
tide, in short, had obviously turned; and the first indi¬
cation of the reflux is afforded by the justly-celebrated
discourse in question.
At the same time, Thomasius, though among the fore¬
most, was not the first, to assail demonology. This ho¬
nour of right belongs to Dr Balthasar Bekker,1 a pro-
testant clergyman at Amsterdam, and author of a learned
1 Balthasar Bekker was a native of Metselawier in Friesland, where he was born in the year 1634. He had no other master than
his father, who was the pastor or clergyman of the place, until he attained the age of sixteen, when he went to prosecute his studies
at Groningen, and afterwards at Franeker. In the first of these universities Alting was his master in Hebrew, and conceived a
strong affection for his pupil, whom he subsequently supported against his numerous enemies and persecutors. Having completed his
studies at Franeker, Bekker was appointed rector of a Latin school, and afterwards pastor at Ooterlitten, where he signalized him¬
self by his zeal in the discharge of his duty, and in consequence drew down upon himself the enmity of his less active colleagues.
In 1666 he took the degree of Doctor of Divinity at Franeker, together with the situation of pastor, and soon afterwards pub¬
lished a tract entitled Dc Philosophia Cartesiana Admonitio Sincera, in which he attempted to prove that the Cartesian philosophy, a
taste for which he was anxious to diffuse, might be easily allied with the study of theology. This piece appears to have procured
him nothing but enemies, the number of whom was considerably increased by the publication, about the same period, of two cate¬
chisms, under the absurd titles of Gesneden Brood and Vaste Spyze; in the last of which he advanced some peculiar opinions concern¬
ing the state of Adam before his fall, the nature and duration of the pains of hell, the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and the rights of eccle¬
siastical assemblies. His jealous colleagues accused him of Socinianism and Cartesianism ; and although he wrote a defence of his
opinions, and showed a disposition to alter or retract every thing that might.be conceived contrary to the faith, the synod, disregard¬
ing his concessions, prohibited the printing of the Vaste Spyze under a severe pecuniary penalty. Chagrined at this proceeding, he
quitted Franeker, and became successively pastor at Loenen and Wesop, chaplain of a regiment of the line, and finally, in 1679,
established himself at Amsterdam, where new writings soon kindled up afresh the animosity of his brethren. He combated the pre¬
judices of the vulgar in a tract which he published on the occasion of the appearance of a comet in 1680 and 1681 ; and, in his Re-
cherchcs sur les Cometes, published in 1683, he adopted a course of argument similar to that pursued by Bayle, showing that comets are
neither presages nor forerunners of calamities, as was then currently believed, and ridiculing the popular notions and superstitions
on this subject. This little work, replete with sound and just ideas, was well received. But a very different fate awaited another
and far more important one, which he published soon after, under the title of De Betooverde Wereld, or The World Bewitched; a per¬
formance which justly entitles him to be ranked with the freest, boldest, and most philosophical thinkers which any age or country
has produced. De Betooverde Wcreld was first printed at Franeker, and afterwards reprinted several times at Amsterdam, where a
French translation, in four volumes 12mo, appeared in 1694 ; and a new edition was published at Deventer so late as the year 1737-
This work, which had the misfortune to appear too soon, is the one which has most contributed to render Bekker’s name famous,
both from its own intrinsic merits, and from the fury of calumny and persecution to which it exposed him. If formerly he was re¬
garded as a Cartesian and Socinian, he was now denounced as a downright Sadducee. All pens were in motion against him ; and be¬
fore Bekker had time to reply to the host of adversaries by whom he was assailed, his book was submitted to the censure of the ec¬
clesiastical council. The author published a defence or apology, Sehriftelike Satisfactie, in which he protested against all malignant
interpretations of his book, and avowed his belief in the existence of the devil, but at the same time expressed his conviction that
VOL. III. 2 B
APPARITIONS.
314
Appari- work, first published in Dutch and afterwards in French
tions. entitled, The World Bewitched, or an Examination of
the Common Opinions concerning Spirits, their Nature,
their Administration, and their Operations, and also con¬
cerning the Effects which Men are capable of producing by
their Intercourse and their Virtue: a work which Thoma-
sius must in all probability have seen and consulted, as
the French edition appeared in 1694, ten years prior to
the publication of his thesis ; and the persecution which
the author experienced on account of his scepticism about
devils and their supposed operations could scarcely fail to
make it generally known. But be this as it may, the per¬
formance of the Dutchman is certainly an extraordinary
one for the time at which it appeared; being not more re¬
markable for the learning it displays than for the boldness
with which it combats the received opinions regarding
spirits, and the exceeding ingenuity with which the various
frauds and impostures of the demonologists are detected
and exposed.
The author sets out by giving an able and accurate expo¬
sition of the opinions, or rather fables, of the Pagans, Jews,
and Mahometans, on the subject of demons, or good and
evil spirits, with their supposed attributes, functions, and
operations, as described in their different mythological sys¬
tems, and particularly as received at the period when Chris¬
tianity was first preached to the world. He then proceeds
to show that the early Christians insensibly introduced and
mixed up with the new faith many of the fictions of Pa¬
ganism and Judaism; and that this corrupting process
went on continually increasing, until it attained a maxi¬
mum under the Papacy, when all the miracles which the
Pagans had supposed to have been performed by their
demons or inferior divinities were ascribed to angels, to
the souls of sinful men, and, above all, to the power of the
devil. In particular, he traces the progress of Mani-
cheism, from the time when it first assumed consistency
and form ; and shows, in a very striking manner, how this
heresy, though anathematized by the Church, gradually
insinuated itself into the very core of all her doctrines
respecting spiritual agency in human affairs; and thus
became part and parcel of the creed which she ordained
men to believe under the penalty of eternal damnation.
It is to this unfortunate intermixture of Paganism with
Christianity, therefore, that he ascribes all the abominations
with which the latter was polluted; and hence he con¬
tends, “ que plus on se trouve eloigne du Paganisme, soit
pour le temps, soit pour les lieux, moins on ajoute de foi
a toutes les choses qui regardent le diable et son pouvoir.”
But his great principle is, that the doctrines of the de¬
monologists are not more repugnant to reason, than ad¬
verse to Scripture when rationally interpreted. Revela¬
tion, he holds, contains nothing to sanction such doctrines ;
and he supports this opinion by a detailed examination of Appari-
all the cases mentioned in holy writ where the devil is tions.
either represented as appearing to men, or exercising an '^vx.
immediate power over their bodies or minds,—explaining
them on rational or natural principles with singular skill
and ingenuity. For example, he rejects as absurd the
idea of demoniacal possession, though generally received
by the Protestant as well as the Catholic Church ; and re¬
gards the cases of dcemonia mentioned in the New Testa¬
ment as not properly “ une expulsion des diables, mais une
guerison miraculeuse de maladies incurables.” Again, with
regard to the metaphysical doctrine of the demonologists,
“ qu’un esprit en tant qu’esprit, et d’autant plus meme
qu’il est un esprit, pent sans corps agir sur toutes sortes
de corps et sur les autres esprits,” he does not meet it
by a direct denial, but calls upon his adversaries to prove
their own fundamental proposition. “ Je demande des
preuves de cette these,” says he, in his Abrege and De¬
fense ; “ et parce que cette demande est imprevue et ex¬
traordinaire, et sur laquelle par consequent on ne s’etoit
prepare, on prend ma demande pour une negative.—I do
not deny the truth of it, if it be true, but neither can I
admit the truth of it till it be proved, nor can you assume
it without proof, and then call upon others to believe it.”
Upon the same principle he demonstrates the utter ab¬
surdity of all supposed compacts with the devil, which
he considers as not more impossible in themselves than
incapable “ subsister, en aucune maniere, avec ce qui
est contenue dans la doctrine de I’Ecriture, ni avec 1’eco-
nomie de falliance de Dieu, tant avant la Loi que sous la
Loi, et moins encore sous TEvangile.”
But the most interesting part of this curious work, per¬
haps, is that where the author exposes, with equal skill and
severity, the various frauds and impostures which have been
practised upon ignorant credulity, and have thus given rise
to all the delusions of witchcraft, and to a vast majority of
those on the subject of apparitions. He examines in detail
a great number of cases of both descriptions, and never fails
to detect and drag to light the deception in which they
originated. He exhibits a commerce of imposture and
dupery, of fraud and credulity, often amusing, always in¬
structive, sometimes truly horrible with reference to its
consequences. In short, his exposure is complete and
triumphant. “ Les diables qui se faisoient voir et en¬
tendre,” says he, “ etoient dans la cervelle des hommes;
si non, ils etoient faits de chair et d’os;” and he holds,
“ qu’il n’y auroit point du tout de sorcellerie, si 1’on
ne croyoit pas qu’il y en eust.” But this being once be¬
lieved, and the magistrate having set himself to punish
an imaginary and impossible crime, the belief became
stronger as the fires of persecution grew hotter, and
each new holocaust only prepared fresh victims for the
Satan was chained in the bottom of hell, and consequently prevented from intermeddling with human affairs. The council had the
good sense to be satisfied with this explanation ; but the clergy of Holland, irritated at the indulgence shown to Bekker, overwhelmed
it with reclamations, and forced it, by dint of clamour, to examine the affair more seriously. Bekker then demanded that the mat¬
ter should be carried before the synod, and presented a new defence of his opinions; but the synod condemned the work, and deposed
the author from his ministerial charge. This judgment was received with a sort of triumph by the clergy, and attacked by some of
the author’s friends in a clever tract, entitled, Le Diable Triomphant, parlcmt sur le Mont Parnasse. The synod, however, adhered
to its sentence, and Btkker died of a pleurisy in 1698, without having been reinstated in his charge. On the occasion of his deposi¬
tion, his enemies caused a medal to be struck, representing the devil dressed in clerical costume, and mounted upon an ass, with a
sort of banner in his hand, emblematical of the triumph which the clergy had obtained in the synod. But this triumph was short¬
lived ; for although the synod declared to a man in favour of the devil, the rational part of the world were ultimately convinced by
the reasonings of the deposed minister; which soon began to gain ground, and contributed largely to emancipate the minds of men
from the thraldom of a bloody and debasing superstition. Bekker, it seems, though a profound theologian and an able scholar, was
a very ugly man, with bandy legs, and a nose and chin so prominent that they almost met; peculiarities which gave rise to the fol¬
lowing epigram of Lamonnoye, prefixed to some of the French editions of The World Bewitched: 
Oui, par toi de Satan la puissance est brisee ;
Mais tu n’as cependant pas encore assez fait;
Tour nous oter du Diable entierement Tidee,
Bekker, supprime ton portrait.
♦
»
A P P A R
Appari- sacrifice. Dr Bekker concludes his remarkable work in
lions, these words:—“ Si les souverains et les magistrals punis-
-^v^^soient aussi exactement ceux qui accusent les autres de
magie, qu’il y en a qui sont prestes a punir ceux qui sont
accuses, lesquels ils jettent a la premiere delation dans les
fers, et qu’ils donnassent la question seulement la moitie
aussi forte aux delateurs, pour donner des preuves de
leurs accusation, qu’ils la donnent a ceux-la pour confes-
ser, je suis certain qu’ils n’auroient pas beaucoup besoin
de bois pour les bruler. Car quoique dans le commence¬
ment ils eussent beaucoup a faire avant que cette nouvelle
maniere de plaider fust venue a leur connoissance, cela
ne laisseroit pas de se passer bientost, lorsqu’ils verroient,
qu’en accusant, ils se mettroient dans 1’obligation de
prouver ce qu’ils avanceroient, ou de subir la peine de la
faute, en cas qu’ils ne peussent la prouver.” Whoever
takes the trouble to read the records of our own criminal
procedure, and to observe the nature of the evidence
upon which persons accused of witchcraft and sorcery
were “ fylit, convict, and brynt,” will probably be con¬
vinced that these records would have been disgraced by
few such atrocities had Dr Bekker’s principle been adopt¬
ed and acted upon. But a different form of practice was
followed, of which it may with literal truth be said, Siqui-
dem accusdsse hie svfficit, quis insons habehitur ?l
Upon the whole, it is impossible not to regard the pro¬
duction of the Dutch divine as in many respects one of
the most remarkable extant, considering the time when
it appeared; nor are we aware of any similar instance of
a writer who so far outstripped his age, and evinced so
complete a superiority to its prejudices and superstitions.
Bekker’s work, indeed, had the misfortune to appear too
soon ; and of this he was early made sensible, by the tor¬
rent of abuse with which he was assailed, and the perse¬
cution he was called upon to undergo. What must have
been the boldness and courage of that man who, in an
age when the wildest fictions of demonology and witch¬
craft were implicitly, nay almost universally believed, com¬
menced his attack on them by declaring, “ C’est pour de-
truire cette vaine idole de la credulite populaire que j’ai
ecrit mon livre: si le demon s’en fache, qu’il emploie sa
wissance pour m’en punir; s’il est Dieu, qu’il se defende
ui-meme, et qu’il s’en prenne a moi qui ait renverse ses
autels 1”
When Lucian ridiculed apparitions, and laughed at
those who believed in them, he thought only of the lies,
impostures, and absurdities which the ignorant and cre¬
dulous had received as undoubted facts. All the passions
exaggerate, and none more so than that of fear, the pa¬
rent of superstition. Hence every thing seen through
such a medium is beheld distorted, and out of all natural
proportion. But, in cases of this description, it too fre¬
quently happens that the love of the marvellous comes in
to finish the caricature which passion had commenced;
and that imagination performs the double function of first
l T i o N s. 315
imposing upon the seer himself, and afterwards contribut- Appari-
ing to enable him to impose still farther upon others. It tions.
is certain, indeed, that most if not all of the ghost stories
which have been told are grossly exaggerated in almost
every particular. Indeed, with the exception of Nicolai’s
truly philosophical narrative of the spectral illusions, which
he beheld during a period of strong excitement produced
by various misfortunes,2 we scarcely know of a single
case which does not bear on the face of it evident marks
of embellishment and romance. Hence the difficulty of
forming any theory of apparitions, to which, as matters
stand, strong objections may not be taken, on the ground
of its not embracing all, or even a majority, of the cases
reported. We still want data upon which we can safely
rely : and this want is to be ascribed mainly, if not solely,
to the circumstance that every reporter was not a Nicolai;
and that most of them have chosen rather to pander to
the appetite for the marvellous than to tell their story
simply and rationally. Lucian perceived this tendency
of human nature, and unphilosophically ridiculed all ap¬
paritions as gross impositions on the credulity of the world;
while the inquirers of the period to which we refer went
to the opposite extreme, and, admitting every legend as
authentic, racked their brains to account for what was
in its own nature inexplicable upon any metaphysical the¬
ory. They never thought of cross-interrogating the wit¬
nesses before proceeding to consider the import of their
testimony, or of endeavouring to test the credibility of
the evidence before attempting to construct a theory out
of it. They believed every thing without discrimination,
and therefore could account for nothing. Thus Reginald
Scot ridicules the paganism of the Church of Rome, yet
comes to the conclusion that all her saints are as authentic
devils as any in Pandemonium. Burton is scarcely more
fortunate; and later inquirers, who finally gave up Satan
and his invisible world altogether, landed in absurdities
nearly as great as those they attempted to expose, though
of course incomparably less mischievous.
But the progress of discovery and knowledge, inde¬
pendently of all theory, has cleared away many of the
marvels which puzzled our ancestors. The devils, for ex¬
ample, which Benvenuto Cellini saw when he got into
the conjurer’s circle are now known to have been pro¬
duced by a magic lantern ; the Giant of the Broken, in
the Hartz Mountains, has lost all his terrors since it was
discovered that the spectre which had frightened men for
ages is nothing more than the image of the individual who
happens to be on the mountain-top at sun-rise reflected
from the clouds beyond in gigantic proportions ; and the
Fata Morgana, as well as the Mirage, are now classed as
pseudo-apparitions.
Of the more modern attempts to account for appari¬
tions, the first which we shall notice is attributed to Meyer,
and proceeds upon a particular theory respecting the ori¬
gin of ideas, the conception of which appears to have
1 One of the charges, it seems, against Dr Bekker, in the libel tried by the synod which ultimately deposed him, was his hav¬
ing attempted to banish all devils from the world. This absurd charge proceeded upon a complete misunderstanding of the whole
gist and tenor of the work upon which it professes to be grounded. Dr Bekker does not deny the existence of the devil, as taught in
Scripture, and is indeed most anxious to guard against such a construction being put upon his words, or such an inference deduced
from his reasonings. The following passage, which is otherwise interesting, sets this in the clearest light:—u Ainsi la verite de
la Foy Chrdtienne peut subsister, sans pourtant rien croire de la magie ; ainsi moins Ton pense savoir ce que c’est que le diable, a
la reserve de ce que VEcriture nous en enseigne, plus 1’on peut connoitre Dieu et Jesus Christ. Quand on ne connoit que Dieu, on en
connoit assez ; et toutes les connoissances qui sont hors de cet Etre Divin, ne sont que vanites et sottises.” Scripture has declared
that a knowledge of God is necessary to salvation; but it has nowhere said, so far as we remember, that, unless men know and believe
in the devil, they will be damned. Dr Bekker, however, knew and believed all that the Scripture, rationally interpreted, warrants
us to believe respecting the father of lies; and if his belief did not rise exactly to the pitch required by the demonologists oi tne
Dutch synod, but, on the contrary, recoiled from their diabolical dogmas, it is precisely this inferiority of faith, conjoine ^ 1
manifest superiority of reason, which entitles him to the respect of all who can appreciate the honest boldness which enab e
rise above the prejudices of his age, and to assail the abominations by which it was degraded and enslaved. •
2 Memoir on the Appearance of Spectres or Phantoms occasioned by Disease, with Psychological Bemarks. ea< . ‘
the Royal Society of Berlin on the 28th of February 1799. See a translation of this paper in Nicolson s Journal, voi. vi. p. 10 .
also a good Memoir by Dr Alderson of Hull, in Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, vol. vi.
APPARITIONS.
316
Appari- been derived from the subtile images of Epicurus. These,
tions. the reader will remember, were held by the Epicureans
to be spontaneously exhaled or given off by all bodies;
and, when they entered the mind, or, we should rather
say, were impressed on the attenuated atoms or corpus¬
cles, of the material soul, were supposed to generate spec¬
tral illusions. Rejecting the notion of exhalation, how¬
ever, M. Meyer adhered to the spirit of this philosophy;
contending that all our ideas are material, and that they
are transported from unknown sources to the storehouse
of the memory, through the medium of the organs of
sense. Hence it was conceived, that the nerves upon
which sensations depend might not only be affected by
external agents, but impressed by internal causes, and
that the result of this impression would be hallucinations
or illusions. Thus, rays of light impressing the optic nerves
from without might cause the sensation of yellow, while
corrupt humours, as those of jaundice for instance, by
impressing the nerves from within, might produce a simi¬
lar effect. Further, as ideas were held to be material,
and might be treasured up by the memory, it was con¬
ceived that they might, through some unknown channel,
find their way to the nerves, and impress them after the
manner of internal causes influencing the mind. “ I shall
suppose,” says M. Meyer, “ that I have lost a parent
whom I loved, and whom I have seen and spoken to an
infinity of times. Having perceived him often, I have
consequently preserved the material figure and perception
of him in the brain ; for it is very possible and recon¬
cilable to appearances, that a material figure, like that of
m3' deceased friend, may be preserved for a long time in
my brain, even after his death. By some intimate yet
unknown relation, therefore, which the figure may have
to my body, it may touch the optic or acoustic nerves. In
the very moment, then, that my nerves are affected in
the same manner that they formerly were when I saw or
listened to my living friend, I shall be necessarity induced
to believe that I really see or hear him, as if he were pre¬
sent.11 This has certainly the merit of being teres atque
rotundus; but, in the first place, it proceeds upon the as¬
sumed materiality of ideas, which, besides being aban¬
doned by all philosophers, is an assumption that is far
from being self-evident, and can never be proved ; second¬
ly, M. Meyer is forced at every step to take for granted
some new principle, in regard to the re-action of these
material ideas on the nervous system, that equally re¬
quires, without admitting of, proof; lastly, he ascribes to
ns ideas the functions performed by the imagination, and
thus infuses an ingredient of truth which gives a colour of
plausibility to his theory.
Dr Ferriar s Theory of Apparitions, as he has been
pleased to call his very entertaining collection of ghost
stories, is a complete misnomer, inasmuch as the book
really contains no theory at all. “ It is a well-known law,” Appari.
says he at the outset, “ that the impressions produced on tions.
some of the external senses, especially on the eye, are ^"v-v
more durable than the application of the impressing cause.”
It certainly required no ghost to tell us this; yet it is all
that Dr Ferriar has vouchsafed to give us of a theoretical
kind; “ and,” as Dr Hibbert pertinently remarks, “ the
brevity with which it is given is in exact conformity with
the abruptness of its dismissal; for, after being applied
to explain one or two cases only of mental illusions, nu¬
merous other instances of the kind are related, but the
theory is not honoured with any further notice.” Still the
book is valuable as a collection of cases establishing the
existence of morbid impressions, without any sensible ex¬
ternal agency, and also as showing the power which the
imagination possesses under particular circumstances, of
re-acting upon the organs of sense with an intensity suffi¬
cient to create a temporary belief in the reality of the ob¬
jects, the impressions of which are thus renovated and
vivified.2
The work of Dr Hibbert, modestly entitled Sketches of the
Philosophy of Apparitions, is of a different description from
that of Dr Ferriar. In it a theory is distinctly propounded,
and followed up through a vast complexity of details, which
the theory is employed to explain and reconcile ; and if the
author had carried his generalization a step further, and at
the same time paid more attention to the logical arrange¬
ment of his topics, he would have left little to be supplied
by any future writer on this curious branch of the philo-
s°phy of the human mind. As it is, however, the book is
full of interesting matter, and, what is of still greater im¬
portance, it furnishes ample materials for extending and
enlarging the view of the subject, which the author has,
upon the whole, so satisfactorily developed. After a not
very skilful sketch of the opinions, ancient and modern,
which have been entertained respecting apparitions, Dr
Plibbert proceeds, in the first place, to consider the morbid
affections with which the production of phantasms is often
connected; ''Zdly, to show that the objects of spectral il¬
lusions are frequently suggested by the fantastic imagery
of superstitious belief; Sdly, to investigate the mental
laws which give rise to spectral illusions; kthly, to notice
the modifications which the intellectual faculty often un¬
dergoes during intense excitements of the mind; and,
lastly, to state the comparative degrees of faintness, vivid¬
ness, or intensity subsisting between sensations and ideas
during their various excitements and depressions. And
the general result at which he arrives, or, in other words,
the law which connects and explains all the phenomena
of apparitions, whether arising from morbid affections
suggested by the fantastic imagery of superstition, or in¬
duced by certain states of the mind without any sensible
extrinsic agency, is this, viz. “ That apparitions are no-
■ Essay on Apparitions, attributed to M. Meyer, professor in the university of Halle 1748
‘fT'fT1 text:—“ A gentleman was b,
small lonely hut. When he was to be conducted to his hJi r S °fi ^ot an^ was compelled to ask shelter for the evening at
find the window very secure. On examination nart of tho wnU1”’ W acJ-^ observed, with mysterious reluctance, that he woul
some inquiry, he was told that a pedlar, who had lodged in t0 iave been broken down to enlarge the opening. Afte
found hanging behind the door in the morning. Accordino- to tho 8 r°^ a time before, had committed suicide, and w£
the body through the door of the house; and to convey it thrnmrh ,uPer.stltlon of t1?6 country, it was deemed improper to remov
Some hints were dropped that the room had been subsequently hfnnLd vWaS imPosslble, without removing part of the wal
prepared against intrusion of any kind, by the bed side and roV it ^ ^ ^ man s sPint- My friend laid his arms, properl
in a dream by a frightful apparition, and, awaking in aZv foond 1° ^ Wlth°Ut SOme deSree of apprehension. He was visite
On casting a fearful glance round the room, he discovered7by the moonlight UP m}ed’ "’lth a Pistol grasped in his right hanc
wall, close to the window. With much difficulty he summniWI 1 ? torPse dressed in a shroud, reared erect against th
and the minutest parts of its funeral apparel, he perceived distinctly ^He ,the di?mal object, the features of whicli
to the bed. After a long interval, and much reasoning with himself he renewed hlfi han<.1.ovfe.r f(dt nothing, and staggered bac.
object of his terror was produced by the moon-beams forming a long bright image through ^ Vf tlgatl°!b and at ength discovered that th
his dream, had pictured, with mischievous accuracy, the lin^menS of a bodv urfirS \:ok?n™do^ ™ which his fancy, impressed b
in this instance, had excited the recollected images with uncommon force and^E lnte™ent. Powerful associations of terror
*
A P P A R
\ppari- thing more than ideas, or the recollected images of the
tions. mind, which have been rendered as vivid as actual im-
pressionsa principle which, though somewhat incurious¬
ly expressed, makes, in our opinion, a very close approxi¬
mation to the truth.
Dr Hibbert further conceives that the organs of sense
are the actual medium through which past feelings are
renovated; or, in other words, that when, from strong
mental excitement, ideas have become as vivid as past
impressions, or even more so, this intensity is induced by,
or rather productive of, an absolute affection of those
particular parts of the organic structure on which sensa¬
tions depend; in the same wray precisely as the sali¬
vary glands are known to be occasionally as much excited
by the idea of some favourite food, as if the sapid body
itself were actually present, stimulating the papilla of the
fauces. It would have been more simple and equally true
if Dr Hibbert had said that the imagination, in some
states, re-acts upon the organs of sense, and renovates past
feelings or sensations, the natural antecedents of certain
perceptions, with an intensit}' sufficient to create an illusion
of reality; and this statement would have had the double
advantage, of not only expressing, in a more generalized
form, the important law of the human mind, which it is
the object of all Dr Hibbert’s investigations to evolve, but
at the same time of excluding the particular views of phy¬
siology which are more or less mixed up with his meta¬
physical speculations. But the re-action in question may
be either of a pleasurable kind or the reverse, according
to the nature of the causes by which it is primarily pro¬
duced ; and as the mind can only exist in one state at
an indivisible instant of time, it follows that when any
agent, morbific or other, adds to the general vividness of
our pleasurable feelings, those of an opposite or painful
kind become proportionally less vivid, or rather are for the
moment excluded ; and, vice versa, the same law holds in
regard to all our painful feelings, the increased intensity
of which is necessarily accompanied with a correspond¬
ing abatement of those of an opposite kind. As the
mind, however, passes from one state to another, or alter¬
nates between opposite states, with inconceivable rapidity,
memory is sometimes apt to blend the recollected feelings
of the one with those of the other, and thus to create a
confusion in our conceptions of things which are in their
own nature perfectly distinct. In some cases, where the
nitrous oxide was administered, the patient, while under
its influence, vibrated between perfect happiness and most
consummate misery; but in the majority of instances the
sensations produced were of a pleasurable description, to
the exclusion of all those of an opposite kind; just as the
sensations produced by an attack of the febrile miasma
are almost invariably and exclusively those of the most
acute pain. Hence the law above stated may be consi¬
dered as a general one, when taken with the modifications
proper to be applied to it. Lastly, Dr Hibbert has shown,
that when mental feelings of any description attain a cer¬
tain degree of vividness or intensity, muscular motions
obey the impulse of the will, which is as much influenced
by the re-acting and renovating power of imagination, as
by any of our ordinary passions, appetites, or desires.
Ihese principles, if we are not mistaken, go far to ex¬
plain all the phenomena of dreams and apparitions; for
the latter are merely waking dreams, and differ from the
former in degree only, not in kind. In the case of Nico¬
lai, which, as Dr Ferriar justly remarks, is one of the ex-
I T I O N S. 3i>
tieme instances of mental delusion which a man of strong ApparU
judgment has ventured to report of himself, past impres- tions.
sions were renovated with the utmost accuracy and mi-
nuteness. The philosophical seer of Berlin beheld no
“ gorgons, hydras, and chimaeras dire.” The visions which
he saw were neither terrible, ludicrous, nor repulsive; on
the contrary, most of them were ordinary in their appear¬
ance, and some of them even agreeable. They were ge¬
nerally phantasms of his friends and acquaintance; orf in
other words, exact copies of his past impressions and per¬
ceptions, so renovated and vivified as to create an illusion
of reality, though for the most part oddly, if not gro¬
tesquely, put together. The story told so well by Dr
Ferriar of the vision seen by the benighted gentleman who
took up his quarters in the lonely Highland hut, is expli¬
cable on precisely the same principle; for his imagination,
excited by his dream, pictured the corpse of the self-
murdered pedlar behind the door by renovating and vivi¬
fying the mental images produced by the recital of the
circumstances previously given to the traveller. In the
cases of disease or superstition, again, the exciting causes
are different, and the illusions generated consequently
vary ; but, in every instance where we can get at the cir¬
cumstances, it will be found that these illusions or phan¬
tasms are merely vivid renovations of mental impressions
previously received, and that, although the grouping may
be fantastical, the ordinary laws of association are never
transgressed.
Dr Brewster has remarked, as a physical fact, that
“ when the eye is not exposed to the impressions of
external objects, or when it is insensible to these objects
in consequence of being engrossed with its own opera¬
tions, any object of mental contemplation, which has either
been called up by the memory or created by the imagi¬
nation, will be seen as distinctly as if it had been formed from
the vision of a real object. In examining these mental
impressions,” he adds, “ I have found that they follow the
motions of the eye-ball exactly like the spectral impres¬
sions of luminous objects, and that they resemble them
also in their apparent immobility when the eye-ball is
displaced by an external force. If this result shall be
found generally true by others, it will follow that the ob¬
jects of mental contemplation may be seen as distinctly as
external objects, and will occupy the same local position in
the axis of vision as if they had been formed by the agency
of light.”1 This goes to the very root of the theory of
apparitions; all the phenomena of which seem to depend
upon the relative intensities of the two classes of impres¬
sions, and upon the manner of their accidental combina¬
tion. In perfect health, the mind not only possesses a
control over its powers, but the impressions of external
objects alone occupy its attention, and the play of imagi¬
nation is consequently checked, except in sleep, when its
operations are relatively more feeble and faint. But in
the unhealthy state of the mind, when its attention is
partly withdrawn from the contemplation of external ob¬
jects, the impressions of its own creation, or rather repro¬
duction, will either overpower or combine themselves with
the impressions of external objects, and thus generate il¬
lusions which in the one case appear alone, while in the
other they are seen projected among those external ob¬
jects to which the eye-ball is directed, in the manner ex¬
plained by Dr Brewster. We may add, that the same
reasoning which applies to the impressions derived from
the sense of sight, is equally applicable to those received
1 See in the Edinburgh Journal of Science, conducted by Dr Brewster, a paper by the editor, entitled “ Observations on the Vision
yf ^n?.Press^ons on the lletina, in reference to certain supposed Discoveries respecting Visions announced by Mr Charles BelL”
318 A P P A R
Appari- through the medium of any other sense,—as the ear, for in-
tions. stance, an organ which ministers abundantly to the pro-
duction of spectral illusions.
Again, with regard to those illusions, the objects of
which are, according to this theory, suggested by the
imagery of superstition, it is obvious that a belief in such
imagery is calculated, in an ignorant and credulous age,
to make a strong impression on the mind, and to imbue it
deeply with all the peculiarities of the prevailing creed.
In point of fact, there is nothing which men know so
thoroughly, or remember so minutely, as superstitious le¬
gends, when this unearthly lore forms the subject of un¬
questioned and unquestionable belief. But all such im¬
pressions are more or less productive of and accompanied
with fear; and hence when, from accidental circumstances,
this passion happens to be excited to any degree of in¬
tensity, it not only withdraws the attention of the mind
from the contemplation of external objects, but at the
same time stimulates the imagination; which, again, re¬
acts through the senses, vivifying mental images alone, or
perhaps intermingling them, in fantastical combinations,
with the impressions derived from external objects, and
thus creating those spectral illusions which dreamers and
seers in all ages have mistaken for realities. If the force
of imagination alone can in some instances, without any
sensible extrinsic agency, generate unreal mockeries and
phantasms, much more must it do so when excited by a
belief in supernatural agency, reinforced by fear, the most
powerful of all the passions. “ What brighter colours the
fears of superstition give to the dim objects perceived in
twilight, the inhabitants of the village,” says Dr Thomas
Brown, “ who have to pass the churchyard at any late hour,
and the little students of ballad-lore, who have carried
with them, from the nursery, many tales which they al¬
most tremble to remember, know well. And in the se¬
cond sight1 of this northern part of the island, there can
be no doubt, that the objects which the seers conceive
themselves to behold, are truly more vivid as conceptions,
I T I O N S.
than, but for the superstitious and melancholy character Appari.
of the natives, which harmonize with the objects of this tions.
foresight, they would have been; and that it is in conse-'^~v^
quence of this brightening effect of the emotion, as con¬
curring with the dim and shadowy objects which the va¬
poury atmosphere of our lakes and valleys presents, that
fancy, relatively to the individual, becomes a temporary
reality. The gifted eye, which has once believed itself
favoured with such a view of the future, will, of course,
ever after have a quicker foresight, and more frequent
revelations; its own wilder emotion communicating still
more vivid forms and colours to the objects which it dimly
perceives.” In the case of such visions, however, there is
often more of delusion in the seer, than of illusion in the
phantasms which his “ gifted eye” is supposed to have
beheld; and hence the difficulty, as we have already re¬
marked, or perhaps it would be more correct to say the
impossibility, of explaining upon any one theory all the
phenomena, as these have been detailed. But although
it is inconsistent with the object of this article to diverge
into illustrations in detail, we may be permitted to observe
that all the narratives of spectral illusions which can be
relied upon as deserving of credit, are perfectly explicable
upon the principles here briefly but we trust intelligibly
unfolded.
Having said thus much in reference to the theory of ap¬
paritions, it will not be necessary to enter at any length
into that part of Sir Walter Scott’s work on demonology
and witchcraft2 which relates to the present subject. Sir
Walter has indeed attempted to sound the very depths of
the philosophy of spectral illusion, and to account for their
phenomena on known or admitted principles ; but, with all
possible respect and deference for this gifted writer, it may
be doubted whether his line has reached the bottom, or
afforded any just measure of its profundity. He has narrat¬
ed, with a skill and effect peculiar to himself, a number of
very striking cases,3 and has connected these by a variety
of observations, some of them not less remarkable for the
1 Most of the stories of second-sight told by the Highlanders seem arrant fabrications; and although we are by no means inclined to
doubt the possibility of such illusions, any more than to question the fact, that they have sometimes accidentally coincided in point of
time with events which seemed to give some confirmation to the belief in deuteroscopy, yet there is so much absurdity and impos¬
ture in nearly all the narratives of this kind which we have read, that we consider them utterly unworthy of serious consideration.
The honest fellow who proposed to sell the secret for a pound of tobacco, knew more of the mysteries of second-sight than some grave
philosophers. Dr John Macculloch has the following very pertinent remarks on the subject:—“To have circumnavigated the
Western Isles without even mentioning the second-sight, would be unpardonable. No inhabitant of St Kilda pretends to have been fore¬
warned of our arrival; ceasing to be believed, it has ceased to exist. It is indifferent whether the propagators of an imposture, or of
a piece of supernatural philosophy, be punished or rewarded. In either case the public attention is directed towards the agent;
whether by the burning of the witch, or by the flattering distinction which attended the Highland seer. When witches were no longer
burned, witchcraft disappeared. Since the second-sight has been limited to a doting old man, or a hypochondriacal tailor, it has been
a subject for ridicule ; and in matters of this nature ridicule is death.” {Description of the Western Isles, by John Macculloch, M. D.
vol. ii. p. 32.) While the world believed in the second-sight and in witchcraft, there never failed to be seers and witches. The supposed
possession of these faculties insured notoriety, flattered vanity, conferred power, and afforded the means of gratifying malice: And
what will not men and women do to attain distinctions and advantages like these ? The vain will covet them, the ambitious will
grasp at them, the malicious, if otherwise helpless and spited at the world, will run all risks, both here and hereafter, to secure them.
Hence the enormous impostures of witchcraft, and hence also delusions as hideous as the knavery was gross and revolting. This is
the true key to the solution of a vast number of cases which, it has been supposed, we can neither believe, account for, nor refute.
But the misfortune is, that most of those who have written on the subject have had more faith than philosophy, and more fancy than
faith, in consequence of which they have jumbled truth and falsehood together in such wild confusion, that all the alchemy of logic
is insufficient to resolve the compound into its constituent elements, and separate the one from the other.
» Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft, addressed to J. G. Lockhart, Esq. By Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
* Hie following is one of the most striking, and although the narrative be long, it will be found exceedingly interesting:—“ A se¬
cond, and equally remarkable instance, was communicated to the author by the medical man under whose observation it fell, but who
was, of course, desirous to keep private the name of the hero of so singular a history. Of the friend by whom the facts were attested,
I can only say, that if I found myself at liberty to name him, the rank which he holds in his profession, as well as his attainments in
science and philosophy, form an undisputed claim to the most implicit credit.
“ It was the fortune of this gentleman to be called in to attend the illness of a person now long deceased, who in his lifetime stood,
as I understand, high in a particular department of the law, which often placed the property of others at his discretion and control, and
whose conduct, therefore, being open to public observation, he had for many years borne the character of a man of unusual steadi¬
ness, good sense, and integrity. He was, at the time of my friend’s visits, confined principally to his sick-room, sometimes to bed,
yet occasionally attending to business, and exerting his mind, apparently with all its usual strength and energy, to the conduct of im¬
portant affairs intrusted to. him; nor did there, to a superficial observer, appear any thing in his conduct, while so engaged, that
could argue vacillation of intellect or depression of mind. His outward symptoms of malady argued no acute or alarming disease.
But slowness of pulse, absence of appedte, difficulty of digestion, and constant depression of spirits, seemed to draw their origin from
i
APPARITIONS.
319
Appari¬
tions.
acuteness they display, than for the very great felicity bert’s work as a guide, and all the collateral lights which Appari-
with which they are expressed. But even with Dr Hib- have been thrown upon the subject by the researches of tions.
some hidden cause, which the patient was determined to conceal. The deep gloom of the unfortunate eentleman—tho
ment, which he could not conceal from his friendly physician—the briefness and obvious constraint with whichhe answered Sfintpr'
rogations of his medical adviser—induced my friend to take other methods for prosecuting his enquiries. He applied to the suffer ’
family, to learn, if possible, the source of that secret grief which was gnawing the heart and sucking the life-blood of his unfortunate
patient. The persons applied to, after conversing together previously, denied all knowledge of any cause for the burden which oh
viously affected their relative. So far as they knew—and they thought they could hardly be deceived—his worldly affairs were nros’
perous ; no family loss had occurred which could be followed with such persevering distress; no entanglements of affection could be
supposed to apply to his age, and no sensation of severe remorse could be consistent with his character. The medical gentleman had
finally recourse to serious argument with the invalid himself, and urged to him the folly of devoting himself to a lingering and me¬
lancholy death, rather than tell the subject of affliction which was thus wasting him. He specially pressed upon him the iniurv
which he was doing to his own character, by suffering it to be inferred that the secret cause of his dejection, and its consequences
was something too scandalous or flagitious to be made known, bequeathing in this manner to his family a suspected and dishonoured
name, and leaving a memory with which might be associated the idea of guilt, which the criminal had died without confessing. The
patient, more moved by this species of appeal than by any which had yet been urged, expressed his desire to speak out frankly to
Dr — Every one else was removed, and the door of the sick-room made secure, when he began his confession in the following
manner:— ‘ h
“ ‘ You cannot, my dear friend, be more conscious than I, that I am in the course of dying under the oppression of the fatal dis¬
ease which consumes my vital powers ; but neither can you understand the nature of my complaint, and the manner in which it acts
upon me; nor, if you did, I fear, could your zeal and skill avail to rid me of it.’—‘ It is possible,’ said the physician, ‘ that my skill
may not equal my wish of serving you ; yet medical science has many resources, of which those unacquainted with its powers "never
can form an estimate. But until you plainly tell me your symptoms of complaint, it is impossible for either of us to say what may
or may not be in my power, or within that of medicine.’—‘ I may answer you,’ replied the patient, ‘ that my case is not a singular
one, since we read of it in the famous novel of Le Sage. You remember, doubtless, the disease of which the Duke d’Olivarez is there
stated to have died ?’—‘ Of the idea,’ answered the medical gentleman, ‘ that he was haunted by an apparition, to the actual exist¬
ence of which he gave no credit, but died, nevertheless, because he was overcome and heart-broken by its imaginary presence.’ ‘ I
my dearest Doctor,’ said the sick man, ‘ am in that very case; and so painful and abhorrent is the presence of the persecuting vi¬
sion, that my reason is totally inadequate to combat the effects of my morbid imagination, and I am sensible I am dying, a wasted
victim to an imaginary disease.’ The medical gentleman listened with anxiety to his patient’s statement, and for the present judi¬
ciously avoiding any contradiction of the sick man’s preconceived fancy, contented himself with more minute enquiry into the nature
of the apparition with which he conceived himself haunted, and into the hist ory of the mode by which so singular a disease had made
itself master of his imagination, secured, as it seemed, by strong powers of the understanding, against an attack so irregular. The
sick person replied by stating, that its advances were gradual, and at first not of a terrible or even disagreeable character To illus¬
trate this, he gave the following account of the progress of his disease.
“ ‘ My visions,’ he said, ‘ commenced two or three years since, when I found myself from time to time embarrassed by the pre¬
sence of a large cat, which came and disappeared I could not exactly tell how, till the truth was finally forced upon me, and I was
compelled to regard it as no domestic household cat, but as a bubble of the elements, which had no existence save in my deranged
visual organs or depraved imagination. Still I had not that positive objection to the animal entertained by a late gallant Highland
chieftain, who has been seen to change to all the colours of his own plaid if a cat by accident happened to be in the room with him,
even though he did not see it. On the contrary, I am rather a friend to cats, and endured with so much equanimity the presence of
my imaginary attendant, that it had become almost indifferent to me; when within the course of a few months it gave place to, or was
succeeded by, a spectre of a more important sort, or which at least had a more imposing appearance. This was no other than the ap¬
parition of a gentleman-usher, dressed as if to wait upon a lord-lieutenant of Ireland, a lord high commissioner of the kirk, or any
other who bears on his brow the rank and stamp of delegated sovereignty.
“ ‘ This personage, arrayed in a court di-ess, with bag and sword, tamboured waistcoat, and chapeau-bras, glided beside me like the
ghost of Beau Nash; and, whether in my own house or in another, ascended the stairs before me, as if to announce me in the
drawing-room ; and at some times appeared to mingle with the company, though it was sufficiently evident that they were not aware
of his presence, and that I alone was sensible of the visionary honours which this imaginary being seemed desirous to render me.
This freak of the fancy did not produce much impression on me, though it led me to entertain doubts on the nature of my disorder,
and alarm for the effect it might produce upon my intellects. But that modification of my disease also had its appointed duration.
After a few months the phantom of the gentleman-usher was seen no more, but was succeeded by one horrible to the sight and dis¬
tressing to the imagination, being no other than the image of death itself—the apparition of a skeleton. Alone or in company,’ said
the unfortunate invalid, ‘ the presence of this last phantom never quits me. I in vain tell myself a hundred times over that it is no
reality, but merely an image summoned up by the morbid acuteness of my own excited imagination and deranged organs of sight.
But what avail such reflections, while the emblem at once and presage of mortality is before my eyes, and while I feel myself, though
in fancy only, the companion of a phantom representing a ghastly inhabitant of the grave, even while I yet breathe on the earth ?
Science, philosophy, even religion, has no cure for such a disorder ; and I feel too surely that I shall die the victim to so melancholy
a disease, although I have no belief whatever in the reality of the phantom which it places before me.’
The physician was distressed to perceive, from these details, how strongly this visionary apparition was fixed in the imagination
of his patient. He ingeniously urged the sick man, who was then in bed, with questions concerning the circumstances of the phan¬
tom’s appearance, trusting he might lead him, as a sensible man, into such contradictions and inconsistencies as might bring his com¬
mon sense, which seemed to be unimpaired, so strongly into the field, as might combat successfully the fantastic disorder which pro¬
duced such fatal effects. ‘ This skeleton, then,’ said the Doctor, ‘ seems to you to be always present to your eyes ?’—‘ It is my fate,
unhappily,’ answered the invalid, ‘ always to see it.’—‘ Then I understand,’ continued the physician, ‘ it is now present to your ima¬
gination ?’—‘ To my imagination it certainly is so,’ replied the sick man—‘ And in what part of the chamber do you now conceive the
apparition to appear ?’ the physician enquired. ‘ Immediately at the foot of my bed ; when the curtains are left a little open,’ an¬
swered the invalid, ‘ the skeleton, to my thinking, is placed between them, and fills the vacant space.’—‘ You say you are sensible of
the delusion,’ said his friend ; ‘ have you firmness to convince yourself of the truth of this ? Can you take courage enough to rise
and place yourself in the spot so seeming to be occupied, and convince yourself of the illusion ?’ The poor man sighed, and shook his
head negatively. ‘ Well,’ said the Doctor, ‘ we will try the experiment otherwise.’ Accordingly, he rose from his chair by the bed¬
side, and placing himself between the two half-drawn curtains at the foot of the bed, indicated as the place occupied by the appari¬
tion, asked if the spectre was still visible? 4 Not entirely so,’ replied the patient, ‘ because your person is betwixt him and me;
but I observe his skull peering above your shoulder.’
“ It is alleged the man of science started on the instant, despite philosophy, on receiving an answer ascertaining, with such mi¬
nuteness, that the ideal spectre was close to his own person. He resorted to other means of investigation and cure, but with equally
indifferent success. The patient sunk into deeper and deeper dejection, and died in the same distress of mind in which he had spent
the latter months of his life; and his case remains a melancholy instance of the power of imagination to kill the body, even when its
fantastic terrors cannot overcome the intellect, of the unfortunate persons who suffer under them. The patient, in the present case,
sunk under his malady; and the circumstances of his singular disorder remaining concealed, he did not, by his death and last illness,
lose any of the well-merited reputation for prudence and sagacity which had attended him during the whole course of his life.”
320 A P P A R
Appari- Dr Ferriar, Sir David Brewster, &c., Sir Walter has fail-
tions. e(j t0 reach any general principle applicable to a given
v ' class of cases. The consequence is, that, although his ob¬
servations are almost always valuable, and often involve
the very law which connects and explains the phenomena
of spectral illusion, he constantly stops short on the verge
of the discovery, and is therefore under the necessity of
seeking a new explanation of each successive case, which
is, for the most part, considered separately and without
reference to or comparison with others. On several occa¬
sions, indeed, he attempts to generalize, and makes very
close approximations to the truth ; but, like those tune¬
less persons who sometimes essay good-naturedly to sing,
and stumble about the outskirts of an air, without ever
being able to hit it exactly, Sir Walter frequently comes so
very near the point he aims at, that we are surprised how
he should miss it.
This is singularly exemplified in the following obser¬
vations, which, with reference to the view we have now
taken, are exceedingly important:—“ Enthusiastic feel¬
ings of an impressive and solemn nature,” says Sir Wal¬
ter, “ occur both in private and public life, which seem
to add ocular testimony to an intercourse betwixt earth
and the world beyond it. For example, the son who has
been lately deprived of his father feels a sudden crisis ap¬
proach, in which he is anxious to have recourse to his sa¬
gacious advice—or a bereaved husband earnestly desires
again to behold the form of which the grave has deprived
him for ever—or, to use a darker yet very common in¬
stance, the wretched man who has dipped his hand in his
fellow-creature s blood, is haunted by the apprehension
that the phantom of the slain stands by the bedside of his
murderer. In all, or any of these cases, who shall doubt
that imagination, favoured by circumstances, has power to
summon up to the organ of sight spectres which only exist in
the mind of those by whom their apparition seems to be wit¬
nessed ? If we add, that such a vision may take place in
the course of one of those lively dreams in which the
patient, except in respect to the single subject of one
strong impression, is or seems sensible of the real parti¬
culars of the scene around him, a state of slumber which
often occurs—if he is so far conscious, for example, as to
know that he is lying on his own bed, and surrounded by
his own familiar furniture, at the time when the supposed
apparition is manifested, it becomes almost in vain to argue
with the visionary against the reality of his dream, since
the spectre, though itself purely fanciful, is inserted amidst
so many circumstances which he feels must be true beyond
the reach of doubt or question. That which is undeni¬
ably certain becomes in a manner a warrant for the reality
of the appearance to which doubt would have been other¬
wise attached. And if any event, such as the death of
the person dreamt of, chances to take place, so as to corre¬
spond with the nature and the time of the apparition, the
coincidence, though one which must be frequent, since our
dreams usually refer to the accomplishment of that which
haunts our minds when awake, and often presage the
most probable events, seems perfect, and the chain of
circumstances touching the evidence may not unreason¬
ably be considered as complete.”
Now, it must be obvious to every one, that the true the¬
ory of apparitions is involved in these observations, though
not unfolded in such a manner as to render it available for
the explanation of spectral illusions. The author distinctly
indicates, in the first place, the power of imagination, when
excited, “ to summon up to the organ of sight spectres
which only exist in the mind of those by whom their ap¬
parition seems to be witnessed,” or, in other words, to
reproduce past impressions through the medium of the
senses; and, secondly, in certain kinds of dreams, he re-
I T I O N S.
cognises the principle, which Sir D. Brewster has shown to ADDa
hold good in our waking hours, that “the objects of mental tions.
contemplation may be seen as distinctly as external ob-^v^.
jects, and will occupy the same local position in the axis
of vision, as if they had been formed by the agency of
light” while their being “ inserted” amidst so many objects
in regard to which there is no deception, will at the same
time contribute to strengthen the illusion of reality, and
to render the visionary inaccessible to any arguments
tending to call it in question. But no use whatever is
made of these important principles; which, so far from
being pushed to their consequences, and thus disencum¬
bered of the limitations which the author has assigned to
them, are stated apparently for no other reason than that
they may be straightway cast aside and forgotten.
Another example may be given of this unavailing ap¬
proximation to the truth, on a most important branch of
the subject. That disordered or excited state of the ima¬
gination arising from morbific causes, in which it re-acts
upon the organs of sense, and generates spectral illusions,
“ is not,” he thinks, “ properly insanity, although it is
somewhat allied to that most horrible of maladies, and
may, in many constitutions, be the means of bringing it
on, and although such hallucinations are proper to both.”
The difference he conceives to be, that “ in cases of in¬
sanity, the mind of the patient is principally affected,
while the senses or organic system offer in vain to the
lunatic their decided testimony against the phantasy of a
diseased imagination.” There is some confusion here,
both in conception and expression; but still the author is
correct in his general idea, however vaguely indicated,
that the difference he alludes to is one of degree rather
than of kind. A few observations will, we think, make
this abundantly evident, and at the same time show in how
remarkable a manner the phenomena of insanity, viewed
in reference to the subject before us, illustrate that re¬
flective or renovating power of the imagination to which
alone we ascribe the production of phantasms and spectres.
The history of this malady (says Pinel) claims alliance
with all the errors and delusions of superstitipus credulity
—with those of witchcraft, demoniacal possession, oracles,
divinations, and spectral illusions; and hence he considers
it as eminently deserving of attention, on the part of the
mental, as well as on that of the medical philosopher who
may be called upon practically to minister consolation and
relief to minds diseased. Insanity, considered generally,
is merely the excess of that state or of those states of the
mind during which hallucinations are produced; and this
excess, when prolonged beyond a certain limit, terminates
in fatuity, or the complete exhaustion and paralysis of the
mental powers, just as bodily exertion, when urged be¬
yond a certain pitch (varying, however, in each indivi¬
dual), terminates in the suspension of all physical ener¬
gy, and ultimately in death. In both cases nature has
provided a restorative power, which, up to a definitive
point, can repair the injury produced by excited action,
and enable the mind and body to recover their wonted
tone and health; but if the excitation continue, or be
pushed beyond this limit, the restorative efficacy is de¬
stroyed, and neither can ever regain their former condi¬
tion. It is this excess alone which, in the case of mind,
constitutes insanity. It is the unnatural continuance or
prolongation of excited action which ultimately over¬
whelms the whole mental powers; not even excepting the
imagination itself, the very instrument, if we may so ex¬
press it, by which this melancholy ruin is accomplished.
Hence it is commonly observed that persons endowed
with the greatest susceptibility of mental excitement,
with the warmest passions, the most active imaginations,
and the most acute sensibilities, evince the strongest pre-
A P P A R
Appari- disposition to insanity; and as this is the temperament
linns, that usually accompanies genius, every one can easily ap-
preciate the truth of the observation which a celebrated
poet has consecrated in his numbers, that great wit is
nearly allied to madness, and that “ thin partitions do
the bounds divide” which separate the one from the
other. But this predisposing temperament, of which
genius is a natural product, and insanity the excess or
diseased state, is also that which renders men pecu¬
liarly susceptible of superstitious impressions, and upon
which these, when once received into the mind, and trea¬
sured up in the memory, are likely, through the medium
of the imagination, to re-act with the greatest force, and
thus to give a sort of reflex impulse to the temperament
which predisposes towards their reception. Need we
wonder, then, to find the imagery of superstition so fre¬
quently blended and mixed up with the wild delusions of
insanity, or the one acting upon and aggravating all the
symptoms of the other ? Need we wonder that in a great
variety of instances superstition should become the ex¬
citing cause of insanity, or that the visions of insanity
should, in their turn, form new objects of superstition ?
In all cases of mental excitement, howsoever produced,
the results may vary in proportion to the relative intensity
of the excited action; but on a close examination it will
be found that the difference observable amongst them is a
difference of degree only, not of kind. “ From recalling
images by an act of the memory,” says Dr Ferriar, “ the
transition is direct to beholding spectral objects which
have been floating in the imaginationand he adds that
he has frequently, in the course of his professional prac¬
tice, conversed with persons who imagined they saw de¬
mons, and heard them speak ; a species of delusion which,
he thinks, admits of many gradations and distinctions ex¬
clusive of actual insanity. Sir Walter Scott also men¬
tions the case of a patient similarly affected, who, being
troubled with a diurnal vision of an unsightly hag, con¬
sulted the late Dr Gregory on the subject of this visita¬
tion, but, as appears from the narrative, without deriving
any material benefit from the skill of that eminent and
learned physician. As the spectre was very regular in
its appearance, and always visited the patient at a stated
hour, the doctor, on one occasion, exerted all his powers
of conversation, which were very great, to engage the
mind of this individual, and if possible beguile him'into
a forgetfulness of time, that the awful hour might pass
unobserved—but, as it turned out, without effect; for
scarcely had the clock struck the hour, when the patient
screamed out that he beheld the apparition. Ordinary
impressions, indeed, are never sufficient to control such
as are produced by an imagination excited as this man’s
must have been. Hence, finding his expedient vain, Dr
Gregory had recourse to his usual remedy of blood-let¬
ting, in order to relieve the plethoric or apoplectic af¬
fection under which he concluded that the patient must
1 X I O IV S. g2"
be labouring; but whether this antiphlogistic treatment Appan-
nad the effect of dismissing the phantom hag who had fl°ns-
previously repeated her visits so regularly, Sir Walter
has not informed us. Delusions of this sort, as Dr Fer-
i iar observes, certainly admit of gradations short of ac¬
tual insanity; but the difference, as we have already re¬
marked, is one of degree only, not of kind; for, in all
such cases, a little additional intensity of excitement is
only wanting to deprive the mind of that power over its
impressions generally which it has already lost over one
set, and thus to overwhelm it at once under a hideous
mass of moi bid hallucinations. The same observation is
applicable to the partial illusions generated by hysteria,
hypochondria, febrile affections, inflammations of the brain*,
delirium tremens, and other diseases which exert a disturb¬
ing influence over the nervous system, especially that part
of it more immediately connected with sensation. The
exciting causes may vary, and the particular illusions cre¬
ated may partake of this variation ; yet it will be found
that, the excitement once produced, the resulting pheno¬
mena observe invariably the same law, and that accord¬
ing as the degree of that excitement is greater or less,
so will the morbid affection of the mind either amount to
actual insanity, or fall short of it by some gradations. The
true theory of apparitions, therefore, is essentially the
same with that of insanity; nor, in determining the ge¬
neral principle which connects the one class of phenome¬
na, can we fail, if we pursue the proper course of investi¬
gation, to ascertain that which regulates and consequent¬
ly explains the other.1
These observations, as the reader must have already
perceived, apply only to that part of Sir Walter Scott’s
work which relates to apparitions, and which, in fact, is
greatly inferior in interest as well as importance to the
masterly exposition he has given of the various systems
of magic and demonology which have prevailed at different
times and in different countries. Here he is evidently
quite at home; and as his treasures of ghostly lore are
unbounded, his judicious observations are continually il¬
lustrated by the most apposite and striking narratives,
frequently derived from sources which are not generally
accessible. His remarks on the denunciation against
witches contained in the Old Testament, as well as on the
particular case of the sorceress of Endor, consulted by
Saul, are exceedingly interesting; and we think the dis¬
tinction he has drawn between Jewish witchcraft, which
was connected with the abominations of idolatry, and
that of modern times, which was the joint product of
ignorance, credulity, fear, persecution, and imposture, per¬
fectly sound. That the witch of Endor was a mere for¬
tune-teller, to whom the unfortunate king of Israel had
recourse in his despair, is beyond all question or doubt;
and the only difficulty is to explain how it was so or¬
dained that the spirit of the prophet Samuel should arise
amidst the incantations of an impostor, and thus lend a
1 The activity which the soul frequently displays during sleep, or, in other words, the phenomena of dreams, engaged the attention
of metaphysicians at an early period, and gave rise to numerous learned and ingenious speculations, an exquisite summary of which,
accompanied with many truly refined and subtile observations of his own, the reader will find in the chapter where Mr Dugald Stewart
treats of this subject in his Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. “ Breams,” says Mr Addison, “ look like the relaxations and
amusements of the soul when she is disencumbered of her machine ; her sports and recreations when she has laid her charge asleep,
fhe soul is clogged and retarded in her operations when she acts in conjunction with a companion that is so heavy and unwieldy in its
motions; but in dreams she converses with numberless beings of her own creation, and is transported into ten thousand scenes
of her own raising. She is herself the theatre, the actor, and the beholder.” This is finely said, and not more beautiful than true.
But the reader will not fail to observe, that as Mr Addison’s description, if somewhat heightened in its colouring and distorted in its
features, would apply to insanity as well as to dreams, so the state of the soul which produces the one would, if highly excited, ex¬
hibit all the characteristic phenomena of the other. Dreams, indeed, are but faint adumbrations of that vivid phantasmagoria which
madness presents to the eye of the mind, and which is also accompanied with an increased intensity in all the feelings and emotions of
the soul, whether connected with the predominant hallucination, or otherwise. Hence Pinel has remarked, that, even during the in¬
tervals of comparative calmness and reason, he has nowhere met, except in romance, with fonder husbands, more affectionate parents,
more impassioned lovers, or purer and more exalted patriots, than in an asylum for lunatics.
vol. m. 2 s
322
A P P
Apparitor sort of countenance to the belief in magical charms and di¬
ll vinations, which was already but too generally and deeply
Appeal. rooted in the minds of the Israelites. This, however, is not
v—^ the place to enter into the discussion of matters which pro-
A P P
perly fall to be treated of under different heads, and which
involve principles totally different from those which are ap¬
plicable to the case of apparitions alone. (j. b—e.)
APPARITOR, among the Romans, a general term to
comprehend all attendants of judges and magistrates ap¬
pointed to receive and execute their orders. Apparitor, in
England, is a messenger that serves the process of a spiritual
court, or a beadle in a university who carries the mace.
APPEAL, in its usual modem sense, is the act by which
a decision is brought for review from an inferior to a supe¬
rior court. In Roman jurisprudence it was used in this and
in other significations ; it was sometimes equivalent to prose¬
cution, or the calling up of an accused person before a tribu¬
nal, where the accuser appealed to the protection of the ma¬
gistrate against injustice or oppression. The derivation from
the word appello, naturally shows its earliest meaning to have
been an urgent outcry or prayer against injustice. Hence it
inferred a superior power capable of protecting against petty
tyranny. In its meaning of seeking a higher tribunal for re¬
course against a lower, it does not seem to have been a cha¬
racteristic of the Republic, where the magistrate was gene¬
rally supreme within his sphere, and those who felt themselves
outraged by injustice, threw themselves on popular protec¬
tion by provocatio, instead of looking to redress from a
higher official authority. The Empire, however, introduced
grades of jurisdiction, and the ultimate remedy was an ap¬
peal to the emperor ; thus Paul, when brought before Fes-
tus, appealed unto Caesar. It must be understood that the
appeal was actually dealt with by a supreme judge repre¬
senting the emperor, not by the emperor in person. In the
corpus juris, the appeal to the emperor is called indiscri¬
minately appellatio and provocatio. A considerable portion
of the 49th book of the Pandects is devoted to appeals, but
little of the practical operation of the system is to be derived
from the propositions there brought together.
The ecclesiastical hierarchy, and the gradations of the
feudal system, naturally afforded scope in the middle ages
for appeals from the lower to the higher authority. In mat¬
ters ecclesiastical, including those matrimonial testamen¬
tary and other departments which the church ever tried to
bring within the operation of the canon law, there were
various grades of appeal, ending with the Pope. The Eu¬
ropean princes in general struggled against this assumption
of authority by the court of Rome, and it was the source
of many contests between the ecclesiastical and the regal
power.
It became customary for ambitious sovereigns to encou¬
rage appeals from the courts of the crown vassals, to them¬
selves as represented by the supreme judges, and Charle¬
magne usually enjoys the credit of having set the example
of this system of centralization, by establishing missi domi-
nici. The great vassals, however, sought recourse against
the decisions of the royal courts in their own order embodied
as the great council or parliament of the nation, and hence
arose the appeal to the House of Lords as the court of last
resort.
When the progress of civilization and the art of self-
government renders judges no longer amenable to the charge
of tyranny or fraud, an appellate system changes its charac¬
ter and objects. It in some measure certainly tends to pre¬
serve that judicial integrity which renders it unnecessary as
the immediate refuge of the persecuted suitor. But its os¬
tensible object is the preservation of uniformity in the law.
The attainment of this object renders it unfortunately ne¬
cessary in such a country as ours, that no tribunal shall
give, in the first instance, in any important question, a deci¬
sion which is not open to appeal. The process has the double
advantage, that it has a tendency to bring every legal diffi¬
culty ultimately through one tribunal, where a uniformity of
principle may be expected in the application of the law, and,
at the same time, stimulates the exertions of the subordinate
judge, who, knowing that his proceedings will be revised, is
careful to bring them as close as he can to those uniform
principles of law which he knows that the court of appeal
will apply. To accomplish this function of an appellate sys¬
tem, it is right that the investigation of the question at issue
should have been exhausted in the inferior court, and that
the court of appeal should have nothing before it which has
not been there considered; for if the inferior court decide
on one representation of circumstances, and the court of ap¬
peal on another, the public will lose the advantage of having
the principle which was applied in the inferior reversed or
affirmed in the superior tribunal.
The House of Lords is a court of appeal from all the chief
civil and criminal courts in the United Kingdom, except the
High Court of Justiciary in Scotland. It is only, however, in
questions comingfrom the Equity Courts and the Court ofSes-
sion in Scotland, that the term appeal is employed. The refer¬
ences from the common law courts have the name writ of er¬
ror, which more characteristically expresses the function of a
court of last resort from tribunals not suspected of partiality
or tyranny, as being less an appeal from injustice than an ap¬
plication to correct the law administered by the court below.
The origin of the appellate jurisdiction of the House of
Lords was undoubtedly of that partly feudal and partly po¬
pular character already alluded to, which made the suitor seek
justice from the high court of Parliament, when it was re¬
fused in the baronial court or even by the king’s judges.
Hence the lords exercised the mixed function of jurymen
and judges, and, as in judgments on impeachment, the house
might be influenced by private or party considerations, de¬
bating and dividing on the question before them. A revolu¬
tion was silently accomplished, however, by which the func¬
tion of reviewing the decisions of the courts fell entirely
to the lawyers raised to the peerage, or to other judges
brought in to give their aid; and the unprofessional lords now
only attend to give the sanction of a quorum to the proceed¬
ings. The letters and memoirs, so late as Queen Anne’s
reign, show that party or personal influence and persuasion
were employed to procure votes on appeals, as they have in
later times on railway or other local bills. The last instance
probably in which a strong division of opinion was mani¬
fested among the unprofessional lords was the celebrated
Douglas cause in 1769, when the house was addressed by the
Dukes of Newcastle and Bedford, but were led by the au¬
thoritative opinion of Lord Mansfield on the effect of the^
evidence; an opinion which, being treated rather as that of
a political partisan than of a judge, was sharply commented
on in a work of great talent written by Mr James Stuart,
who had a deep personal interest in the cause. The case
of O’Connell and others, brought up on writ of error from the
Queen’s Bench in Ireland, in 1844, may be said to have
finally established the precedent,, that the judgments of the
House of Lords are to be given solely by the law lords. On
that occasion there was a difference of opinion among the
lav/ lords themselves. The judgment of the majority was
strongly against the political feeling of the government and
of the peers as a body, while the law lords who carried the de¬
cision had been appointed by previous governments, opposed
in politics to the existing cabinet. But all these temptations
to a party vote by the unprofessional members were resisted.
i
'
A P P
Appeal. The large proportional amount of the judicial work in
—^ the House of Lords caused by appeals from Scotland has
been often noticed. It proceeds from two causes. In Eng¬
land there is a virtual appeal by writ of error from any one
of the common law courts to the other two, not exemplified
in Scotland. But there have always appeared to the disap¬
pointed Scottish litigant chances in his favour from his ap¬
peal lying to English judges against the Scottish judges who
have decided against him. It has been said that such ex¬
pectations have not always been disappointed, and that the
English law lord has sometimes been unable so entirely to
divest himself of professional prejudices, as to administer the
law of Scotland without being biased by that of England.
If the changes thus sometimes made in Scots law by such
high authority have been improvements, yet it may justly
be said that they should have been imparted by statute, not
by judicial decisions.
Of old, in Scotland, there was something anomalous in
an appeal to Parliament, as the Court of Session was, in its
original constitution a committee of Parliament, for the per¬
formance of its judicial functions. In the reign of Charles
II., however, the courts grew so intolerably corrupt that a
determined effort was made to have their judgments over¬
turned by an appeal, which was strictly of the old character
of a cry for protection against flagrant injustice. It was
called a “ protest for remeid of law,” and was inserted as
one of the national claims in the petition of right at the Re¬
volution. There was no allusion to an appeal system in the
Treaty of Union ; but the House of Lords, when appealed
to against the judgments of the Court of Session, acted
without hesitation. Many attempts were made, but with¬
out effect, to carry appeals from the supreme criminal courts
in Scotland to the House of Lords.
A new tribunal has been lately erected for appeals from
the Colonial courts, called the Judicial Committee of the
Privy Council. It consists of the Lord President, the Lord
Chancellor, and the holders of some other judicial offices
when they are members of the privy council. Three mem¬
bers must be present to constitute an effective court, exclu¬
sive ol the Lord President, who is the only unprofessional
member of the court. It was constituted in 1833, and re¬
adjusted in 1851 (3d and 4th Will. IV., cap. 41, and 14th
and 15th Viet., cap. 83). Appeal is generally the expression
used for an application to revise summary judgments, as
where the decision of one or two justices of peace may
be referred to the quarter-sessions; and here, in some
measure, the term retains its old meaning as a cry or ap¬
peal against injustice, since it is the remedy against the
haste or ignorance with which it is not inaptly supposed
that summary justice by unprofessional magistrates is ad¬
ministered. In Scotland the term appeal applies to the re¬
ference from the judgment of the sheriff-substitute to that
of the sheriff.
In France the adoption of the nomenclature of the civil
law has made the term, in its French shape of appel, of
more comprehensive use to express references from a lower
to a higher tribunal, than in this country. The general sub¬
ject is briefly treated in the third book of the code of civil
procedure.
The United States, in adopting the structure of the Eng¬
lish law, brought with it the practice of appeal and writ of
error, but the federal constitution and the jealousy of cen¬
tral power have practically restricted the operation of the
system. By the constitution, the Supreme Court of the
United States, is vested with “ appellate jurisdiction, both
as to law and fact, with such exceptions, and under such re¬
gulations, as Congress should make.” It appears to be held,
however, that this does not confer appellate jurisdiction,
but only authorizes Congress to create it, so that it is pre¬
sumed not to exist unless it be specially provided for and
A P P
323
tion.
limited. In the words of Mr Kent, “ If Congress had not Appellant
provided any rule to regulate the proceedings in appeal, the II
Court could not exercise an appellate jurisdiction; and if a Appella-
rule be provided, the Court could not depart from it. In
pursuance of this principle the Court decided in Clarke v.'
J3azad(me,thaX, a writ of error did not lie to that court from
a court of the United States territory north-west of the Ohio
because the Act had not authorzied an appeal or writ of
error from such a court.”—{Commentaries, i., 324.)
A peculiar and pernicious process which existed until a
late period in English criminal law, received the name of
appeal. It was a right of prosecution possessed as a per¬
sonal privilege by an injured party, of which the Crown
could not deprive him, directly or indirectly, since he could
use it alike when the prisoner was tried and acquitted, and
when he was convicted and pardoned. It was chiefly known
in practice as the privilege of the nearest relation of a mur¬
dered person, and was generally employed when the public
passions were roused against the accused, on account, not so
much of the evidence against him as the atrocity of the
crime. Thus, after Colonel Oglethorpe’s inquiry and report
on the London prisons, when, in 1729, Banbridge and the
other jailors were acquitted on indictments for deficiency of
evidence, they were hotly pursued by appeals of murder.
In the case of Slaughterford, in 1708, the public indigna¬
tion was roused by the atrocity with which the accused was
charged with murdering the woman he had seduced. The
evidence was very imperfect, and he was acquitted on in¬
dictment ; but an appeal was brought, and on conviction
he was hanged, as his execution was a privilege belonging
to the prosecutor of which the crown could not deprive him
by a pardon. In 1818 a parallel case occurred, when the
appeal was ingeniously met by an offer of battle, since, if
the appellee were an able-bodied man, he had the choice
of the two ordeals, combat or a jury. This neutralising of
one obsolete and barbarous process by another, called the
attention of the legislature to the subject, and appeal in
criminal cases, along with trial by battle, was abolished by
59th Geo. III., cap. 46. A curious inquiry into this subject
will be found in “ An argument for construing largely the
right of an appellee of murder to insist on trial by battle,”
by E. A. Kendall. See Parliament. (j. h. b.)
APPELLANT, in Law, one who appeals.
APPELLATION, the name by which any thing is
known or distinguished when spoken of. Nothing can be
more foreign to the original meaning of many words and
proper names than their present or vulgar appellations;
frequently owing to the history of those things being for¬
gotten, or an ignorance of the language in which they were
expressed. Who, for example, would dream that the legal
proclamation called “ O yes,” was a proclamation command¬
ing the talkers to become hearers, being the French word
Oyez, listen, retained in our courts ever since the law
pleadings were held in French ? Or would any person sup¬
pose that the headland on the French coast near Calais,
called by our seamen Blackness, has been so entitled from its
French name of Blanc Nez, or the White Head-land?
King Henry the Eighth having taken the town of Bou¬
logne in France, the gates of which he brought to Hardes
in Kent, where they are still remaining, the flatterers of
that reign highly magnified this action, which, Porto Bello
like, became a popular subject for signs; and the port or
harbour of Boulogne, called Boulogne Mouth, was accord¬
ingly set up at a noted inn in Holborn. The name of the
inn long outliving the sign and fame of the conquest, an
ignorant painter, employed by a no less ignorant landlord
to paint a new one, represented it by a bull and a large gap¬
ing human mouth ; answering to the vulgar pronunciation
of hull and mouth. The same piece of history gave being
to the hull and gate, originally meant for Boulogne gate,
324 A P P
Appella- and represented by an embattled gate or entrance into a
tive Names fortified town.
!l The barber's pole has been the subject of many conjec-
Appcndmi. tures . some conceiving it to have originated from the word
poll or head, with several other conceits as far-fetched and
as unmeaning; but the true intention of that party-coloured
staff was to show that the master of the shop practised sur¬
gery, and could breathe a vein as well as mow a beard. The
white band which encompasses the staff was meant to re¬
present the fillet thus elegantly twined about it.
Nor were the chequers, at this time a common sign of a
public-house, less expressive,—being the representation of
a kind of draught-board called tables, and showing that there
that game might be played. From their colour, which was
red, and the similarity to a lattice, it was corruptly called
the red lettuce, which word is frequently used by ancient
writers to signify an ale-house.
The Spectator has explained the sign of the bell-savage
inn plausibly enough, in supposing it to have been origi¬
nally the figure of a beautiful female found in the woods,
called in French la belle sauvage. But another reason has
since been assigned for that appellation, namely, that the
inn was once the property of Lady Arabella Savage, and
familarly called Bell Savage's Inn, probably represented,
as at present, by a bell and a savage or wild man, which
was a rebus for her name ; rebuses being much in fashion
in the sixteenth century.
The three gilt balls so commonly hung out as signs at
pawnbrokers’ shops, by the vulgar humorously enough said
to indicate that it is two to one that the things pledged are
never redeemed, were in reality the arms of a set of mer¬
chants from Lombardy, who were the first that publicly lent
money on pledges. They dwelt together in a street, from
them named Lombard Street, in London, and also gave
their name to another at Paris. The appellation of Lom¬
bard was formerly all over Europe considered as synony¬
mous with that of usurer.
At the institution of yeomen of the guards, they used to
wait at table on all great solemnities, and were ranged near
the buffets. This procured them the name of buffetiers,
not very unlike in sound to the jocular appellation of beef¬
eaters, now given them; though probably it was rather the
voluntary misnomer of some wit, than an accidental corrup¬
tion arising from ignorance of the French language.
Ihe approbrious title of bum bayliffe, so constantly be¬
stowed on the sheriff’s officers, is, according to Judge Black-
stone, only the corruption of bound bayliffe, every sheriff’s
officer being obliged to enter into bonds and to give se¬
curity for his good behaviour, previous to his appoint¬
ment.
A cordwainer seems to have no relation to the occupa¬
tion it is meant to express, which is that of a shoemaker.
But cordonier, originally spelt cordaunier, is the French
word for that trade : the best leather used for shoes comin<r
originally from Cordova in Spain.
, APPELLATIVE Names, in Grammar, in contradis¬
tinction to proper names, are such as stand for universal
ideas, or a whole rank of beings, whether general or special.
Thus, fish, bird, man, city, river, are common or appellative
names ; and so are trout, eel, lobster ; for they all ao-ree to
many individuals, and some to many species.
APPENDINI, Francesco Maria, the author of a very
valuable work in two volumes, 4to, entitled Notizie Istorico
Critiche suite Antichita Storia e Letteratura di Ragusa ;
but his earliest publication was an Illyrian Grammar. Ap¬
pend™ was born at Turin in 1768 ; and as a member of a
religious fraternity, early sent to Ragusa. There he entered
fully into the civil and literary history of his adopted coun¬
try, which he discussed and illustrated with great success.
When the French seized Ragusa, his merits were not over-
A P P
looked by Napoleon, who placed him at the head of the Appei^u
Ragusan Academy ; and when that little state fell into the II
possession of the Austrians, that government also appreci- APPia Via.
ating his great merits, set him over the Normal Institution
at Zara, an establishment for educating teachers for the
various schools of the Illyrian provinces. He died in 1837,
greatly esteemed and deeply regretted.—See Tipoldo, Bio-
grafie.
APPENZELL, a canton of Switzerland, the thirteenth
in the confederation. It is a mountainous district in the
north-east of Switzerland, entirely surrounded by the can¬
ton of St Gall. Of the chains of mountains which traverse
it, some, especially in the south, attain a considerable eleva¬
tion, that of Mount Sentis, the highest, being 8232 feet.
Its principal river is the Sitter, besides which it is watered
by several rivulets. It was at one time almost covered
with pine and fir forests, abounding in game and wild ani¬
mals; but in consequence of the extension of the population,
these have much diminished. Peat and coal are abundant.
From the general elevation of this canton the climate is cold
and variable, but not unhealthy. It has an area of 152
square miles, with a population in 1850 of 54,869. The
violent struggles which followed the Reformation occasioned
its division into two parts in 1597—Inner Rhodes occu¬
pied by Roman Catholics, and Outer Rhodes by Protestants.
Outer Rhodes comprehends about two-thirds of the canton,
being its northern and western parts, and has a population
of 43,599, almost all Protestants. Population of Inner
Rhodes 11,270, almost all Roman Catholics. These two di¬
visions have distinct democratic forms of government; each
has a great council, the members of which are chosen by
the people, and whose acts are all subject to approval by
the general body of the people. Outer Rhodes sends two
members to the national council, and Inner Rhodes one;
the former contributing 772, and the latter 200 men to the
federal army. The houses are distinguished by neatness
and cleanliness, and are surrounded with gardens. Educa¬
tion, and the training of the young here, as throughout Swit¬
zerland, is much attended to. The inhabitants of Inner
Rhodes are principally engaged in the rearing of cattle; those
of Outer Rhodes in manufactures, especially cotton and
linen goods, and embroidery. The capital of Inner Rhodes
is Appenzell; of Outer Rhodes, Trogen.
Appenzell, the capital of Inner Rhodes in the above
canton, is situated in a beautiful valley of the Sitter, seven
miles south of St Gall. It has an old Gothic church, two
convents, and a council-house. Pop. 3200, principally en¬
gaged in the linen trade.
APPETITE, in a general sense, the desire of enjoying
some object supposed to be conducive to our happiness.
This term is applied particularly to hunger, thirst, and the
appetite of sex. Considered as principles of action, the
appetites are distinguished by the following circumstances:
—1. They take their rise from the body, and are common
to us with the brutes. 2. They are not constant, but oc¬
casional. 3. They are accompanied with an uneasy sensa¬
tion, which is strong or weak in proportion to the strength
or weakness of the appetite.—See Stewart’s Philosophy of
the Active Powers, book i. chap. i.
APPIA Via, a way reaching from Rome through Capua
to Brundusium, between 330 and 350 miles long. Appius
Claudius, surnamed Ccecus, in the year of the city 441, car¬
ried it from the Porta Capena to Capua. (Livy, Frontinus.)
It was afterwards carried on to Brundusium, but by whom,
or when, is uncertain. It was laid with very hard stone,
brought from a great distance, large, and squared (Diodorus);
and it was so wide that several waggons could go abreast.
What remains of it shows, that below the squared stones
there were two other beds of prepared materials. The first,
or lowest, is of rubble stones laid in mortar, the next is a bed
A P P
of gravel, both being about 3 feet in thickness. The breadth
of this road is only 14 feet. Statius calls it the queen of
roads. Its course is described by Horace, Strabo, and An-
tonine.
APPIAN, an eminent writer of the Roman history in
Greek, under the reigns of Trajan and Adrian. He was of
a good family in Alexandria in Egypt; whence he went to
Rome, and there distinguished himself so well as an advo¬
cate, that he was chosen one of the procurators of the empire,
and appointed to the government of a province. He did
not complete the Roman history in a continued series,
but wrote distinct histories of all nations that had been
conquered by the Romans, in which he placed every thing
relating to those nations in the proper order of time. Of
all this voluminous work there remains only what treats
of the Punic, Syrian, Mithridatic, and Spanish wars, with
those against Hannibal, the civil wars, and the wars in 11-
lyricum, and some fragments of the Celtic and Gallic wars.
An excellent edition of Appian was published by Schweig-
hasuser in Greek and Latin, at Leipsic, in 1785, in 3 vols.
8vo. The extracts from the lost books, preserved by various
authors, are collected in this edition.
APPIANI, the name of two eminent painters, who lived
in our own times. Andrea was the best fresco painter of
his age, and imitated the style of Coreggio. He was the
pensioned artist to the kingdom of Italy. His best pictures
are in the vice-regal palace at Milan, and in one of the
churches of that city ; where he was born in 1754, and died
in 1814, of grief, it is said, for the loss of his patron and his
pension. Francesco is said, by Lanzi, to be fully entitled as
a fresco painter to notice in a history of the art. He was a
pupil of Magatta, and had an agreeable style, as appears by
his works at Perugia, where he principally lived. The same
authority mentions that many of his easel pictures went to
Britain. He was born in 1 702, and died in 1792, aged 90;
an instance of “ vigour unexampled except in the case of
Tiziano.”
APPIUS Claudius, a Sabine by birth, one of the prin¬
cipal inhabitants of Regillum. His shining merit having
drawn the envy of his fellow-citizens upon him, he retired
to Rome with all his clan. Appius was admitted among the
patricians, and was made consul with Publius Servilius Prisons
in b.c. 495 ; but he was hated by the plebeians, being an
austere opposer of their demands. The Claudian family
continued long one of the most illustrious of the patrician
tamilies in Rome, and several in succession of the name of
Appius supported the same stern characterthat distinguished
their first founder.
APPLAUSE, an approbation of something, signified by
clapping the hands, still practised in theatres. Applause, in
antiquity, differed from acclamation, as the latter was arti¬
culate and performed with the voice, the former with the
hands. Among the Romans applause was an artificial kind
of noise made by the audience or spectators to express their
satisfaction. There were three species of applause, denomi¬
nated from the different noises made in them, viz., Bomhus,
Imbrices, and Testa;; the first a confused din, made either
hy the hands or the mouth ; the second and third, by beat¬
ing on a sort of sounding vessels placed in the theatres for
this purpose. Persons were instructed to give applause with
skill; and there were even masters who professed to teach
the art. The proficients in this way let themselves out for
hire to the vain-glorious among the poets, actors, &c., and
were properly disposed to support a loud applause. These
they called Laudicceni and So^oKAets. At the end of the
play a loud peal of applause was expected, and even asked
of the audience, either by the chorus or the persons who
spoke last. The formula was Spectatoresplaudite, or Valete
et plaudite. The plausores or applauders were divided into
chori, and disposed in theatres opposite to each other, like
A P P
the choristers in cathedrals, so that there was a kind of con-
cer o app anses. The practice of keeping hired applauders
fdaqueurs) is still maintained in the French theatres.
.ArrLL. Torthedescription of this fruit-tree, see Horti¬
culture.
Apples form a considerable article of commerce, and are
imported to Britain chiefly from France and America The
S'" Wle? ;mP«ed from foreign countries in
18®_™ b'isl;?ls>,lnd from British possessions 2124.
A1 FLLBY, a small market and borough town of Eng¬
land, in the county of Westmoreland, of which it is the capi¬
tal, 13 miles from Penrith. It is situated on a hill, which is
crowned by a very ancient castle, and is almost surrounded
by the river Eden, which is here crossed by a fine old stone
bridge. It consists chiefly of one broad irregularly built
street. Its principal buildings are the castle, two churches,
market-house, town and shire halls, gaol, hospital for thirteen
widows, and the grammar-school, which has six exhibitions
at Queen’s College, Oxford. It is governed by a mayor,
twelve aldermen, and sixteen burgesses, and previous to the
Reform Act, by which it was disfranchised, it sent two mem¬
bers to Parliament. The town possesses little trade, and its
population is decreasing. In 1851 it was 883.
APPLICATION, in Geometry, is used either for divi¬
sion ; for applying one quantity to another, whose areas, but
not figure, shall be the same ; or for transferring a given line
into a circle or other figure, so that its ends shall be in the
perimeter of the figure.
APPRAISER (from ad, to, and pretium, value), one who
rates or sets a value upon goods, &c. It is practised by
brokers of household furniture, to which set of men the word
is chiefly applied; yet upholsterers and other brokers are
employed, or even any person supposed to be skilled in the
commodities to be appraised or valued. See Auctioneer.
APPREHENSION, in Logic, denotes the simple atten¬
tion of the mind to an object presented either to our sense
or our imagination, without passing a judgment or making
an inference.
APPRENTICE (from apprendre, to learn), one who is
bound by covenant to serve a tradesman or artificer a cer¬
tain time, upon condition of the master’s instructing him in
his art or mystery.
By the common law, every person is left at liberty to fol¬
low w hatever trade or employment may be agreeable to him.
But as it was supposed that great injury would result to the
public if unqualified persons were to exercise the various
crafts and mysteries connected with the mechanical trades,
it was specially provided, by the 5th Eliz., that no person
should exercise any art or craft unless he had previously
qualified himself for it by a regular apprenticeship, under
a penalty of L.400 for every month. Considerable doubts
were always entertained as to the trades to which this sta¬
tute applied; and as the courts of law do not seem generally
to have favoured the principle of the statute, their decisions
tended rather to confine than to extend the restriction. It
was at length agreed that the law was only applicable to such
trades as existed at the time of passing the act, and to such
also as implied some mystery or craft. The operation of
the statute was also held to be limited to market-towns, it
being supposed necessary, for the convenience of the inhabi¬
tants of country villages, that the same person should exer¬
cise different trades, even though he had not been regularly
bred by a seven years’ apprenticeship to each. These va¬
rious limitations of the statute gave rise to many very absurd
distinctions, which plainly showed how very unsuitable this
antiquated law was to the present advanced state of the
mechanical trades. It was found, for example, that a coach-
maker could neither himself make nor employ journeymen
to make his coach-wheels, but that it behoved him to buy
them of a master wheelwright, this last trade having been
325
Apple
II
Appren¬
tice.
326 A P P
Appren- exercised in England before the 5th Eliz. But a wheel-
ticeship. wright, though he has never served an apprenticeship to a
s>—coachmaker, might either himself make, or employ journey¬
men to make, coaches, the trade of a coachmaker not having
been prohibited by the statute, as not being exercised in
England at the time it was passed. All the great manufac¬
tures which, in modern times, have arisen throughout Eng¬
land—in Manchester, Birmingham, Sheffield, Wolverhamp¬
ton—were on this account exempted from the restrictive
operation of this law; and the perfection to which they have
arrived seems a practical oroof of its inutility for the encou¬
ragement of trade.
The effects of those restrictions imposed by the oth Eliz.
were at length felt to be so injurious, that, in the year 1813,
petitions were presented to parliament from various manufac¬
turing towns for a repeal of certain parts of this exception¬
able statute ; and the 54th Geo. III. was accordingly passed,
by which all the penalties and prohibitions imposed by 5th
Eliz. on those who should exercise any trade or mystery, un¬
less qualified by six or seven years’ apprenticeship, were re¬
pealed. That part of the statute was also repealed which en¬
acted that no person should become an apprentice except in
strict conformity to the provisions of the 5th Eliz., and which
rendered all indentures contrary to this act null and void. In
opposition to this, it was provided that all indentures or co¬
venants which would otherwise be valid, should now be valid,
anything in the 5th Eliz. to the contrary notwithstanding.
APPRENTICESHIP, the servitude of an apprentice,
or the duration of his indenture.
Seven years seem anciently to have been, all over Europe,
the usual term established for the duration of apprentice¬
ships in the greater part of incorporated trades. All such
incorporations were anciently called universities, which in¬
deed is the proper Latin name for any incorporation what¬
ever. The university of smiths, the university of tailors,
&c., are expressions which we commonly meet with in the
old charters of ancient towns. When those particular in¬
corporations wrhich are now peculiarly called universities
were first established, the term of years which it was neces¬
sary to study in order to obtain the degree of master of arts,
appears evidently to have been copied from the term of ap¬
prenticeship in common trades, of which the incorporations
were much more ancient. As to have wrought seven years
under a master properly qualified was necessary in order to
entitle any person to become a master, and to have himself
apprentices in a common trade; so to have studied seven
years under a master properly qualified was necessary to
entitle him to become a master, teacher, or doctor (words
anciently synonymous), in the liberal arts, and to have
scholars or apprentices (words likewise originally synony¬
mous) to study under him.
Apprenticeships were altogether unknown to the ancients.
The reciprocal duties of master and apprentice make a con¬
siderable article in every modern code. The Roman law is
perfectly silent with regard to them. There is no Greek or
Latin word which expresses the idea we now annex to the
word apprentice—a servant bound to work at a particular
trade for the benefit of a master during a term of years,
upon condition that the master shall teach him that trade.
Dr Smith considers the institution of apprenticeships as
a device by which trading corporations endeavour to con¬
fine to as few hands as possible the mystery of their craft,
and by which, keeping the market always understocked with
their particular sort of labour, they expect to regulate ac¬
cording to their discretion the price of such manufactures as
they bring to market. He accordingly condemns all those
laws which limit the number of apprentices to be taken by
each master in particular trades, or which prescribe to appren¬
tices a certain term of service before they are permitted to
work as journeymen. The tendency of such laws, he ob-
A P P
serves, is to restrain the competition to a much smaller num- Appren.
ber than might otherwise be disposed to enter into the trade; ticeship,
the limitations of the number of apprentices restraining it
directly, and a long apprenticeship restraining it indirectly,
but as effectually, by increasing the expense of education.
Long apprenticeships, or indeed any apprenticeship, for how¬
ever short a term, Dr Smith considers quite unnecessary, as
the nicest mechanical arts, such as the making of clocks and
watches, contain, according to his theory, no such mystery
as to require a long course of instruction. A few weeks, he
calculates, or even a few days, would be sufficient to enable
a mechanic to set to work in any of those trades; and if he
were paid the full price for his work, he paying of course for
such materials as he might spoil through awkwardness and
inexperience, he imagines that he would learn his business
more effectually, and be more apt to acquire habits of atten¬
tion and industry, than when he works under a master who
has a right to share in the produce of his labour.
It may generally be remarked, however, that, in his rea¬
sonings on these subjects, Dr Smith seems uniformly dis¬
posed to overrate the practical effect of those expedients by
which corporations have been always endeavouring to secure
special advantages for particular trades ; and that his theory
respecting apprenticeships is only a part of that more gene¬
ral theory by which he endeavours to show that the policy
of Europe has always been to encourage the industry of the
towns at the expense of that of the country; and that the
effect of this policy has been to enable the merchants and
manufacturers of the town, in bartering their produce for
that of the country, to levy, for several centuries, an unjust
and oppressive tax on the agricultural classes of the com¬
munity. We know, how ever, that, according to the nature
of human society, as it is so admirably explained in Dr
Smith’s work, monopoly can never succeed on so great a
scale ; and, on the same principle, we may rationally ques¬
tion, if the contract between the apprentice and his master
were merely the device of corporations, whether it ever
could have come into such universal use throughout Europe.
The engagement by which the apprentice is bound to his
master is his own voluntary act. He agrees to bind him¬
self to work to his master at an inferior rate, on condition
of receiving from his master the necessary instruction in his
business. This instruction, Dr Smith asserts, may be given
him in the course of a few days or a few weeks. It is well
known, however, to every practical tradesman, or to any one
acquainted with the nature of mechanical employments, that
the instruction of three days or weeks would scarcely teach
an apprentice the name of his tools, and that almost all the
mechanical trades require throughout their various operations
such nicety and exactness, that the necessary habits are not
formed by the training of years, in place of weeks or days.
It is for the troublesome superintendence of the apprentice
during this period that the master exacts compensation,
without which he would employ none but finished workmen.
But he puts up with the aw kwardness of his apprentice be¬
cause he expects to be benefited by his labour after he shall
be better instructed in his business; on the same principle
that the farmer lays out his capital on the improvement of
his land, in expectation of a future increase of produce. 1 he
contract of apprenticeship is thus a voluntary agreement be¬
tween two parties for their mutual benefit, the result neither
of law nor of the usages of petty corporations, but of cir¬
cumstances. The law, indeed, takes cognizance of the con¬
tract, and enforces its fidfilment; and it may also have en¬
cumbered it with absurd regulations: but the contract itself
stands independent both of law and usage, having its origin
in the plainest principles of reciprocal expediency. There
seems no reason, therefore, to class it with those artificial
expedients which originate in the exclusive spirit of trading
corporations.
i
*
A P P
Ap- Dr Smith appears also to have greatly overrated the effects
j jaches 0f those laws, the object of which is to limit the number of
II apprentices who shall be trained to particular trades. No
. >pulse^ jaw 0pany corporation will ever be found in practice to im-
p0se any limitation on the number of apprentices who may
be trained to a business. It will depend on the state of the
business, whether it is advancing, stationary, or declining,
what number of apprentices will be bred to it; and if, while
a flourishing trade called for a continual supply of new
hands, any corporation were to enact a law limiting the
masters to such a number of apprentices as would barely
keep up their present stock, a scarcity of hands would soon
be felt, wages would rise, and the masters would soon be
induced, by regard to their own interest, to rescind the law
which imposed so great an inconvenience on themselves.
But if the law is thus modified and accommodated to the
state of the trade, it is a mere form. It imposes in reality
no restraint, since it is always in the power of the masters
to alter it whenever they feel that it interferes with their
arrangements.
But though the law were even rigidly persisted in, it is
evident that it would not permanently diminish the number
of apprentices who would be bred to a business, since the
consecpience would be, that the workmen would turn masters,
and each taking the full allowance of apprentices which the
law permits, would soon train up an ample supply of hands.
All those petty contrivances of corporations, therefore, though
they may originate in the lowest mercantile jealousy, and
though they may be exceedingly absurd, cannot materially
disturb the general progress of things; and though they may
harass individuals, their effect on the industry of a great
country hardly deserves notice ; their bad effects being cor¬
rected by those general causes on which society depends
for completing its arrangements, in spite of the obstacles
arising from the mistaken policy of legislators.—See Smith’s
Wealth of Nations, with Notes, and an additional volume
of Dissertations, by David Buchanan. (d. b—n.)
By the 7th and 8th Viet. cap. 112, the master of every
ship belonging to any subject of the United Kingdom, of the
burden of 80 tons and upwards (except pleasure yachts),
shall have on board thereof, on clearing from, and when ab¬
sent from, the United Kingdom, one apprentice or more,
in the following proportion to the number of tons of her
admeasurement, according to the certificate of registry,
viz.:—
For every vessel of 80 tons and under 200 tons,
  200 ... 400 ...
  400 ... 500 ...
  500 ... 700 ...
... ... 700 and upwards,
1 apprentice
at least.
2
3
4
5
all of whom, at the period of being bound, shall be above 12
and under 17 years of age, and shall be duly indented for at
least four years; and all masters neglecting to have on
board such number of apprentices shall forfeit L.10 for every
apprentice that may be deficient.—See Culloch's Diet, of
Commerce.
APPROACHES, in Fortification, are the covered ways
by which the besieger tries to draw near a fortification,
without exposing his men to the fire of the place. The
covered way is formed by excavations advancing obliquely
to the fortress, and the earth thrown out of the cut is col¬
lected between it and the w'orks of the besieged, as an ad¬
ditional cover to the men ; or where the ground is rocky,
they are protected by baskets of earth, or bags filled with
some soft material. See Fortification.
APPROXIMATION, in Arithmetic and Algebra, the
coming nearer and nearer to a root, or other quantity sought,
which cannot be found exactly by any known process.
APPULSE, in Astronomy, the approach of any planet to
APS 327
a conjunction with the sun or a star. It is a step towards a Apriea
transit, occultation, conjunction, eclipse, &c. II
APRIES, the Pharaoh Hophra of the Bible, was the 4th Apsis,
king of the 26th Egyptian dynasty, and succeeded his father
Psammis about 595 b.c. According to Herodotus (iv. 159),
he conquered the Tyrians in a naval engagement at Sidon,
and re-established the Egyptian dominion over Syria. He
carried his arms into Libya, but was defeated in an attempt
upon Gyrene. His subjects revolted and proclaimed Amasis
king, and in a battle which followed Apries was taken pri¬
soner and strangled, B.c. 570.
APRIL (Aprilis), the fourth month of the year, according
to the common computation; but the second according to
that of the astronomers. It contains 30 days. The word
is derived from aperio, I open, because the earth in this
month begins to open her bosom for the production of vege¬
tables.
A PRIORI and A Posteriori, philosophical terms,
derived from a distinction of Aristotle between the order of
nature and the order of human knowledge, that which is
prior (irpoTepov) in the one, being posterior (iVrepov) in the
other. With the followers of Aristotle, accordingly, a de¬
monstration a priori is a proof from the cause to the effect,
a posteriori, a conclusion from the effect to the cause.
The term a priori came afterwards improperly to be ap¬
plied to any abstract reasoning from a given notion to the
conditions which such notion involves, e.g., to what have
been called the ontological and cosmological proofs of the
existence of God; the proof from experience^. <?., the argu¬
ment from design) being called a posteriori.
In modern philosophy, however, since the time of Kant
(though the distinction may be traced in Hume), these
counter terms are used to distinguish those elements of
human knowledge which are native, necessary, and ante¬
cedent to experience, from those which are merely the data
of experience. Thus, the truths of mathematics, founded
on the intuitions of time and space are a priori; the facts of
history, founded on experience, are a posteriori.
APRON, in Naval Architecture, is a piece of curved
timber fixed behind the lower part of the stem, immediately
above the foremost end of the keel.
Apron is also a name given to a platform or flooring of
plank, raised at the entrance of a dock, against which the
dock-gates are shut.
Apron, in Gunnery, a piece of lead which caps or covers
the vent or touch-hole of a gun.
APSIS, in Ecclesiastical Writers, denotes an inner part in
the ancient churches, wherein the clergy sat, and where the
altar was placed. It is supposed to have been thus called
because covered with an arch or vault of its own, by the
Greeks called by the Latins absis. Apsis, in this sense,
amounts to the same with what is otherwise called choir,
concha, camera, and presbyterium ; and stands opposed to
the nave or body of the church.
Apsis is more particularly used for the bishop’s seat in
ancient churches. This was peculiarly called apsis gradata,
because raised on steps above the ordinary stalls. It was also
denominated exedra, and in latter times tribune.
Apsis was also used for a reliquary or case, wherein the
relics of saints were kept. It took the name apsis from its
being round or arched at the top, or perhaps from the place
where it was kept. The apsis was commonly placed on the
altar ; it was usually of wood, sometimes also of gold and
silver, with sculptures, &c.
Apsis, in Astronomy, a term used indifferently for either
of the two points of a planet’s orbit, where it is at the
greatest or least distance from the sun or earth; and hence
the line connecting those points is called the J’116 ^ie
apsides. The word is Greek, and derived from aTrro), I con¬
nect. The apsis, at the greatest distance from the sun, is
328 A P U
A Q U
Apt called the aphelion., and at the greatest distance from the
II earth the apogee; while that at the least distance from the
Apulems. SUI1 js termed the perihelion, and at the least distance from
the earth the perigee.
APT, an arrondissement in the department of Vaucluse
in France, extending over 453 square miles, or 290,288
acres. It is divided into five cantons, and 50 communes.
Pop. in 1851, 55,916.
Apt {Apia Julia), capital of the arrondissement of that
name, situated in a rich valley on the left bank of the river
Calavon, and surrounded by old walls. It is the seat of a
bishop, and has a court of primary jurisdiction, a society of
agriculture, and a college. Population in 1851, 5699, en¬
gaged in the manufacture of woollen and cotton stuffs, con¬
fections, brandy, earthenware ; also in silk-spinning, blanch¬
ing wax, &c.; besides which they export grain, wanes, truf¬
fles, almonds, fruits, and cattle. Apt, one of the most ancient
cities of Gaul, was restored by Julius Caesar, who built across
the river a fine bridge of one arch, which still exists. The
Gothic cathedral is of high antiquity, and the town presents
various objects of antiquarian interest. Long. 5. 23. 47. E.
Eat. 43. 52. 29. N.
APTERYX (from a, priv., and Trrepvi), a singular genus
of absolutely wingless birds found in New Zealand. See
Ornithology.
APTHANE, a title anciently given to the higher de¬
grees of nobility in Scotland. See Thane.
APULEIUS, Lucius, a Platonic philosopher, well known
by his performance entitled Metamorphoses, or the Golden
Ass. He was born at Madaura, a Roman colony in Africa,
about the year 128, and died probably about the end of the
reign of the second Antonine. He studied first at Carthage,
then at Athens, and afterwards at Rome, where he learned
the Latin tongue without the help of a master. He was a
man of a curious and inquisitive disposition, especially in re¬
ligious matters. This prompted him to take several jour¬
neys, and to enter into various religious societies. He spent
almost his whole fortune in travelling ; so that on his return
to Rome, when he was about to dedicate himself to the ser¬
vice of Osiris, he had not money enough to defray the ex¬
pense attending the ceremonies of the reception, and was
obliged to pawn his clothes to raise the necessary sum. He
supported himself afterwards by pleading at the courts; and
being a great master of eloquence, and of a subtile genius,
he was entrusted with many important causes. But he bene¬
fited himself more by marrying a rich widow named Puden-
tilla. This marriage, however, drew upon him a trouble¬
some lawsuit. His wife’s relations, pretending that he had
made use of sorcery to gain her heart and money, accused
him of being a magician before Claudius Maximus, proconsul
of Africa. Apuleius found no great difficulty in making a
successful defence. His Apology, which is still extant, con¬
tains some very curious details. Apuleius was indefatigable
in his studies, and composed many works, some in verse, and
others in prose ; but most of them have been lost. He took
great pleasure in declaiming, and was heard generally with
applause. The citizens of Carthage erected a statue to him,
and several other cities did him the same honour.
I he editions of his works have been very numerous; the
first and rarest was printed at Rome in 1469, and an excel¬
lent one was published at Leyden in 1786-1823, in 3 vols.
4to. This edition was begun by Oudendorp, and published
after his death by Ruhnkenius and Bosscha. A very elabo¬
rate edition of his whole works was published at Leipzig in
1842, by G. F. Hildebrand. His principal pieces, besides
the celebrated fiction of the Golden Ass, are his Apology,
entitled Oratio de Magia ; fragments of speeches, entitled
Florida ; three books of philosophy, entitled De Habitu- Apulia
dine Doctrinarum et Nativitate Platonis; and a curious II
treatise, De Deo Socratis. K
APULIA, a subdivision of ancient Italy. It had Lu-
cania on the south, Samnium on the west, the river Tifer-
nus on the north, and the Adriatic on the east. It formed
a part of the Japygia of the early Greeks. It was succes¬
sively under the Romans, the Goths, the Lombards, and the
Saracens. The Normans of Sicily conquered it, and it now,
as Puglia, forms the Neapolitan provinces of Capitanata,
Bari, and Otranto.
APURE, a large river of Columbia in South America,
520 miles long, and forming one of the principal affluents of
the Orinoco.
APURIMAC, a considerable river of South America,
which rises in the Andes near the northern extremity of
the Lake of Titicaca, about 16° south latitude, and after
receiving several large tributaries, pours itself into the Ma-
ranon, about 5° south latitude ; before which it has changed
its name to Rio Ucayali. Its whole course is about 500 miles.
APUSCIDAMUS, a lake of Africa mentioned by Pliny
(xxxi. 2), on whose surface even the heaviest bodies were
said to float. Similar stories were related of several other
lakes and fountains.
APYCNI {Soni), olttvkvol (</>#oyyot), among the ancient
Greek writers on music, meant sounds not crowded together
by small intervals. In particular, those three of the fixed or
unalterable sounds of the ancient system which were called
Proslambanomenos, Nete synemmenon, and Nete hyperbo-
Iceon. See Euclid’s Harmonic Introduction; edit. Meibo-
mius, pp. 6, 7.
APYROUS (a, priv., and irvp), a word applied to denote
that property of some bodies, by which they resist the most
violent fire wdthout any sensible alteration. Apyrous bodies
ought to be distinguished from those which are refractory.
Refractory substances are those which cannot by violent heat
be fused, whatever other alteration they may sustain. But
a body, properly speaking, apyrous, can neither be fused by
heat, nor undergo any other change. Diamonds were long
thought to be possessed of this property; but experiments
have shown that diamonds may be entirely dissipated or
evaporated by heat, and are therefore not entitled to be
ranked among apyrous substances. Perhaps there is no body
in nature essentially and rigorously apyrous. But it is suffi¬
cient that there be bodies apyrous relatively to the degree
of fire which art can produce, to entitle them to that name.
AQUA, the commercial name in Scotland for malt
spirit.
Aqua, a term frequently met with in the writings of phy¬
sicians, chemists, &c., for certain medicines or menstruums,
in a liquid form, distinguished from each other by peculiar
epithets, as—
Aqua Fortis, a name given by artists to nitric acid of a
certain strength, on account of its dissolving power.
Aqua Marina, a name by which the jewellers call the
beryl, on account of its sea-green colour.
Aqua Regia, a compound of nitric and muriatic acid, in
different proportions, according to the purpose for which it
is intended. It is usually made by dissolving in nitric acid
either sal ammoniac or common salt, both of which are com¬
binations of muriatic acid with alkali.
Aqua Secunda, aqua fortis diluted with much pure water.
It is employed in several arts to clear the surface of metals
and certain stones.
Aqua Tofana, called also Aqua della Toffanina or
Aqua della Tofa, from its inventress Tofana,—Aqua del
petesino,1—Aquetta di Napoli, or simply Aquetta, a poi-
1 Lanzoni Opera, vol. i. p. 69. Lausannae, 1738, 3 vols.
I
AQUA TOFANA.
Aqua sonous liquor which was used to a very great extent at
of'ana. Naples and Rome during the latter half of the 17th cen-
turyt Gmelin1 says that more people were destroyed
by it than by the plague, which had prevailed a short
time before it came into use; and Garelli, chief physician
to the emperor, wrote to Hoffmann that Tofania confessed
she had used it to poison more than 600 persons. This
he learnt from the emperor himself, to whom the whole
criminal process instituted against her was transmitted.2
It is to be regretted that Garelli, who had such an au¬
thentic source of information, has not given us some de¬
tails of the infamous Tofana or Tofania, as the little that
we know of her rests upon the authority of travellers, and
is evidently exaggerated, and sometimes irreconcilable
with established facts. She was a Sicilian by birth, and
resided first at Palermo, and then at Naples. When she
began to exercise her horrible profession, is nowhere
stated; but it will presently appear that it must have
been at a very early age, and before 1659. She was ex¬
tremely liberal of her preparation, chiefly, it is said, to
ladies tired of their husbands ; and the better to conceal
the nature of her gift, it was put up in small flat phials,
inscribed Manna of St Nicholas of Bari, ornamented on
one side with an image of the saint, that it might pass
for a liquid said to drop from his tomb at Bari, which was
in great request on account of the medicinal virtues
ascribed to it. Nor is it ascertained how long she carried
on her murderous practices with impunity and undisco¬
vered. Labat3 says, that when he was at Civita Vecchia
in 1709, the viceroy of Naples, then Count Daun, made
the discovery. It was long before she was secured, as
she was extremely cautious, and often changed her abode
or retired into convents. At last she was betrayed, and,
although in a convent, was seized and carried to the Cas-
tel del Uovo, where she was examined. Cardinal Pigna-
telli, then archbishop of Naples, indignant at the viola¬
tion of a religious sanctuary, threatened to excommunicate
the whole city if she was not delivered up to him; and
the people were ready to rise. But the sagacious viceroy
caused a report to be spread that she and her accom¬
plices had determined upon the same day to poison all
the springs in the city, the fruits brought to market, and
the public granaries. The manoeuvre succeeded. The
credulous people were now clamorous for her punishment,
and saw with satisfaction the persons whom she accused
of having purchased her Aquetta taken from the churches
and monasteries. Some of inferior birth were executed
publicly, those of higher rank secretly in prison; and the
whole city resounded with the praises of the viceroy,
whose energy had saved it from general destruction. A
kind of compromise was entered into with the cardinal;
in consequence of which, after being strangled, her body
was thrown at night into the court of the convent, by
way of testifying some respect for the rights of the
church. But the reverend traveller must have either
been misinformed as to the actual execution of this Me¬
dea, or she must have been resuscitated; for Garelli ex¬
pressly says that she was alive in prison at Naples when
he wrote to Hoffmann, not long before 1718; and Keysler,
329
who visited Naples in 1730,4 likewise asserts that she was Aqua
then living in prison, and that few strangers left the city Tofana.
without going to see her. He describes her as a little
and very old womaa
liie Roman ladies very quickly availed themselves of
Tofania’s discovery; for it was remarked in 1659, that
many husbands died when they became disagreeable to
their wives; and several of the clergy also gave informa¬
tion that, for some time past, various persons had con¬
fessed themselves guilty of poisoning. This led to the
detection of a society of young married women (who had
for their president an old woman of the name of Hiero-
nyma Spara, a pretended fortune-teller), as the perpetra¬
tors of these murders. On being put to the torture they
all confessed except Spara, who seemed to rely upon the
protection of powerful individuals whom she had formerly
served. But she was left to her fate, and was hanged
along with her assistant, one Gratiosa. Others were af¬
terwards hanged, or whipt and banished. Spara, who was
a Sicilian, had acquired her knowledge from Tofania at
Palermo.5
Pope Alexander VII., immediately on the discovery
and punishment of those who dealt in poison in his capi¬
tal, published an edict forbidding the distillation of aqua
fortis, or the purchase of any of its ingredients, without
the permission of the government; which Gmelin consi¬
ders as an artifice to mislead the people as to the real
composition of the poison, or as originating in the absurd
nomenclature of the chemists of former times, who called
arsenic concrete aqua fortis. But the prudence of the
Pope was rendered fruitless; for we are informed by
Gayot di Pitaval (Causes Celebres, vol. i. p. 317, Am-
sterd. 1764), on what authority he does not state, that
Tofania’s fatal secret was disclosed by the indiscretion of
the judges at Naples, to whom she had made confession
of her crime. The whole city soon knew that she em¬
ployed in its composition a very common herb, and that
its preparation was otherwise easy; and in this way the
art of poisoning became very common in Naples, where,
Keysler says, it was still secretly practised when he vi¬
sited Italy; and Archenholz,6 who was there in 1780,
states, that Aqua Tofana was then in use, although its
composition was only known to a few; but Joseph Frank,
who was long professor in Pavia, and has written a work
on toxicology (Handbuch der Toxicologic, p. 168, Wien,
1803), regards this as an unfounded calumny, and asserts
that it no longer exists or is heard of.
Aqua Tofana is described as being as limpid as rock
water, and without taste, and hence it could be admi¬
nistered without exciting suspicion. The Abbe Gagliani
adds,7 that there was not a lady in Naples who had not
some of it lying openly on her toilet among her perfumes,
in a phial known only to herself.
It was generally believed that the effect of this poison
was certain death, and that it could be so tempered or
managed as to prove fatal in any determinate time, from
a few days to a year or upwards. Four or six drops were
reckoned a sufficient dose, and they were said to produce
no violent symptoms, no vomiting, or but very seldom;
1 Allgemeine Geschichte der mincralischen Gifte, 1st edit. 8vo, Nurnberg, 1777, p- 132; 2d edit. 8vo, Erfurt, 1811, p. 243.
’ F. Hoffmanni Med. Rat. Si/st. P. ii. cap. ii. sect. 19. Opera Omnia, 6 vols. folio, Genevae, 1748, vol. i. p. 198.
a Voyage cn Espagne et en Italic, 8 tomes 8vo, Paris, 1730, vol. iv. p. 33.
4 Travels through Germany, Qc. 4 vols. 4to, 2d edit. London, 1756, vol. ii. p. 368.
s J. F. Le Bret, Magazin zum Gebrauche der Staaten-kirchengeschichte, iv. Frank. 1774, p. 131—141, as quoted in the curious chap¬
ter on Secret Poisons, in Beckmann’s History of Inventions and Discoveries—a work which has been of great assistance to us in point¬
ing out authorities.
a England und Italien, 5ter Theil, 8vo, Carlsruhe, 1787, P- 184. . p .,
7 Weckherlin’s Chronologen, 12ter Band, p. 146—L'Espion Devalise. Fcliciter Audax, London, 1782, p. 61; also Behrends, in y s
Magazin fur gerichtliche Arzneikunde und medicinische Polizcy, book i. st. 3, 1784, p. 428-477—Beckmann.
VOL. III. 2 T
AQUA TOFANA.
330
Aqua no pains, convulsions, inflammation, or fever but only a
Totana, feeling of indisposition, without any very definite symp-
toms, except sometimes inextinguishable thirst: the vic¬
tim, however, sunk into a languid state, and his weakness
increased daily. Disgust at all kinds of food, and weari¬
ness of life, succeeded: the nobler organs were then at¬
tacked, the lungs were wasted by suppuration, and death
closed the miserable scene. This termination was the
more certain, that the true cause of these symptoms was
not at first suspected, and the remedies commonly pre¬
scribed rather aggravated the evil. Indeed, even when
known, no treatment was of any avail, although a Dr
Branchaletti, according to Keysler, wrote a book on its
remedies, until it was discovered by accident that lemon-
juice, when very early administered in large doses, some¬
times proved effectual (Bertholinus), after which Keysler
tells us that the poison fell into some disrepute.
Various accounts of the composition of this detestable
liquor have been given. Abbe Gagliani, and more lately
Archenholz, state it to be a preparation of cantharides
and opium; but this is perfectly inconsistent both with
its appearance and effects. By no preparation can the
smell and taste of opium, if the quantity be sufficient to
produce any effect, be concealed; and the acrimony of
cantharides is equally connected with its activity. The
one of these drugs is highly stimulant, the other a seda¬
tive, and neither of them capable of remaining latent in
the system, or injuring the constitution. Erndtel,2 but
without any probability, has conjectured that the chief
ingredient was lead: Halle (Die deutchen Giftpflanzen,
Berlin, 1703) believes that it was prepared from the frothy
saliva gathered round the mouth of a person tortured to
death. Garelli, on the contrary, positively asserts it to
have been nothing but a solution of crystallized arsenic
in a large quantity of water, with the addition, for some
unknown reason, of a very innocent herb, the Antirrhinum
cymhalaria. The same account is given by Bertholinus,
Lobel {Der freymuthige Heilkunstler, Berlin, 1786), Plenk
(Toxicologia, p. 335), Haller,3 Molitor (Commerce Lit.
Noric. 1737, p. 132), and Mohsen,4 and is received by
the most judicious systematic writers, as Gmelin and
Hahnemann. ( Ueber die Arsenikvergiftung, p. 35. Leipzig,
1786, 8vo.) Wildberg,6 however, considers its compo¬
sition to be unknown.
From Italy this poison seems to have found its way to
Paris. In 1672 Godin de Sainte Croix, an adventurer,
who lived in a scandalous intimacy with the Marchioness
Brinyilliers, was suddenly killed by suffocation, as it is
said, in consequence of the falling off of a mask of glass,
which he wore to protect him from the fumes of certain
chemical operations about which he was employed. As
he had no known relations, his effects were examined by
a public officer, and among them was found a casket,
containing many packets of poisonous articles, sealed up
in a mysterious manner, together with a kind of last will,
directing the whole to be delivered to the marchioness,
and, in case of her having predeceased him, to be burnt
unopened. This led to the discovery of his having been
instructed in the art of preparing poison by an Italian, Aqua
called Exili, with whom he had become acquainted when TofanJ
confined in the Bastile; and of his having furnished thev''~vx
marchioness with the means of poisoning her father and
her two brothers, besides others on whom she tried the
effect of her preparations. One of these afterwards was
called from her by the name Eau de Brinvilliers. She
is also said to have employed a powder called Poudre de
Succession.6 La Chaussee, who had been valet to Sainte
Croix, was convicted of being accessory to these murders,
and was broken alive on the wheel. The marchioness
herself, who had escaped to Liege, was also seized; and
her execution, which took place on the 17th of July
1676, is described with revolting levity by Madame do
Sevigne in a letter to hej: daughter of that date.
The practice of poisoning, however, did not seem to
terminate with the death of this infamous woman; and a
particular court called Chambre des Poisons, or Chambre
Ardente, was established in 1679, to endeavour to put an
end to it. In consequence of the investigations which took
place in it, many persons, some of the highest rank, espe¬
cially the Due de Luxembourg, were implicated. More
than 40 persons were at one time confined in the Bastile;
but it was ascertained that almost all of them had been
guilty of no crime, but were merely the dupes of a few
impostors, who pretended to raise spirits, foretell future
events, and to possess many secrets of a similar nature.
Two women, La Vigoreux and La Voisin, with the bro¬
ther of the former, and a priest called Le Sage,7 pretend¬
ed fortune-tellers, were convicted of being dealers in poi¬
son, and burnt alive on the 22d of February 1680; some
others were hanged, and others acquitted. This closed
the proceedings of this inquisitorial court, which has been
accused of being a political engine, contrived to serve the
purposes of Louvois and the Marchioness de Montespan.
Voltaire, however, admits that the crime of poisoning in¬
fected Paris from 1670 to 1680.
Concerning the effects of the Eau de Brinvilliers, Pi-
taval tells us (p. 271) that the marchioness’s father ex¬
perienced violent effects from the poison,—extraordinary
vomiting, insupportable pain at the stomach, and great
heat in the bowels. He died soon after his return from his
country-seat to Paris. The brothers and five other per¬
sons were all taken ill, and affected with vomiting, after
partaking of a tart at dinner. On their return from the
country to Paris, the brothers had the appearance of per¬
sons who had been long ill; and after suffering, the one
for two, and the other for three months, from nausea and
vomiting, they died extremely emaciated, and as it were
dried up, without fever, though experiencing a burning
sensation in the stomach. On opening the bodies, the
stomach and duodenum were black and tender, and the
liver gangrenous and burnt. Madame Sevigne relates
that the marchioness often poisoned her husband, that
she might marry Sainte Croix; but that the gallant, hav¬
ing no desire for a wife of her disposition, as often gave
the poor husband an antidote. She is also said to have
attempted to poison her sister, but did not succeed; and
Bertholinus al°ne enumerates very violent fever as its first effect. See J. J. Wepferi Historia Cicutas Aquaticce, p. 372.
Lugd. Bat. 1733, 8vo. 1
2 Dissert, de Veneno sahitem sistens, Lipsiae, 1701, § 21.
1 Vorlesungen iiber die gerichtliche Arzneikunde, 2ter Band, p. 190.
* Beschreibung einer Berlinischen Medallien-Sammlung, 1. Th. p. 148.
* Handbuch der gerichtlichen Arzeneyreissenchaft, p.224. Berlin 1812 8vo.
‘ Heiicher, Mithridates, sistens prmscrvatwnem Principis a veneno. Vide ejus Opera, 4to, Lipsiae, 1745, vol. i. p. 421 ; also, J. G. Ar¬
nold pr. C. G. Stentzell De Venems terminatis et extemporaneis, quae Gain les Poudres de Succession vacant. This powder was probably
an arsenical composition ; but it was supposed by Erndtel and Haller to be acetate of lead, and by Brendel (Institutioncs Medicines
Legalis, Halae, 1768) to consist or lead and bismuth.
» Voltaire, Siecle de Louis XIV. chap. xxvi.
i
*
A Q U
A iamboe that she was in the habit of trying the effects of her poi-
II sons on the poor, and even on the patients in the Hotel
Auarians. y);eu> un(Jer pretence of charitably supplying them with
biscuits. But Voltaire positively denies this horrible im¬
putation, and says that she never attempted the life of
her husband, who overlooked a connection of which he
was the cause.
The information concerning the nature of the Eau de
Brinvilliers, derived from the examination of Sainte Croix’s
famous casket, is not satisfactory. It contained poisons
enough to have killed a whole community; besides opium,
lunar caustic, antimony, and vitriol, more than 75 lbs. of
corrosive sublimate, and two bottles of a liquid like water,
with a sediment in one. The clear liquid was probably
his real poison ; as none of the other substances could have
been given so as to produce death, without instantly being
detected by their abominable taste; but what this liquid
was, we can now only conjecture; for its examination, as
reported by Pitaval, shows that the physicians at that time
had not the slightest notion of the mode of detecting arsenic
even in substance, much less in solution; and accordingly,
although both the liquor and powder killed the animals to
which they were given, it is candidly admitted that the
poison of Sainte Croix surpassed the art and capacity of the
physicians, and that it baffled all their experiments to dis¬
cover its composition. We have, however, no doubt that
arsenic was the only active ingredient of all these pretend¬
ed secret poisons, as it is the only substance capable of
explaining all the credible circumstances related of them.
From the mode of administering them in small but repeat¬
ed and perhaps increased doses, there was some founda¬
tion for the belief that they could be given so as to kill in
any determinate time, while their failing in any instance
to produce death was easily accounted for by supposing
antidotes to have been administered. But although the
progress of knowledge has proved that there is no such
thing as such antidotes, it has on the other hand, by ren¬
dering the detection of poison easy and certain, put a stop
for ever to the trade of poisoner, and, what is perhaps of
equal importance, to the general alarm and cruel punish¬
ment of individuals, which have often resulted from natural
deaths being ascribed to poison. It is not because we
know less, but because we know a great deal more than
our forefathers, that the art of secret poisoning seems to
be lost. (a. d.)
AQUAMBOE, a country in the interior of the Gold
Coast of Africa, extending 20 miles along the banks of the
Rio Volta, which separates it from Aquapirn, and reaching
100 miles inland. The natives are haughty, turbulent, and
warlike; and their territory, though fertile, is indifferently
cultivated. Like all the countries in the interior from the
Gold Coast, it is now entirely subject to the preponderant
power of the king of Dahomey.
AQUAPENDENTE. See Fabricius.
AQUAPIM, a kingdom of considerable extent in the
interior of the Gold Coast of Africa, immediately behind
Acra, and having on the other side Aquamboe. This
country is said to vie in beauty and fertility with any in
the world. It is finely diversified with wooded hills and
highly-cultivated valleys, the former having usually towns
and villages situated on their summits. The people are
obedient to their chiefs, mild and gentle, and are chiefly
employed in agriculture, which they practise with consider¬
able diligence.
AQUARIANS, Christians in the primitive church who
consecrated water in the eucharist instead of wine. This
they did under pretence of abstinence and temperance, or
because they thought it universally unlawful to eat flesh
or drink wine. Epiphanius calls them Encratites, from
their abstinence; St Austin, Aquarians, from their use
A Q U 331
of water; and Theodoret, who says they sprung from Ta- Aquarii
tian, Hydroporastata, because they offered water instead II
of wine. Besides these, there was another sort of Aqua- ;fWuatinta
nans, who did not reject the use of wine as unlawful;
for they administered the eucharist in wine at evening ser- *"
vice ; but in their morning assemblies they commonly used
water, lest the smell of wine should discover them to the
heathens.
AQUARII, in Antiquity, slaves who supplied the wo¬
men’s baths with water, called sometimes Aquarioli, and
held in great contempt (Juv. vi. 331, Fest. p. 19). The in¬
spectors of the conduits or water-pipes were likewise called
Aquarii.
AQUARIUS, the Water-bearer, in Astronomy, the
11th sign of the zodiac. It is marked thus, css. The poets
feign that Aquarius was Ganymede, whom Jupiter ravished
under the shape of an eagle, and carried away into heaven
to serve as a cup-bearer in the room of Hebe and Vulcan;
whence the name. Others hold that the sign was thus called
because when it appears in the horizon the weather usually
proves rainy.
AQUATINTA Engraving, so called from its near re¬
semblance to water-colour drawings, is of modern invention,
and was much practised several years ago; and though for
some time past it has been less in fashion, it is a branch of
the art which is still pursued to some extent.
It is performed in a variety of ways; but the most approv¬
ed is by covering or immersing the copper-plate in a solu¬
tion of resinous matter, rendered so in rectified spirits of
wine, and by working or drawing the object which is wish¬
ed to be represented, upon the plate, with a prepared pig¬
ment, commonly called the bursting ground. These solu¬
tions and grounds are made of a variety of substances, de¬
scribed in recipes at the end of this article.
The work is generally commenced by etching, or tracing
the outline upon the plate with an etching needle or other
sharp instrument, which being done, and the etching
ground removed, the plate must be made particularly
clean and free from grease, with whitening and water.
The plate is then to be placed in a flat tin or earthen
vessel, in an inclined position, and the resinous solution
or ground (No. 1, &c.) poured quickly upon it from
the top to the bottom, so that the superfluous ground
may run off, and be preserved for after-use in a vessel
so placed as to receive it. Should the subject to be
engraved be a landscape, it will be advisable to allow
the ground upon the plate to dry in the inclined posi¬
tion, because the granulation of the shade or tint has
a tendency to be closer and finer in proportion as it is
nearer the top of the plate; and in this way the sky is
represented by the finest grain at the top, and the fore¬
ground by the coarsest at the bottom of the plate. Should
the subject require an equality of tint or grain, it will be
procured by reversing the inclined position of the plate
backwards and forwards as quickly as possible after the
ground has been poured on it. The spirit of wine will
very speedily evaporate, leaving the plate dry, with the
ground upon it ready for work ; but in order to render it
more secure, it may be held over a clear fire, with the
back of the plate next the coals until the resin of the
ground is a little heated, and so fixed to the plate more
completely. Care must, however, be taken, in this opera¬
tion, not to melt the resinous granulations so much as to
cause them to unite into solid masses.
The design is now to be drawn upon the plate with the
bursting ground (No. 10, &c.), exactly in the same manner
as any water-colour drawing is set about: every part where
a tint is required is to be covered over with the bursting
ground, and the lights alone left untouched with it.
When this composition is quite dry, take a broad camel-
332
AQUA TINT A.
Aquatinta hair pencil, such as is used for painting skies, and go over
engraving, the whole surface of the plate with the varnish (No. 13).
The plate is now to be surrounded with a border of wax
(14), so as to retain the aqua fortis. When the varnish is
dry, as much clean water must be poured upon the copper
as can be contained within the border wax, and in about
15 minutes the bursting ground will burst open the varnish,
and leave the aquatinta ground ready for being bit in with
the diluted acid. The bursting away of the bursting
ground may be aided with the help of a clean camel-hair
pencil or goose-quill feather; but if the composition be
properly made this will not be necessary. The plate may
now be said to be ready for the first tint being bit in with
the aqua fortis, which must be allowed to remain upon it
until the shade is seen to be of a proper colour, when the
acid must be poured off, and the plate cleaned with water,
to prepare it for the second tint; which is to be accom¬
plished in the same manner as described for the first;
and thus the greatest softness of shade, and the utmost
sharpness of touch in the foreground or sky, may be at¬
tained. A pair of bellows may be used to dry the plate
more quickly between the bitings with the aqua fortis,
and so prevent the copper from becoming corroded by
the water. From the description above given, it will be
obvious that in some cases the bursting ground will not
be required, and that the lights alone will need to be stop¬
ped out with the varnish ;—such as in fleecy white clouds,
the high lights upon metallic substances, &c.; all which
practice will soon suggest to the artist.
Before we proceed to describe some other modes of per¬
forming this operation, we may remark, that when very
fine grounds are required, it is customary only to bite in
the lightest shades with the first granulation, and then to
clean the plate and lay on a second, or even a third and
fourth ground, at various stages of the work. But it must
be held in mind, that in proportion as the grounds are
multiplied, the granulations are subdivided, and their rich
grain lost; while at the same time the work is rendered
less serviceable, by its casting off a smaller number of
impressions.
Should the bursting ground not flow on the plate freely
out of the camel-hair pencil, in consequence of the plate
being greasy, it may be washed with very weak aqua
fortis before commencing. If the weather should be very
cold, it is difficult to obtain a good ground; on which ac¬
count it will be advisable to heat the apartment with a
stove to a moderate summer heat.
Dust Grounds are prepared by covering the plate with
powders of various mixtures, and fixing them by holding
it over a clear fire ; and the operation of biting in the sub¬
ject with the aqua fortis, and the painting of the objects
upon the plate, may be performed in the manner above
described, and either with or without the bursting grounds.
The powders may be applied to the surface of the copper
in a variety of ways. As good a mode as any is to cover
over the top of a small box with one or two layers of
muslin, and dust the powder through these layers of mus¬
lin equally upon it. For this purpose the plate will re¬
quire to be a little greasy, that the powder may adhere
the more readily; and when the whole surface is covered,
give the plate a sharp stroke upon the back, that the su¬
perfluous particles may be disengaged.
Madame Prestel’s ground, celebrated for its fineness, is
produced in the following manner: The plate is placed with
its face upwards in a box, about six inches deep, covered
with a lid; at one end introduce through a circular hole
the small end of a hair-dresser’s powder machine, filled
with finely pulverized resin, and work it till the plate is
completely covered with the powder, which fix over a
clear fire, as already described.
Spirit Grounds. Aquatint
No. 1. Resin Ground.—One quart of double rectified
spirits of wine, and ten ounces of common resin : when | J
dissolved, a variety of granulations will be obtained by
adding spirits of wine to this solution.
No. 2. Burgundy pitch ground.—One quart of spirits of
wine and ten ounces of Burgundy pitch : the coarseness
or fineness of this, as well as the former ground, is influ¬
enced by the greater or less quantity of spirits in which
the pitch is dissolved.
No. 3. Mastic ground.—Four ounces of gum mastic to
one pint of spirits of wine: this, if made a month before
being used, will be found to be a good ground.
No. 4. Animi ground.—Eight ounces of gum animi to
one quart of spirits of wine.
No. 5. Frankincense ground.—Twelve ounces of gum
frankincense to one quart of spirits of wine.
No. 6. Turpentine varnish ground.—One fourth of a pint
of turpentine varnish to three fourths spirits of wine makes
a curious granulated ground.
All these compositions may be mixed one with another,
or even two or three may be combined; and the results,
interesting in consequence of the variety of granulations
which will be produced, and, as mentioned before, the
coarseness and fineness, will vary in proportion to the quan¬
tity of spirits which are used.
Dust Grounds.
No. 7. Equal parts of asphaltum and fine transparent
resin, finely powdered separately, and afterwards com¬
pletely mixed together.
No. 8. Gum sandarach finely powdered.
No. 9. Transparent resin finely powdered. These
powders may be so pulverized as to produce fineness or
coarseness of granulation.
Bursting Grounds.
No. 10. Half a pound of treacle, half an ounce of isin¬
glass, and eight ounces of gum arabic, in no more water
than will just dissolve them. This should be set by for a
week, shaking it up twice a day: when used, a little must
be poured into a cup, and as much lamp black, burnt
cork, or terra de sienna, ground as finely as possible, added
to it as will give it both body and colour. Should it be
too stiff to work, add a little water.
No. 11. Flalf a pound of treacle, four ounces of white
sugarcandy, and one ounce of gum arabic, dissolved in a
little water, at least a week before using.
No. 12. Half a pound of West Indian white sugar, an
ounce and a half of isinglass, and one ounce of gum dra¬
gon. dissolved in as much malt liquor of any kind as will
make them liquid; set them on the fire until all are well
melted, and, when cool, the composition may be used im¬
mediately. These two last recipes may be coloured with
the same substances as No. 10.
No. 13. The varnish used for covering over these burst¬
ing grounds is common turpentine varnish, thinned down
with turpentine to the proper consistency required.
No. 14. Border-wax is composed of equal parts of shoe- !
maker’s resin and bees-wax.
The preceding is the method for prints of one single
tint. But if different colours are to be expressed, there
will be required as many different plates, each plate hav¬
ing only the part etched upon it which is designed to be
charged with its proper colour ; unless (as may happen in
particular subjects) some of the colours are so distant
from each other as to allow the printer room to fill them
in with his rubber without blending them ; in which case
A Q U
\queduct. two or more different colours may be printed from the
~ same plate at once. Where different plates are necessary,
a separate one, having a pin in each corner, must be pro¬
vided as a sole or button to the aquatinta plates; and
these again must be exactly fitted, having each a small
hole in their corners for passing over the pins of the sole ;
the said pins serving the double purpose of retaining the
plates successively in their due position, and of directing
the printer in placing the paper exactly on each plate so
as not to shift; by which means each tint or colour will
he exactly received on its proper place. A landscape or
similar subject, however, may be printed off at once in the
different proper colours, by painting these upon the plate.
In this case the colours must be pretty thick in their con¬
sistence ; and the plate must be carefully wiped in the
usual way after the laying on of each tint, as well as receive
a general wipe upon its being charged with all the tints.
For more particular information upon this art, see the
third edition of Green’s Complete Aquatinta. (w. H. L.)
AQUEDUCT, a conduit or channel for the convey¬
ance of water. It is derived from aqua, water, and ductus,
a conduit. It is applied more particularly to those struc¬
tures of masonry which have been erected for the con¬
veyance of water across valleys, to which, however, we
would rather give the name of aqueduct bridges, extend¬
ing the term aqueduct to the whole conduit or channel
by which the water is conveyed from one place to ano¬
ther. The conveyance of water for the supply of large
cities has in all ages formed a very important object of
public economy; and aqueducts of various kinds have
been in use for this purpose from the earliest times, the
remains of which have been examined by travellers in
different parts of the East. Pococke describes a work of
this kind erected by Solomon, for conveying water from
the pools and fountains near Bethlehem to Jerusalem.
“ The aqueduct,” he says, “ is built on a foundation of
stone; the water runs in round earthen pipes about 10
inches diameter, which are cased with two stones, hewn
out so as to fit them, and they are covered over with
rough stones well cemented together; and the whole is so
sunk into the ground on the side of the hills, that in many
places nothing is to be seen of it.” But it was in the
luxurious capital of Rome that the system of aqueducts
i! >meCient WaS brou£ht t0 tbe greatest perfection, and carried to an
' 1 ' extent which has never been equalled even in modern
times, and has justly excited admiration both from the
number and magnificence of the works themselves, and the
prodigious quantities of water which by these means were
continually poured into the city. These aqueducts ex¬
tended, some of them 30, 40, and even 6(5 miles from
the city, in one continued covered channel of stone, car¬
ried by arcades over the widest and deepest valleys, and
by tunnels running in many parts for miles through moun¬
tains and through the solid rock. “ If we consider atten¬
tively,” says Pliny, “ the quantities of water brought into
the city for the use of the public, for baths, for fish-ponds,
for private houses, for artificial lakes, for gardens in the
neighbourhood of the city, and for villas ; if we look also
at the works which have been constructed for forming a
regular channel for the waters—arches raised up, moun¬
tains pierced with tunnels, and valleys filled up to a level;
it must be acknowledged that there is nothing in the whole
world more wonderful.”
For about 400 years after the building of the city the
Romans were contented with the waters of the Tiber, or
what was drawn from wells or from fountains in the city
and its neighbourhood. But the great increase of the
population rendering a more ample supply desirable, the
censor Appius Claudius was the first to introduce an aque»
duct to convey the waters of distant springs into the city.
A Q U 333
About thirty-nine years after this, M. Curius Dentatus Aqueduct.
^ a^^ltl0nal supply from the neighbourhood
of libur. Ihese examples were afterwards followed by
various other public men, as the wants of the city ren-
dei ed new supplies necessary. Among these were Papirius,
Crassus, Marcius, Agrippa, and Augustus; and most of the
succeeding emperors, even Tiberius, Claudius, Caligula,
Nero, and Caracalla, esteemed it an honour to connect
their names with such great and useful works.
Frontinus, who was appointed curator of the aque¬
ducts by the emperor Nerva, has left the most ample ac¬
count of them. According to him, there were nine great
aqueducts by which the city was supplied. Five more
were added by Nerva, and the number was afterwards
augmented by succeeding emperors to twenty. Of these,
the most remarkable were the Aqua Appia; the Old aod
New Anio; the Aqua Martia, which also conveyed the
Aqua Julia and the Aqua Tepula; the Aqua Virginia;
and the Aqua Claudia. The Aqua Appia was so named
from the censor Appius Claudius, by whom it was con¬
structed in the 442d year of Rome. It commenced in a
field near the Via Pnenestina, between the 6th and 8th
mile-stones, made a circuit of 780 paces to the left, and
then proceeding by a deep subterranean channel of more
than 11 miles, entered the city at the Appian Way by
the Porta Capena, and delivered the main body of its
waters into the Campus Martius. The Old and New Anio
were so called from their bringing into Rome the waters
of that river. The former began above the Tiber, at the
30th mile-stone, and consisted mostly of a winding chan¬
nel, carried through an extent of about 43 miles. The
latter, constructed under Nero, took a higher level, run¬
ning 7543 paces above ground, and then through a sub¬
terranean passage of 54,267 paces in length. The Aqua
Martia, which owed its formation to Quintus Martius,
rose from a spring distant 33 miles from Rome, made
a circuit of three miles, and afterwards forming a vault
of 16 feet diameter, it ran 38 miles along a series of ar¬
cades at an elevation of 70 feet. It had openings perfo¬
rated at certain distances for discharging the collected
air, and at different places deep cisterns, in which the
water settled and deposited its sediment. On this account
it was remarkable for its clear green colour, and is cele¬
brated by Pliny for its coolness and salubrity. The Aqua
Julia and the Aqua Tepula were brought to Rome by
the same aqueduct as the Aqua Martia, but on higher
levels. The whole aqueduct above the arcades was di¬
vided into three stories or channels. In the uppermost
flowed the Aqua Julia, in the second the Aqua Tepula,
and in the lowest the Aqua Martia. From the ruins of
this combined fabric, which still subsist, it appears to
have been a very superb structure. The Aqua Virginia
was constructed by Agrippa, who laboured to improve and
beautify Rome, and who, according to Pliny, formed in
one year 70 pools, 105 fountains, and 130 reservoirs. It
commenced at a very copious spring, in the middle of a
marsh, at the distance of eight miles from the city, and
ran about 12 miles, passing through a tunnel of 800 paces
in length. The Aqua Claudia, begun by Nero and com¬
pleted by Claudius, took its rise 38 miles from Rome. It
formed a subterranean stream 36^ miles in length, ran 10|
miles along the surface of the ground, was vaulted for the
space of three miles, and supported on arcades through
the extent of seven miles, being carried along as high a
level as to supply all the hills of Rome. It was built of
hewn stone, and still continues to furnish the modern city
with water of the best quality, which has hence procured
it the name of Aqua Felice.
In all these aqueducts the channel for the waters was
carried with a regular declivity from the one end to the
334 A Q U E
Aqueduct other of the aqueduct, and such as was sufficient to carry
the water easily along. In some cases the declivity, had
the line been carried straight forward, would have been
too great; it was therefore made to take a circuitous
route, winding along the sides of the hills, and prolonging
the length of the channel so as to reduce the degree of
descent, and cause the water to run gently along. The
whole of the channel was regularly built of stone or brick,
and arched above to cover in the channel, excepting in
those places where it was cut out of the solid rock. Along
all the valleys and water-courses which lay in the way it
was elevated by a series of arches, all raised to the level
of the conduit, resting on massy pillars, and all built in
the most solid and substantial manner, with brick, and
often with hewn stone. The sketches of Roman aque¬
ducts in Plate XLIV., taken from Fabrettus, will give a
better idea than any description, of the manner in which
the work was executed. Sometimes there was only a
single arch, as in the two middle figures; sometimes, again,
where the conduit was to be elevated higher, as in the
right-hand figure, a double row of arches was raised, one
above the other, for greater strength and security. The
figure on the left hand shows two conduits or aque¬
ducts carried in different levels along the same building.
The upper one is the New Anio, the lower is the Aqua
Claudia. When we consider the labour and difficulties
attending the construction of such arches and arched
channels of masonry, the spirit and enterprise which
could have undertaken such works as are above enume¬
rated, undaunted by the expense, or any of the other ob¬
stacles which lay in the way, appear astonishing. In this
country, where bridges, canals, and other water-works
have been carried to a great extent and perfection, we
consider an aqueduct of six or eight arches a work of
no small extent and importance. What would we think,
then, of the aqueduct of the New Anio, extending 6^
miles in one continued series of arches, many of them
upwards of 100 feet high ! If w'e allow a similar number
of arches in the length, we shall have in all more than
600; and yet this is nothing compared with the aqueduct
of the Aqua Martia, extending 38 miles, and containing
in all nearly 7000 arches. Even an aqueduct bridge
of five or six miles in length appears incredible ; and
yet how can we otherwise translate Frontinus, where he
states the lengths of all the aqueducts, and how much
was above or under ground, and how much was built in
arches ? Of the New Anio, for instance, he says its con¬
duit was 63 miles 700 paces in length. Of this 49 miles
200 paces consisted of a subterranean stream, and 9 miles
400 paces were above ground, of which last the higher
part consisted of “ substructionibus aut opere arcuato,”
in several places of great length; and nearer the city,
at the 7th mile-stone, consisted of “ substructione” 609
paces, and “ opere arcuato” 6 miles 491 paces; and he
adds, “ These arches are the highest of any, being raised
in some parts 109 feet.” The term substructio probably
means a conduit built by opening up the surface of the
ground and then covering over the building with earth,
as we do m such works at this day. But the term opcvc
arcuato can only refer to a continued series of arches, and
certainly conveys a vast idea of the extent and magnitude
of such works.
The total quantity of water delivered into Rome by
these aqueducts was altogether astonishing, and quite be¬
yond what we have any conception of now, for either
comfort or luxury. Strabo said truly, that whole rivers
flowed through the streets of Rome. According to Fron¬
tinus, the nine earlier aqueducts delivered daily 14'018
quinaria, which corresponds to nearly 28 millions of cubic
feet; and when all the aqueducts were in operation, the
DUCT.
quantity must have amounted to 50,000,000 cubic feet; Aqueduct,
which, reckoning the population of the city at that time at
a million, would give 50 feet daily, or 7 hogsheads to each
individual. This is more than ten times the supply of
London, which is now reckoned to be quite profuse.
Of the modern aqueducts in Rome the principal are the Aqueducts
Aqua Felice, the Aqua Virginia, and the Aqua Paulina. Moderii
The first was constructed by Sixtus V. It commences Kome•
at Palaestrina, about twenty-two miles from the city, and
discharges itself at the Fontana di Termini. The Aqua
Paulina was repaired by Pope Paul V. in the year 1612.
It divides itself into two principal channels, one of which
supplies Mont Janiculum, and the other the Vatican and
its neighbourhood. It is convej^ed from the district of
Bracciano, about twenty miles distant; and three of its
five streams are not inferior to small rivers. According
to the calculation of Prouy, these three aqueducts, with
some additional sources, deliver in twenty-four hours
5,305,000 cubic feet. This, among a population of 130,000,
gives about 40 cubic feet for each individual, which is
nearly equal in proportion to the supply of ancient Rome
in the period of its utmost splendour.
But the system of aqueducts was not confined to the Aqueducts
capital of Rome. It was gradually extended throughout of the
the provinces of that vast empire ; and every city and con- £l0mfn
siderable town had its conduits and aqueducts for sup- m^lre'
plying it with water, many of which still remain to attest
the magnificence with which these works were carried
on. In Plates XLIV. and XLV. we have given a view
of some of these. The first is the remains of one of the
principal aqueduct bridges in the aqueduct of Antioch.
It is a work of great magnitude and height, but a very
rude structure. The lower part consists almost entirely
of solid wall, and the upper part of a series of arches
with very massy pillars. It appears, however, to be a
Roman work; and there are remains of another aqueduct
on a lower level, and of an older date. The water to An¬
tioch was brought from a distance of four or five miles,
from a place called Battelma, which Pococke thinks was
the very spot where Daphne stood. Several springs, one
of which was so large as to turn several mills, were con¬
veyed in channels of hewn stone, and united in one main
stream, which was thence conveyed along the surface
of the ground in a similar channel. Across all the rivu¬
lets and valleys it was raised on arches or aqueduct
bridges, some of which are very lofty, and the principal
is the one exhibited in the plate, extending upwards
of 700 feet in length, and upwards of 200 feet high in
the deepest part. From the remains of the aqueduct in
the island of Mytilene, represented from Pococke in the
same plate, this appears to have been also a magnificent
work. It was built of gray marble rusticated. It is much
superior in point of skill to the aqueduct of Antioch, the
arches being carried in two ranges throughout the build¬
ing. It extended about 500 feet in length, and was
about 70 or 80 feet high at the deepest part.
The aqueduct or aqueduct bridge of Pyrgos, near Con- Aqueduct
stantinople, forms a portion of the extensive hydraulicof
works with which that capital was supplied with water
after it became the seat of empire. They are described
by Andreossy in his voyage to the Black Sea, and account
of the Thracian Bosphorus. It is a grand work, very re¬
markable both in design and execution, and affords a fair
specimen of the style of such structures among the Ro¬
mans in the middle ages. It consists of two branches, one
of which only is seen in elevation in the plate; the other
stood nearly at right angles to this, and is seen partly
on the plan; it was hence called the Bended or Crooked
Aqueduct, to distinguish it from another termed the Long
Aqueduct, which was situated near the sources of the
AQUEDUCT.
Aqueduct, waters. The branch seen in elevation extends 670 feet
'~-^v^>'in length, and is 106 feet in height at the deepest part.
It is composed of three rows of arches, those in each row
increasing in width from the bottom to the top—an ar¬
rangement very properly introduced with the view of
saving materials without diminishing the strength of the
work. The two upper rows consisted of arches of semi¬
circles, the lower of Gothic arches ; and this circumstance
serves to fix the date of the structure, as these last were
not introduced until the 10th century. The breadth of
the building at the base was 21 feet, and it diminished
with a regular batter on each side to the top, where it
was only 11 feet. The base also was protected by strong
buttresses or counterforts, erected against each of the
pillars. The other branch of the aqueduct was 300 feet
long, and consisted of 12 semicircular arches.
This aqueduct serves to convey to Constantinople the wa¬
ters of the valley of Belgrade, one of the principal sources
from which the city is supplied. These are situated on the
heights of Mount Haemus, the extremity of the Balkan
Mountains, which overhangs the Black Sea. The water
rises about 15 miles from the city, and between three and
four miles west of the village of Belgrade, in three sources,
which run in three deep and very confined valleys. These
unite a little below the village, and then are collected into
a large reservoir. After flowing a mile or two from this
reservoir, the waters are augmented by two other streams,
and conveyed by a channel of stone to the Crooked Aque¬
duct. From this they are conveyed to another, which is
the Long Aqueduct; and then, with various accessions,
into a third, termed the Aqueduct of Justinian. From this
they enter a vaulted conduit, which skirts the hills on the
left side of the valley, and crosses a broad valley two
miles below the Aqueduct of Justinian, by means of an
aqueduct with a double row of arcades of a very beauti¬
ful construction. The conduit then proceeds onward in
a circuitous route, till it reaches the reservoir of Egri
Kapan, situated just without and on the walls of the
city. From this they are conducted to the various quar¬
ters of the city, and also to the reservoir of St Sophia,
which supplies the seraglio of the grand signior. The
Long Aqueduct is more imposing by its extent than the
Crooked one, but is far inferior in the regularity of de¬
sign and disposition of the materials. It is evidently a
work of the Turks. It consists of two rows of arcades,
the lower being 48 in number, and the upper 50. The
whole length was about 2200 feet, and the height 80
feet. The Aqueduct of Justinian is a very excellent work,
and without doubt one of the finest monuments which
remain to us of the middle ages. It consists of two rows
of large arcades in the pointed style, with four arches in
each. Those of the lower story have 52 feet of span,
the upper ones 40 feet. The piers are supported by
strong buttresses, and at different heights they have little
arches passing through them, which relieve the deadness
of the solid pillar. The length of this aqueduct is 720
feet, and the height 109 feet. This aqueduct, though it
bears the name of Justinian, was probably erected in
the time of Constantine.
Besides the waters of Belgrade, Constantinople was sup¬
plied from several other principal sources, one of which took
its rise on the heights of the same mountains, three or
four miles east of Belgrade. This was conveyed in a simi¬
lar manner by an arched channel, elevated when it was
necessary on aqueduct bridges, till it reached the northern
parts of the city. It was in the course of this aqueduct
that was constructed the contrivance of the souterasi or
hydraulic obelisks described byAndreossy, and which has
excited some attention, as being an improvement on the
method of conducting water by aqueduct bridges. “ The
335
souterasi, says Andreossy, “are masses of masonry, having .
generally the form of a truncated pyramid or an Egyptian
obelisk. To form a conduit with souterasi, we choose
tbanTh °f Water’. t}|f le';e.1 of which is several feet higher
the c.tv reyvrV“ir. by which it is to be distributed over
he city. We bring the water from its sources in sub-
erranean canals, slightly declining until we come to the
borders of a valley or broken ground. We there raise
on each side a souterasi, to which we adapt vertically
leaden pipes of determinate diameters, placed parallel to
the two opposite sides of the building. These pipes are
disjoined at the upper part of the obelisk, which forms a
sort of basin, with which the pipes are connected. The
one permits the water to rise to the level from whence
it had descended; by the other, the water descends from
this level to the foot of the souterasi, where it enters
another canal under ground, which conducts it to a se¬
cond and to a third souterasi, where it rises and again
descends, as at the last station. Here a reservoir receives
it and distributes it in different directions by orifices of
which the discharge is known.” Again he savs, “ it re¬
quires but little attention to perceive that this system of
conducting tubes is nothing but a series of syphons open
at their upper part, and communicating with each other.
I he expense of a conduit by souterasi is estimated at
only one fifth of that of an aqueduct with arcades.” We
really cannot perceive any advantage in these pyramids,
further than as they serve the purpose of discharging the
air which collects in the pipes. For if the water is to be
conveyed in pipes across the valley, what other purpose
can these columns possibly serve ? I hey are in themselves
an evident obstruction, and the water would flow more
freely without any interruption of the kind. In regard to
the leaden pipes, again, they would have required, with so
little head pressure as is stated, to be used of very extra¬
ordinary dimensions to pass the same quantity of water
as was discharged along the arched conduits. There is
something, therefore, which would require explanation in
this account of Andreossy regarding these pyramids, or
else he has misunderstood the nature of them when he
says that they supply advantageously the place of the
aqueducts or arches. A train of pipes properly laid, and
of proper dimensions, might do this; but what advantage
the pyramids possess further than to answer the purpose
of air-cocks, is not very apparent.
The other principal source from which Constantinople
is supplied, is from the high grounds six or eight miles
west of the town, from which it is conducted by conduits
and arches, in the same manner as the others. The sup¬
ply drawn from all these sources amounts, according to An¬
dreossy, to 400,000 cubic feet per day; about two thirds
of a foot to each person of a population of 600,000. The
charge of the water-works at Constantinople belongs to
a body of 300 lurks and 100 Albanese Greeks, who form
almost an hereditary profession.
Of the aqueducts which still remain as relics of Roman Aqueducts
grandeur, the most remarkable are, the aqueduct of Metz; of Metz,
the aqueduct of Nismes, or the Pont du Gard; and the Nismes>
aqueduct of Segovia in Spain. “ The aqueducts of Rome,” Seg0‘
says Montfaucon, “ were without doubt wonderful on ac- ia
count of their great length—arcades continued over the
space of 40 or 50 miles; their great number, with which
the Campagna of Rome was filled on every side: all this
surprises us. But it must be confessed that if, without
considering the total extent, we only look at any of the
parts which remain round Rome, there is nothing that
approached the aqueducts of Metz, of Nismes, or of Se¬
govia.” The aqueduct of Metz is represented in Plate
XLY. Nearly the half of it, it will be observed, has
been carried away; but there still remain a great num-
336 A Q U E
Aqueduct, ber of arches, and enough to give an idea of the ex-
tent of the whole. It extended across the Moselle, a
very considerable river, and very broad in this place ; and
served to convey the delicious waters of the Gorse to the
city of Metz. These waters, according to Meuripe, in his
history of the bishops of Metz, printed in 1634, were so
abundant that they furnished water for floating the ves¬
sels every time that a naval fight was to be exhibited.
They were collected into a reservoir, and from thence con¬
ducted by subterraneous canals constructed of hewn stone,
and so spacious that a man could easily walk in them up¬
right. They then passed the Moselle by means of the
aqueduct, which was situated about six miles from Metz,
and from thence were conducted under ground in stone
channels, similar to the others, to the city, to the baths, to
the place of the sea-fight, and all over the city. Judging
from the drawing, this aqueduct seems to have been
nearly 1000 feet in length, the arches 50 feet high at the
deepest part, and 50 in number. They formed only one
series, the height not requiring a double row. Theywrere
so well built and cemented together, that, excepting the
middle part, which the descent of ice down the river has
in the lapse of ages carried away, they have resisted, and
will continue to resist, the effects of time and of the most
violent seasons.
The Pont du Gard was executed by the Romans in the
reign of Augustus, and wras then merely an aqueduct for
bringing the waters of the fountain of Hure to Nismes.
It was composed of three rows of arches filling up the
valley between two mountains, between which ran the
river Garden. The first row comprehended six arches, each
60 feet span, excepting one, which was the largest, and
was 75 feet span; the second row contained 12 arches
of the same span as the first; and the third had 36 little
arches, on the top of which was the channel for con¬
ducting the water. This bridge exhibits a decided im¬
provement and superiority over all the other Roman
aqueducts, in the lightness and striking boldness of its
design. The arches are wider, and the piers in proportion
lighter, than any other structure of the kind previously
constructed; and had the same principle been extended
so as to have formed only a single row from top to bottom,
it would have equalled in the skill and disposition of its
materials (circumstances in which the Roman works were
almost universally wanting) any of the more judicious and
elegant structures of modern times. About the year
1740, this bridge, being of no more use as an aqueduct,
was converted into a road-way, by widening it, or rather
building in a manner another bridge to the side of it,
having all the arches of the same span and dimensions.
The execution of the work was attended with consider¬
able difficulties, but these were all successfully overcome
by the French engineer Pitot.
The aqueduct of Segovia, according to Culmenares,
who travelled in Spain, and has written the history of
Segovia, may be compared with the most wonderful works
which antiquity has transmitted to us. There still re¬
main of it 159 arches, all built with large stones, and with¬
out any cement. There are two rows of arches, one above
the other, and the whole height of the edifice is 102 feet.
It runs quite across the town, and passes over the greater
part of the houses which lie in the hollow.
French In modern times various aqueducts have been formed
Aqueducts. after the manner of the Romans, particularly in France.
The most remarkable are those which were constructed in
the reign of Louis XIV., at vast expense, for conducting
water from Marly to Versailles. Of these the famous aque¬
duct bridge of Maintenon, which was erected for conveying
the waters of the river Eure to Versailles, is without doubt,
in point of magnitude and height, the most magnificent
DUCT.
structure of the kind in the world. In Plate XLV. we Aqueduct,
have given a view of a portion of this work, on the same
scale as the other aqueducts here represented. Had the
whole been delineated on the same scale, it would have
extended to four times the breadth of the plate. It ex¬
tends about 4400 feet in length, being nearly seven
eighths of a mile, and upwards of 200 feet in height, and
contains 242 arcades, each divided into three rows, form¬
ing in all 726 arches about 50 feet span. Of the subter¬
ranean aqueducts in France the finest is that of Arcueil,
which serves to conduct water to that village. It is 44,300
feet in length, or upwards of eight miles, extending from
the valley of Arcueil to the castle at the gate of S't
Jaques, all built of hewn stone. It is about six feet in
height, and has on each side a foot-path 18 inches wide;
it has a declivity of one foot in 1300. Another aqueduct
of this kind is that of Rocquancourt, part of the system
which brings water to Versailles; it is 11,760 feet in length,
or upwards of two miles, and a declivity in its whole course
of only three feet. In some parts of its course it was
necessary to make excavations 80 or 90 feet deep, which
rendered the execution very difficult.
The great waterworks that supply the city of Marseilles
with the water of the Durance, by a canal about 60 miles
in length, are among the boldest undertakings of the kind
in modern times. This canal, begun in 1830, and not yet
completed (1852), has already cost above L.2,000,000 ster¬
ling. It is conveyed through three chains of limestone
mountains by forty-five tunnels, forming an aggregate length
of 877 miles, and across numerous valleys by aqueducts ; the
largest of which, the Aqueduct of Roquefavour, over the
ravine of the River Arc, about 5 miles from Aix, surpasses
in size and altitude the ancient Pont du Gard. The im¬
mense volume of water, which passes at the rate of 198,000
gallons per minute, is carried across as in the old Roman
aqueducts by a channel of masonwork. The height of this
aqueduct is 262 feet, and its length 1287. The number of
cubic yards of masonry contained in it is 57,000; the total
cost has been L.151,394.
One other aqueduct of recent construction is worthy of Aqueduct
notice. In those parts of British India where the fall of of the
rain is scanty and uncertain, recourse is had to artificial irri- Ganges,
gation, and the waters of many of the rivers of the country
have been rendered available for this purpose by means of
public works constructed by the government. Of these the
most important is the Ganges Canal, which traverses the
north-western provinces of Bengal, and distributes over their
vast area nearly the whole volume of the waters of the Gan¬
ges. See Ganges. The canal begins at the point where
the river issues from the mountains and enters the plains of
Bengal. About twenty miles from its source, the line of
the canal crosses the valley of the Solani River, and the
works for effecting the transit are designed on a scale worthy
of the undertaking. The valley is between two and three
miles in width. An earthen embankment is carried across,
raised on an average between 16 and 17 feet above the sur¬
rounding country, and having a width of 350 feet at its base,
and 290 feet in the upper part. This embankment forms
the bed of the canal, which is protected by banks 12 feet in
depth and 30 feet wide at the top. To preserve these banks
from the effects of the action of the water, lines of masonry
formed into steps extend on each side throughout their en¬
tire length. The Solani River is crossed by an aqueduct
920 feet long, having side walls 8 feet thick and 12 deep,
the depth of the water being 10 feet. The water of the
canal passes through two separate channels. That of the
River Solani flows under fifteen arches, having a span of
50 feet each, constructed in the most substantial manner and
springing from piers resting on blocks of masonry sunk into
the bed of the river. The cost of the aqueduct was upwards
i
AQUEDUCT.
jpdern
prove-
jmts; in
I id action
(f iron
| >68.
queduct. of L.160,000. In grandeur of design, solidity of construc-
—' tion, and, above all, in extensive utility, it mav challenge
competition with any similar work in the world.
Within the last century, the invention and improvement
of the manufacture of cast iron has completely changed the
mode of conducting water into cities, by the introduction of
cast-iron pipes instead of the stone conduits of former times.
These pipes can now be formed of almost any dimensions,
and united together into a continued series, so closely as to
prevent the escape of the water, even under a violent pres¬
sure arising from the altitude of the fountainhead. They
enable us, therefore, to take advantage of and give effect to
that grand principle in hydrostatics, that the fluid element
tends continually to a level, even though it be confined in
the smallest or most complicated system of pipes; so that
however low it be carried in any valley, or to whatever dis¬
tance, still it will rise on the opposite side to the original
altitude of the fountainhead—a principle which is most
important indeed in such works, seeing that by it we
are not restricted, as the Romans were, almost to a perfect
level in the line of the conduit. We have seen that, for the
purpose of attaining this level or very gentle declivity all
along the conduit, they were under the necessity of raising
it by arcades continued in one unbroken series, frequently
30 or 40 miles in extent; and, in addition to this, often pro¬
longing the length of the track by a circuitous route, turning
and winding for miles out of its course, for the very purpose
of increasing its length.
But the use of pipes enables us to dispense with these
long arcades all raised nearly to the same level with the
fountainhead; because the conduit may be varied in its level
to any extent, and still will rise at last to its original altitude.
The pipes, therefore, are merely laid all along the surface
of the ground, with a cover of 2 or 3 feet of soil to place
them beyond the reach of frost. To prevent, however, the
frequent or abrupt alternations of rise and fall, any sudden
inequalities in the ground are equalized by cuttings and em¬
bankments, but not to anything like the extent "that would
be required to raise the whole to a level. This, therefore,
forms a capital improvement in the method of conducting
water, and the greatest indeed which has ever been made in
this important branch of practical mechanics. That it was not
introduced by the Romans, is not to be ascribed, as many
have done, to their ignorance of the hydrostatic principle,
that the fluid would rise to a level in the opposite branches
of the same train of pipes. Professor Leslie has shown that
they were well acquainted with this principle, and has more¬
over obtained from Italy a portion of a leaden pipe, supposed
to have been used in the baths of Caracalla, which sets this
matter at rest. But, from the low state of the arts at that
period, they were unable to give effect to the principle.
They had not the means of fabricating pipes of such a mag¬
nitude as would have been required for the enormous quan¬
tities of water consumed in Rome, and at the same time of
strength sufficient to withstand the pressure from the foun¬
tainhead. Lead was the only material that could be used by
them for the purpose ; and besides the enormous thickness
that so weak a material would have required, and the imprac¬
ticability of their forming them, and uniting them together
endwise, they were too well acquainted with the tendency of
lead to render the water unwholesome by its poisonous im¬
pregnation. The use of cast iron was quite unknown. There
remained, therefore, no resource but in the aqueducts, which,
though attended no doubt with vast expense, and requiring
great enterprise, as well as both skill and patience, were yet
attainable by these means, and formed when completed a
simple and very perfect mode of effecting the object. Hence
arose all those works above described which have since ex¬
cited such astonishment. Now, however, when the manu-
acture of cast iron has been brought to such perfection,
VOL. in.
337
Dhlrfrm ds COntrived fo[ uniting perfectly together all the Aqueduct,
been universafl^adoptedf ^ ^ ^ haS
is sunnlied with aqi;eduCt’ ^ which the city of New York Croton
fippnt w L c tuA ?r, may be regarded as the most magni- Aqueduct,
ficent work of he kind executed in modern times. It was
8°^Omi 1837’and completed in 1842, at an expense of
8,575,000 dollars, the distribution pipes costing 1,800,000
dollars additional. Its length from the Croton lake to the
receiving reservoir is 38^ miles. The Croton lake, which
IS formed by the Croton Creek, a small stream of wholesome
water falling into the Hudson, covers 400 acres, and con¬
tains a body of water of about 500,000,000 gallons. To
the valley of the Harlem river, a distance of 33 miles, the
aqueduct is built of stone, brick, and cement, arched over
and under, 6 feet 3 inches wide at the bottom, 7 feet §
inches at the top, and 8 feet 5 inches high; and capable of
discharging 60,000,000 gallons per day. It is carried over
the Harlem valley in iron pipes laid upon a magnificent
bridge 1460 feet long, constructed of arches 114 feet above
high-water mark at Yorkville. These pipes pass into the
receiving reservoir, which is 1826 feet long and 836 feet
wide, covering an area of 37 acres, and capable of containing
150,000,000 gallons. Hence, to the distributing reservoir, a
distance of 2^ miles, the water is conveyed by a double line
of iron pipes 3 feet in diameter. This second reservoir is
420 feet square and 44 feet above the streets, with a capa¬
city of 20,000,000 gallons,—whence the water is conveyed
through the city by about 170 miles of pipe principally from
6 to 12 inches in diameter.
The works undertaken by the Edinburgh Water Com-Edinbur-.h
pany in 1819 were probably the most complete and perfect water-
of the time. They were designed by Mr Jardine, the thenworks-
engineer of the company, and carried out under his super¬
intendence in a style quite worthy of the city, and offering,
both in the general design and in all the details, a model of
propriety and skill in this species of hydraulic architecture.
The Crawley springs were conducted by an aqueduct into
a covered cistern at a point about 7 miles distant from Edin¬
burgh, and a supply from the stream called the Glencorse
Burn, conveyed by an open-work tunnel from about a mile
and a half westward. This tunnel is in some places upwards
of 30 feet deep, and the valley through which it passes, con¬
sisting entirely of gravel, acts as a filter through which the
water descends and percolates, all solid matter being inter¬
cepted in its passage to the tunnel from whence it is de¬
livered into the cistern, and conveyed to Edinburgh by a
chain of pipes varying from 20 to 15 inches of interior
diameter, without being exposed to the light of day. From
the numerous undulations of the surface, the fall of the
pipe is not uniform. Abrupt inequalities, however, were re¬
moved by cutting and embanking. Towards the northern
termination of the line the pipe is carried through a tunnel
of 2160 feet in length and about 70 or 80 feet under the
surface of Heriot’s Green. In crossing the Grassmarket it
forks off by one branch to a reservoir in the Castlehill, and
by another about 120 feet under the reservoir, through a
tunnel 740 feet in length, cut through the rock of which
the ridge leading to the Castle is composed. Branches were
laid through all the principal streets.
I he pipes are in lengths of 9^ feet each, and were tested
before being laid by a pressure equal to a vertical column
of 800 feet of water. The joints are what are termed spigot
and faucet. Cocks for the discharge of air accumulating
in the pipes are placed at the summits of all the considerable
elevations; and in the hollows are placed sluice cocks for the
purpose of running off sand or other solid matter which may
collect in the pipe. It is capable of delivering 253,56 cubic
feet of water per minute into the reservoir at the Castlehill.
The formation of the Compensation Reservoir, was un-
2 u
338 A Q U E
Aqueduct, doubted]y the greatest work of hydraulic engineering of its
i day. It was designed and completed by Mr Jardine, and
with the then limited experience of contractors and workmen
in the construction of similar works, its successful completion
does great honour to the genius and perseverance of the
engineer. It has been twice enlarged, and now forms an
artificial lake extending over an area of 46 imperial acres.
In 1843 the Company obtained the authority of Parlia¬
ment to bring in the Black Springs and those of Listonshiells
and Bavelaw. These springs are situated on the northern
margin of the Pentlands; the Black Springs fully 9 miles,
those of Bavelaw upwards of 10, and the Listonshiells be¬
tween 12 and 13 miles distant from Edinburgh, in a direction
nearly south-west by west. The Black Springs vary from
ten cubic feet per minute to as high as 240. The Liston¬
shiells and Bavelaw from 135 to 170. The quality of these
waters is nearly uniform, and of great purity and excellence.
In the autumn of 1847, the springs of Bavelaw and Lis¬
tonshiells, about 40 in number, were made available by being
conveyed in clay pipes into a stone cistern at a place called
Westrigg, about 12 miles distant from Edinburgh. They
are thence conveyed for nearly five miles through an aque¬
duct to a point at the south-west end of Torphin Hill, and
thence to Edinburgh by an iron pipe of 16 inches interior
diameter. Compensation to the millowners on Bavelaw
Burn and Water of Leith was provided by the construction
of two reservoirs at Threepmuir and Harlaw, capable of con¬
taining about 68,000,000 of cubic feet. These reservoirs
form one continuous chain, with not more than 30 feet of
difference of level between them when full, and together
occupy an area of fully 200 acres.
In the same year the Company constructed a new reser¬
voir in the Glencorse valley, at a place called Loganlea;
about a mile to the westward of the Compensation reservoir
already referred to; two more on the northern side of the
Pentland ridge at Clubbiedean and Torduff; another on the
site of two old ones which had been long disused, in a flat
and hollow part of the hill to the south of Bonally.
Glencorse reservoir increased its capacity from 46,242,045
to 55,160,409 cubic feet. The Loganlea reservoir contains
18,801,858; the Clubbiedean, 9,836,000; the Torduff,
17,821,459, and the Bonally, 8,000,000 cubic feet. The
total storage in these reservoirs is 109,619,786 cubic feet,
and their capacity is estimated to be equal to a supply of 350
cubic feet per minute for a period of four months without rain.
The delivery of water over a great part of the years 1851
and 1852 has been upwards of 520 cubic feet per minute,
and estimating the population dependent on them for a sup-
ply, including the town of Leith, to which a supply was ex¬
tended in 1826, and Portobello, which was supplied in 1851,
at 190,000, even the present limited supply is equal to nearly
25 gallons per head per day of that population. When the
whole works are completed and in full operation, this supply
will not only be considerably augmented, but will be made
secure.
Filters on a large scale, and on the most modern principle,
have been provided at Glencorse for the purification of the
water that may be taken out of the burn.
The works, under the Act of 1847, were designed by
Messrs Rendel and Beardmore of London, and carried out
under the superintendence of Mr Leslie of Edinburgh, the
Company’s engineer, The capital expended in these works
amounts to L.410,000, while it is understood that a sum of
L.20,000 or L.30,000 more will be required for their com¬
pletion.
In all places such as the above, where there is a deficiency
of level to carry the water naturally to the highest parts of
the town, there is no resource but in the employment of
machinery. Steam power is most commonly applied to this
purpose, and the water is generally either forced into a re-
D U C T.
servoir of sufficient height to supply the houses therefrom Aqueduct,
by natural gravitation, as in the city of York; or, it may
be forced over upright pipes called stand-pipes, as is the
practice in some of the water-works which supply London ;
or it may be propelled to the houses through a train of
street-pipes, as is partially the practice in Glasgow.
But though the system of pipes has thus superseded theAqueduct
use of stone channels all raised to a level in the conveyance bridges or
of water, there are still cases, such as those of canals, wherecanals'
the water must be kept on a perfect level, and where, there¬
fore, aqueduct bridges are still necessary in conveying it
over the valleys; and of these we have long had examples
in France, on the Languedoc canal. The first aqueduct
bridges for canals in this country were those made by the
Duke of Bridgewater, under the direction of the celebrated
Brindley, and which, being quite new here, excited no small
degree of astonishment. The first and largest was the aque¬
duct at Barton Bridge for conveying the canal across the
Irwell, 39 feet above the surface of the water. It consisted
of three arches, the middle one 63 feet span, and admitting
under it the largest barges navigating the Irwell with sails
set. It was commenced in September 1760; and in July
of the following year the spectacle was first presented in this
country, of vessels floating and sailing across the course of
the river, while others in the river itself were passing under
them. Since that period canal aqueducts have become more
common; and many excellent examples are to be found
both in England and Scotland. Of these are the aqueducts
over the river Lune, on the Lancaster canal, designed by
Rennie, a very excellent and splendid work of five arches,
each 72 feet span, and rising 65 feet above the level of the
river ; and the Kelvin aqueduct, near Glasgow, which con¬
veys the Forth and Clyde canal over the valley of Kelvin,
consisting of four arches, each 70 feet span, and rising 70
feet above the level of the river. In Plate XLV., we have
given views of three other principal aqueducts, viz., the
aqueducts of Pont-y-Cysyllte, of Chirk, and of Slateford
near Edinburgh. Of these the Pont-y-Cysyllte by Mr Tel¬
ford is justly celebrated for its magnitude, for the simplicity
of the design, and the skilful disposition of the parts, com¬
bining lightness with strength in a degree seldom attempted.
This aqueduct serves to convey the waters of the Ellesmere
canal across the Dee and the vale of Llangollen, which it
traverses. The channel for the water is made of cast iron,
supported on cast-iron ribs or arches, and these resting on
pillars of stone. The iron being much lighter than stone
arches, this is one reason why the pillars have been reduced
apparently to such slender dimensions. They are quite
strong enough, however, as experience has proved. The
whole length of the aqueduct is about 1000 feet, and con¬
sists of 19 arches, each 45 feet span. The breadth of the
pillars at the top is 8 feet, and the height of the four middle
ones is 115 feet to the springing. The pillars have a slight
taper, the breadth of the middle ones at the base being 15
feet. The height from the surrace of the water in the Dee
to that in the canal was to be 126 feet eight inches. The
channel for the water consists of cast-iron plates, cast with
flanches, and these screwed together with bolts; they are
represented in the drawing, between the arched ribs and the
railing. The lines there show the joinings of the different
plates. In order to preserve as much water-way as possible,
the channel is made the full width of the canal and towing-
path, and the latter projected over one side, and supported
inside by posts resting on the bottom of the canal. The
aqueduct of Chirk was designed by the same able engineer,
and serves also to convey across a valley the waters of the
same canal. This aqueduct was the first in which any iron
was employed. Hitherto the channel for the waters had
been constructed of stone, or partly of stone and partly of
clay puddle, which it was generally found very difficult to
A Q U
Aqueduct, keep water-tight for a length of time. It was determined,
^ therefore, by Mr Telford, to try the effect of cast iron, and
to lay it at first only on the bottom. The plates were ac¬
cordingly laid directly over the sprandril walls, which they
served to bind together, and united by flanches and screws.
The sides of the channel were built with stone facings and
brick hearting laid in water-lime mortar. This plan has suc¬
ceeded completely, and the quantity of masonry in the aque¬
duct was thereby greatly reduced. The aqueduct itself is 600
feet long, and 65 feet high above the river, consisting of
ten arches, each 42 feet span. The piers are ten feet thick.
The aqueduct of Slateford conveys the waters of the
Edinburgh and Glasgow Union Canal across the valley of
the Water of Leith at Slateford. It is an elegant structure,
similar in plan to that of Chirk, only that the water-channel
is composed entirely of cast iron, which is moreover built in
with masonry. It is about 500 feet in length, and consists of
eight arches, each 45 feet span ; and the height of the canal
is about 70 feet above the level of the river. On this canal
another aqueduct of the very same construction occurs in
crossing the valley of the Almond, and having several more
arches. There are, in different parts of the country, various
other aqueducts, which might be described, did our limits
permit. It is the less necessary, as, excepting the formation
of the water-way, these structures differ in no respect from
bridges, particularly those undertaken not so much with the
view of crossing rivers as of raising the level of the road en¬
tirely out of the valley,—an object now become of great im¬
portance, from the improvements within the last half-century
in our modes of conveyance. Formerly people were content
to traverse slowly all the inequalities of the country through
which the road might pass, descending into the valleys, and
mounting the steepest acclivities. Now, however, a road is
thought imperfect, and quite behind the standard of improve¬
ment, unless every rise greater than 1 in 15 or 1 in 20 feet
be cut down. In crossing the valleys, therefore, it is not
enough now that we build a bridge in all respect sufficient
for crossing the stream itself; we must raise it nearly to a
level with the ground on each side of the valley ; and this
gives rise to new and very extensive works of this kind. Of
these we may just instance the splendid bridge of one arch
of 140 feet span, built over the Den Burn at Aberdeen, to
form a new access into that town ; also the beautiful bridge
of Cartland Craigs, built by Mr Telford, over the little stream
of the Mouse, on the new road from Glasgow to Carlisle,
consisting of three arches 50 feet span, and elevated 130 feet
above the bed of the stream. More recently the introduc¬
tion of railways has opened a new and still wider field for
the skill and talents of the engineer in the erection of such
works. This species of road, it is well known, must be kept
still more nearly on a level than any of the roads of the or¬
dinary construction. (See Railway.) In this respect the
railway is somewhat similar to the old Roman aqueducts, and,
where the country is low, must in like manner be elevated
on a series of arcades. These bridges have received the name
of Viaducts; there is an extensive one on the Liverpool
and Manchester railway, termed the Sankey Viaduct, of nine
arches; and numerous others have since been constructed
throughout the country. But for the principles and mode
of construction of these works, as well as of the aqueduct
bridges, so far as the arch is concerned, we refer to the
articles Arch and Bridge ; and for further information on
the subject of aqueducts, see Julius Frontinus, De Aquce-
ductihus Urbis Roma:; Raphaelis Fabretti De Aquis et
Aqiueductibm \eteris Romce Dissertatio ; Famiani Nar-
dini Roma, Fetus, lib. viii. cap. iv.; Plinii 7/ist. Nat. lib.
xxxvi. cap. xv.; Montfaucon, Antiquite Expliquee, tome
iv. tab. 128 ; Governor Pownall’s Notes and Description
of Antiquities in the Provincia Romana of Gaul; Beli-
dors Architecture Hydraulique, containing a drawing of
A Q U 339
the aqueduct of Maintenon ; also Mem. Acad, Par.; An- Aquila
dreossy, Voyage a l Embouchure de la Mer Noire, ou Essai ||
sur le Bosphore; Philosophical Transactions Abridged, Aquinas,
vol. i.; and Link’s Travels in Portugal. Tg.
AQUILA. See Astronomy.
Aquila (’A/aAas), a native of Pontus, who flourished about
a. d. 130, celebrated for his translation of the Hebrew Scrip¬
tures into Greek. His history is involved in much obscuritv;
but, according to the account of Epiphanius {De Pond, “et
NLens, c. lo), he was a kinsman of the Emperor Hadrian,
who employed him in rebuilding Jerusalem (TJia Capitolina)’.
He was converted to Christianity, but on being reproved
for practising the pagan astrology, he apostatized to Judaism.
His version was very literal, and was used in place of the
Septuagint in the synagogues. {Novell. 146.) Though the
Christians generally disliked it, Jerome and Origen some¬
times speak in its praise. The second edition was named /car
aKpl/Seiav, for its literal accuracy. The few fragments that
remain are published in the Hexapla of Origen, and in
Bathe’s Opuscula, Lips. 1746.
Aquila, a fortified city of the kingdom of Naples, and
chief of the province Abruzzo Ulteriore Seconda. It is situ¬
ated on the Aterno, in the vale of Aquila and Pescara, and
is well built. Exclusive of the cathedral, it has no fewer
than 24 churches, besides numerous monastic houses, while
the population does not exceed 12,000 persons. It was
founded in 1240, and soon became a very flourishing city ;
but war, pestilence, and especially the earthquakes of 1688,
1703, and 1706, have conspired to reduce it to its present
state. The manufactures are linen and wax, with a con¬
siderable trade in saffron grown in the vicinity. It has a
royal college, schools, hospitals, and a handsome theatre.
Aquila, the principal standard of a Roman legion. The
standard of Romulus is said to have consisted of a hand¬
ful of hay, straw, or fern, affixed to a pole or spear; whence
the company of soldiers who served under it was called
Manipulus. This primitive standard was soon superseded
by the figures of animals, which, as Pliny tells us {H. N.
x.4), were the eagle, wolf, minotaur, horse, and boar: but in
b. c. 104 the eagle was permanently adopted. It was made of
silver or bronze, and was represented with expanded wings.
AQUILEIA, an ancient Italian city, stormed and de¬
stroyed by Attila a.d. 452. It was recovered by Narses from
the Huns, but it never regained its pristine grandeur. Be¬
fore that period this Roman colony was 12 miles in circum¬
ference, and was a place of great wealth and magnificence.
It was among the oldest bishop’s sees in Italy, and in the
sixth century its bishops had long contests with Rome. The
Venetians, in 1420, conquered the adjacent country; and
now Aquileia, with Udine and Friuli, forms a part of the
Austrian circle of Goritza.
AQUINAS, or D’Aquino, Thomas, commonly called
St Thomas, the greatest philosopher and theologian of the
middle ages, was of noble descent, and nearly allied to several
of the royal houses of Europe. He was born, according to the
most probable opinion, in the year 1227, at Rocca Sicca, the
castle of his father Landulf, Count of Aquino. Having re¬
ceived his elementary education at the monastery of Monte
Cassino, he studied for six years at the university of Naples.
The rising order of St Dominic numbered at that time many
men of eminent energy and talents, zealous for the extension
of their brotherhood, and particularly eager to draw into their
ranks whatever of youthful genius and enthusiasm came
within the range of their influence. The young Aquinas was
soon led to choose a profession so congenial to his nature;
and in direct opposition to the wishes of his family, embraced
at the age of,17 the habit of St Dominic. His mother at¬
tempted in vain to rescue her son from the hands of the Do¬
minicans, who first removed him to Rome and then attempted
to convey him to Paris. His two brothers, officers in the
340 A Q U
Aquinas. Tuscan army, were directed to intercept the passage of the
' travellers, who had proceeded no farther than Acquapen-
dente, when the young friar was suddenly seized while re¬
posing by a wayside fountain, and carried back to Rocca
Sicca. Here he was kept for two years in close confinement,
while his relatives exhausted in vain every argument and
temptation which could have moved a less resolute spirit from
its steadfastness. He employed his solitude profitably in
meditation and study, having procured through his sisters a
Bible, the Logic of Aristotle, and the Sentences of Lombard.
Having at length succeeded in making his escape, he at once
joined the Dominicans at Naples, and was soon after sent
to study under Albert the Great, at Cologne. Here his taci¬
turn and meditative deportment excited the contempt of his
more loquacious fellow-students, who bestowed on him the
title of the Dumb Ox of Sicily. His great teacher discern¬
ing better the profound genius of his silent pupil, told them
that “ When the dumb ox began to bellow', he would fill the
world with the sound of his voice.”
In 1245, Aquinas followed his master to Paris, returning
with him at the end of three years to Cologne. In 1253
he again went to Paris, to fulfil the customary term of three
years for obtaining his degree as doctor of theology. His
lectures during that time were attended by crowds of en¬
thusiastic scholars. The reception of his degree was ob¬
structed by the contest of his order with the University of
Paris, headed by William of St Amour. Both parties were
summoned to plead their cause at Rome. Aquinas appeared
as the champion of the mendicant orders, and the result of
his powerful pleading was the condemnation of his adver¬
sary. In October 1257, he received his degree on the same
day with his saintly friend Bonaventura.
For three years longer he continued at Paris, assiduous
in teaching, preaching, and writing. His relative Louis IX.
invited him frequently to the court, and sought his counsel
on state affairs. The story of his one day startling the com¬
pany at the royal table by exclaiming, out of an absorbing fit
of meditation, “ Conclusum, est contra Manichceos !” is per¬
haps more generally familiar than his pointed reply to Pope
Innocent IV. Aquinas found the Holy Father seated by a
table covered with piles of indulgence-money. “ You see,”
said the Pontiff, “ the church is no longer in the days when
she could say, ‘ Silver and gold have I none.’” “ True, Holy
Father,” said Aquinas, “ and she is therefore as little able to
say to the sick of the palsy ‘ Hise up and walk.’ ”
In 1261 Aquinas w as summoned to Rome by Urban IV.,
and for several years lectured there and in the principal cities
of Italy. In 1263 he attended the Dominican chapter held
in London. Two years after he declined the offer made to
him by Clement IV. of the archbishopric of Naples, as well
as the more congenial office of Abbot of Monte Cassino.
In 1269 he again visited Paris ; and in 1272 was recalled to
Naples. In January 1274 he was summoned by Pope Gre¬
gory X. to attend the council convoked at Lyons to settle the
differences between the Greek and Latin churches. Though
suffering fi om illness, he at once set out on the journey. Find¬
ing his strength failing on the way, he was carried to the Cis¬
tercian monastery of Fossa Nuova, in the diocese of Terra-
cina, quoting, as he entered the cloister, the words of the
psalm “Hsecrequies meain saeculasaeculorum!” After linger¬
ing for some weeks, he expired on the 7th of March 1274.
About a century after, his body, for the possession of which
many cities had eagerly contested, was removed to Toulouse,
and buried with much pomp in the Dominican Church.
The highest honours which the church could bestow were
awarded to the memory of Aquinas. The Angelic and Uni¬
versal Doctor, the Angel of the Schools, and the Eagle of
Theologians, were among the admiring titles conferred on
the greatest of the schoolmen. He was canonized in 1323
by Pope John XXII.; and in 1567 Pius V. ranked the
A R A
festival of St Thomas with those of the four great Latin Aquino \
doctors, Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, and Gregory. Still ||
higher is the honour implied in the fact that the repeated Aral)esqu
testimony of the church has stamped the authority of Aquinas Vs“v**
with a kind of minor infallibility.
Any just estimate of his character and works would in¬
volve a view of the whole scholastic system, which attained
in him its highest and most comprehensive development.
The most philosophical of all the schoolmen, as his master
Albert was the most learned, he consummated the harmony
of the Aristotelic philosophy with the doctrines of the church;
and to him mainly was due their all but exclusive empire till
the era of the Reformation. With reference solely to his
ethical system, Sir James Mackintosh ^Prelim. Diss., p. 328)
speaks of Aquinas as “ the moral master of Christendom for
three centuries.” Those, indeed, who are accustomed to re¬
gard the scholastic philosophy indiscriminately as a system of
mere laborious trifling, may find some scope for ridicule in the
endless divisions and subtle questions of the Angelic Doctor
on the nature and properties of angels and other impractical
themes ; but if the unvarying dialectical force and the occa¬
sional profound suggestiveness arouse no sympathy with the
mediaeval admiration of “ friar Thomas and his goodly lore,”
it is to be feared that the fault is not wholly with the writer.
The mental fecundity which in so brief and interrupted a
lifetime produced a mass of writings so voluminous, is in
itself wonderful, but more remarkable is the power of con¬
tinuous thinking which left its impress upon them all. The
striking harmony of thought between Aquinas and Augus¬
tine, suggested the fanciful conception that the soul of the
African bishop had reappeared after seven centuries in the
body of the Italian monk. In him was again seen the union
of the highest philosophical power with the most simple and
fervent piety, the vigour and acuteness of a master-intellect,
with the unearthly humility and devotion of the saint.
The best edition of the works of Aquinas (Rome, 1570-71)
is in 17 vols. (18 tom.) folio. These consist of commen¬
taries on Aristotle ; commentaries on the Scriptures; the
Summa Theologice, his greatest work, and the most complete
and extensive body of theological and moral science ever at¬
tempted ; his Summa adversus Gentiles ; and miscellaneous
pieces {Opuscula). They include also several Latin hymns.
The followers of Aquinas were called Thomists. Their
fruitless contentions with the Scotists or disciples of the great
Franciscan Duns Scotus, long divided the schools.
AQUINO, the ancient Aquinum, a town and bishop’s
see of Naples, in Terra di Lavoro. It was one of the chief
cities of the Volsci, but has now only 1100 inhabitants. It
contains numerous Roman remains, including an amphi¬
theatre and a triumphal arch. Here Juvenal was born ;
and, according to some, Thomas Aquinas.
Aquino, Carlo d% an Italian writer, born at Naples in
1654. He was long professor of rhetoric at Rome. His
principal works are poems and dictionaries. He translated
Dante into Latin verse, but his version has little merit. He
died at Rome in 1737.
AQUI TANIA, one of Caesar’s great divisions of Gaul.
It was not subdued until the reign of Augustus, who ex¬
tended its limits to the Loire and Cevennes range. In the
reign of Honorius it was conquered by the Visigoths, from
whom it was wrested by Clovis. Thenceforth it was con¬
sidered as part of France, until it fell by marriage into the
hands of Henry II. of England. It was an apanage of the
English monarchs, until Charles VII. finally united it to the
French crown, by the capture of Bordeaux in 1452.
ARABESQUE, Grotesque, and Moresque, are terms ap¬
plied to paintings and ornaments which consist wholly of
foliage, plants, stalks, &c.—the Moors, Arabs, and other
Mahometans being forbidden by their religion from making
any images or figures of men or animals.
341
ARABIA.
Arabia.
ivistons.
This extensive country, which is situated at the south¬
western extremity of Asia, has been famed in all ages for
freedom and independence ; for the peculiar character and
manners of its rude tribes ; and for the wild and cheerless
aspect of its interior deserts, contrasted with the fertility of
other tracts, the products of which have always formed the
staple articles of the Arabian trade. It has been distin¬
guished in history as the scene of great events, and espe¬
cially of that wonderful revolution in religion, under the in¬
fluence of which the Arabs, inflamed with the spirit of pro-
selytism and of conquest, spread their victorious arms over
the fairest portions of the earth, and brought about not
merely the downfall of empires, but a revolution of opinion
and manners which gradually extended over the greater
portion of Africa, and over the eastern world from Constan¬
tinople to the frontiers of China.
Arabia is a peninsula, stretching north-west and south¬
east. It has the form of an irregular lozenge, and is in¬
closed on three sides by the ocean. It is bounded on the
south-west and west by the Red Sea and the Isthmus of
Suez ; on the north-east by the Persian Gulf and the lower
course of the Euphrates ; on the north-west by Syria, the
Euphrates, and the intervening desert; and on the south¬
east by the Indian Ocean. Its length from this ocean to
the frontiers of Syria is about 1400 miles, and its breadth
from the Isthmus of Suez to Bassora about 900. The
peninsula enlarges in breadth as it approaches the Indian
Ocean, and it is greatest in the parallel of Djiddah, viz.,
about 2250 miles. The division of this country by the an¬
cients was, according to the natural qualities of the soil, into
Arabia Petraea, Arabia Deserta, and Arabia Felix. No
very distinct boundary was assigned to these divisions.
Under Arabia Petraea was included that barren and rocky
tract in the north-west of Arabia which is situated between
the northern shores of the Red Sea and the Mediterranean,
and which may have extended southwards nearly to Mecca.
Arabia Deserta was separated from Mesopotamia on the
north by the Euphrates; on the west it was bounded by
Syria, Judaea, and Arabia Petraea; on the east and south it
was separated from Chaldea and Arabia Felix by deserts and
mountains. Arabia Felix was bounded on the north by
Arabia Petraea and Arabia Deserta, on the south by the
Indian Ocean, and on the east and west by the Persian
Gulf and the Red Sea. The modern division of the coun¬
try is entirely different.
The eastern geographers do not agree as to the great
divisions of the peninsula and the limits of these divisions.
Some speak of two divisions only, namely, Hedjaz and
Yemen, but it is self-evident that they do not mean thus to
divide the whole of Arabia, but only the western portion of
it, or the coast along the Red Sea. Abulfeda mentions five
provinces, Tehama, Nedjed, Hedjaz, Yemen, and Arudh or
Ared, but this division too is incomplete. The opinion of
the Baron von Hammer, who collected and compared a vast
amount of geographical evidence from oriental sources, war¬
rants the following as the true great divisions of Arabia.
1. In the north-west El Hadjr, literally the* “ Stony,” or
Arabia Petraea, with natural boundaries to the east. 2.
v’uth of it, El Hedjaz along the Red Sea, as far down as
about N. Lat. 19°, with natural boundaries, viz., in the east,
e table-land of El Nedjed, and in the south, the Tehama
o Assyr, that remarkable gap in the great western moun¬
tain chain. 3. El Yemen, the southern portion of the
coast along the Red Sea, extending eastward over a portion
of the table-land of southern Nedjed and the low tract El
Jof. 4. El Nedjed, the upland or high plateau beimr the Arabia
centri portion of the peninsula; ,hegtrLs borderinf on W-
Nert ed “A1 Jen,eD "f .caJled,E1 Nedjed El Hedjaz, and El
Nedjed El Yemen. It is bordered in the south by the great
desert El Ahkaf. 5. Hadhramaut, along the Indian^Sea
beitrrMYifmen’ E Ahkafand Es Shehr* 6-Es Shehr, also
called Mahra, because it is inhabited by the tribe Mahra
a dreary tract east of Hadhramaut, which is said to have
been changed from a fertile country into a wilderness bv
the curse of Nebbi Hud, the ante-Mahometan prophet of
this part of Arabia. It contains, nevertheless, some well-
cultivated and well-inhabited districts. The language of the
inhabitants differs very much from the modern Arabic. 7.
El Oman, the north-eastern projection of South Arabia, at
the entrance of the Persian Gulf, and bordering in the south¬
west on El Ahkaf. 8. El Hedjer, or El Bahrein, the coast
along the Persian Gulf as far north as the head of the o-ulf
and bordering in the west on the high plateaux of the in¬
terior. It is as frequently, but erroneously, called Lahsa
or El Ahsa, this being the name of a comparatively small
district. 9. El Yemamah, seems to be the south-eastern
portion of El Nedjed: It borders on Hedjer, Oman, and
the desert El Ahkaf.
Besides these great divisions, there are others which de¬
serve a short explanation, as they frequently occur in works
on Arabia. First among them is Tehama. The name de¬
signates the narrow belts of sandy lowland between the
mountains and the sea; and the whole coast of the Red Sea
being of that description, and called accordingly, a belief
has sprung up as if the name referred only to that tract.
But as there is a Tehama of Hedjaz, so there is one of
\ emen, which, however, comprehends some hilly districts ;
in short, every province bordering on the sea, has its great
Tehama; and every district on the coast, or even sea town,
has its smaller local Tehama. El Jof is the name of a large
district to the east of Arabia Petraea, of another one to the
east of Yemen towards Hadhramaut, and of several other in¬
land plains; for it is a name in physical geography, meaning
a level inland tract lower than the high plateaux, but still
higher than the low lands. El Ahkaf signifies a desert
characterized by low winding sand-hills, and besides the
great El Ahkaf, there are several, and perhaps many, smaller
deserts which are distinguished by that name. The great
desert between Syria and the head of the Persian Gulf is
called Badieh el Arab.
The desert tracts occupy a vast proportion of the soil of
Arabia. They consist either of bare rocks, or of hard, loose
sand, and are almost destitute of fresh water. Whole years
frequently pass away without rain, and the burning sands,
reflecting the solar rays, occasion such intense heat as is not
felt even in countries that lie directly under the equator.
There are no rivers, the mountain torrents being speedily
imbibed by the sandy soil; and the scanty supplies afforded
by deep wells and springs, scattered at distant intervals, are
the sole dependence of the fainting traveller for refreshment,
and frequently for life. The aspect of desolation is some¬
times relieved by verdant spots, which appear like islands
in the trackless ocean ; and some rare and hardy plants,
such as the tamarind and the acacia, which strike their roots
into the clefts of the rocks, find here a congenial soil, and
flourish amid the surrounding waste.
In the Arabian plains the thermometer is generally above Climate.
100° during the night, at 108° in the morning, and in the Hot winds,
coolest and shadiest parts in the course of the day it rises
to 110°, and sometimes higher. All travellers who have
ARABIA.
342
Arabia, visited the coasts of the Red Sea appear to have been op-
v v-—^ pressed by the extraordinary heat, and to have considered
the temperature of other tropical countries as moderate in
comparison. The sultriness of the nights is another pecu¬
liar evil of the Arabian climate, and a predisposing cause
of disease. For this peculiarity the country is partly in¬
debted to its position, hemmed in between the continents
of Asia and Africa, and effectually protected by the latter
from the influence of the south-west monsoon, which blows
during the summer on the coasts of India, and ushers in
the periodical rains : Arabia never experiences the refresh¬
ing influence of this wind. It seems to blow exactly along
its south-eastern shore, on which prevail baffling winds, or
a dead calm.1 During the whole summer the heat in the
lower plains on the coast is so steady and equable that the
atmosphere remains in a state of repose. No change of
temperature takes place to set the winds in motion; and
dead calms occur, and sometimes continue for sixty days
without interruption. When the temperature begins to
vary with the change of the seasons, and the winds resume
their activity, the country is visited by the simoom or the
hot blast from the deserts, under whose withering influence
all nature seems to languish and expire, and which has the
quality of extracting from whatever it touches every trace
of moisture, and to produce, when it is inhaled by men or
animals, a painful feeling, as of suffocation. But though its
effects are pernicious to health, they have been greatly ex¬
aggerated by credulous or ill-informed travellers; and among
others Niebuhr, to whom we are indebted for much valu¬
able information respecting Arabia, ascribes to it the power
of suffocating any living creature that is exposed to its in¬
fluence. Others imagine that it has poisonous qualities. It
appears, however, from the accounts of various travellers,
and among others of Mr Buckingham, that its effects are
produced solely by heat. When it is suddenly inhaled, it
may, in the same manner as a hot blast from an oven, cause
faintness or sickness, and even swooning; but this feeling
is occasioned wholly by the heat and parching qualities
which it contracts in its passage across the burning sands.
The desert consists in many parts of loose sand, interspersed
with sharp and naked rocks ; and the effect of these violent
winds is to raise up in clouds this fine sand, and to set it
afloat in the atmosphere in such quantities that it is impos¬
sible to see to the distance of a few yards. On such occa¬
sions, during the violence of these sand storms, it is the in¬
stinctive practice of camels and other animals to lie down,
and bury their nostrils under the sand, to avoid the influ¬
ence of the wind. In this situation the traveller generally
lies down on the lee side of the camel, and in a short time
the sand is blown up to the level of the animal, which has
accordingly to rise and to lie down on a new foundation, in
order to avoid being entirely covered. But in many cases,
from weariness, faintness, or sleepiness, occasioned by the
great heat, and often from a feeling of despair, both the man
and the animal remain on the ground, and in twenty minutes
they are buried under a load of sand, and perish miserably
in those inhospitable deserts. The approach of the simoom
wind is indicated by an unusual redness in the sky, which
during the prevalence of the wind seems to be all on fire.
But though a large proportion of Arabia consists of arid
and burning deserts, the country immediately behind the
dry and sandy plains, which stretches backwards from the
seashore, rises into rocky and precipitous hills, with inter¬
vening valleys of remarkable fertility. Those mountainous
tracts, which send forth ridges into the interior in various
directions, enjoy a temperate climate; ice and snow are Arabia,
known at Tayef and Sana, and the Baron von Wrede re-
lates, that on the high plateaux of Hadhramaut the frost is
sometimes so intense that the people use axes for breaking
up the ice on their reservoirs. All these interior and high¬
land districts are occasionally refreshed by copious rains,
though they do not lie within the range of the monsoons,
which in the peninsula of Hindustan usher in the rainy sea¬
son. Those rains occur at different times of the year, ac¬
cording to the position of the mountains. On the western
declivity of the mountains of Yemen, along the shore of
the Red Sea, they commence in June and terminate in
September, which is the season of the monsoons in India.
This tract is also refreshed by a spring rain, while on the
eastern declivity of the same mountains the season of the
rains is between the middle of November and the middle of
February. In Hadhramaut and Oman, along the shores of
the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf, the rainy season
lasts from the middle of February to the middle of April;
in the highlands of Hadhramaut, transient but frequent
thunderstorms, with torrents of rain, mark the months from
April to September. The prevailing wind in summer is
from the west. The simoom, by which name the Arabs
distinguish every hot wind, comes from the east; the south
is reckoned favourable to vegetation ; while the influence
of the north wind, whether it be hot or cold, is always
thought to be pernicious to the health both of man and
beast. It is occasionally so sultry that it heats metals in
the shade as if they were exposed to the sun. On the Per¬
sian Gulf the south-east wind is common, and is accom¬
panied with moisture, which, when the heat is intense, oc¬
casions violent sweatings, and is even more injurious to
health than the hot and dry blast from the northern desert.
No traveller has given any accurate measurement of the
height of the Arabian mountains; but the decided change
of climate which takes place in these upland regions marks
a considerable elevation above the adjacent plains.
Among the Arabian highlands great diversities of soil Soil,
prevail; and the craggy precipitous form of the hills is un¬
favourable to fertility. They afford neither sufficient space
nor soil for vegetable productions, and the earth is contin¬
ually washed away by the torrents. In many parts the rocks
are basaltic in their form, and so steep that the road ascends
by regular steps cut in the rock. These mountainous tracts
are in general well cultivated and productive, especially the
southern and mountainous provinces of Yemen and Hadhra¬
maut. This was the celebrated region of Arabia Felix,
which, contrasted with the adjacent deserts, might deserve
that appellation, being a fertile country, yielding the far-
famed productions of balm and frankincense, and many
sweet-scented trees and shrubs, of which the delicious fra¬
grance, according to the descriptions of poets, was wafted
by the winds over the surrounding seas. The mountains
of Hedjaz and Yemen, which run along the eastern shore
of the Red Sea, are precipitous and often rocky; but water
abounds in wells, springs, and rivulets. This entire tract
of country is well peopled as far as the mountains which
overlook the Indian Ocean, and contains numerous villages
of the Arab tribes. In all parts where water is near, and
can be artificially spread over the ground, trees and inclosed
fields are found ; and among the rugged and basaltic moun¬
tains extensive and well-watered valleys, which to the south
and the east are covered with the herds and flocks of the
Bedouin Arabs, and to the north and west, towards the Red
Sea, with industrious cultivators, who have relinquished their
1 It is mentioned by I raser, in the account which he gives of a Voyage from Bombay to Mascat, in the Persian Gulf, that the moment
they doubled Cape Rassel Gate, a corruption of Ras-el-Hadd {ras means cape), and entered the Persian Gulf under the lee of the Arabian
land, they were forsaken by the south-west monsoon, and encountered baffling winds or calms until they arrived at Mascat, which is
about 120 miles up the Gulf.
»
AHA
rabia. vagrant habits, and live in houses. In these valleys, which
are frequently separated by intervals of barren rock, and the
passes or entrances into which, through the mountains, are
so narrow that they scarcely allow two camels to walk
abreast, the villages are embellished with gardens, palm-
groves, and date-trees, the fruit of which forms in many
districts the staple article of the agriculturist; and with ex¬
tensive plantations of coffee, which, when in flower, exhale
an exquisite perfume. In many parts of Yemen whole
mountains of basaltic columns are seen, which are rendered
subservient to many useful purposes. Being easily sepa¬
rated, and formed into steps, they facilitate the ascent of the
heights where it is difficult; and they supply materials for
walls to support the plantations of coffee-trees on the steep
declivities of the mountains.
The country between the mountains of the Hedjaz and
the Red Sea is part of that narrow belt of sand which en¬
circles Arabia. It is called Tehama, the appellation given
to all the low plains on the coast, which are generally bar¬
ren, having fewer fertile spots and more scanty pasturage
than the mountains, where rain is more common. Of the
regions which are washed by the Indian Ocean and the
Persian Gulf we have no full or accurate information. We
know, however, that they are skirted by sandy plains simi¬
lar to those on the western shore. The country which over¬
looks the Persian Gulf at Mascat has an extremely desolate
appearance, consisting merely of sands, and naked rocks
blackened by the scorching rays of the sun. It rises into
mountains, which may be seen from the sea, and probably
attain an elevation of from 1500 to 2000 feet.
Of the provinces of Hadhramaut, Shehr or Mahra, and
Oman, more will be said afterwards.
The large province of El Hassa or Bahrein extends along
the curve of the Persian Gulf, being in its narrowest part not
above 60 miles broad. The coast is a level Tehama, but ridges
of hills intersect the interior ; and towards Nedjed in the north,
and Yemamah in the south, rise the high ranges of Djebel Ared
and Djebel Athal, forming the eastern edge of the great table¬
land of central Arabia. Bahrein is distinguished by its abun¬
dance of fresh water, which, although often prevented by the
fierce rays of the sun from collecting on the surface, and form¬
ing permanent streams, is yet easily to be obtained, even in
sandy plains, by digging to the depth of a few feet. Wells
are consequently numerous, and enable the natives to cultivate
clover, with which they rear a breed of excellent horses. There
are many lakes. It appears that here, still more than in any
other part of Arabia, the water of the rivers and torrents,
flowing down from the higher parts towards the sea, is not en¬
tirely absorbed by the sand, but continues its course underneath
it, on a substratum of marly clay, the undulations of which it
follows according to the pressure it receives from the higher
level, giving rise to large bodies of subterranean water. Thence,
also, the phenomenon observed along the coast of this tract,
of powerful springs of fresh water bursting forth from the
bottom of the sea, and easily accessible when the tide is low.
At high tides they are sometimes covered with twelve feet of
sea water, but so great is their volume and power, that the
water remains quite sweet at several feet from the bottom;
and, as Captain Skeine relates, divers provided with skin bags
will plunge into the salt sea to fetch a supply of fresh water.
The fact of powerful salt springs rushing up from the bed of
fresh-water rivers, as, for instance, near Kreuznach on the
Nahe, in Rhenish Prussia, stands in striking and convincing
contradistinction with these fresh-water springs in the Sea of
Bahrein. Nor is this phenomenon only of local importance,
as is the case with the fresh-water springs at the Giant’s Cause¬
way, in Ireland; it bears on, and helps to solve, one of the
most important questions relating to the physical geography of
Arabia. We allude to the positive statement of Edrisi and
other Arabic geographers, that a large river, El Aftan, origi¬
nating in the interior, traverses the coast, and flows into the
Gulf of Bahrein, h et, when Captain Sadleir crossed and re¬
crossed the supposed line of the Aftan, on his expedition to the
camp of Ibrahim Pasha, in 1819, he found no traces of any
B I A. 343
considerable river ; and as the existence of the El Aftan had Arabia,
already been previously denied as being too improbable, it was
now set down as a. fable altogether. But even suppose he did
cross that line, which is by no means certain, although he pene¬
trated as far as Es Sabeh, a village to the south of El Hofhuf,
the existence of so much subterranean water, which is of easy
access, according to the Captain s own statement-—the numerous
wells, pools, and even lakes—and last, but not least, the sub¬
marine springs of fresh water along the coast, principally about
the locality where the Aftan might be supposed to reach the sea,
—all these circumstances make it extremely probable that the
lower part of the Aftan having been overwhelmed and buried
by the sand, the water nevertheless continued to press on upon
the clayey substratum, and spreading about in various direc¬
tions, at last reaches the sea at a level considerably below its
surface ; wdien, bursting through the light and sandy bottom,
it produces those singular phenomena on the coast of Bahrein.
Wellsted entertained such views when he visited the country.
There are many other facts bearing upon the existence of a
large river in Central Arabia, of which more will be said in
the description of Assyr.
The coast of El Bahrein is indicated by a large gulf bearing
the same name, extending 80 miles inland, at the mouth of which
lies the large island of Bahrein, which is known for the pro¬
ductive pearl fisheries carried on in the gulf. It is a pleasant,
well-cultivated island, though once a den of pirates; its capital,
Awal or Bahrein, has 5000 inhabitants. On the opposite
coast lies the seaport El Katif, with 6000 inhabitants ; and in
the interior, at a very short distance from each other, are
Mubarruz and Hofhuf, said to be peopled, the former by
30,000, and the latter by 40,000 souls, which may have been
correct at the time when the Wahabys were powerful in these
parts. Quite in the north, not far from the embouchures of
the Shat-el-Arab, the united Tigris and Euphrates, lies the
small seaport El Kueit or Grane.
It has already been observed that, with the exception of^0^"^8
Arabia Petraea, the whole northern part of the peninsula is01 " ra m‘
a comparatively low plain, intersected by ridges of hills of
little elevation. It extends south as far as north latitude
28°. There the Djebel Shammar rises abruptly, a lofty
range traversing the interior in a direction from west to
east, and visible at a great distance. The Arabs say that its
central portion, or Djebel Shammar, properly speaking is as
high as Mount Lebanon, or about 9000 feet. The great
hadj and caravan roads from Damascus and Baghdad to the
holy cities and the inland of Nedjed traverse this vast and
arid district, but our knowledge of it is still very imperfect.
Dr Wallin, professor in the university of Helsingfors, in Finn-
land, explored the tract a few years ago, starting from the
Gulf of Akaba, and thence proceeding to the foot of Djebel
Shammar, whence he returned by the road to the Tigris. He
was the first known European who ever proceeded so far
in that direction, but his account in the Journal of the Royal
Geographical Society of London, is of more importance to
the linguist and antiquarian than the geographer. Along the
Derb Bereidha, or hadj road from Baghdad, there are nu¬
merous deep and very carefully constructed wells, among
which that of Wakiyeh, which was built by order of Melek
Shah, Sultan of the Seldjuks in Persia, is said to be 800 feet
deep by 10 wide. Several wells have been constructed by
Sobeidah, the wife of the great Khalif Harun-al-Rashid,
The entire extent of Arabia south of Djebel Shammar is
an elevated table-land, resembling a barren rocky crust
raised by subterranean power. Ridges of varying elevation
rise above it in a direction from west to east, and it is rent
asunder in all parts by deep gaps forming narrow wadis or
valleys flanked by bare, precipitous rocks. These are the
only localities containing a settled population, being watered
by temporary or permanent streams which render the soil
fit for cultivation. Nearly all the towns are situated in such
wadis, as far instance Derraiyeh, the once flourishing capi¬
tal of the Wahabys. Large tracts, however, are consider¬
ably lower than the general level of the table-land, and being
344 A R A
Arabia, covered with moveable sand, which has filled up the gaps
^ by which the rocky substratum is cut up, form the most
dangerous among all the deserts of Arabia. The great wil¬
derness, and the smaller ones, called El Ahkaf, belong to
this description. It appears that a broad but high plain or
valley, beginning in the west at the foot of the mountains
of Assyr and sloping down towards the Persian Gulf, bisects
that immense table-land into a northern and a southern por¬
tion. This tract was never visited by Europeans, but east¬
ern geographers inform us that it constitutes the best part
of the great province of Yemamah: it is well watered and
produces an abundance of corn and fruit. The eastern less
frequented caravan road from Mecca to Baghdad crosses it
in a direction from south-west to east and north, touching
or passing near the village El Hauta, which, according to
Burckhardt, is the birthplace of the famous Abd-el-Wah-
hab, the founder of the sect of the Wahabys. The prin¬
cipal mountain chain which overlooks the table-land is
Djebel Imariyeh or El Ared. From the Alpine highlands
near Tayef, it stretches north-east as far as Derraiyeh, fall¬
ing off in the north like a stupendous wall of white rock,
whence we may infer that it is of limestone formation.
From that town it continues in a more northern direction
almost parallel to, but still distant from, the Persian Gulf,
and forming the natural boundaries between Nedjed and
Iledjer or El Bahrein. From its central portion near Der-
raiyeh another chain runs north by west under the name of
Djebel Tueik which seems to join the latitudinal chain of
Es Shammar in its very centre, which, on account of its
serrated appearance is commonly called El Djebel. Be¬
tween the chains of Ared and Tueik lies the district of So-
dai'r; west of Mount Tueik are the districts of Kasim and
Woshem ; and to the south-east of Derraiyeh is the smaller
one of Khardj. The environs of Derraiyeh are full of once
thriving towns, situated in narrow rocky wadis or glens, but
since the last successful invasion of the Egyptians they are in
ruins. To the south of Western Yemamah, and parallel with
Djebel Imariyeh, but at a distance of 200 miles from it, a
chain of high mountains has been observed in a north-east di¬
rection, which seems to be the Djebel Menakib of the Arab
writers. There is reason to believe that there are many more
inland chains, but we know nothing positive about them.
In proportion as the arid and elevated interior of Arabia
approaches the sea, it begins to lose the peculiar features of
a high table-land. Almost everywhere its descent towards
the lower level presents several terraces, the serrated edges
of which form as many chains of mountains. On approach¬
ing the peninsula from the seaside, it first seems as if there
were but one such edge, but on surmounting the first, the
traveller soon meets another, and in many localities a third
and a fourth one; and although the ascent is not always
steep, the increasing difference of temperature indicates a
higher level. The lower edge of the table-land towards
Hedjaz is commonly called Djebel-el-Hedjaz, of which the
section between north latitude 25° and 23b bears the name
of Djebel Raduah, and is about 6000 feet high. East of it
lies the holy city of Medinah, on the third terrace, and con¬
sequently at a considerable elevation, and perhaps as high
as from 4000 to 5000 feet above the sea. Between Mecca
and Tayef, the chain bears the name of Djebel Kora, of
which M. Gazuan is not only the highest portion, but pro¬
bably the highest peak in Arabia, if it be true that its sum¬
mit is covered with snow even in summer, which would
give it an altitude of about 14,000 feet. But this is very
questionable. It has already been observed that in north
latitude 19°, a remarkable gap, the Temanah, or perhaps
Tehama of Assyr, affords an easy communication between
the coast and the interior, being, at the same time, the
natural boundary between Iledjaz and Yemen. The ex¬
tensive chain from that great defile down to the Straits of
B I A.
Babelmandeb is called Djebel-el-Yemen, and the southern Arabia,
portion simply El Djebel, on account of its many peaks and
serrated aspect. It appears to reach an altitude of 9000
feet, and in the latitude of Sana, swells out into a broad
mountainous tract sloping down abruptly towards the district
El Jof, and the sandy plains of March. The town of Sana,
the capital of the dominions of the imam or sultan of Sana,
to whom all Yemen is either directly or indirectly subject,
lies 5000 feet above the sea, the surrounding peaks rising
to from 2000 to 4000 feet above that high plain. Nume¬
rous torrents flowing in deep valleys between high precipi¬
tous rocks, water this interesting tract, but in the dry season
they dwindle into streamlets. In the arid tehamas they dry
up entirely, at least near the surface, because at the depth
of a few feet below the burning sand, water is always obtain¬
able by digging, except in years of total drought.
In few parts of Arabia is the system of irrigation brought to irrigation,
such perfection as in the highlands of Yemen. Water is super¬
abundant in the rainy season, but the rapid descent of the tor¬
rents causes it to vanish as fast as it fills the glens to over¬
flowing ; and in the dry season, the hot rarified air absorbs
it in such a degree as to lay all water-courses dry. Deep wells
and reservoirs, together with tanks and cisterns of every de¬
scription, thus become a matter of necessity ; and it is owing
to the surprising care bestowed upon such works, that the coffee
plantations are in so luxuriant a condition. As long as the
lower reservoirs, which, however, are still higher than the re¬
spective terraces for the irrigation of which they are constructed,
yield a supply, those on a higher level are not only spared, but
still fed if possible; but in proportion as the former become
exhausted, the latter are opened; and the water descending
through covered conduits again fills those which are nearest to
the plantations. On the drying up of these, also, the deep
wells in the shady glens are resorted to, and the water is carried
up the hills in skin bags on the backs of donkeys. The inha¬
bitants themselves will lend their backs to this drudgery to save
their crops. Around the stem of each coffee-tree, pebbles are
heaped up, which serve the double end of preventing the roots
from being laid bare by torrents, and of keeping the soil moist
in the dry season.
Arabia, from its diversified surface, contains within its ^egetal)le
bounds the climates and the vegetable produce of different coun-P1'0^6,
tries. The mountainous tracts yield in great abundance wheat,
barley, and an inferior species of grain called durra ; also the
fruits of Europe in equal variety and perfection, such as figs,
apricots, peaches, apples, almonds, pomegranates, grapes of the
very best quality, and excellent dates, which in many parts are
the chief food of the inhabitants, as well as an article of ex¬
port. Many of the fine fruits of India have been transported
thither, and are now naturalized. Such are the banana tree,
the mangoustan, the Indian palm, and the Indian fig-tree.
Besides the European grains it yields abundantly rice and
maize. In the highland provinces forests are sometimes seen,
which contain many trees little known, or differing extremely
from the same genera in northern countries. The tamarind-
tree refreshes and embellishes the country by its agreeable
shade and elegant form. The balm-tree is peculiar to Arabia,
which is also the native country of the coffee-tree, though, ac¬
cording to the Arabians, it comes originally from Abyssinia.
The balm-tree has not a beautiful appearance, and its qualities
are not appreciated in the southern province of Yemen, where
its wood is burnt for a perfume. In the Hedjaz the inhabi¬
tants collect the balsam and bring it to Mecca : it is thence ex¬
ported to Turkey, where it is in high estimation. The tree
trom which incense distils is found in part of Hadhramaut,
along the shores of the Indian Ocean. Arabia has been in all
ages celebrated for sweet-scented shrubs and trees ; and Burck¬
hardt mentions, that one morning at sunrise, when he was on his
road from Tayef to Mecca, every tree and shrub exhaled a de¬
licious fragrance. There are various species of the sensitive
plant, of which the splendid flowers, of a beautiful red, are
formed into crowns for festive occasions. The sugar-cane and
the indigo-shrub are found in different provinces ; and the
shrub from which senna is produced is cultivated in all that
part of the country which lies opposite to Upper Egypt. The
Arabians cultivate garden vegetables, such as lettuce, carrots,
♦
*
ARABIA.
rabia. radishes, water-cresses, and a great variety of gourds, cucum-
, / hers, pumpkins, and melons. The melon is in such variety
' and abundance that, for a part of the year, it constitutes an
article of food. Many plants and herbs which have been
brought from India are now naturalized in the country ; and
there is abundance of indigenous plants, noted for the beauty
of their flowers and their fragrant smell. The gardens at
Tayef, among the mountains, 72 miles east of Mecca, are re¬
nowned for roses of such exquisite beauty and fragrance, that
they are sent to all parts of the country. The soil of the desert,
though sandy, yields a variety of herbs, which constitute the
food of cattle ; and every district has a peculiar plant, which
will grow in no other part. These herbs grow to the height of
three, and some of them of six feet; and when they are withered
by the sun they are eagerly devoured by the camel.1
Ic ’ee-tree. The celebrated coflee plantations of Yemen occupy the slopes
of these valleys, rising in terraces one above the other, to a
height of about 3000 feet above the sea, beyond which point
the cultivation of the tree ceases to be profitable, or becomes
impossible. A large proportion of the choice product, which
is known in Europe under the name of Mokha coffee, because
most of it is exported from Mokha, grows on those terraces ; but
as much is imported from the opposite coast of Africa, and,
being exported again, is sold in Europe under the same name.
The finest coffee is said to grow in El Ghamid, a small district
in north latitude 20°. The inhabitants of Yemen, even the
wealthier, seldom use the coffee-bean (boon), but only the
Keshir, or the husk, in which it lies ; the bean being sold at
Mokha and Djidda for exportation. The beverage also, which
is obtained from the roasted husks by an infusion of boiling
water, goes by the name of Keshir. and coffee-houses or
Keshir eshes, that is, huts, are everywhere to be found, even
along the roadside, for the accommodation of travellers. Many
of these establishments are pious institutions, where the way¬
farer is gratuitously accommodated, for three days, with lodg¬
ing, keshir, and durra. Another similar beverage is obtained
from the fleshy part of the berry ; and this is sometimes called
cawa, whence our coffee. According to the universal statement
of the natives, the coffee-tree was first brought over from Africa,
and cultivated in Yemen, in the fourteenth century of our era,
by a holy man named Shadeli, who is still revered by the Arabs
as a benefactor of mankind, so much so that they never raise a
cup of coffee, or keshir, to their lips without previously prais¬
ing his name in a short prayer. Modern travellers have con¬
firmed the fact, that the original home of the coffee-tree is in
the high, mountainous country to the south of Abyssinia ; but
while some report that the district of Kaffa is not only its
cradle, but has also lent its name to the tree, others, among
whom that eminent investigator, Dr Beke, contend that no
coffee grows in Kaffa. However this maybe, the inland town
of Hurrur, which lies to the east of Kaffa, is a chief market for
African coffee.
Kaat is also extensively cultivated and consumed in Yemen.
It is a small tree or shrub, the leaves of which resemble those
of the willow, and, when dried, taste somewhat like tea.
The Arabs chew it because it exhilarates the mind, keeps
people awake, and makes them talkative, whence it is now in
high estimation among so social and garrulous a nation as the
Yemenites are. The taste of the young leaves is a delicious
mixture of sweet and bitter, the former prevailing ; so much so,
that water drank after it tastes like scented lemonade. The
ricli use the young leaves with the morning dew still upon
them, and this makes them dear, as they are gathered at some
distance from the towns. Wealthy Yemenites will chew from
two to three crowns’ worth of Kaat in one day. Dr Beke
brought some well-preserved sprigs with him from Abyssinia,
where it also grows, which the writer of this was kindly allowed
to examine and taste.
Ai nals. The wild animals of Arabia, which are principally found
in the mountains, are the panther, sometimes mistaken for
the tiger, the ounce, the hyena, the wolf, the fox, a species
ot wild dog of a black colour, common in many countries
in the East, the wild cat, the jackal, the wild ox, and mon¬
keys in great numbers. In the sandy tracts is found that
345
curiously constructed animal the jerboa. The wild boars Arabia.
are very numerous, but not in the heart of the desert. The ^ 
A rabs who live at Tadmor in Northern Arabia are Ihmous
for their dexterity in killing them with the lance. The
beautiful and timid gazelle is found all over the Arabian
desert. On the eastern frontiers of Syria there are several
places alio ted for the hunting of these animals, which are
taken by hundreds. There are several sorts of lizards
and the land-toitoise is common, being brought by the
peasants in cart-loads to the markets of many towns in the
East, d he domestic animals are the horse, the ass, the
camel, and the ox.
The Arabian horse has been justly renowned in all ages Horses,
of the world for all the finest qualities, namely, swiftness,
patience of fatigue, spirit, and docility of temper ; and it is
from the Arabian breed that the European horses derive all
their most valuable properties. The best horses are found
in the greatest numbers in the luxuriant pastures of Meso¬
potamia, the banks of the Euphrates, and in the Syrian
plains. In Nedjed the horses are also of a very fine qua¬
lity, though they are not so numerous as in these countries ;
and they are still more scarce in the southern provinces of
\ emen, Oman, and Hadhramaut, on the shores of the Indian
Ocean, owing to the great heat of the climate ; nor are the
mountainous regions of the Hedjaz favourable to the rear¬
ing of this fine animal. There are not, according to Burck-
hardt, more than 6000 horses in the whole western country
of Arabia, from the northern point of Akaba on the Red
Sea to the southern coasts, comprising the great chain of
mountains and the western plains. The provinces of Ye¬
men, Hadhramaut, and Oman, are also supplied with horses
from the pastures of Nedjed.
In the wars and inroads of the desert, the Arab soldier,
whether he is pursuing, or flying for his life over the naked
plain, wholly relies on the quality of his horse. On this
account they spare no pains in rearing their horses and in
preserving the purity of the breed. The birth of every
noble foal is ascertained by the presence of eye-witnesses,
and a written certificate is made out of its distinctive marks,
with the names of its sire and dam, which is wrapt in a
small piece of leather covered with wax-cloth, and is hung
round the animal’s neck as the standard and evidence of its
value. The genealogical table never ascends to the grand-
dam, because every Arab knows by tradition the purity of
the whole breed ; and there are many horses and mares of
which the noble descent is of such notoriety throughout the
tribes, that no written evidence of the fact is required. The
Arabs reckon five noble breeds of horses, whose lineal de¬
scent they assert to be from the five favourite mares of the
prophet. But as all the collateral branches claim the same
illustrious ancestry, there is an infinite variety of noble
breeds in the desert; and every mare which is particularly
handsome, and belonging to any of the five chief races,
may give rise to a new breed, the descendants of which
bear her original name. Those pastoral tribes, when a foal
is born, receive it in their arms, and so cherish it for
several hours, stretching its tender limbs, and caressing
it as if it were a child; and when it is placed on the
ground, they watch its feeble steps, prognosticating its
future excellencies or defects. The colt is mounted after
its second year, after which it is fed upon barley, which
is the usual provender throughout Arabia, though in Ned¬
jed the horses are regularly fed on dates ; and the wealthy
inhabitants give them flesh, raw as well as boiled, and all
the fragments of their own meals. In other respects
they are hardly treated. They remain in the open air
during the whole year, wdth the saddle constantly on their
backs, and are not even taken under the shelter of the
VOL. in.
Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. Appendix.
2 X
346 A R A
Arabia, tent in the rainy season, or during the heat of the mid-day
SUn; yet with all this treatment they are seldom ill. The
Arabs never clean or rub their horses; but they are careful
to walk them about gently on their return from a ride. They
prefer mares for riding, on account of their more patient
endurance of fatigue, hunger, and thirst, than horses, and
because they are gentler and less vicious, and never neigh
when they are lying in ambush to surprise passengers.
According to Burckhardt, the finest race of Arabian blood
horses may be found in Syria; and of all the Syrian dis¬
tricts the breed in the Hauran is the best. But all the
horses of the noble breed are not equally distinguished.
Among these there are only a few, perhaps not above five
or six in a whole tribe, of the first-rate class in respect to
size, bone, beauty, and action. In the whole extent of
the Syrian deserts there are not, according to the estimate
of this traveller, more than 200, worth, even in the de¬
sert itself, about L.150 or L.200 each; and of these very
few, if any, have ever found their way to Europe, although
many horses of second and third-rate quality from Syria,
Barbary, and Egypt, have been imported into England,
and have passed for the pure Arabian breed. The price
of horses in Syria is from L.10 to L.120. An Arab mare
cannot be obtained under L.60: a celebrated mare will
often bring from L.200 to L.500. A mare is frequently
the joint stock of two, three, four, or any greater num¬
ber of proprietors; and when she has foaled, the colt
is sold, and the price is divided among the proprietors.
Burckhardt mentions a scheik who had a Nedjed mare, for
the half of whose belly, according to the phraseology of
the Arab market, he paid L.400. D’Arvieux mentions
an emir who “ had a mare that he would not part with
for 5000 crowns, because she had travelled three days
and three nights without drawing bit, and by that means
got him clear off from those that pursued him.” A simi¬
lar anecdote is told of a troop of Druses, who, having at¬
tacked an Arab encampment, were assailed by a superior
force, and all killed except one man, who fled, and was
pursued by some of the best mounted Bedouins. “ But
his mare, although fatigued, continued her speed for se¬
veral hours, and could not be overtaken. Before the pur¬
suers gave up the chase, they cried out to the fugitive,
promising him quarter and safe-conduct, and begging him
that he would allow them to kiss the forehead of his ex¬
cellent mare. Upon his refusal they desisted from pur¬
suing, and, blessing the generous creature, they exclaimed,
addressing her owner, “ Go and wash the feet of your
mare, and drink up the watera phrase by which the
Bedouins express their sense of the invaluable services
rendered by those fine animals.1 The Arabs treat the
mares which they keep for riding with invariable tender¬
ness. They never beat them, but make much of them,
reason with them, talk with them, and take all imaginable
care of them. They never spur them, except in cases of
peculiar urgency, when the generous animal flies over the
plains with so rapid a motion that the rider is apt to be
stunned. Many curious instances are given by travel¬
lers of the care and affection with which the Arabs treat
their horses. An affecting anecdote is related of an Arab,
who having sold the half of a mare renowned for beauty
and other fine qualities, for 1200 crowns, made frequent
journeys to inquire after her welfare. “ I have many a
time,” says D’Arvieux, “ had the pleasure to see him cry
with tenderness, whilst he was kissing and caressing her.
He would embrace her, would wipe her eyes with his
handkerchief, would rub her with his shirt-sleeves, would
give her a thousand blessings during whole hours that he
B I A.
would be talking with her. ‘ My eyes,' would he say to Arabia,
her, ‘ my soul, my heart, must I be so unfortunate as to^^v
have thee sold to so many masters, and not to keep thee
myself? I am poor, my Antelope; I have brought thee
up like a child; I never beat nor chid thee. God pre¬
serve thee, my dearest; thou art pretty, thou art sweet,
thou art lovely; God defend thee from the looks of the
envious!’ He then embraced her, kissed her eyes, and
went backwards, bidding her the most tender adieus.
Another Arab, who had sold his mare and put the money
in the bag, looked wistfully on the animal, and began to
weep. ‘ Shall it be possible,’ said he, ‘ that, after hav¬
ing bred thee up in my house with so much care, and had
so much service from thee, I should be delivering thee
up in slavery to the Franks for thy reward!’ on which
he threw down the money on the table, embraced and
kissed the mare, and took her back to his tent.”2
The camel is an invaluable animal in Arabia, being pecu- Camels,
liarly qualified, by its power of enduring thirst and fatigue,
for traversing its burning plains. The camels of the Ara«
bian and Syrian deserts are of a smaller make than those
of Anatolia or Kurdistan and other northern countries,
and they have only one hump. They are used either for
the purposes of riding, or for carrying heavy burdens.
The smaller and more active camels, or dromedaries as
thej' are termed, or in Arabia deloul, which are used for
riding, are the same race as the heavier camels, which are
employed in carrying burdens, being merely distinguished
as a hunter is from a coach-horse. The common load of
an Arabian camel is from 400 to 500 pounds on a short
journey, and from 300 to 400 pounds when the distance
is greater. The Egyptian camel, which is equal in strength
to the Anatolian, will carry a load of three bales of coffee,
equal to 1500 pounds, from Cairo to the water-side, a
distance of three miles. The dromedary, or the riding
camel, is used in travelling, though in speed it is far sur¬
passed by the horse. Incredible stories are told of the won¬
derful expeditions performed by these animals. Burckhardt
was assured by a Bedouin that his grandfather made a
journey on a camel of 250 miles in one day; and he him¬
self mentions that, on a wager, a camel was engaged to
go in one day, between sunrise and sunset, a space of
125 miles; and actually travelled in 11 hours 115 miles,
when its strength failed. The rate of speed at which a
camel goes, even on a gallop, which is not his natural
pace, and cannot be maintained above half an hour, is
never more than 16 or 18 miles in the hour. In trotting,
12 miles an hour is the utmost limit of his speed, which
may be continued for several hours. But a camel will
carry his riders without interruption for several days
and nights, in an easy and gentle amble, the favourite
pace, at the rate of about 5 or 5£ miles in the hour,
and will travel for five or six days 10 or 11 hours each
day. A sort of palanquin is fixed on the backs of
these camels for women, in which they are concealed
from the public eye, and may stretch themselves at full
length. The capacity of bearing thirst varies consider¬
ably in the different races. The Arabian camel must be
watered on the evening of every fourth day. Some
animals, though they may go five days without drinking,
cannot be safely exposed to such a trial. The caravan
routes are never at a greater distance than three or
three and a half days’ journey from water; but the ca¬
ravans from Africa to Egypt travel, during the heat of
summer, through deserts in which water is wanting, for
nine or ten days; and though many camels perish, the
greater number come safely to Egypt. The Turcomans
1 Burckhardt’s Notes on the Bedouins and Wahahjs.
* D’Arvieux, chap. xi.
ARABIA.
\rabia. and Kurds purchase every year from 8000 to 10,000 ca-
^v^v^mels in the Syrian deserts, of which the greater part are
brought originally from Nedjed. The price of a camel va¬
ries almost in every place. In Hedjaz a common riding
camel may be bought for 50 or 60 dollars, and for some
of the first quality 200 and even 300 dollars are sometimes
paid.
The wild ass is found in great numbers in the country
adjoining the district of Djof, to the west of Djebel Sham-
mar, between Tobeck, Sauan, and Hedrush, and to the
south of those places. It is hunted by the Arab tribes,
who eat its flesh, and sell its skin and hoofs to the pedlars
of Damascus and to the people of Hauran. Out of the
hoofs rings are made, which are worn by the peasants as
a charm against rheumatism. The domesticated ass in
Arabia, as in all the other countries of the East, is a strong,
active, and spirited creature, the rival of the horse in uti¬
lity, if not in beauty. It retains all the strength, swift¬
ness, and fire of the wild animal.1 Arabia is not famous
for horned cattle. The cow is used, however, in many
places, for drawing water from the wells, and other pur¬
poses. It is small, and of a stout, bony make, with short
stumps of horns, and a hump on the back over the shoulder,
like the cows on the Nile and in Nubia.2 The northern
tribes of Arabia, namely, the Aenezes, and the Ahl el
Shemal, possess abundance of goats and sheep. The goats
are mostly black, with long ears. The sheep have not
the fat tails of those that are found in some countries;
their ears are rather longer than those of the common
English breed. The Arabs use in their families the milk
of their flocks. They also make great quantities of but¬
ter, part of which they sell to the peasants and town’s
people.
Arabia produces a considerable variety of birds. In the
fertile provinces tame fowls abound, and all sorts of poultry.
The pintado inhabits the woods in such numbers that
children kill them with stones and collect them to be sold
in the towns. In the forests of Yemen pheasants abound ;
also the wood-pigeon, and other varieties of the same spe¬
cies. In the plains is found the gray partridge, the com¬
mon lark, the wild goose, and a species of white crane
having the under part of the belly of a beautiful red.
Eagles, falcons, sparrow-hawks, and the Egyptian vulture,
are the Arabian birds of prey. The last clears the coun¬
try of all carrion, and also of field mice, which multiply
prodigiously in some provinces. There is another bird of
prey, of the thrush species, which is equally useful in pur¬
suing and destroying the swarms of locusts with which the
country is infested. There are various birds which are
little known, and which are supposed to be birds of pas¬
sage from India, distinguished by peculiar brilliancy of
plumage. There is one which has two large and beautiful
feathers, with which the Arabians adorn their caps; and
another which, for its rare beauty, is sold for a high price.
A beautiful lapwing is common on the shores of the Per¬
sian Gulf. The sandy tracts of the desert abound in os¬
triches : these are hunted by the Arabs for their feathers,
which form a valuable article of trade. The ostrich in¬
habits both the great southern and northern deserts.
I hey abound in the plain extending from Hauran towards
the central provinces of Djebel Shammar and Nedjed.
borne are seen in Hauran, and a few are taken almost
every year within two days’ journey of Damascus. They
generally breed in the winter, and the Arabs discovering
the nest, scare away the birds, when they resort to the
following contrivance for destroying them :—A hole is dug
347
irds.
in the ground near the eggs, into which the Arab places Arabia,
a loaded gun, with a long burning match fastened to the^~^^
lock. The ostriches resume their place generally both at
once on the eggs : in due time the gun is discharged, and
next morning the Arabs find one or both of the ostriches
to v,ea^ ^le eggs* The feathers are sold at from
E.2. 6s. to L.2. 10s. per pound, and the finest at from one
to two shillings each. In places where there is water,
plovers and storks abound; and sea-fowls, feeding on fish,’
are numerous on the coasts of the Red Sea, which is deep’,
and copiously stored with their food. Here, and on the
isles along the shore, the pelican is to be found.
The heat of the climate favours the breed of serpents,
some of which only are clangerous, while others are per¬
fectly harmless. The only one that is truly formidable
is a small slender creature, with black and white spots,
whose bite is followed by instant death, and an extraordi¬
nary swelling of the body from the malignity of the poison.
Of the insects in Arabia, the most remarkable as well as
the most destructive is the locust, which flies in swarms
that darken the air, and with a frightful and stunning
noise, such as is made by a water-fall. The fields are
entirely despoiled of their verdure by these insects. The
pulse and the date trees are also greatly injured; but the
corn, when it is nearly ripe, resists, by its hardness, their
attacks. Locusts are found in all parts of the Arabian
deserts. They come invariably from the East,—frorq the
waters of the Persian Gulf, according to the notions of the
rude Arabs. In the central province of Nedjed they not
only destroy the produce of the fields, but penetrate by
thousands into private dwellings, where they devour what¬
ever they can find, even to the leather of the water-ves¬
sels. In the peninsula of Sinai the inhabitants are driven
to despair by swarms of locusts, which consume the
fruits of the earth. All the Arab tribes, as well as the in¬
habitants of towns, are accustomed to eat this insect; and
at Medina and Tayf there are shops in which they are
sold by measure. After being salted, whole sacks are
filled with them. The destructive insect the white ant,
which preys upon victuals, clothes, furniture, and the
leaves of trees, is common. There is another ant, whose
bite is like that of the scorpion, although it is not danger-
The scolopendra affects those whom it attacks with
ous
burning pains. It fixes its feet so firmly in the flesh that
it cannot be got out but by burning the part with a hot
iron. Other insects destroy reeds and stalks of corn, and
make their way into houses. There are many species of
crabs, some of them peculiar to the Red Sea, which are
excellent, and, but for the peculiar aversion of the Mus¬
sulmans to shell-fish, would afford a wholesome subsistence.
At Suez they form almost the sole food of the Copts.
Arabia has never been noted for its minerals. It was Minerals
supposed by the ancients, who had the most exaggerated
ideas of its wealth and produce, to abound in precious
stones, as well as gold and silver. Except it be the onyx,
which is found in Yemen, and the carnelian, it produces
no other stones of value ; iron ore seems to be abundant in
parts of Yemen, and indications of many other minerals
have been found in Hadhramaut. There are mines o
fossil salt among the mountains, which were formerly
worked, but are now neglected; and the iron of Yemen is
found to be of a coarse quality and brittle. In Oman are
very rich lead mines, the produce of which is largely ex¬
ported from the harbour of Mascat, in the Persian Gulf.
Burckhardt, whose posthumous work3 contains the most Arab
ample and satisfactory details of Arabian manners, gives a tribes.
1 Niebuhr, vol. ii. chap. iff. Burckhardt’s Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys.
* Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, p. 127* 3 Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys.
348 A R A
Arabia particular classification of the Bedouin tribes. Those who
inhabit northern Arabia he distinguishes into two classes;
namely, the Aenezes, who migrate with the spring and
summer to the fertile parts of Syria, and return with the
winter to the desert; and others, who remain the whole
year in the vicinity of the cultivated tracts. The Aene¬
zes, reckoning their brethren in Nedjed, form one of the
most powerful associations of shepherds in the Arabian
deserts. They levy contributions on the Syrian villages,
as well as on the pilgrim caravan in its passage from the
desert to Mecca; and their numbers are estimated at
from 300,000 to 350,000, and their military force at 10,000
horsemen, and from 90,000 to 100,000 camel-riders.
There are numerous other tribes in northern Arabia,
scattered along the frontiers of Syria and the banks of
the Euphrates. They are not so migratory in their ha¬
bits as the Aenezes, with whom several of them carry
on the most deadly strife, while others pay a yearly
tribute to all the chief Aeneze tribes, and in some cases
to the pacha of Damascus?. Many of them cultivate the
land though they dwell in tents; and those on the borders
of Syria carry their produce of milk, butter, and cheese
to the market of Aleppo. There are other tribes that
range over the country to the south, over the mountains
that run in a direction parallel to the Red Sea as far as
Medina and Mecca, or in the interior plains and moun¬
tains of Djebel Shammar, Kasym, and Nedjed. Some of
those tribes, as the Beni Shammar, can muster from 3000 to
4000 men, armed with matchlocks; others, such as Meteyr,
who occupy the fruitful pastures of Nedjed, 1200 horse, and
from 6000*to 8000 matchlocks. The country from Kasym
towards Medina and Mecca, and the coast southward
from Yembo to Djidda and Leith, for about 250 miles, is
inhabited by the Beni Harb, which, next to the Aenezes,
is the most powerful tribe in Arabia. They can muster
from 30,000 to 40,000 men, armed with matchlocks. The
Harbs are partly settlers and partly Bedouins. They may
be styled the masters of the Hedjaz, and were the last
tribe in those countries that yielded to the Wahaby arms.
They take a yearly tribute from the Egyptian and Syrian
caravans ; and they extend their predatory inroads against
the encampments of the Aenezes to the vicinity of Da¬
mascus. On the sea coast, where the territory is poor,
they derive a subsistence from fishing; and many of them
are sailors, and act as pilots between Yembo and Djidda.
But these tribes, from their intercourse with the inhabi¬
tants of towns, and their maritime habits, are regarded
with disdain by the genuine Arabs. To the east of Mec¬
ca and Tayf, in the fruitful pastures of the interior, resides
the brave and powerful tribe of Ateybe, the inveterate
enemies of the Beni Harb, who can muster a force of
10,000 matchlocks. In the neighbourhood of Mecca are
many well-known tribes, now reduced to about 250 or 300
matchlocks. The tribe of Koreish, so famous in the Ara¬
bian annals, who encamp near Mount Arafat, now amount
only to 300 matchlock-men. The tribe of Adouan, which
40 years ago mustered about 1000 matchlocks, and were
celebrated all over Arabia for their valour and hospitality,
are now reduced to 100 families. It is to this tribe that
the reigning sherifs of Mecca send their children to be
educated. In the mountainous region between Mecca
and Tayf reside the warlike tribes of the Hodheyl,
mustering 1000 matchlocks, famed as excellent marks¬
men, brave soldiers, and daring high-way robbers; the
Toweyrek, who muster 500 matchlocks, and have the
character of dexterous thieves; and the Thekyf, who
possess the garden country around Tayf, and the other
B 1 A.
equally fertile valleys on the eastern declivity of the Arabia,
great Hedjaz chain of mountains. The wealth of these
mountain tribes consists in flocks of sheep and goats.
They suffered severely, especially the Hodheyl, in their
obstinate but unavailing resistance to the Wahabys.
From Tayf southward, along the eastern face of the great
chain of mountains to Sana, are several ancient and
powerful tribes, renowned in Arabian history. Some
are partly cultivators and partly Bedouins. The Beni
Kahtan and the Beni Sad are famous from the most
remote antiquity. The former is exclusively pastoral,
abounding in camels above any other tribe of the desert.
Some of these southern tribes can muster from 500 to
1500 matchlocks. They are brave and warlike, and they
extend from the mountains over the eastern and western
plains. The tribe of Asyr can assemble 15,000 men,
armed with matchlocks. Of the various tribes scatter¬
ed over the mountains of El Shehr or Mahra, and the
countries that are washed by the Persian Gulf, we have no
detailed or accurate accounts. The tribes in the moun¬
tains are, however, in general employed in agriculture ; many
of them live in tents, and descend in spring into the neigh¬
bouring plains for pasture to their flocks. The cultivators
dispose of their produce, w7hich is abundant, in the towns
on the coast.
Arabia has been celebrated from time immemorial as Manners
the seat of independence and of pastoral simplicity, and^d?3™-
it is perhaps the only country in the world which, until^tgths
it was lately overrun by the troops of Mohammed Ah, was
never profaned by foreign conquest. Mountains and de¬
serts, as is well observed by Sir John Malcolm,1 have been
in all ages the sanctuaries of the brave and the free ; and
thither the hardy Arabs, when pressed by powerful armies,
have always fled to enjoy freedom and independence. On
the sea coasts and in the towns the Arab character has
been corrupted by commerce and a free intercourse with
foreigners; but in those secure recesses the ancient
manners of the country are still to be found. The ge¬
nuine inhabitants of the desert unite the character of
shepherds and soldiers. They live in tents, and they
subsist by maintaining flocks of sheep and camels, and
also cows and horses. The larger tribes are chiefly em¬
ployed in rearing camels, which they either sell to their
neighbours, or employ in the carriage of goods or in
military expeditions. The petty tribes maintain flocks of
sheep. They disdain the cultivation of the ground, as an
employment degrading to a pure Arab, and which they ac¬
cordingly leave to the inferior race of peasantry and slaves.
These Bedouins live the usual vagrant life of shepherds,
emigrating from one place to another with the change of
the seasons, in quest of pasturage, and transporting their
dwellings along with them; so that a village arises often
in a situation where, an hour before, not a hut was to be
seen. The genuine Arabs, who live constantly in the open
air, acquire a remarkable acuteness in all their senses.
Their powers of vision and of hearing improve by constant
exercise; and on the vast plains of the desert objects in¬
visible to a less practised eye are at once seen by them.
Their sense of smelling is extremely acute ; and their dis¬
like to a town life is occasioned by the nauseous exhala¬
tions which are produced among such a dense collection of
people. The Arabs possess the same faculty of nicely
distinguishing on the sand the footsteps of men and beasts
which the American Indians distinguish on the grass. To
such perfection have they arrived in this art, that an
Arab will at once recognise the footstep of any one of
his own or of some neighbouring tribe; he will know
1 History of Persia.
♦
»
A R A
Arabia, whether the person carried a load; whether he passed
the same day, or a day or two before ; whether, from a
certain irregularity in the steps, he was fatigued, had
come from a distance, and how far he has any chance of
overtaking him. He knows at once the footsteps of his
own camel—whether it was heavily loaded, or mounted
only by one or more persons. A keen Arab guide has
his eye constantly on the footsteps which he sees; and
Burckhardt mentions that he has seen a man discover and
trace the footsteps of his camel amid thousands of other
footsteps crossing the road in every direction, and, by an
inspection of the footsteps, tell the name of every person
who had passed there in the course of the morning.
Many secret robberies are brought to light by this power
of nice observation. Instances have been known of stolen
camels found after a journey of six days ; and so long as
the traces of men or camels can be seen on the sand
by the practised Arab’s discriminating eye, robberies
are almost sure of detection. So thoroughly are the Be¬
douins inured to fatigue and the want of water, that they
will wander about five days without tasting it, and will at
last discover a pit of water by examining the soil and
plants in the environs. They ride on horses and camels, and
are continually armed with a lance, a sabre, and some¬
times a matchlock or a pistol. Some of them wear coats
of mail. All those wandering shepherds are addicted to
violence, and to the fierce habits of a military life. They
are either engaged in open war about their wells or pas¬
ture grounds, or in plundering excursions or secret robbe¬
ries, which they do not consider to be in any degree crimi¬
nal ; and no more flattering title can be conferred on an
Arabian youth than that of robber. The defenceless tra¬
veller, whom they descry from afar on the level plain, is
marked out for their prey. He is seized, stript of every
thing, and left naked in the desert. If he resists, and
more especially if he sheds the blood of a Bedouin, they
take his life. But the Arab plunders sometimes strangers
and neighbours, enemies and friends, provided they are not
actually in his own tent; in general, thieves convicted of
robbery against a fellow clansman are expelled from their
tribe and outlawed, a punishment which they fear more than
death. Associations are frequently formed for the plun¬
der of caravans, or of the cultivators who dwell in vil¬
lages, whose cattle they carry off, and sometimes, though
very rarely, their young women. In those cases they
proceed with a considerable force. Their chief object,
however, being still plunder, the great point of Arab
tactics is to surprise the enemy’s encampment, and to
carry off the cattle and the camels. They seldom en¬
gage in any sanguinary conflicts ; for though the Arab,
in facing the enemies of his country, behaves like a
brave soldier, he is a mere poltroon in his plundering
expeditions; and the caravan travellers and peasants
frequently put to flight three times their own number
of those wandering robbers. In undertaking an expedi¬
tion for plunder at the distance of ten or twenty days’
journey, every horseman who is of the party chooses a
companion, who is mounted on a young and strong ca¬
mel, and who carries a provision of food and water. He
mounts behind this companion, that his mare may be
fresh and vigorous at the moment of attack. In approach¬
ing the enemy’s camp, the horsemen advance, leaving
their followers and the camels behind, with instructions
to await their arrival. The horsemen are sometimes all
destroyed in the expedition; and they are at other times
separated from their followers who carry the provisions,
and either inevitably perish in the barren plain, or sub¬
mit to be stript and plundered by their enemies. In
the most inveterate wars of the Arabs the women are in¬
variably respected ; and neither men, women, nor slaves,
B I A. 349
are taken prisoners. Night attacks are generally avoid- Arabia,
ed, lest during the confusion the women’s apartments
should be entered, which would produce a desperate re¬
sistance, and probably in the end a general massacre—an
extremity which the Arabs always try to avoid. The at¬
tack of a camp seldom occasions any great loss of lives, be¬
cause no opposition is offered to superior numbers; and a
Bedouin, except in avenging blood, never puts to death an
unresisting foe. In flying from his enemy, an Arab may
save his life by throwing himself from his horse and asking
for mercy; but he saves it at the expense of his honour, and
loses his horse and all his clothes, while his enemy will
ever after triumph over him. The more spirited of the
Arabs defy their adversary, while he pursues them, call¬
ing out repeatedly, “ Howel, howel,” get down, get down,
and who, when his call is not obeyed, wounds or kills his
enemy with a thrust of his lance. Among some of the
Arab tribes it is the practice to steal unobserved on the
enemy’s encampment during the night, and knocking
down the principal tent-poles, to drive off the cattle amid
the confusion.
But the Arabs often undertake merely thieving expe¬
ditions, in which they steal from friend and foe. The
mode in which these are conducted affords some curi¬
ous details of manners. In such enterprises ten or
twelve persons usually engage, and clothe themselves
in rags, to make their ransom easier if they should
be taken. When they approach the camp which they
intend to rob, three of the most daring advance about
midnight, when its inmates, who seldom plant sentinels,
are buried in sleep. One of the thieves now endea¬
vours to excite the attention of the watch-dogs. When
they attack him he flies, and draws them off to a great
distance, by which the camp is left unprotected. Another,
called el haramy, or the robber, advancing towards the
camels that are upon their knees before the tent, cuts the
strings that confine their legs, when they rise and walk,
as all unloaded camels do, without the least noise. One
of the she camels being then led out of the camp, all the
others follow. The third actor in the robbery watches
at the tent door with a long and heavy bludgeon, with
which he knocks down any of the inmates who may come
forth. It often happens that as many as fifty camels are
stolen in this manner, and driven away by forced march¬
es during the night to a safe distance. In many cases,
however, the robbers are surrounded and seized; and the
mode of treating these prisoners is extremely curious, and
is a proof how powerfully these fierce barbarians are influ¬
enced by prejudice and immemorial usage. It is an esta¬
blished custom among the Arabs, that if any person who
is in actual danger from another can touch a third per¬
son, or any inanimate thing which the other has in his
hands, or if he can touch him by spitting or throwing a
stone at him, and at the same time exclaims “ I am thy
protected,” he is bound to grant him the protection which
he requires. This law, however absurd and capricious,
seems naturally to arise out of scenes of violence, the evils
of which it is calculated to soften. A prisoner detected in
the act of plundering anxiously looks about for a pro¬
tector, while the inmates of the tent are equally desirous
to deprive him of this privilege, The person who first
seizes him demands on what business he is come, accom¬
panying his question by blows on the head. “ I came to
rob—God has overthrown me,” is the common answer.
The captor (the robot), binding the hands and feet ot his
prisoner, and calling in the people of his tribe, addresses
him, saying, “ renounce;” and the robber, fearing a con¬
tinuation of the blows, answers, “ I renounce,” namely,
the benefit of any protector. But this renunciation being
only valid for a day, the prisoner is secured in a hole dug
350 A R A
Arabia, in the ground, about two feet deep, and large enough to
contain him. Here he is laid, his feet chained to the
earth, his hands tied, and his twisted hair fastened to two
stakes on both sides of his head. Some tent-poles are
then laid across this temporary grave, and corn-sacks and
other heavy articles heaped upon them; a small open¬
ing being only left, through which he may breathe. Thus
buried alive, the prisoner does not despair; and cus¬
toms that are established among the Arabs sometimes fa¬
vour his escape. If from his hole he can contrive to spit
into the face of a man or a child, or if he receive a mor¬
sel of bread from a child, he claims the privilege of being
protected. His mother or his sister sometimes contrive
to enter the camp in which he is confined, in the disguise
of a beggar. Approaching during the night the hole where
he lies confined, and throwing a thread of worsted over
his face, they guide it to his mouth, or fasten it to his
foot; and by this token he knows that help is at hand.
The woman winding off the thread, retires to some neigh¬
bouring tent, and awakening the owner, and placing the
thread on his breast, addresses him in these words:
“ Look on me by the love thou bearest to God and thy
own self—this is under thy protection.” The Arab com¬
prehends at once the object of this nocturnal visit, rises,
winds up the thread, and being thus guided to the tent of
the prisoner, awakens the captor, and showing the thread
still held by the prisoner, claims him as his “ protected.”
The right of freedom is at once allowed; the thongs
which tied his hair are cut, his fetters are taken off, and
he is entertained by the captor as his guest with all
the honours of Arab hospitality. A prisoner sometimes
remains for six months under this rigorous custody, al¬
ways concealing his real name, and giving himself out for
a poor beggar. He is generally discovered, however,
when he must pay as a ransom all his property in horses,
camels, sheep, tents, provisions, and baggage. In many
cases a sum is agreed upon for his ransom, and he goes
to his tribe to collect it, or find a surety for the payment.
If he cannot collect the necessary sum among his friends,
he is bound to go back to his prison; and he seldom
fails either to pay or to return. A father considers his
son to have acquired high honour in being detained as a
robber, and he willingly redeems him with his whole pro¬
perty, which he hopes to recover in some future expedi¬
tion.
Nobility of The Arabs are remarkable above all the nations of the
Arabia. earth for the spirit of clanship and for pride of family.
The scheiks, or the rulers and nobles who govern Ara¬
bia, glory in their ancestry, which they can trace with un¬
doubted accuracy to a long line of princes. Nobility of
birth, which cannot be communicated by the smile of
kings, is the true distinction of the Arabian aristocracy;
and no scheik would exchange his title for any distinc¬
tion depending on court favour. Those genuine nobles,
who dwell in tents, look with contempt on the dwell¬
ers in cities, as a race debased by foreign alliances,
which they hold in such contempt, that a scheik, if
he were forced from poverty to marry his daughter
to a citizen, would consider himself disgraced by the
match. Besides the scheiks there are the sherifs or
sejids, or, in the Mahometan countries to the north of
Arabia, the emirs. These are the descendants of Ma¬
homet, who hold the first rank among the great families
of Arabia, and who receive the double honour that is due
to splendid descent and superior sanctity. The title of
sherifs distinguishes them from the scheiks, the com¬
mon order of Arabian nobility. They are multiplied over
all Mahometan countries. Whole villages are peopled
with them, and they are frequently found in the lowest
state of misery. The sherifs of the Hedjaz, who were
B I A.
once numerous, but are now reduced to a few families in Arabia,
Mecca, have never contaminated their pure blood by''-*~\~v.
strange alliances; and they are esteemed above all the
other descendants of the prophet. The presence of a
sherif commands universal respect. In a fray no arm
would violate his person ; his property requires no protec¬
tion ; the sanctity of his character supplies the place of
bolts and bars, and scares away the boldest thieves.
From these sherifs are chosen the rulers of Mecca and
its adjacent territories, extending for about 250 miles along
the coast, from Yembo on the north, to Haly or Gonfode
on the south. Before the country was conquered by
the Wahabys, and again by the Turkish troops under
Mohammed Ali, they possessed the power of sovereigns
within their dominions ; and though they held their autho¬
rity ostensibly under the grand signior, being installed in
their office by an investiture of a pelisse from Constanti¬
nople, thus formally acknowledging themselves his ser¬
vants, and praying for him in the great mosque, they were
in reality elected by the powerful sherif families resident
at Mecca, and they ruled according to the constitutional
maxims of the desert, merely as Bedouin chiefs. The
Arab tribes looked upon them as one of their own scheiks,
the head of the family or clan ; and they followed them in
war under their own immediate chiefs, without receiving
pay. In this manner Ghaleb, the last sherif, was accom¬
panied in his wars against the Wahabys by 6000 or 8000
Bedouin Arabs. A system of well-regulated freedom was
not to be expected from the rude policy of wandering
shepherds, and the Arab chiefs accordingly own no re¬
straint on their authority. But the rigour of despotic
sway is softened by the influence of manners; and the
independent princes of Mecca, in the pride of sovereignty,
still acknowledge the ties which bind them to the simple
Bedouins of the desert. The sherif descendants of Ma¬
homet who reside at Mecca retain a singular practice
of sending every male child, eight days after it is born, to
the tents of some wandering tribe. Here he remains
till his 8th or 10th year, when he is able to mount a steed,
and sometimes till his 13th or 15th year. During all this
period he only pays one short visit to his father’s house,
in his sixth month, when his foster-mother returns with
him to her tribe. The boy is trained by those shepherds
in all warlike exercises: he shares in their hardships and
perils, is familiarized with their manners, and acquires their
pure language, and a lasting influence over them; while
his affections, awakened at an age when the mind is pe¬
culiarly susceptible, still attach him to the scenes of the
desert and the companions of his youth. The tent of a
Bedouin shepherd is in this manner the constitutional
school of an Arabian prince, in which he imbibes the
maxims by which he afterwards rules the state. Some
of the sherif boys become so fond of their foster-parents
that they can scarcely be reconciled to their fathers’
house; and they have been sometimes known, after being
settled at home, to escape to their friends in the desert.
“ The Bedouins,” says Burckhardt, “ in whose tent a sherif
had been educated, were ever after treated by him with the
same respect as his own parents or brethren: he called
them respectively father, mother, brother. Whenever
they came to Mecca they lodged at his house, and never
left it without receiving presents. He considered him¬
self during his life as belonging to the encampment in
which he had passed his early years; he termed its in¬
habitants ‘ our people,’ or ‘ our family,’ took the kindest
interest in their various fortunes; and, when at leisure,
often paid them a visit during the spring months, and
sometimes accompanied them in their wanderings and
their wars.” Sherif Ghaleb, whose reign was terminated
by Mohammed Ali in 1815, was remarkably attentive to
4
ARABIA.
351
Arabia, his Bedouin friends. They alighted at his house in Mecca
^^just as they alight at the tent of a scheik in any Arab en¬
campment of the desert; and when they departed, their
sacks were filled with provisions for the road. On their
arrival he used to rise from his seat and embrace them,
though they were in the same mean attire as the other
inhabitants of the desert. Many of the sherifs are also
married to Bedouin girls.
A sherif was generally succeeded by his relative,
whether son, brother, or cousin, who had the strongest
party, or the public voice in his favour ; but it was seldom
that an election took place without a violent contest, which
frequently ended in bloodshed and civil broils. These,
however, were carried on according to the laws of the
desert, and they were seldom of long duration. The hap¬
piness of the people under these sherifs always depends
on the personal character of the ruler. There are no tri¬
bunals to which the oppressed can fly for redress, and a
sherif may harass his subjects to any extent by his ex¬
tortions. He may imprison the refractory, and even put
them to death, without endangering his authority. Such
is the despotic character of all eastern governments.
In the Ottoman provinces the dignity of sherif is less re¬
spected, though even in Turkey they enjoy some substantial
privileges. In the towns where they reside, the sherif or
emir is subject, not to the pacha, but to a member of his
own family, who is denominated nakib or general of the
sherifs. Besides the scheiks and sherifs there is ano¬
ther branch of nobility at Mecca, who have an hereditary
right to certain employments at the mosque, and who
have a strong inducement to preserve an exact record of
their genealogy. These are certain families descended
from the tribe of Koreish, who hold the office of keeper of
the keys of Kaaba, which is the most important office about
the mosque, and was often an object of contention among
the ancient Arabian tribes; and others who are muftis,
or are employed in other capacities, and who, to preserve
their title to these envied privileges, can show a faithful
record of their ancestors for ten centuries back. There
were formerly 12 other illustrious families of the tribe of
Koreish, who are now reduced to three.1
vorn- Arabia is divided into numerous petty states, governed
by independent chiefs or scheiks, who are, strictly speak¬
ing, the heads of families; and the paternal government
thus supplies the model of the Arabian institutions. The
lather is in all cases the natural ruler of his own family;
and though the tie be necessarily weakened as families
multiply, yet the relations of kindred and of blood are still
acknowledged, and all the descendants unite in paying re¬
spect and reverence to their common head. An assemblage
of families constitutes a tribe; and all the scheiks of the same
tribe acknowledge a common chief, who is called the schech
es scheuch, or the scheik of scheiks, or the grand scheik or
prince, who rules over the whole. The dignity of the grand
scheik is hereditary in the family ; but it is so far elective
that he is chosen by the inferior scheiks, from the whole
members of the reigning family, without regard to seniority
or lineal succession : his only distinction is his qualification
for the office. The right of election, as well as other pri¬
vileges which belong to the inferior scheiks, obliges the
grand scheik to treat them rather as associates than as
subjects, and in some measure to share with them his so¬
vereign authority. If they are aggrieved by him, they
depose him, or emigrate with their cattle to other tribes;
and in this manner many powerful tribes have been weak¬
ened, while the number and the power of others have been
augmented.
The scheik has in fact no acknowledged or formal autho- Arabia,
nty over his tribe. His commands would be treated with
contempt, and his advice only is received with the de¬
ference due to experience and talent. “ The prerogative of
the scheik, says Burckhardt, “ consists in leading his
tribe against an enemy, in conducting negotiations for
peace or war, in fixing the spot for encampments, in en-
teitaining strangers of note ; and even these privileges are
much limited. The scheik cannot declare war or conclude
peace without consulting the chief men of his tribe. If he
wish to break up the camp, he must previously ask the
opinions of his people concerning the security of the roads,
and the sufficiency of pasture and water in the districts to
which he directs his view. Thus he strikes his tent and
loads his camels without desiring any one to do so; but
when they know that the scheik is setting out, his Arabs
hasten to join him.” The Arabs are jealous of authority,
and their freedom borders on anarchy. The Bedouin ac¬
knowledges no master but the Lord of the universe ; and
the most powerful chief, by inflicting punishment on the
poorest man of his tribe, is exposed to the mortal vengeance
of himself or his relations. A scheik, in place of deriving a
yearly income from his tribe, is bound to show liberality,
especially in his treatment of strangers ; to maintain the
poor, and to divide among his friends whatever presents
be may receive. The only revenue possessed by the
northern chiefs is the tribute which they extort from the
Syrian villages, and from the pilgrim caravan to Mecca.
Among the numerous principalities in the south of Arabia,
the scheik or imam imposes a land tax and a poll tax, also
port and transit duties on all articles of merchandise, some
of which, as on coffee, are very heavy. These duties on
goods are not, as they have been sometimes considered,
a mere ransom from pillage, but a tax and an acknow¬
ledgement of the paramount authority of the prince.
Among so many petty sovereignties wars frequently arise,
from the ambition or jarring interests of the different
chiefs. The more powerful princes frequently oppress
their weaker neighbours; and in the fertile districts of the
country extensive monarchies have arisen from conquest
or religious prejudices, on the ruin of the smaller states.
Of these are the dominions of the sherif of Mecca, and
of the imams of Sana and Mascat; many sherifs are under
the control of the Bedouins. In some cases these smaller
states have associated for their common defence; and,
from the disunion or hostility of its various tribes, the
country has been in all ages a scene of rapine and intes¬
tine wars. In later times the rise of the Wahaby power
crushed all the inferior chiefs, and on their ruins had
arisen a powerful empire, which was overthrown by the
Egyptian army of Mohammed Ali.
The Arabs, though they enjoy a rude independence, Adminis-
have made little progress in the arts and institutions oftration of
civil life. In administering justice, they resort to thejustice-
most barbarous expedients. The scheik has not the power
of enforcing obedience to any sentence if it is not agreed
to by the parties. The kady, so often mentioned by the
Arabian writers, is the only judge; and such of them as
still remain are famed for being expert in the laws and
customs of the nation, and for their integrity. The office
of kady continues in one family, but is not confined to any
individual, a choice being made of the fittest person in
the family by the other kadys of friendly tribes, as well
as by the people of his own tribe. The kady is paid by
the litigating parties ; but all the judges, especially those
in towns, are open to bribery, and justice is sold to the
highest bidder. In cases where the witnesses directly
1 Burckhardt’s Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. p. 12J.
352 A R A
Arabia, contradict each other, some superstitious ordeal is used
^-^v^^to discover the truth. A particular judge is appointed for
cases which must be decided by supernatural means. He
directs that a fire shall be kindled before him : “ he then,”
says Burckhardt, “ takes a long iron spoon, used by the
Arabs in roasting coffee, and having made it red-hot in
the fire, he takes it out, and licks with his tongue the
upper end of the spoon on both sides. He then replaces
it in the fire, and commands the accused person first to
wash his mouth with water, and next to lick it as he had
done. If the accused escape without injury to his tongue
he is supposed innocent; if he suffer from the hot iron
he loses his cause. The Arabs ascribed this wonderful
escape, not to the Almighty protector of innocence, but to
the devil.” In all cases of manslaughter or murder where
the fact is denied, this superstitious ordeal is appealed to,
and no other mode of trial admitted. Where the parties
refuse the decision of the judge, they resume their ori¬
ginal right of avenging their own quarrel; and a strife
of this nature once begun, and producing blood-shed,
leads to a long series of cruel retaliations.
Among the Arabs crimes of every description are pu¬
nished by fines; corporal punishments are entirely un¬
known ; and there are no prisons to circumscribe the free¬
dom of the desert. For every offence a fine is fixed in the
kady’s court, which is rigidly exacted: all insulting ex¬
pressions or acts of violence, from a slight blow to wound¬
ing and the effusion of blood, have their respective penal¬
ties. They adopt the following singular mode of ascer¬
taining the fine payable for killing a watch-dog: The dead
dog is held up by the tail, so that its mouth just touches
the ground; its length is then measured 'by means of a
stick, which is fixed in the earth, and the offender is ob¬
liged to pour out over the stick as much wheat as will
wholly cover it, which is then given to the owner of the
dog. The form observed by an Arab in summoning wit¬
nesses is by exclaiming, “ Bear thou witness, O 
or he may touch their arms with his hand, which is con¬
sidered as a summons to give testimony. Where a party
is accused of a crime, and there are no witnesses, the
matter is referred to his oath. The judicial oaths of
the Arabs have different degrees of sanctity; and for
certain oaths they have a superstitious veneration, which
induces them to tell the truth. One of the most com¬
mon oaths is for a party to take hold with one hand of
the middle tent-pole, and to swear “ by the life of this
tent and its owners.” The following oath is often taken be¬
fore the kady: A small piece of wood or some straw is
presented to him who has to swear, with these words,
“ Take the wood, and swear by God, and the life of him
who caused it to be green, and dried it up.” Another
oath, even more solemn, is the “ oath of the cross lines,”
where the accuser leads the person accused of theft or
any other crime to a distance from the camp, on account
of the magical nature of the oath; and with his crooked
knife drawing on the sand a large circle, with many cross
lines inside of it, and obliging the defendant to place his
right foot within the circle, he himself doing the same,
he addresses him in the following words, which the accus¬
ed is obliged to repeat: “ By God, and in God, and
through God, I swear I did not take it, and it is not in
my possession.”
A singular institution, that of the wady or guardian,
prevails among the Arab tribes. An Arab may in the
prime of life request a friend to act as guardian to his
children. If he accepts the trust, his friend presents him¬
self before him with a she-camel; and leading it over to
him, says, “ I constitute you guardian for my children,
and your children for my children, and your grandchil¬
dren for my grandchildren.” In this manner one family
B I A.
is constituted the hereditary protectors of another family; Arabia,
and thus this fierce and warlike community, the prey of'^v-v;
continual dissension, is held together by its own peculiar
ties, domestic as well as political. To the weak, such as
minors, women, and old men, the system of guardianship
affords some security, however imperfect, against the op¬
pression of the strong.
The Arabs are naturally a jealous and haughty people. Law otre.
They betray the quickest sensibility to an affront or in-venge
jury, and carry the principle of revenge to the great-k1001^
est excess. They consider the redress of their own
wrongs as equally a duty and a privilege; and there are
certain affronts and trifling violations of punctilio, which
can only be expiated by the blood of the offender. To
spit beside another is considered an insult which must
be avenged; and Niebuhr mentions the case of an Arab
who was so highly incensed at one of his neighbours for
accidentally spitting on his beard, that he was with great
difficulty appeased, although the offender humbly asked
pardon, and kissed his beard in token of submission. If
one scheik says to another with a serious air, “ Thy
bonnet is dirty,” or “ The wrong side of thy turban is
out,” it is considered a mortal offence. Murder is the
deepest injury that can be committed; and the Arab
code regulates the revenge for blood by the nicest
rules. It is a universal maxim, that he who sheds blood
owes on that account blood to the family of the slain
person; and this debt may be required not only from
the actual murderer, but from all his relations. These
claims constitute the right of ihdr, or of “ blood re¬
venge.” In the case of a slain parent, the fifth genera¬
tion of his lineal descendants inherit the sacred duty of
avenging his blood on a corresponding series of descen¬
dants on the other side; and this right is never lost by
prescription, but descends to the latest posterity. If the
death of the person killed is retaliated on one only of the
murderei’’s family, the account is considered to be cleared,
though mutual hatred soon renews the quarrel. If two
of the murderer's family be killed by the relations of the
deceased, the former retaliates ; “ the interest and prin¬
cipal of the bloody debt,” says the great Roman histo¬
rian, are accumulated; the individuals of either family
lead a life of malice and suspicion; and fifty years may
sometimes elapse before the account of vengeance be
finally settled.” But a murder may be compounded for
money. The nearest relations of the persons slain may
accept the price of blood, which varies among the different
tribes from 1000 piasters, or L.50, to 500 piasters. Among
the Aenezes the blood of one of the tribe is compensated
by 50 she-camels, one riding camel, a mare, a black
stone, a coat of mail, and a gun ; though it is seldom that
all these articles are required: that of a stranger by the
price paid in the stranger’s tribe. The matter being fi¬
nally settled, a she-camel is brought by the homicide to
the tent of his adversary, and there killed, the blood
being supposed to expiate that of the person slain. The
hostile parties feast upon this camel; and at parting, the
homicide flourishes a white handkerchief on his lance, as
an emblem of his purity from guilt. Some of the great
scheiks, however, account it shameful, and contrary to
the true spirit of the Arab law, to compound the price of
blood; and they invariably refuse to commute into a fine
the sacred duty of revenge. Niebuhr mentions that he
was visited by an Arabian of distinction at Loheia, who
was bound to avenge the murder of a relation, and who
told him that he was often haunted in his sleep by the
fear of meeting his enemy. In the course of the conti¬
nual wars in which the Arabs are involved, debts of blood
are frequently incurred. The blood of those who are kill¬
ed in the heat of battle is required at the hands of their
i
*
A K A B I A.
Arabia.
'ents*
enemies; and when any tribe violates the laws of war by
^slaughtering their enemies as they lie wounded on the
field, the hostile tribe retaliate by killing double the num¬
ber of their enemies with the same circumstances of cruel¬
ty ; and hence long and bloody animosities frequently
arise.
The tent of the Arab is covered with pieces of stuff
made of goats’ hair stitched together, which afford a com¬
plete shelter against the heaviest rain. The tent is di¬
vided into two parts, one for the men, and the other for
the women, whose respective apartments are separated
by a white woollen carpet of Damascus manufacture,
drawn across the tent, and fastened to the three middle
parts. The men’s apartment is covered with a good Per¬
sian or Bagdad carpet; the women’s apartment is the
receptacle for all the rubbish of the tent, the cooking
utensils, the butter, and water-skins, &c. The height of
the tent is seven feet, its length from 25 to 30 feet, and
its breadth about 10 feet. The articles of the tent con¬
sist of saddles and camel furnishings; large bags for holding
water, made of tanned camel-skin; goai-skins for holding
camel’s milk, wheat-sacks made of wool or goat-hair ; the
leather bucket for bringing up water from deep wells; a
large copper, the mortar, the hand-mill, wooden dishes,
the coffee-pot, the iron chain which fastens the horse’s
fore-feet while he pastures about the camp. They have no
chairs throughout the East, the universal practice being
to sit cross-legged. .In the Arabian towns the houses
are built of stone, and have always terrace roofs. The
houses of the tribes on the banks of the Euphrates are
formed of the branches of the date-tree, and have a round
roof covered with rush mats.
The dress of the Arabs is a coarse cotton shirt, over
which the wealthy throw a long gown of silk or cotton
stuff. Most of them, however, only wear over their shirt
a thin, light, and white woollen mantle, or one of a coarser
or heavier kind, striped white and brown. The mantles
worn by the scheiks are interwoven with gold, and some¬
times may be worth L.10 sterling. Some of the most
considerable tribes, as the Aenezes, do not wear drawers,
which are reckoned shameful for a man ; and they usually
walk and ride barefooted, even the richest of them, al¬
though they greatly esteem yellow boots and red shoes.
They wear on their head a square kerchief of cotton: a
few rich scheiks wear shawls of Damascus or of Bagdad
manufacture. In winter they wear over the shirt a pe¬
lisse made of several sheep-skins stitched together. Many
wear these skins even in summer, as they are taught by
experience that thick clothing is a defence against the
sun s rays. The Arab endures with wonderful constancy
the extremes both of heat and cold. In winter he sleeps
barefooted in an open tent, where the fire is not kept
up beyond midnight; and in summer on the burning sand,
under the intense rays of the sun. The dress of the wo¬
men consists of a wide cotton gown of a dark colour—
blue, brown, or black—and on their heads a kerchief. Sil¬
ver rings are much worn by the Aeneze women, both in
their ears and noses. They wear glass or silver bracelets,
of various colours, round their wrists and their ancles, and
silver chains about the neck. They go barefooted at all
seasons. I he women wear over their faces a dark-coloured
vei *'Thif conceals the mouth and chin. Near Mecca
and 1 ayf, and beyond these places southward, both men
and women dress most commonly in leather. They both
weai a leather apron round their loins, the women a
aiger one than the men, reaching down to their ancles,
ant adorned with many tassels. In summer the men
wear no other clothing.
Ihe diet of the Arabs consists everywhere of flour
and butter, variously made ready. Unleavened paste of
VOL. m. 1
353
floui and water, baked in ashes of camel’s dung, and mix- Arabia,
ed up afterwards with a little butter, and thoroughly
kneaded, is served up in a bowl of wood and leather,
r our and sour camel s milk, made into a paste and boiled
(Me m/esh), is the daily and universal dish of the Aenezes.
Bread baked in cakes is used at breakfast. Bread, butter,
and dates, are also mixed together into a paste. JBur-
gout, the common dish of the Syrian Arabs, is wheat boiled
with some leaves, and then dried in the sun; it is pre¬
served for a year, and served up with butter and oil. The
Arabs never indulge in luxuries, except on a festival, or
the arrival of some stranger; and the richest scheik would
think it a shame to order his wife to dress any rare dish
merely to please his palate. For a guest of distinction a
kid or lamb is prepared, and for one of less consideration
coffee or bread with melted butter. In Hedjaz, or the
hilly district of Arabia near the Red Sea, the usual dish
is Indian rice, mixed with lentils, and without any bread;
and in the districts where the date grows it forms the
chief sustenance of the inhabitants. In Nedjed, Hedjaz,
and Yemen, the Arabs use butter to excess. They fre¬
quently swallow a whole cupful of butter before break¬
fast, and alL their food swims in butter. The constant
exercise and motion to which they are accustomed so
strengthens their powers of digestion, that they can en¬
dure without injury the extremes of excess and want.
They can live for months on the smallest allowance, or
devour at a sitting the flesh of half a lamb. Butter is
made from the milk of sheep and goats ; but never, except
in cases of necessity, from that of camels. Among many
of the Arab tribes it is considered shameful to sell any
butter, or among the Bedouins near Mecca to sell milk;
yet the Beni Koreish, one of the most noble of the Ara¬
bian tribes, freely supply the inhabitants of Mecca with
milk.
Hospitality, the virtue of rude nations, is practised Hospita-
among all the Arab tribes, and no violation of its duties
was ever known. When a stranger alights at the tent,
the host, or in his absence the wife or daughter, spreads
a carpet for him and prepares the hospitable meal. If
he remains any time his aid is expected in the domes¬
tic business of the tent, in fetching water, milking the
camel, or feeding the horse. But he may neglect these
duties and still remain, though he will be censured
for ingratitude; or he may go to another tent, where
he will receive a hearty welcome; and every third or
fourth day may change his residence, and be comfort¬
ably entertained during his stay, however long it may
be. The greatest insult that can be offered to an Arab,
is to tell him that he does not treat his guests well.
Among some tribes women never eat or drink coffee
in the presence of a man; and in this case some male
relation, in the absence of the host, does the duties of
hospitality. In the plain of Hauran, southward of Da¬
mascus, the wives and daughters of the Arabs may drink
coffee with the strangers upon their arrival; and in the
mountainous districts south of Mecca, towards Yemen,
women are allowed, in the absence of their husbands, to
entertain a guest, and to sit up with him.
The Arabs are not so dissolute in their morals as most Law of
of the nations in the East. They are generally content marriage,
with one wife: instances of conjugal infidelity are not
common, and public prostitution is not seen in their camps.
Yet they are far from being duly impressed with the sa¬
cred tie of marriage, which may be at any time dissolv¬
ed at the pleasure of the husband; and this facility of
divorce relaxes morality, though, to some extent, the
manners correct the laws. A Bedouin, aware that a
divorce is always in his power, contracts a temporary
marriage of a few weeks; and it is not uncommon for a
2 Y
354
ARABIA.
Arabia, man, before he has attained the age of 40 or 45, to have
had 50 wives. The wife also, if she is ill used, may fly
for refuge to her father’s tent, whence she cannot be re¬
claimed by her husband. Yet among the Bedouins many
instances are found of conjugal fidelity and love. This rash
dissolution of the marriage union is frequently fatal to the
peace of one or of both parties. In 1815, Burckhardt men¬
tions that a Bedouin of the Syrian desert, who had di¬
vorced his wife, and who was present at her second mar¬
riage, shot himself in a fit of distraction, the moment he
saw the new husband enter the marriage chamber. The
Wahaby ruler Saoud exerted all his authority to prevent
the frequent divorces of the Arabs, by disgracing at court,
or otherwise punishing, any man who either divorced
his wife or used the expression Aley et talak, “ I shall
divorce,” which, according to the Arab law or custom, can¬
not be revoked. Polygamy is permitted, but is not com¬
mon, among the Arabs, owing chiefly to their poverty.
The richer scheiks, however, indulge in a plurality of wives.
The marriage ceremony among the Aenezes and most of
the Arab tribes is extremely simple. The lover generally
commences, through a common friend, a negotiation with
the father of the girl; and if she is pleased, the friend,
holding the father’s hand, says, “ You declare that you give
your daughter as wife to to which the father as¬
senting, the bridegroom comes on the marriage day with
a lamb in his arms to the tent of his betrothed, and by
cutting its throat before witnesses he completes the
marriage ceremony. After the usual rejoicings the bride¬
groom retires after sunset to a tent at a distance from
the camp, while the bride, in her maiden timidity, runs
from tent to tent, struggling, kicking, and even biting
those who attempt to conduct her to the bridegroom’s
chamber.
Riteofcir- The rite of circumcision is still practised among the
cumcision. Arabs, and is the occasion of a great festival. All the
boys are generally circumcised on the same day. Each
man of the encampment kills at least one sheep in honour
of his son, and the whole tribe feast on this abundant
cheer. The men exhibit equestrian exercises and warlike
evolutions; while the young women join in the national
airs, and sometimes removing their veils, allow their lovers
a hasty glance of their beauty as they pass. There are,
besides, the festivals of Ramadhan and of the sacrifice of
Arafat, where the same exercises are exhibited.
Mechani- The Arabs are no great proficients in arts or indus-
cal arts, li-try^ their only artists being a few blacksmiths to shoe
teiature, ]10rseS) an(j saddlers for the leather work. The arts
of tanning and weaving are practised, the first by the
men, the latter by the women. Of reading and writing
all the Bedouins throughout Arabia are equally ignorant.
The Wahaby chiefs were at pains to instruct them, and
sent teachers among the different tribes, but with little
effect. Nor have they made any progress in science or
literature. In the first, their knowledge is confined to the
names of the constellations and planets. Their literature
consists in romantic tales of love and war, in which they
delight; and the minstrel’s strain frequently beguiles the
evenings of an Arab encampment. Verses are recited or
sung, and the voice is accompanied by a species of guitar,
the only musical instrument which they possess. They
have national airs also for female singers, which are chant¬
ed in choruses of six, eight, or ten voices, at some dis¬
tance from the camp, in the solitude and silence of the
desert. Many of the Arabian poets can neither read
nor write, yet compose verses of exact measure, gram¬
matically correct, and neither destitute of sentiment
nor poetical beauty. Eloquence has from time imme¬
morial been considered a necessary qualification of an
Arab statesman: no scheik, however brave, can ever
attain to influence among the Arabs without this talent. Arabia.
The language of Arabia is derived from the same original
stock with the Hebrew, the Syriac, and the Chaldean
tongues. Each tribe has its own peculiar dialect, but, by
universal consent, the palm of elegance and purity has
been, and still continues to be, assigned to the idiom of
Mecca.
The preceding details exhibit in no very favourable Mora! cha.
view the moral character of the Arabs; and the boastedracterof
virtues of the desert, when they are calmly estimated,
seem to resolve into the observance of certain rules ll0Ulns•
or prejudices, without which no community can exist,
however rude or lawless. The thieves and outcasts of
civilized society are linked together by certain ties of
good faith, without which all concert would be impossible
even for their own evil ends ; and the honour that prevails
among the Arabs seems not to be of a much higher quality.
They are, according to the accounts of all travellers,
immoderately fond of gain, which they do not scruple to
procure by the basest means. “ Lying, cheating, in¬
triguing, and other vices arising from this source, are as
prevalent in the desert as in any of the market-towns of
Syria; and on the common occasions of buying and sell¬
ing, where his dakheil (oath) is not required, the word of
an Arab is not entitled to more credit than the oath of a
broker in the bazaar of Aleppo.” An Arab will defend his
guest at the peril of his own life; he will submit with re¬
signation to the most cruel reverses of fortune; and at
Mecca, during the pilgrimage, the true Bedouin of the
desert, unlike the other pilgrims, disdains to ask alms,
and always lives by his own industry, however precarious
or humble. On the other hand, in pursuing the trade
of rapine, he seems to be degraded, by his thievish,
cruel, and treacherous habits, to the lowest rank of bar¬
barism. In their familiar conversation the Arabs are
free, sprightly, jocose, and decent. They are not re¬
served or silent, according to the report of some travel¬
lers, except perhaps in their journeys through the de¬
sert, where much speaking excites thirst, and parches the
mouth. In their tents they are indolent, all that they
do being to feed the horse, or milk the camels in the
evening. The herds and flocks are committed to the care
of a shepherd hired for the purpose; and the husband
goes out to hunt with his hawk, or to amuse himself
in any other manner that pleases him; while the wife
and daughters are engaged in the household cares, in
grinding the wheat with the hand-mill or pounding it in
the mortar, in kneading and baking the bread, making
butter, fetching water, working at the loom, or mending
the tent-covering. They are patterns of industry, yet
they are not allowed to eat with the men, and only par¬
take in their own apartments (the meharreni) of what
they leave. If a lamb is killed, they seldom taste, except
some of the worst parts, which the men are not able to
eat. This degradation of the women is common to the
Arabs with other Asiatic nations, and is a true feature of
oriental barbarism.
The small-pox continues to make serious ravages among Diseases,
the Bedouins, and to depopulate whole encampments.
Inoculation is resorted to with benefit, and the practice of
vaccination has extended over Syria. Obstructions and
indurations of the stomach, occasioned by the use of
camel’s milk, are common; but these complaints are alle¬
viated by the purging qualities of the brackish water of
the desert: also fevers, both intermittent and inflam¬
matory; and the burning with a hot iron is here, as in
the former case, the approved cure. Ophthalmic disorders
are frequent, and leprosy, which is hereditary in families,
and cannot be eradicated. It commences with white spots,
as large as the hand, which appear on various parts of the
ARABIA.
Arabia, body, without rising above the skin. If the white spots
—^ appear on the cheek, the beard commonly falls off: the un¬
fortunate sufferer is held in universal abhorrence. The tooth¬
ache is unknown among the Arabs, who have all the most
beautiful teeth.
owns. The chief towns of Arabia are situated either on the
coast of the Red Sea, or in the range of mountains which
runs parallel to its shores. They are, Medina, with Yembo
its sea-port; farther south, between 200 and 300 miles,
Mecca, with Djidda its sea-port; Tayf, east of Mecca;
still farther sbuth among the mountains, Sada, Sanaa, and
on the coast of the Red Sea, Gonfode, Loheia, Hodeida, and
Mocha; Derayeh is in the interior, and Mascat on the
coast of the Persian Gulf. The population of the towns
consists chiefly of foreign traders, who follow the customs
of the place, but seldom imbibe the national spirit. Hence
they form an entirely different class from the Bedouin
Arabs. They have their faults without their virtues, are
dissolute in their manners, and addicted to the grossest
vices. The commerce and religion of Arabia concur to
bring together in the towns a mixed population from the
most remote parts of the world.
’ommerce. Arabia has few manufactures, for a supply of which it
is therefore dependent on its foreign trade. From its
central position, however, and its contiguity to the shores
of the Red Sea, in former times the only navigable com¬
munication between Asia and Europe, it has always been
a great entrepot for the commodities of other countries.
In the ancient world it was the medium of intercourse be¬
tween India and Europe, and still continues to enjoy a por¬
tion of this commerce.
The sea-port of Djidda, on the Red Sea, seems to be the
great emporium of the Arabian trade. Thither resort the
annual fleets from Calcutta, Surat, and Bombay, about the
beginning of May. They bring piece goods, Cashmere
shawls, cocoa-nuts, rice, sugar, drugs of all sorts; small
articles of Indian manufacture, such as china-ware, costly
collections of which are often displayed by the rich inhabi¬
tants ; hardware, pipes, beads, wooden spoons, glass beads,
knives, rosaries, mirrors, cards, &c. See Djidda.
In Arabia, as in most other eastern countries where pro¬
perty is not protected, capital is slowly accumulated, and is
in general far from abundant. The rate of profit is conse¬
quently high, amounting to 30, 40, or even to 50 per cent.
No money can be lent out at interest as in Europe, it being
contrary to the law of the Koran, and no one besides having
confidence in another. There is no monied interest in
Arabia. There are no stocks of any description, or public
funds, in which money can be invested; and every capitalist
is therefore engaged in trade, from which he never can
withdraw to live on his money as in Europe. Credit is with
difficulty obtained, and trade is carried on by means of bar¬
ter or by sales for cash. Hence no Arabian merchant can
contract debts which he is unable to pay; and there are
consequently no mercantile failures in Arabia as in Europe.
The utmost profligacy of manners prevails in all the
Arabian towns, as indeed in all Mahometan countries; and
the holy temple, the very sanctuary of the Mahometan re¬
ligion, is daily profaned by the grossest depravities, to which
no shame is attached. The young of all classes are en¬
couraged in those immoralities by the old; and even parents
connive at the disgrace of their children, and profit by their
iniquities. From such vices the encampments of the Be¬
douin Arabs are alone said to be exempt.
ater dis- Between 1824 and 1827, and again in 1833 and 1834, Ma-
n eries. hommed Ali, the late Pasha of Egypt, sent his armies across the
great chains of Hedjaz and Yemen with a view to subjugat¬
ion the fierce highlanders of Assyr. Among his staff-officers
were several French gentlemen of scientific attainments, among
whom Mr Chedufeau, who was chief of the medical depart-
355
ment, occupied the principal place. To the zeal of this gentle- Arabia,
man we owe much valuable information concerning the geo-
graphy and the inhabitants of a large tract which was, until
then, only known by hearsay. This tract occupies the eastern
slopes of the centre of the Hedjaz-Yemen chain, and extends
from Tayef, or about north latitude 21° in the north, to the 18th
northern parallel in the south, and east as far as about east longi¬
tude 45 , no astronomical computations having been made. The
country is very mountainous, the slope being eastward, and wa¬
tered by many streams which form several large and well popu¬
lated wadis. The principal are Wadi Subey and Wadi Zahran,
east and south of Tayef, and farther south, Wadi Shamram and
Wadi Zebran, which is the upper portion of Wadi Bisheh, the
most extensive and best cultivated of them all. El Assyr pro¬
per occupies the south-west. Far in the east is Wadi Dowasir,
and in the south, the fine valley Wadi Nedjran, the inhabitants
of which are said to be the handsomest men in Arabia, and in the
past century raised their country to much political importance
among the petty Arab states. This tribe possesses large herds,
and many excellent horses, which are highly esteemed at Sana.
The united streams of the northern portion of this extensive
tract form the River Tarabah, and those of the south the River
Bisheh, both carrying a considerable volume of water, and
flowing east, much beyond the limits of the Egyptian expedi¬
tion in that direction. Between these two river systems there
is the Wadi Raniah, which is watered by a goodly stream flow¬
ing into Lake Waradah. Great water-courses having been
denied to Arabia, notwithstanding Ptolemy’s statement of five
(large and permanent) rivers, the question naturally arose,
“where do these rivers of Assyr, which receive the whole
volume of water which descends from the eastern slopes of a
chain extending at least over three degrees of latitude, ultimately
flow to ?” According to the Arabs questioned by the French
officers, they discharge themselves into a large lake, Salomeh,
which appears to lie in the latitude of Mecca, and about east
longitude 45°. The announcement of a large inland lake in the
arid interior of Arabia, was at first startling, but it is supported
by the statements of Arabic geographers, whose Feledj-el-
Ajladj in Yemamah seems to occupy the environs of this hither¬
to unvisited lake. They speak in high terms of the numerous
water-courses of Yemamah, many districts of which are called
Feledj, literally a canal of irrigation, of which afladj is the
plural. But here a similar question rises as above,—“ where
does the surplus water of Lake Salomeh flow to ?” Undoubtedly
eastward, whence it is but natural to assume that the great
river El Aftan, the lower course of which has been traced un¬
derground in Bahrein, is but a continuation of the river flow¬
ing into Lake Salomeh, which in its turn presents all the
features of the upper course of a large river, as it is the con¬
fluent of a great number of mountain streams carrying a con¬
siderable and permanent volume of water, and meandering
through a large extent of country.
The high table-land on which lies the city of Sana, andMareb.
which is overtopped by many lofty peaks, slopes rapidly down
in the east towards the plains of El Djof-el-Yemen. Many
sells or torrents precipitate themselves from its acclivities,
forming narrow and steep passes through which the traveller
descends into the burning lowland. An old tradition, sup¬
ported by the evidence of Greek and Arabic geographers, and
confirmed by the statements of intelligent natives, identifies
Mareb, the capital of that district, with the ancient Saba or
Sheba, whose queen once visited Solomon. All Arab writers
agree that Mareb, although an inconsiderable place at the
various periods in which they wrote, was still surrounded by
vast ruins, the remnants of its former grandeur. It was said,
that with a view to procuring a constant supply of water for
the irrigation of their wadi, the inhabitants, in time immemo¬
rial, had constructed an immense stone wall across their valley,
but above the town. The water flowing down from the high
mountains in the west, was thus collected beyond the dike,
where it expanded into a large and deep lake. The dike,
however, gave way, and an irresistible flood not only destroyed
the town below it, but also the cultivated fields in the valley;
and the inhabitants being unable to raise the wall up again,
the whole extensive district was changed into a desert. When
Niebuhr was at Sana, he gathered much valuable intormation
concerning those water-works, and the destruction ot that vene-
350
ARABIA.
Arabia.
The great
dike.
El Yafa.
Hadhra-
maut.
rable metropolis of the Himyaritic kingdom, but neither he
/ nor any other European succeeded in penetrating to that classic
spot, till in 1843 an enterprising young Frenchman, Thomas
Joseph Arnaud, accomplished the task at the imminent risk of
his life. His description tallies with and confirms the accounts
of Niebuhr and others. Mareb, the splendid Mariaba metro¬
polis of Ptolemy, is now a miserable village surrounded by a
brick wall, but the environs are covered with ruins, testify¬
ing its past greatness, and marking the area it once covered.
The ancient residence of the queen of Sheba, or perhaps that
central portion of it which formed the city properly speaking,
was of a circular shape, about a mile in diameter, and encom¬
passed by a massive wall of free-stone. Within and without
its ruined precincts, lie scattered about innumerable fragments
of solid buildings, large square stones, portions of brick ma¬
sonry, friezes, and other house ornaments, and even whole
columns hewn out of a single block of the hardest limestone.
West of the ancient town are the ruins. They are the exten¬
sive remains of the outer wall of a palace which the inhabitants
call Haram Bilkis, “ the palace of Bilkis,” in memory of the
Sabasan or Himyaritic queen Bilkis, who is not only said to
have been the founder of that royal residence, but is also iden¬
tified with the queen of Sheba of Scriptural renown. A por¬
tion, about one fourth, of the wall is still standing, and covered
with Himyaritic inscriptions, of which Arnaud copied as many
as circumstances would allow him. Other inscriptions are
found on many of the large blocks which lie scattered about.
The ruins of the famous dike are to the east of the town.
There the bed of the Seil Dana, a torrent, dry in the summer,,
but swelling into a deep and impetuous river in the rainy sea¬
son, is hemmed in by two mountains, forming a gate through
which the flood rushes into the plain. Each of these moun¬
tains is called Balak. They are 600 paces asunder, and be¬
tween them the ruins of the stone dike occupy an area 300
paces long, between the bases of the two Balaks, and 175 paces
wide in the direction of the current. The portions leaning
against the projecting foot of the mountains are still in such a
state of preservation as to allow the examiner to guess their
destmation. _ There are many gates or openings in the wall
through which the water was allowed to escape into the plain
below ; they are in perfect preservation, and constructed at
difterent levels, so as to secure a regular supply. As far as
the travellers eye could reach from the adjoining hill, the bed
oi che Dana and the plain on either side was strewn over with
fragments of masonry, giving the whole the appearance of a
vast cemetery covered with tombstones. Previous to the
breaking of the dike, the wadi was fertile and cultivated for
a distance of seven journeys, but it is now a sandy desert
through which, m the rainy season, the torrent of the Dana
rushes on towards the interior. It seems to be the upper course
of the river which waters the Wadi Maifah, which opens to-
vards the sea below Nakab-el-Hadjar, and west of Hisan
w the Himyaritlc in!cripli0M whfch
tract bordered in the north by El Djof, and in the west
by the southernmost portion of the highlands of Yemen, and
^ Ras Seilan’iri tlie east by the Wadi
Y f ’TaVd 1Y} the south by the Indian Ocean, is called El
Y afa It is subdivided into several smaller districts. Along
the sea stretches a tehama. Above it rises a section of the
great southern mountain chain with peaks attaining an election
of above 5000 feet, such as Djebel Amzuk and Diebel Ham-
nmri. North of this chain the country is a high table land un
trodden by Europeans. The central portion of El Yafa is bi-
sected by a considerable river coming from Damar, in Yemen
and which, after baying washed the principal town, Yafa’
breaks through the high range and loses itself in the Land of
the tehama. But the river Meidam, on the frontiers of Yemen
is a permanent stream—a rare thing in Arabia—and in all
seasons of the year reaches the sea in the Bay of Tuwayi near
Aden. The high plateau of Yafa is barren, but the valleys
and slopes of the mountainous portion are fertile, well culti
vated, and well inhabited. Coffee is cultivated in Yafa but
only in its western parts.
Hadhramaut was a terra incognita until a very recent date
J he Europeans had heard of a Wadi Doan, praised by the
Arabs for its fertility, its numerous well-built towns, and its
flourishing commerce. But its position remained uncertain, aralii
Niebuhr, following the vague statements of some natives of . a'
Hadhramaut, who probably intended to deceive him with a
view to deter him from proceeding thither, placed it in the
far north-east of that province, at many hundred miles from
the place where it was subsequently discovered ; and all later
geographers blindly copied the mistake, although Seetzen, who
had drawn his information from more credible sources, deter¬
mined its position with approximative accuracy as early as the
beginning of this century. The lovers of Arabic geography
and antiquities, nevertheless, kept their eyes on that cele¬
brated wadi, as it was. expected that monuments and other
traces of the ancient Himyaritic power would be found there.
At last .the late Lieutenant Wellsted discovered Himyaritic
inscriptions at Hisan Ghorab, near Ras Kell or Dog Cape, and
others at Nakab-el-Hadjar, in the Wadi Maifah, which he had
ventured to visit. His account excited unusual interest in Eng¬
land and on. the Continent, and several distinguished scholars
devoted their energies towards the deciphering of these time-
honoured mysterious characters. Moved by such and similar
considerations, a man now entered the arena of discovery who
already takes rank among the most eminent explorers of Arabia,
although his sojourn in the unknown land was shortened by the
jealousy of fanatic Bedouins, and the account of his researches
has not yet been placed before the public.
. In the year 1843, the same in which the Frenchman Arnaud The Barer
discovered the ruins of Saba, the Baron von Wrede, a Ger-von Wrede,
man gentleman, who, during a long sojourn in Syria, Egypt,
and Arabia, had made himself thoroughly acquainted with the
Arabic language and oriental manners, started from Cairo with
a firm determination to explore the Wadi Doan and other parts
of Hadhramaut. He succeeded, though only partially, but
still at. the risk of his life. Travelling in the disguise of an
Egyptian, on a pilgrimage to the tomb of the prophet Hud,
he passed as such, in the eyes of the natives, for a consider¬
able time. Suspicion, however, arose, and he was ultimately
discovered to be a European and a Christian. He was thrown
into prison, and kept there during three days, hourly expect¬
ing death ; but the Sultan of Grein having succeeded in quiet¬
ing the fanatical Bedouins, who cried for his blood, granted
him life and liberty on condition of his leaving the country with¬
out delay. He did so under the safeguard of the sultan, but de¬
prived of his wardrobe, his money, his instruments, and many,
but fortunately not all, of his papers and drawings. After his
return to Cairo, he wrote an account of his researches and ad¬
ventures, from which the following outlines of Hadhramaut are
extracted.
. “ Hadhramaut” is said to mean “ the country of death,” Name,
either in allusion to its pathless deserts, or to the curse of the
prophet Hud, who, according to an old Arabic legend recorded
in the Koran (chap, vii., El Ahraf, and chap, xlvi., El Akhaf),
punished the unbelieving and blasphemous tribe of Ad, who
dwelt in that part of Arabia, by sending a fiery wind into the
country, which reduced the fertile fields to burning deserts, and
destroyed its inhabitants. But this etymology is questionable.
In its larger meaning, Hadhramaut comprehends the immense
tract between Yafa and Oman, which is separated from the
heart of the peninsula by the desert El Ahkaf. The traveller
only visited the south-western portion of it, namely, the Wadi
Doan., its environs, and the tract between it and the sea.
1 his province of Arabia, like all others bordering on the Mountains,
sea, consists of three distinct physical portions, yiz., firstly, a
narrow tehama intersected in some places, as at Ras Farlak,
by spurs of the inland mountains advancing upon the ocean,
and torminglofty projecting capes; secondly, a serrated moun¬
tain belt rising in terraces over the low land ; and, thirdly, an
inland plateau of great elevation overtowered here and there
by lofty peaks ; and, in other places, rent asunder by deep fis¬
sures which gradually expand into cultivated wadis and wide
luxuriant valleys, watered by streams which, according to the
season, are sometimes, ripling rivulets, at others impetuous
torrents. The mountain belt, an almost alpine chain, stretches
m one uninterrupted line from Yemen to the borders of Oman,
where it diminishes in height; but no general name having ever
been applied to it, that of the “ Himyaritic chain ” may be
lere suggested as not quite inappropriate. Beyond, that is
o ie north of, the high plateau, there is a sudden steep de-
1
*
Vrabia.
'J canoes.
<verns,
i d hot
ings.
1 oglo-
* tie.
Tigin of
»dis.
A R A
scent into the sairdy deserts of El Ahkaf. Wrede estimated
1 the average breadth of the Himyaritic chain at 25 German, or
100 geographical miles ; and its length being upwards of 1800
geographical miles, it apparently ranks among the great moun¬
tain systems in the world. In fact, its length is one-half of
that of the Cordilleras of the Andes, twice that of the Ural,
thrice that of the Alps and the Caucasus, and it seems to occupy
an area of nearly 200,000 square geographical miles. The
highest peaks appear to attain an elevation of 10,000 feet.
From Makallah, which was Wrede’s starting point, the
alcabah, which means “ ascent,” and is the general name in
Arabia for the rising portion of mountains, was very steep, till
the traveller arrived on the first terrace. There the acclivity was
interrupted by a narrow barren plain, followed by another
akabah, which, in its turn, led to another terrace, and so on in
regular succession, till the high plateau was gained. Here the
nights were severely cold. The basis of this tract is granite,
with its usual superstrata, heaved up and broken into wild cha¬
otic masses, by volcanic action, of which the traces are so fre¬
quent and so visibly evident, as to lead to the surmise, that
there are still active volcanoes somewhere in the country, having
the same common hearth with those which are still in activity
in the islands, near the entrance of the Red Sea, and those
which ceased to be so in Yemen. According to an Arabic le¬
gend, Yemen was separated from the opposite coast of Abys¬
sinia by a tremendous earthquake, which caused the waters of
the Indian Ocean to enter the Red Sea. Many thousands of
people were drowned, and such were the lamentations of the
survivors, that the new channel was called Babelmandeb, or
the gate of tears. Primitive limestone forms chains of con¬
siderable length and elevation, as, for instance, along the wadi
Maifah, the summits of which range between 4000 and 6000
feet in height. Jura limestone occupies large tracts, whence
caverns with subterranean streams are frequent. Wrede
entered one which was very capacious and deep, the vaults
hung with beautiful stalactites, and the whole cavern resound¬
ing from the noise of a powerful stream rushing unseen
through the bowels of the rock. But the natives fearing to
irritate the ghuls or evil spirits, with which their superstition
peoples these caverns, would not allow him to penetrate to the
deeper recesses. Hot springs are frequent, and there is such
a number of fissures and caves through which sulphureous va¬
pour escapes, and the sides of which are so thickly covered with
the finest sulphur, as to warrant the supposition that a large
and profitable trade with that article might be established here,
if the natives would allow the access to strangers, and there
were roads in the country. The most celebrated among the
sulphur caves is the Bir Bahut, through which, according to
the natives, the souls of the damned go down to hell, in con¬
tradistinction to the crater in the island of Djebel Teir, in the
Red Sea, through which the devil is said to come up from hell,
when he is about to do mischief in the world. Bir Bahut is
most probably the Fons Stygis of Ptolemy. In many locali¬
ties, the steep rocks encompassing the wadis are quite per¬
forated by such caves ; and as they otfer cheap habitations,
and are above the level of the highest floods which fill the glens
after heavy showers, half savage tribes of Bedouins have turned
them into permanent dwelling-places for their families. As
the traveller passed by, scores of swarthy children suddenly is¬
sued from the holes like rabbits from their burrows, to have a
peep at the strangers. During the frequent absence of the in¬
habitants, the caves are watched by a race of very fierce dogs.
The habits of the people having remained the same during
thousands of years, it is but reasonable to believe that in an¬
cient times also there was a troglodytic population in this part
of Arabia, and that the statements, to that effect, of Ptolemy
and other Greek geographers, are quite correct.
'I he Baron von Wrede compares the aspect of the country
with its countless wadis, as seen from above, to a gigantic leaf
divided into innumerable compartments by the network of its
veins, the principal of which being the Wadi Doan, which bi¬
sects the tract from one end to the other. The wadis have their
origin on either side of the crests of the hills, and on the high
plateaux of those low ridges which interrupt the level. Their
first beginning is an almost imperceptible rill, or a mere fis¬
sure in the sloping rock, which gradually widens, owing to
the agency of water, and assumes the aspect of a narrow glen
B 1 A. 357
encompassed by two walls of perpendicular rock. If there are Arabia,
springs in its upper portion, there will be a permanent stream;
if there is no water but that descending in sudden and heavy
showers, m the rainy season, the stream will be transient; but
m either case, the volume of water rushing down these gaps in
the rainy months surpasses belief, and its velocity is so great,
its rush so sudden and irresistible, that lofty and solid rocks,
undermined at their base, will crumble into huge fragments
which the roaring flood carries downward, till, expanding it¬
self over a wider space, it loses the power of its first impetus.
In consequence of this never-ceasing activity of nature, the
detritus and rubbish along the base of the rock-walls increases
in width and height, in proportion as the wadi becomes wider;
and it is on these slopes that the Arab begins the work of cul¬
tivation. In many localities, the upper portions of the wadis
lie in deep gaps produced by volcanic action, while among the
craggy rocks in the mountains between the table-land and the
tehama, they do not differ from glens and valleys in other
mountainous countries of a similar geological character.
The head of the Wadi Doan is a deep gap in the centre of Wadi
the barren table-land, upwards of sixty geographical miles Doan,
north-west by north from Makallah. Nothing announces its
approach ; its palms, its houses, its turreted castles, its crystal
stream and verdant plantations, lying, as it were, hidden in
the bowels of the earth invisible to man, like the bottom of a
precipice, till his eye merges over the upper edge, when the
scene below bursts upon him like enchantment. A narrow,
steep, and very dangerous path leads from the edge down into
the glen, which is about 300 paces asunder, with a narrow belt
of cultivated slopes at the base of the rock-walls. But the glen
gradually widens, the rocks on either side losing their steep¬
ness and craggy aspect, till it expands into a fertile valley,
measuring from 20 to 25 geographical miles across in its widest
part. The direction of the Wadi Doan, the name being ap¬
plied to the whole length of the valley, is at first north-west,
then north-east, east, south-east, and south, when it issues upon
the Tehama and Sihut, about a hundred geographical, miles east
of Makallah. Its whole length may be computed at 120 geogra¬
phical miles, but only its upper course is known. Its head is the
Wadi Minua, with a branch, the Wadi Nebbi; the next sec¬
tion is Wadi Doan, properly speaking ; and the other parts
are successively called Wadi Hadjarin, Wadi Kasr, and Wadi
Missileh. This valley has many branches, most of which slope
down from the high table-land to the south and west of it.
Wadi Doan is studded with towns and villages from its very
beginning, and the slopes, as well as the wider level tracts be¬
tween the encompassing hills, are surprisingly well peopled
and cultivated, the fields, or rather gardens, bearing rich crops
of durra and other corn, dates, bananas, melons, cucumbers, in¬
digo, and a variety of other vegetable products, of which con¬
siderable quantities are exported. The stream is not perma¬
nent, at least not in its upper course, where particular care is
bestowed upon irrigation. During the sojourn of the Baron
von Wrede at Khoreibeh, one of those awful thunderstorms
broke out which have been alluded to above. It was still at
a distance, and the clouds lowering over the town did as yet
but threaten to discharge themselves, but they had evidently
burst further up, when piercing cries of “ The flood ! the flood !”
alarmed the inhabitants. Men, women, and children, were now
seen running in haste and trepidation to gain their houses,
wdiich stand on the rising slope, when suddenly a tremendous
body of water came roaring down the dry bed of the river,
sweeping everything moveable before it, and threatening to an¬
nihilate the whole town. Cloud now burst upon cloud, and every
voice and sound was drowned in the rush of the waters and
the never-ceasing peals of thunder, while the narrow glen was
shrouded in night, lit up every now and then by the transient
blaze of the firmament. An hour thus passed away, when the
sun again darted from a cloudless sky, and the flood was gone
without causing any destruction ; but all the canals of irriga¬
tion running parallel with the stream, and the numerous re¬
servoirs and tanks, were overflowing with that precious gift of
nature, without a constant supply of which, the inhabitants
would be obliged to abandon this picturesque valley.
At the foot of the Akabah, leading from the table-land to theBahi-es-
desert El Ahkaf, there is a desolate district very much dreaded feaffi.
by the natives on account of a very singular phenomenon. It
358
ARABIA.
Arabia, appears that in the adjacent portion of El Ahkaf, there is a
v r. ^ J great number of large, unfathomable pits or gulfs filled with
quicksand, or rather a white, grayish dust, soft to the touch, and
difterent in colour and substance from the yellowish and red¬
dish sand of the desert. Whatever falls into such a pit disap¬
pears instantly. The gulf visited and examined by Wrede,
was about a mile in diameter, and clearly distinguishable from
above owing to its colour, by which its surface was set off
against the darker desert. The Baron having been unable to
persuade his Bedouin guides to follow him to “ the mysterious
abode of ghuls/’ cautiously approached the edge of the gulf
provided with a plummet, weighing a kilogramm, and a line 60
fathoms long. Having thrown the lead as far over the edge as
possible, it disappeared the moment it touched the surface,
and continuing to sink, rapidly drew the line after it, till in a
few minutes both plummet and line had disappeared, the lat¬
ter having slipped through his fingers, which prevented him
from drawing it back and making a second attempt. The Baron
does not venture upon an explanation of this phenomenon, but
there seems little doubt that these gulfs are extinct craters filled
with some attenuated volcanic substance of a whitish colour, and
similar to that which produces the far-seen white streaks on
the volcano Djebel Teir in the Red Sea. The sand gulfs ex¬
tend over a large district which is called Bahr-es-Saffi, or the
Sea of Saffi, after a certain king, who, as the legend goes, ven¬
tured to cross this tract with his army, while contemplating
the conquest of Hadhramaut, but was swallowed up by the
sand-gulfs, together with the last of his men. The story re¬
minds us of the fate of a portion of the army of HSlius Gallus.
The only difficulty is the circumstance that this white dust re¬
mains on a stationary level, a little lower than that of the de¬
sert, and does not mix with the yellow sand of the common
desert. As to the rest, large and deep volcanic craters hol¬
lowed out in the level plains of table-lands, are by no means
of rare occurrence. Those in the Auvergne, in France, and
in the Eifel, in Germany, being filled with water, are lakes in
every sense of the word (Maare), but as there is no supera¬
bundance of water in the desert El Ahkaf, sand, of which there
is more than sufficient, seems to have taken its place.
The whole Ahkaf appears to have once been the bottom of
a great fresh-water lake, perhaps raised to a higher level by
one of those tremendous volcanic commotions which have been
so active in the formation of the surface of Arabia. Suppos¬
ing, therefore, that the gulfs are craters communicating with
great caverns in the earth, we presume that the water escaped
through them while the rocky bottom of the lake was in pro¬
gress of rising. The craters were subsequently filled up with
the lighter particles of the desert sand, which, although of a
general yellow colour, does not appear to be of a homogeneous
nature, and in proportion as the sand or dust sinks into the
earth, the water at the bottom carries it off into the bowels of
the earth. Admitting this, the sucking qualities of the sand,
and the equal level of its surface, to which local causes may
also contribute, are easily accounted for. Admitting further
the compound nature of the desert sand, it is evident that, once
changed into quicksand by the action of water, the yellow par¬
ticles, being derived from ferruginous sandstone, and conse¬
quently heavier, must necessarily sink through the lighter
whitish dust; whence the uniform white aspect of these re¬
markable sand gulfs. The powerful springs in the wadis El
Hajar, &c., which all burst forth on the south side of the pla¬
teau, and on a level considerably lower than that of the Ahkaf;
the subterraneous stream in the Bir Ba Rahut; and the hot
sulphureous spring near Sah Hud on the coast, are all, in the
opinion of Wrede, connected with the mysteries of Bahr-es- Saffi.
Froducts. The abundance of sulphur has been mentioned. The brown¬
ish or reddish colour of the level portions of the high table¬
land originates undoubtedly from the presence of an abun¬
dance of oxide of iron in the rock which has contributed to its
formation. Traces of gold have been found in the south.
There are numerous quarries yielding an excellent stone for
building purposes, and there is no want of materials for burn¬
ing good lime and making cement. The vegetable products
are the same as in the rest of Arabia, a few species excepted.
Indigo is extensively cultivated, but coffee not at all. The
slopes of the Himyaritic range are covered with magnificent
forests; the valleys are clothed with shady groves, and springs
issuing from every fissure, give rise to a countless number of Arabia
rivulets and rivers swarming with small fish. But the table- v
land, and in general all the plains, whether high or low, are bar¬
ren and miserable. There are no cows in Hadhramaut, except
a few near Makallah, which, however, are of the Indian species,
with a hump on their back, like those in Yemen. Horses are
very rare. The common beasts of burden are the ass and the
camel, the former vying in beauty and usefulness with those
of Bahrein and Oman, and the latter being equal to those in
other parts of Arabia. The common belief that the camel is
only serviceable in sandy plains, is not at all based on facts.
On the contrary, the same camel which patiently wades through
the burning sand of the tehama, climbs up the most rugged and
dangerous mountain paths with a sure footing and a steady step.
Sheep, and still more so goats, are very numerous, the latter
yielding excellent milk. There is no want of antelopes, hares,
and other game, and there are few beasts of prey.
Here, as elsewhere in Arabia, the natives are divided into two Inhabi-
very distinct classes—the settled inhabitants living in towns and tatlts»
villages, and the wandering Bedouin. The former are nearly as town?>
civilized as in Yemen, less corrupted, but infinitely more fanati-llouses'
cal. The prophet Hud is held in great veneration among them,
and swarms of pilgrims annually visit the tomb of that mytho¬
logical person, which stands in the lower part of the Wadi Doan.
They call Hadhramaut a land sanctified by that holy prophet,
undefiled by the foot of either Jew or Christian, and the un¬
conquerable asylum of the true doctrine of Mahomet. The
number of well-built towns, which are all fortified, is surprising,
and the Wadi Doan is quite studded with them, presenting, in
several localities, the curious sight of twin towns, each a sepa¬
rate town with its own walls and towers, and its own sheik, or
even sultan, and only separated from the other by the narrow
stream which waters the valley. The principal towns in the
Wadi Doan are :—Grein and Khuairah, twin towns, with a
combined population of 9000 ; Zhaher and Matrah, the same;
Gelbuhn, 4000 ; Rashid and Arsameh, each 5000 ; Rhudaish
and Rihab, each 6000. In Wadi Hadjarin, a branch of Wadi
Doan, Meshed Ali (once a large place), and Es Seif, twin
towns, total population, 6000 ; Gahdun and Sava, each 6000;
Haurah, 8000. In other localities, Ghoraf, Borr, Tierbi, Ag-
nab, Tsah, and Makallah, each about 6000; Terise, 10,000; Shi-
bam and Terim, each 20,000 inhabitants. Some of these towns
are governed by a sultan whose authority extends over a more or
less extensive tract; others are governed by sheiks who are the
lieutenants of the sultan, at least nominally. But they all,
sultans, sheiks and townspeople, bow to the supreme rule of
the Bedouins. The houses are mostly solid and lofty buildings,
constructed with freestone, and so compactly assembled, that
the towns occupy a comparatively small area. There is a brisk
trade going on with native products and foreign importations,
among which English manufactured goods, German cutlery, and
Bohemian glass, as well as various Indian commodities, form no
inconsiderable item. In this unknown part of Arabia, Wrede
found the house of a sheik furnished with European chairs
and tables manufactured at Bombay ; and the owner, who had
been in India, not only spoke English well, but had a small
library in which Sir Walter Scott’s “ Life of Napoleon” was
prominent. At a dinner given to the traveller by the sultan of
Khoreibeh, sherbet was served up in an earthen vessel of Staf¬
fordshire manufacture, of a description, however, such as is not
used for lemonade in Europe. The townspeople are very fond
of going abroad, as traders, sailors, &c., some to the seaports
in India, others to those along the Red Sea, and others to Egypt,
especially Cairo, where they are numerous, and known under
the name of Hadhrami or Doani.
The Bedouins in Hadhramaut are very numerous, divided Bedouin
into a great number of clans, and exhibiting peculiarities of cha¬
racter and habits which distinguish them from their brethren
in other parts. They are a fine, strong, and athletic race of
people, equally capable of supporting the stifling heat of the
tehamas, and, though half naked, the intense cold on the up¬
lands. The laws of hospitality are so far respected by them,
that a stranger once received among them, becomes, as it were,
a sacred person whom they will protect and defend at the risk of
their own lives. Clan feuds are frequent among them, arising
generally from murder and the like causes of violence, which
the kinsmen of the murdered are bound to avenge by killing
A R A
Arabia, either the murderer himself, or one of his family ; and, when
none of these are to be found, one of his clan. This goes on
by rotation, each party having its turn of taking revenge, till
at last whole tribes rise against each other in hereditary feuds.
Many tribes are confederated, so that not only their own people,
but also strangers standing under their protection, are safe in
each other’s territory. Even a man against whom there is a
cause of blood revenge, is safe from vengeance when under the
protection of an ally of his persecutors. The Baron von Wrede
having procured a protector, or dakheil, at Makallah, was well
received by the man’s clan, and on subsequent occasions found
that the dakheil he obtained in the interior could, under all cir¬
cumstances, be relied upon, although a considerable degree of
firmness was always necessary on his part to support his pro¬
tector’s sense of duty against fear or temptation. The Be¬
douins profess to be Mahometans, but they care very little
for a strict observation of the law of the prophet, pleading the
still greater sanctity of the law of necessity, whence they will
eat all sorts of unclean animals, such as snakes, lizards, and
the like vermin, “ because they are hungry, there is nothing
else to be got, and the law of the prophet does not fill their
bellies.” Here, as well as in Yemen, there are many remnants
of the ancient fire-worship, which was the prevailing creed in
South Arabia previous to Mahomet; and the prophet Hud, who
lived in an age so remote, and whose person is so completely
mythologized that modern scholars have been tempted to iden¬
tify him with Bacchus, is no less revered by those children of
the desert than Mahomet himself. But the reformed creed of
the Wahabys never penetrated into these mountains. The
Bedouins of Hadhramaut are altogether the fiercest and rudest
among all the wandering tribes of Arabia, and whatever is cal¬
culated to uphold and propagate that reckless and savage spirit,
is more admired by them, and esteemed more worthy of imita¬
tion, than the precepts of a refined morality. A lad having de¬
liberately shot his father, who wanted him to fetch some camels,
and kicked him when meeting with disobedience, was not only
not punished by the tribe, but applauded, and finally praised
by his own dying parent, who, being in the act of taking re¬
venge by shooting his son in his turn, suddenly dropped his
gun, exclaiming—'“No ! let him live, he has acted like a man.”
The women of the Bedouins go about unveiled, and in the towns
only married women hide part of their face, the young girls
being allowed to exhibit their charms to the other sex without
any other restraint but that of common decency. The Bedou¬
ins look upon the townspeople as a degenerated, cowardly, mer¬
cenary race, losing no opportunity of showing them their con¬
tempt ; while, on the other hand, the settled, civilized Hadhrami
speak of their wild brethren in the desert as a set of overbear¬
ing savages, and behave to them in a manner as the Byzantine
Greeks did towards their conquerors, the Turks, cringing be¬
fore their eyes, and cheating them behind their backs.
nguage. The Arabic of Hadhramaut, especially that of the Bedouins,
ditfers from that of Yemen, not only in pronunciation and ac¬
cent, but also by the admixture of many non-Arabic words,
which are, without doubt, remnants of the ancient Himyaritic.
This latter language, or perhaps only a modified dialect of it,
is still spoken in the interor of El Shehr or Mahra, and in all
probability also in the eastern parts of Hadhramaut in the
larger meaning of the word, but not along the sea-coast, where
the modern Arabic prevails. The Baron von Wrede obtained
a little vocabulary of Himyaritic words of the present vernacu¬
lar tongue, among which the word “ ofir,” that is red, strikes
the antiquarian at once, as being the key to the whereabouts of
the Biblical “ Ophir.” For the Mahra people also call them¬
selves the tribe of the red (ofir) country, and the same ap¬
pellation they give to the Red Sea, which is but a translation
of Erythrean Sea, which we are fully justified in supposing to
be, in its turn, a translation of “ Bahr Ofir.” Other words,
which are not found in the Arabic language, are :—a:if, bad ;
diyah, good; fadhan, hill; gai, kin, much; kar, house; eb-
her, well; hiif, milk; istaha, sit down; karhai, small; ket,
rope ; makedir, durra ; rigau, tall; sami, dead ; shikah, near;
sheli, very near ; salet, oil; sheiwat, fine ; shift', hair ; tahrir,
antelope ; tahriz, kill (him); thama, alive ; terab, wood ; tob-
ba, great, powerful, Ac.
1 he spirit of destructiveness which the Mahometan Arabs
exhibited against whatever was not in accordance with, or left
4tiqui-
B 1 A. 359
Arabia.
ence upon the monuments left by the kings and the nobles of
Himyar. Yet some important remnants have been preserved
as shown by the researches of the travellers mentioned above :
and the Baron von Wrede has not only added to the list but
leaves a fair prospect to future travellers of making still more
important discoveries. At Khoreibeh he obtained a copy of an
old Arabic MS., being a history of Hadhramaut from its ear¬
liest times, and containing a complete list of the Himyaritic
kings from the founder of the kingdom down to Mahomet,
corresponding with, and completing the list given by Abulfeda!
In the Wadi Obneh, he copied a beautiful Himyaritic inscrip¬
tion of five lines, the characters of which seem to indicate Sa-
bffian models ; and he not only examined many substructures
of modern buildings, which belong to a very early and primi¬
tive period, such as castles and houses of sheiks, but obtained
positive information on the Txdbet-el-moluk, or the “ tombs of
the kings,” in the lower part of the Wadi Doan, not far from
Grein and the tomb of Hud. They are forty in number, each
being a separate structure covered with Himyaritic inscrip¬
tions, and they are held in great veneration by the natives,
although only a few even among their learned men know what
they are. The Baron was prevented from visiting them by
his arrest at Grein.
The coast of this extensive province is now completely sur- El Shehr
veyed, but of the interior we know nothing. Much gum and or Mahra.
frankincense, the latter of very ordinary quality, grows in the
mountains along the coast, between Capes Ras Fartak in the
west, and Ras Nus in the east. The tehamah is narrow, and
in many places interrupted by spurs of the Himyaritic range
projecting into the sea, as at Ras Fartak, the Promontorium
Syagrios of the ancients, a bold rock rising 2500 feet above the
Indian Ocean ; and at Ras Shejer, which is still higher by 500
feet. The Himyaritic range lowers considerably as it advances
north-east, some inconsiderable ridges of barren sand-hills being
its extreme feelers towards the high mountains of Oman. West
of Ras Nus is the fertile plain of Dhafar, where the cultivation
of indigo occupies many hands. Dhafar, its former seaport,
exists no longer ; it was the seat of the bishops of Hadhramaut,
when the Christian religion prevailed here in the period pre¬
ceding that of Mahomet, and after they had left their former
residence at Nagra, or Nagrane. East of the same cape Mr
Cruttenden and party discovered the large, fertile, and well
peopled Wadi Rekob, with a running stream dried up in its
lower course, but which must be a powerful river in the rainy
season, as testified by enormous blocks of rock carried down by
the torrent from the mountains farther inland. The inhabi¬
tants are a remarkably handsome and well-disposed tribe, the
women being the handsomest in Arabia, according to the state¬
ment of the British officers, their visitors. They have large
herds of goats and sheep, and seem to lead a happy life as shep¬
herds and agriculturists. In the upper portion of the Wadi
Rekob lies a thriving town, Djezzar, which, however, the party
had no time to visit. The inhabitants of the towns and villages
along the sea, are addicted to piracy, for which they have been
frequently punished by the British men-of-war; and they all
pursue the capture of sharks, with which the sea swarms, and
the fins of which, when salted and dried, are not only eaten by
the Arabs, but yield an important article of export to the Indian
ports and China, where they are considered great dainties.
Oman, the north-eastern peninsular projection of South Ara- Oman,
bia, is physically hardly connected with the Arabian continent,
from which its mountainous territory is separated by the eastern
El Ahkaf. Its coast and seaports were known to the Euro¬
peans at an early date. Its capital, Mascat, was conquered by
the Portuguese in 1508, who kept possession of it till 1658,
when the Arabs, taking the town, put the whole garrison to
death, and established a native government under a prince of
the ancient dynasty of the tribe of the Yaharibi-el-Azad. The
country was subsequently conquered by the Persians, who were
driven out in 1730, in their turn, by Ahmed Ibn Said, an
adventurous chief, who claimed collateral descent from that
. , ’. , -li-uian, anatneir natredot religious sym¬
bols, combined with an utter disregard of that historical learn¬
ing which alone is calculated to keep alive, in the lapse of cen¬
turies, that feeling of piety towards the works of our forefathers,
which is the real inexhaustible source of all love of antiquity,
—these various combined causes have nrodnccd « ivfl,.
360 A II A
Arabia, illustrious dynasty, and whose descendants still occupy the
, y throne. The interior of Oman was first visited by the late
Lieutenant Wellsted and his travelling companion, Lieutenant
Whitelock, in 1835 and 1836; and although two years after
them an enterprising French botanist, the late Aucher Eloi,
made a trip into the inland district, the account of the British
officers is still our main source of information. The north¬
eastern coast line against the narrow part of the Indian Ocean,
opposite Beloochistan, is a serpentine curve 360 to 400 geo¬
graphical m iles long, extending from Cape Ras-el-Hadd, in the
south-east, to Ras Musendom, in the north-west. The coast
along the main of the Indian Ocean, in the south-east, is about
90 miles long ; that along the Persian Gulf, in the north-west,
about 150 miles ; and the desert frontier, from sea to sea, in
the south-west, about 300 geographical miles. A long range of
mountains stretches from Ras-el-Hadd to Ras Musendom, al¬
most parallel with the coast, and of which the central knob,
the Djebel Akhdar, or Green Mountain, is the highest portion,
rising to nearly 7000 feet. The height of Djebel 1 ellali and
Djebel Hutah, in the south-east, is about 6000 feet; but the
hills in the north are of less elevation. West of this range
there is a barren plateau dotted with a great number of fertile
and well-cultivated oases; the western edge of which forms
another chain of mountains, less high than the main chain;
Divisions, and beyond this stretches the silent El Ahkaf. Beyond the
desert, but where exactly we do not know, rises the Nedjed of
El Yemamah, which is nearest to Oman in the north. The
tract nearest to Ras-el-Hadd is called Djallan ; west of it lies
Oman proper, at the southern foot of Djebel Akhdar; west of
Oman extends Dhorran, or the principal portion of the pla¬
teau. as far as the Persian Gulf, if the coast district is added
to it. The tract extending north-west of Muscat, between the
Indian Sea and the main range, is called Batra; it is inter¬
sected by numerous streams descending from that range; its
soil is fertile, and well-cultivated, and its population may be
called dense, as compared with the other provinces. The sea¬
shore is studded with towns and villages, but in the interior
there is only one, but considerable town, namely Rostak, which
was the residence of the reigning princes ere they took up their
residence at Muscat. The southern portions of Oman are, on
the contrary, very thinly populated, the soil being sandy ; and
as much may be said of the northern projection between the
Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean. The country produces
wheat, maize, durra, and other grain, in great abundance; and
besides the common fruit of Arabia, it yields indigo, cotton,
sugar, and coffee. The latter article is not so good as the pro¬
duce of Yemen, because not only less care is bestowed upon
the plantations, but chiefly because its latitude is beyond the
isotherm of the coffee-tree in Arabia and Africa, so that its
growth would cease altogether, were it not for local causes.
- Irrigation is well understood: subterranean main conduits
(feledj) four feet wide, with a running stream two feet deep,
and from six to eight miles long, carry an abundance of water
from the mountains into the drier plains. The camels and
asses of Oman are justly celebrated. The breed of horses is
excellent, but not numerous; the export of native and Nedjed
horses from the port of Mascat, for the supply of the H.E.I.C.S.
cavalry has of late much abated, the stock in the interior being
almost exhausted. The same cause has affected the export of
horses from El Katif, on the coast of Bahrein. The imam has
several studs, the principal food being, next to barley, lucerne
and dates. The cattle are of the Indian species, but although
a large proportion of their food is said to consist of dried fish,
the beef is tender and delicious to eat. The natives keep vast
flocks of excellent sheep and goats ; and there is an abundance
of common fowl, but neither turkeys, guinea fowl, geese, nor
ducks.
Inhabi- The relations between the settled inhabitants and the Be-
tants. douins are nearly the same as in Hadhramaut; the latter are
a strong handsome race, and physically much superior to the
tiny Bedouin of Nedjed. Their pursuits are pastoral and agri¬
cultural in the interior; but those who are near the sea are
traders and mariners. The townspeople are much mixed with
Persian and African blood.
Towns. Mascat, the capital, counts about 40,000 inhabitants, and
lies at the bottom of a small cove, in the gorges of an exten¬
sive pass which widens from this point as it advances into the
B I A.
interior. Its situation is picturesque, being surrounded by Arabia,
hills crowned with well-mounted fortifications, but its climate __
is sultry and unwholesome. It is next to Djidda the most im¬
portant commercial town in Arabia, and its navigation extends
over all the ports of Arabia, Persia, Africa, and India. The
houses, except those near the beach, are but mean, the so-
called palace of the imam not excepted. In its environs are
the famous hot springs of Imam Ali. Contiguous to Mascat,
lies Mattarah, or Mattrah, writh 20,000 inhabitants, a seaport
sharing in the commerce of the capital, with which it almost
forms a twin town. The combined trade of these two ports is
very important. Wellsted estimated the imports in 1836 at
L.900,000, but they now are considerably above a million.
They consist of manufactured goods from Great Britain and
India ; slaves, ivory, and other natural products from Africa;
coffee from Yemen ; salt, tobacco, and carpets from Persia,
&c. The exports are fish, horses, grain, and other native pro¬
ducts, and a large proportion of imported goods. Asses are
exported to Persia and Mauritius. A new branch of export
will open itself to Mascat, whenever it shall be thought fit to
substitute the camel, as a hardy beast of burden, for the clumsy,
easily-yielding draught-ox, in the colony at the Cape of Good
Hope. Other towns are, along the coast, Sohar, with 9000 in¬
habitants, Sib, Burka, Khaburah, Shinas, Khadrawein, &c.;
and in the interior, Rostak, a large town, Birket-el-Modj,
the El Mai of Niebuhr, at the southern foot of Djebel Akhdar,
said to be founded in the time of the great Nushirwan, king of .
Persia (a.d. 531-579), and remarkable for its lofty houses and
two square watch-towers, 16 feet wide, and 170 feet high, the
walls of which are only 2 feet thick at the base ; Neswa, with
a massive fortified tower, 140 feet high, surrounded by a like
wall 40 feet high; Shirasi, in Djebel Akhbar, 5800 feet above
the sea, in a lovely climate ; Birema, in the north-west, 6000
inhabitants, with a like climate; and Obri, a large town quite
in the west, and separated from Nedjed only by a narrow strip
of desert. The northern peninsula has no places of note ; but
is remarkable for the narrow gloomy strait, leading through
dark, perpendicular, and, in some places, overhanging rocks,
from the Indian Sea to the Persian Gulf, between Ras-el-Dje-
bel on the continent, and the island on which lies Ras Musen¬
dom, the north cape of Oman.
The most powerful prince in Oman is the imam of Mascat, The iman
Saiyid Said, who claims sovereignty over all Oman, but is of Mascat
only nominally obeyed by the settled population in the interior,
and not at all by the Bedouins. In fact, the sheiks of Obri,
Birema, and others, are quite independent. The title imam is
only given to him by strangers and courtiers, since, of the two
conditions necessary for obtaining that title, he has never ful¬
filled one, and has broken the other; that is, he has never
preached a sermon before his assembled chiefs, and he has not
only gone to sea, but is constantly sailing to and fro throughout
his dominions. Although the latter condition has been dispensed
with on previous occasions, the former is so imperative, that the
natives withhold the title of imam from this powerful king, and
only call him saiyid, or prince. Besides Oman, the imam pos¬
sesses the islands of Kishm and others in the Persian Gulf; a
large portion of the Persian coast which he farms from the shah
of Persia, and where much bay salt is manufactured on his ac¬
count ; and the island and town of Zanzibar, on the East Afri¬
can coast, where he generally resides; as well as the town of
Mombas and many others, with their respective territories,
along the African coast. The imam, an ally of the British
crown, is a sort of merchant prince, the principal part of the
commerce and navigation of his scattered dominions being in
his hands, and conducted on his account.
He is the mightiest potentate in those parts of the world.
For the better keeping his scattered dominions together, he
has a considerable number of men-of-war, of all sizes, which
also serve as merchant-men for the conveyance of his own
goods. In Wellsted’s time, there were from 70 to 80 carrying
from 4 to 74 guns, most of them small, but all built after Euro¬
pean models, chiefly on the wharfs at Bombay. Besides these,
there were from 60 to 80 armed bungalows, or one-masted Ara¬
bic vessels of from 200 to 300 tons, and balits, or smaller craft,
of from 100 to 200 tons, which serve in the double capacity of
convoy and transport vessels. To the late King William IV.
the imam presented a fine 74-gun vessel, completely fitted out;
AHA
Arabia, and the value of the presents he made to Her Majesty Queen
Victoria, on her accession to the throne, was estimated at
L.50,000, being all articles grown in his own dominions, or
manufactured by his own subjects. In 184:5, Prince Hilal, the
son and heir of the imam, visited London, accompanied by two
young Arabic chiefs, and made himself much beloved through
the courteous simplicity of his manners, and the amiability of
his disposition.
It is expected that the friendship between the British govern¬
ment and the imam will be a great support to travellers in¬
tending to explore Central Africa from the side of Zanzibar.
Arabia has been peopled from the earliest times, but its
ancient history seems to have been lost or corrupted in a
long course of oral tradition. The narratives of the Arabian
historians are absurd and fabulous, resting on no evidence;
nor have later writers succeeded in withdrawing the veil of
oblivion from the history of those early ages. The com¬
mon notion among the Arabs is, that they are descended
from Joktan the son of Eber, as well as from Ishmael the
son of Abraham by Hagar ; and the posterity of the former
are denominated pure Arabs, while those of the latter are
called naturalized or engrafted Arabs. Joktan had thirteen,
or, according to the Arabian traditions, thirty-one sons, who,
after the confusion of languages at Babel, are said to have
settled in the south-eastern parts of Arabia, and to have
gone afterwards to India, with the exception of two, namely,
Yarhab and Jorham, the former of whom gave name to the
country. Yarhab settled in Yemen, while Jorham founded
the kingdom of the Hedjaz, where his posterity reigned.
Ishmael being dismissed by Abraham, retired to the wilder¬
ness of Paran, where he married an Egyptian, by whom he
had twelve children, who were the heads of as many potent
tribes of the Scenite or wild Arabs. He afterwards, accord¬
ing to tradition, married the daughter of Modad, the king
of the Hedjaz, lineally descended Horn Jorham ; and is thus
considered by the Arabians the father of the greater body
of their nation.1 By these tribes Arabia was ruled in an¬
cient times, and a genealogical list is preserved of a long
line of kings in Yemen and other provinces, of whom nothing
further is known than the names. The ancient tribes who
inhabited Arabia maintained flocks and herds. They were
addicted to commerce and rapine, and frequently by their in¬
roads molested the neighbouring states. They were invaded
in their turn by the Assyrians, the Egyptians, the Medes, and
the Persians; but whatever ancient historians may relate
concerning the victories of Sesostris, it does not appear that
either the Assyrians, the Egyptians, or the Persians, ever ob¬
tained any permanent footing in the country.
The Greek and Roman writers describe w ith accuracy
the general features of Arabia, the scarcity of water in the
desert, the deep wells known only to the inhabitants, and
the pastoral and predatory habits of the people; and, in the
fertile districts, the rich produce of corn, wine, oil, honey,
frankincense, myrrh, and odoriferous gums ; but this infor¬
mation is mixed with fabulous tales and absurd exaggera¬
tions. From the rare and precious produce with which
Arabia abounds, the most fanciful ideas were formed of its
vast wealth. It was said to possess abundant mines of pre¬
cious stones, and gold, which was found in small pieces of
the size of nuts, of the brightest colour and polish. (Dio¬
dorus Siculus, Hist. lib. ii. sect. 48.) This favoured land
was besides supposed to be enriched by the peculiar nature
of its commerce, its valued products being sold to other
nations, while their produce was not required in return.
B I A. 361
The balance of trade was thus alw'ays in its favour; and, ac- Arabia,
cording to this hypothesis, a supply of gold and silver was
perpetually flowing into it from all other countries.2 Cassia
and cinnamon are also erroneously mentioned as the pro¬
ducts of Arabia, probably because they came directly to
the Romans from that country, which has been in all ages
the great depot of Indian produce. The great lake, men¬
tioned by the ancient writers, and said to contain bitumen,
and to yield a large revenue, must be the Dead Sea, thus
included by the ancients within the limits of Arabia; or the
existence of this sea so near Arabia may have given rise to
the report of another lake in the interior, which we know
does not exist. Pliny says that the inhabitants shave their
beards, with the exception of the upper lip—a custom which,
if it ever existed, has not been transmitted to the modern
Arabs, who hold the beard in peculiar honour; and the
story of their promiscuous cohabitation, related by Strabo
and Ptolemy, is entirely contradicted by all the latest and
most authentic accounts of Arabian manners.
In describing the zoology of Arabia, the ancient writers
give an accurate account of the camel and the dromedary;
but some of' them assert that the country contains no horses,
for which in modern times it has been so famed; and their
description of the ostrich is altogether fabulous and absurd.
Pliny asserts that it exceeds the height of a man on horse¬
back ; Diodorus, that it is of the size of a new-born camel,
that it throws stones with its feet at its pursuers, and adds
various extravagant and unfounded details of its habits and
the manner of its death. Ptolemy was the first writer who
divided Arabia into three parts; namely, Arabia Petraea,
Arabia Deserta, and Arabia Felix ; which division, agreeing
with the natural features of the country, is still recognised.
Ptolemy and also Pliny give a long list of towns, and of
the various tribes which ranged over the country. The site
of Petra, that splendid capital of Arabia Petraea, was re¬
discovered by Burckhardt, a silent necropolis in a deep, in¬
accessible wadi. The nations who inhabited this tract were
the Ishmaelites, the Nabatheans, the Cedrei or Kedareni,
and the Hagareni, all which appellations have in later times
been lost in that of the Saracens, so celebrated for several
centuries all over the East. Numerous towns are men¬
tioned in Arabia Deserta, of which, being originally of little
note, all knowledge is now lost; and of the tribes of the
iEsitae and the Agrsei we know nothing but the names.
Arabia Felix was the chief seat of population and of wealth.
It included the fine provinces of Yemen, Hedjaz, Tehama,
Nedjed, and Yumama. It was inhabited by many differ¬
ent tribes, such as the Sabaei, who from the account of
Pliny were a powerful tribe, trading in frankincense, and
extending from sea to sea, either from the Red Sea to the
Indian Ocean, or to the Persian Gulf ;3 by the Minaei,
Atramitae, Marinatae, Catabani, Ascitae, Homeritae, Sap-
phoritae, Omani, Saraceni, &c., of whose history nothing is
now known. The towns of Yaman or Yemen were, Aden,
the emporium Arabice of Ptolemy, on the Indian Ocean;
and Musa, the modern Mocha; both noted marts of trade,
at which were exchanged the precious produce of the coun¬
try (consisting of myrrh, frankincense, perfumes, and pearls,
of which there was a noted fishery near some islands in the
Red Sea), for goods brought by the annual fleets from India.
Those goods appear to have been landed at Aden or Musa ;
to have been carried northward in caravans to Leucocome,
or Portus Albus, in latitude 25° N.; then, according to Strabo,
1 Universal History, vol. viii. chap. ix.
2 Tlin. Historia Naturalis, lib. vi. cap. 32. “ In universum gentes ditissimae, ut apud quas maxim* opes Romanorum Farthorumque
subsistant, vendentibus quae e mari aut silvis capiant, nihil invicem redimentibus.” Strabo (lib. xvi.) mentions that they sold their
gums for precious stones and for gold; and that the invasion of Arabia under Augustus, by Allius Gallus, was prompted by the desire
of attaining the alliance of rich friends, or the conquest of rich enemies. If these ancient writers had been versed in the modern doc¬
trines of political economy, they would have known that the balance of trade could not have been permanently in favour of a country
which abounds in gold.
3 “ Sabad Arabum propter thura clarissimi, ad utraque maria porrectis gentibus.” Plin. Historia Naturalis, lib. vi. cap. 32.
vol. in. ^ z
362 A R A
Arabia, to have been transported across the Red Sea to Myos Hor-
v''—mos, near the modern Cosseir; and being carried on camels
to Coptos, in the Thebaid, a port on the Nile, to have been
thence floated down in boats to Alexandria. Sanaa, the
capital of Yemen, of great antiquity, is supposed to be the
Saphor of Ptolemy; and Mareb, the modern Saba, which
was a large, opulent, and strong city, is now an inconsider¬
able village. On the Persian Gulf was situated the port of
Moscha, now the city of Muscat; and Gerra or Khatif, which,
Pliny and Strabo mention, had turrets and houses formed of
square masses of salt, some of which are still to be seen in
the country. In the Hedjaz was Macoraba or Mecca, the
seat of a very ancient temple; and Yathrib or Lathrippa,
the modern Medina. Djidda, the port of Mecca, is seldom
noticed by the ancients; and Yembo, the port of Medina,
is the Jambia of Ptolemy. The frequent incursions of the
Arabs into the neighbouring regions exposed them to re¬
taliation from hostile armies ; but the aridity of the country
was ever found to be its true defence. It was in vain that
the invader vanquished the Arabs in the field; they fled
from his pursuit on their horses and camels, and quickly dis¬
appeared in the burning desert, whither no army ever dared
to follow them. The northern provinces bordering on Syria
were invaded by Antigonus, and afterwards by Pompey,
though they never succeeded in acquiring possession of Pe¬
tra, the great stronghold of the country. But the most im¬
portant expedition of the Romans was that of dElius Gallus,
in the reign of Augustus, who, with a force of 10,000 troops,
of whom 500 were Jews, and 1000 Nabatheans, natives of
the country, landed at Leucocome, in latitude 25° N., about
70 miles north-west from Medina, and in the following spring,
his troops having been till that time disabled by disease, he
advanced southward, crossed a desert of 30 days’ journey,
and in 50 days more arrived in a pleasant and fruitful re¬
gion, where he took by assault a city called Najran. He
continued his march southward for other 60 days; and being
finally compelled to retreat by fatigue and disease, he crossed
the Red Sea, and, landing his troops at Myos Hormos, on
the Egyptian shore, brought back the poor remains of his
army to Alexandria, after an absence of two years.1 The
situation of the towns in his route being entirely unknown,
we cannot trace his course, though it must have been in the
direction of Medina and Mecca. The great historian of the
Decline and Fall of Rome places the march of iElius Gallus
between Mareb or Mecca and the sea.2 But this is a desert
tract, in no respect resembling the character given of the
country into which he penetrated, which may therefore pro¬
bably be the elevated tract on the Hedjaz ridge of moun¬
tains, extending north and south parallel with the Red Sea.
Northern Arabia was also invaded by the Emperors Trajan
and Severus, but they effected no settlement in the coun¬
try ; and though the cities of Bosra and Petra were at one
time reduced by a lieutenant of Trajan, yet the Romans
never seem to have extended their power over Arabia Pe-
traea. On the decline of the empire Syria was invaded by
the Arabian freebooters, who sometimes drew on themselves
severe retaliation. The doubtful frontier of the respective
territories was thus a constant scene of hostility, until the
Arab tribes, inspired by the genius of Mahomet, advanced to
permanent conquests.
Jews were numerous in the Arabian seaports ever since
the remote period when they monopolized the trade with
Ophir and the spice countries on the Red Sea. After the
destruction of Jerusalem, whole tribes of Israelites found an
asylum in Arabia, where they became so powerful that Du-
naan, a Jewish chief, succeeded in defeating and killing Er
Riad, commonly called Aretha, the Christian (Arian) king
of Himyar, in which country he assumed the royal power.
B I A.
But this Jewish kingdom did not continue many years, as it Arabia
was conquered by Eleesbam, the Christian king of Abys-
sinia, who killed Dunaan. In the age of Mahomet, the Jews
were very numerous and powerful in Arabia, and in spite of
the persecutions which they had to suffer from him and his
successors, there are even in our days great numbers of set¬
tled Israelites natives of Arabia, to be found in the seaports
and wherever the fanaticism of the Arabs suffers them to
dwell. In the interior Jewish tribes are met with leading
a wandering life like Bedouins.
Such are some of the early traditions and imperfect sketches Mahomet]
of Arabian history. We now approach a new era, not only
of greater certainty, but containing events of far deeper in¬
terest, and of lasting importance. The rise and progress of
Mahomet, the prophet of the East, and the rapid propaga¬
tion of his faith, which has changed the moral and political
aspect of the eastern world, forms a most singular chapter in
the history of human affairs, an account of which will be
found under Mahomet.
His death exposed the new state to the dangers of a dis¬
puted succession. The right to the throne, on which sub¬
ject Mahomet was silent when he died, was respectively
claimed by two powerful tribes, namely, those who fled to
Medina with the prophet, or the fugitives, and those who
aided him on his arrival, or the auxiliaries. To terminate
this dangerous dispute, Omar, renouncing his own preten¬
sions, held out his hand to Abubekr as his future sovereign ;
and his authority was recognised in all the provinces. The
Hashemites, under Ali their chief, though averse to the new
monarch, acknowledged him after some time as commander
of the faithful. After a reign of two years he was succeeded
by Omar, who was assassinated in the twelfth year of his
reign, and was succeeded by Othman ; and it was not till hisA- D> 63J'
death that Ali ascended the throne. This contest for the dig¬
nity of caliph has ever since divided the Mahometans into
the two hostile parties of the Shiites or sectaries, who repro¬
bate as usurpers Abubekr, Omar, and Othman; and the Son-
nites, who revere them along with Ali as the legitimate suc¬
cessors of the prophet. This schism is the source of the
hatred which still exists between the Persians and Turks.
Arabia, during the reign of these several princes, was
filled with distraction at home, while the most splendid
conquests were achieved abroad. To give a detail of
these events, which relate besides to other countries as
much as to Arabia, would exceed our limits. We may
therefore briefly observe, that during the short reign of
Abubekr, the Syrian territories of the Greek emperor
were overrun by the victorious Moslems under Abu Obei-
dah, and afterwards under Khaled, surnamed from his
valour and fanaticism the sword of God; that the Greek
armies w ere overthrown in several decisive battles; and
that the rich and populous cities of the country, including
Bosra and Damascus, were stormed by the barbarian in¬
vaders. A new army, raised by the Greek emperor, the
last hope of the falling empire, was scattered before the
barbarian host in the decisive battle of Yarmuk. Pales¬
tine was now subdued, and Jerusalem, which was reputed
a holy city by its ferocious conquerors, and was visited
by the Caliph Omar. Here he directed Amrou to invade
Egypt, which was rapidly overrun; and his other lieu¬
tenants to complete the conquest of Syria. His orders
were punctually obeyed, and Aleppo, Antioch, Tyre, Caesa¬
rea, and all the other cities and fortresses in the province, a. d. 040. j
were successively taken.
On the east the empire of the Arabs was rapidly ex¬
tended. “ They advanced,” says the eloquent historian
of the Decline and Fall of Rome, “ to the banks and
sources of the Euphrates and Tigris; the long-disputed
1 Dion Cassius, Hist. Rom. lib. liii. sect 29.
2 Gibbon, vol. ix. chap. 56.
A R A
Arabia, barrier of Rome and Persia was for ever confounded ; the
walls of Edessa and Amida, of Dara and Nisibis, which
had resisted the arms and engines of Sapor or Nashir-
i). 637* van, were levelled in the dust.” The fate of Persia was
decided in the great battle of Cadesia. The victorious
Arabs poured like a flood over the country, and acquired
prodigious spoil; nor did they halt in their victorious ca¬
reer till they had reached the banks of the Oxus, and had
added to their empire Herat, Merou, Balk, Samarcand, and
other rich and trading cities in the East.
The short reign of Ali, from the year 655 to 661, was
disturbed by domestic dissension and the rival claims of
Moawiyah, the son of Abu Sophian, well known for his
tardy and reluctant obedience to the sword, as was alleged,
rather than to the doctrines of the prophet. The death
of Ali by an assassin was the signal for new contests.
Moawiyah reigned at Damascus, which was the new ca¬
pital of the caliphs of the house of Ommiyah, and was
succeeded by his son Yezid a. d. 680, whose title was
disputed by the surviving family of Ali, Hozein and Ab¬
dallah Ebn Zobeir, his two sons. They fled from Medina to
Mecca ; and Hozein was proceeding to Cufa on assurances
of aid from the inhabitants, when he was surrounded and
barbarously murdered, with all his followers, by Obeidal-
lah the governor. Abdallah, the sole representative of
the house of Hashem, was now proclaimed caliph at Me¬
dina, from which city he expelled all the adherents and
dependents of the house of Ommiyah, to the number of
8000. Yezid dispatched a large force to their aid, by
which Medina was taken, after a vigorous defence, and
abandoned to pillage. Mecca, besieged by the army of
Yezid, was on the point of sharing the same fate, when
intelligence was received of Yezid’s death. His son,
. d. 084. Moawiyah II., succeeded him, and, after a reign of six
weeks, died without naming a successor. Serious com¬
motions now ensued. Merwan, of the house of Ommi¬
yah, was proclaimed caliph at Damascus, while Abdallah
reigned at Mecca. The former was succeeded by his
son Abdalmalac, during whose reign the contest for the
throne was terminated by the death of Abdallah, who,
in a desperate sally from Mecca, where he was besieged
by the troops of the rival caliph, was overpowered and
slain. By his death the sovereignty was firmly established
in the line of the Ommiades, who reigned in Damascus
above 70 years.
But the title of this dynasty not being founded on any
clear principle of religion or of law, was never recognised
by the great body of the Moslems. They regarded with
veneration the lineal descendants of the prophet, who on
their part still cherished the hope of reigning over the
Moslem empire. Numerous partisans of the line of Abbas
were dispersed throughout the provinces, and secret plots
for their restoration were gradually matured into rebellion.
The last caliph of the line of the Ommiades was met on
the field by a powerful army commanded by Abdallah,
the uncle of his rival ; and after an irretrievable defeat
he escaped to Mosul, and finally to Egypt, where he was
defeated and slain, and the last remains of his party ex¬
tinguished. Amid the ruin and massacre of his family
by the conqueror, a royal youth, Abdalrahman, alone
escaped, and making his way into Spain, laid the founda¬
tion of a new dynasty of the Ommiades, who reigned in
Cordova with great splendour for 250 years, from the
Atlantic to the Pyrenees. In Egypt and Africa the
B 1 A- 363
Fatimite caliphs, the progeny of Ali, were invested with Arabia,
loyal authority; and the new line of the Abassides trans-^^^^
fernng the seat of government from Damascus to the
banks of the Euphrates, laid the foundation of Bagdad,
the seat of their empire, and of wealth, literature, and
science, for 500 years.
In the course of these various revolutions and splendid
conquests, Arabia, the original seat of the Mahometans,
had dwindled into an inconsiderable province of their vast
empire, and the rude inhabitant of the desert retained his
solitary independence, heedless alike of distant victories
as of domestic changes. The Hedjaz, the mountainous dis¬
trict of Arabia, and the chief seat of its commerce and its
towns, was governed by the lieutenants of the caliphs,1 or
sherifs as they are called, who are chosen from the tribe
of the Koreish, and who have always acted as the resi¬
dent'sovereigns of the country. But their power was un¬
known in the desert, where the scheiks still continued to
rule. In the disorders attending the decay of the Maho¬
metan power, Arabia was occasionally invaded by hostile
tribes; but it was chiefly the outskirts of the country
that were scathed by the flame of war, which never pe¬
netrated to the interior. It appears from the incidental
and scattered notices which we possess, that about the year
1173 Sultan Saladin subdued a king who reigned in Yemen,
and who had revolted against the authority of the caliphs
of the line of Abassides. Having reduced the country,
he committed the government to two deputies, who after¬
wards claiming independent power, were in their turn re¬
duced by the troops of Saladin. In 1517, when Selim I.
conquered Egypt, and extinguished the last surviving
representative of the second dynasty of the Abassides,
the sherif of Mecca brought to him the keys of the city ;
and the Arabian tribes professed their allegiance, and gave
hostages as a pledge of their fidelity. The country con¬
tinued under subjection for 50 years, when Muttahir,
sherif of the kingdom, impatient of the Turkish yoke,
attacked and routed the army of Murad Pacha, and
freed the country for a time from its oppressors. A power¬
ful army, commanded by the governor of Egypt, was dis¬
patched by Selim II. to Yemen; the Arabian force was
defeated and dispersed, and the authority of the sultan
was re-established in Yemen, and extended backwards to
the highlands. The country, thus reduced, was governed
as a Turkish province by pachas sent from Constantinople.
But in the interior the independent princes and scheiks
still retained their authority, and continued to harass the
Turks, and to drive them back to the coasts. They were
expelled from the province of Yemen about the middle of
the 17th century; and since this period until the invasion of
the country by Mohammed Ali they have only possessed a
precarious and nominal authority in the towns of Djidda
and Mecca.2
The rise of the sect of the Wahabys, and the rapid Wahabys.
extension of their dominion and doctrines, forms a most
important epoch in the more recent history of Arabia.
These sectaries were the reformers of religion in the
East. They were zealous followers of Mahomet, who
were scandalized by the departure of modern believers
from the simplicity of the faith; by their worship at
the tombs of saints; by the luxurious ostentation of
their dress; their remiss attendance at public prayers;
the immorality of their lives; the scandalous indecencies
which they practised in the holy temple of Mecca; and
1 “ Depuis ce tems-la (de Mahomet) les Arabes de Piemen (Yemen), et de toutes autres provinces de PArabic, sont toujours de-
meure's sous Pobeissance des Khalits, ou de liagdet ou Egypte, tant que le Khalifat a duree.” (Herbelot, Blbliotheque Orientate,
laman.)
2 De Guignes, Histoire des Huns, tome i. livre vii. Cantemir’s History of the Growth and Decay of the Othman Empire', Niebuhr,
Description de VArabic. Hanimer-Purgstall, History of the Ottoman Empire.
364 ARABIA.
Arabia, finally, in opposition to the strict prohibitions of the Ko- ment of Sherif Ghaleb, on the usual condition of his Arabia.
ran, by their free use of tobacco and other intoxicating conversion to the Wahaby faith. This conquest was'-^'-w.
drugs.1 Such were the chief articles of the new creed, followed by the reduction of the neighbouring tribes,
which, in the same manner as the faith itself, was propa- and in 1804 Medina surrendered to the Wahaby arms,
gated by fire and sword. Its founder was Mohammed- Here they rigorously enforced the duty of public worship;
Ebn-Abd-el Wahab, the son of a scheik in an obscure the absent were punished; and a respectable woman, ac-
village, born in the year 1691, whose history and success cused of smoking the Persian pipe, was placed upon a
for nearly a century seemed to presage the final triumph jack-ass, and paraded through the town with the pipe sus-
of his doctrines and his arms. It is remarkable that pended round her neck. Saoud soon after visited Medina,
the only two great revolutions which have ever taken and carried away from the tomb of Mahomet all the valu-
place in Arabia have had their origin in religion. It able articles, namely, jewels and pearls, and Cufic manu-
was in both cases for religion that the sword was os- scripts of the Koran, which it contained; and ordered his
tensibly drawn. The subjection or extinction of infidel troops, according to the approved maxims of his sect, who
tribes was a step in the progress of the pious work ; reprobate the worship of saints, to destroy the cupola over
and these objects being accomplished, the original de- the tomb; but it was so strong that with all their efforts
sign, however spiritual in its nature, necessarily termi- they could not deface this curious relic of antiquity,
nated in conquest and political dominion. The young The Hedjaz continued to enjoy tranquillity during the
apostle of the new faith was trained in the strict prin- years 1806, 1807, and 1808, under the divided rule of the
ciples of Mahometanism. He was sent to finish his sherif of Mecca and of the Wahabys, the power of the
studies in the university of Bassora; and on his return former gradually declining, while Saoud was acknowledg-
to his native village, commencing reformer of religion and ed as pontiff and king over the greater part of Arabia,
of manners, he was banished by the governor. He took The Wahaby hordes extended their inroads southward into
refuge in Derayeh, the capital of Nedjed, where he was the mountains of Yemen, whence they descended to the
protected by the scheik Mohammed-Ebn-Saouhoud, a zeal- coasts and plundered the towns of Loheia and Hodeida.
ous disciple, from political views, as was insinuated, of the On the north they advanced into the Syrian desert, and
reformed faith. Here the new tenets were embraced by alarmed the Bedouins in the vicinity of Aleppo, as well
crowds of proselytes, eager to draw their swords in the as the inhabitants of Damascus, who had begun to send
cause of truth ; and so well did the Wahaby chief Saoud away their valuable property to the mountains of Libanus.
profit by their new-born zeal, that before his death in The Mesopotamian tribes near Bagdad were attacked and
1765 he had extended his faith and his dominion over pillaged; and in 1810 Saoud, at the head of 20,000 troops,
the whole province of Nedjed. His son Abd-el-Azyz en- stormed the Persian town of Kerbeleh, putting all the
larged by new conquests the power of the Wahabys. He male inhabitants to the sword.2 The regular intercourse
subdued and rendered tributary the surrounding tribes, of the great pilgrim caravans from Syria, Egypt, Persia,
threatened the holy cities, and finally spread the terror and Yemen, had been interrupted since the year 1803,
of his arms over all the northern parts of Arabia, from and the few scattered pilgrims that reached the holy
Meccaand Medina to Damascus, Bagdad, and Bassora. Mo- cities from the north and west generally came across the
hammed-Ebn-Abd-el Wahab, the founder of the Wahaby Red Sea from Cosseir to Djidda.
sect, died in 1787, at the advanced age of 95. But this The surrender of Mecca and Medina to the sectaries,
event noway damped the zeal of his followers. Their and the interruption of the pilgrimages, excited the shame
expeditions were dreaded all along the banks of the Eu- and indignation of all pious Mahometans. Mohammed
phrates, and in the neighbourhood of Bassora, which they Ali, who in 1804 was appointed pacha of Egypt, re¬
invaded every year, committing great excesses, and mas- ceived instructions from the Porte to undertake the re-
sacring the Arab settlers who were the subjects of the conquest of the Holy Land. He accordingly determined
Bagdad government. In 1797 the pacha of Bagdad un- on the invasion of Arabia, and prepared an expedition
dertook an expedition against Derayeh, the capital of the which he committed to his son Tousoun Bey, and Ahmed
Wahabys. He was repulsed by Saoud, the son of the Aga his treasurer. The infantry, amounting to 2000
reigning chief, who continued his inroads into the Turk- troops, landed at Yembo from Suez in October 1811, and
ish territories on the Euphrates. In 1801 he stormed the took the town after a slight resistance. In January 1812
town of Imam Hosseyn, where, according to the intolerant Tousoun advanced against Medina ; but he was assailed
maxims of the new sect, 5000 persons were massacred. in the mountain passes, through which his route lay, by
Ghaleb, the sherif of Mecca, was alarmed by the con- a powerful army of Wahabys, and utterly routed, with
quests of the Wahabys, and since the year 1792 had the loss of all his baggage and artillery. Being in the
been vainly contending against their rising power. In course of the summer largely reinforced from Egypt,
1801 the sectaries invaded his dominions in great force, he again advanced to Medina in November; and bav¬
in 1802 they stormed the town of Tayf, which they ing sprung a mine and overthrown part of the wall, he
gave up to a general massacre, in which neither men, carried the town by assault, massacring about 1000 of the
women, nor children were spared. In 1803 the holy garrison in the streets. The remainder, to the number of
city, notwithstanding the brave resistance of Sherif Gha- 1500, retired to the castle, which they afterwards surrender-
leb, surrendered at discretion to the victorious Waha- ed on condition of receiving a safe conduct for themselves
bys. On entering it, the strictest discipline was pre- and baggage; in defiance of which they were, on quitting
served by Saoud the chief, and not the slightest ex- the town, treacherously massacred by the Turkish troops,
cess was committed. Ihe inhabitants were, however, Sherif Ghaleb, intimidated by the capture of Medina,
compelled to a more punctual attendance at prayers; to now intimated his desire of surrendering the holy city to
conceal their silk dresses ; all their finely ornamented Per- the Turkish commander. Mecca, with Djidda, its port,
sian pipes were collected before Saoud s house, and there was accordingly taken possession of in January 1813 with-
committed to the flames ; and the sale of tobacco was for- out any opposition ; and in a fortnight the town of Tayf,
bidden. Mecca was afterwards given up to the govern- which had been held by the Wahabys for sixteen years.
1 Felix Mengin, Histoire de CEgypte sous le Gouvernement de Mohammed AH, tome i. p. 379.
s Ibid, tome i. p. 380.
A II A
Arabia, surrendered after a feeble resistance.1 In 1813 Moham-
med Ali landed at Djidda; and on his arrival at Mecca,
suspecting the hostile intrigues of Sherif Ghaleb with the
Arab tribes, he caused him to be arrested and sent under
a guard to Egypt. He was succeeded in the government
of Mecca by Yahya, also of the sherif family, the humble
tool of Mohammed Ali. In the mean time the Turkish
army, weakened by its losses, remained at Mecca and
Tayf; and, with the exception of an unsuccessful expe¬
dition against Toraba, the chief town of the southern
Wahabys, and the capture of Gonfode, a port seven days’
journey south of Djidda, which was soon after recaptured,
no enterprise of any importance had been undertaken
since the surrender of Mecca and Tayf. But Mohammed
Ali was not idle. He employed the time in reinforcing
his wasted army, in collecting magazines and stores, in
purchasing camels, and in strengthening his influence
among the Arab chiefs, many of whom he succeeded in
detaching from the Wahabys by the influence of presents
and money.
Saoud, the successful chief of the Wahabys, died at
Nedjed in 1814, and his son Abdallah, who succeeded
him, though he was brave, was inferior to his father in all
the qualities of a political chief. The pacha having com¬
pleted his preparations, now resolved to strike a decisive
blow. In January 1815 he began his march southward in
the direction of Toraba. The Wahabys, to the number
of 25,000, occupied a strong position on the mountains
near Byssel, from which, after some unsuccessful attempts
to dislodge them, he contrived, by a feigned retreat, to
draw them into the plain. Here their disorderly host
was borne down by the steady attack of the pacha’s dis¬
ciplined force, and flying in confusion, they were cut down
without mercy by the Turkish cavalry. A reward of six
dollars being offered for the head of every Wahaby, 5000
of these bloody trophies were in a few hours piled up
before the pacha’s tent. Of 300 prisoners who were taken,
50 were, according to the cruel maxims of the East, impal¬
ed alive before the gates of Mecca, and the rest at other
parts. Mohammed Ali hastened to profit by his victory.
He arrived in four days before Toraba, which capitulated;
and advancing southward, he encountered the wreck of
the Wahaby army in the mountains near the town of
Beishe. Here, after a brave resistance under Tamy, their
chief, who was seen riding in front, animating the troops
hy his war songs, they gave way before the Turkish artil¬
lery. Tamy, who was betrayed into the hands of his ene¬
mies by an Arab chief, and by his gallant bearing gained
the esteem of the whole army, was sent to Constantinople,
where he was instantly beheaded. Another chief, Bakh-
roudj, was tortured to death in presence of the pacha.
The Turkish army continued the pursuit of the Wahabys,
and subdued most of the southern tribes. Mohammed
Ali was intent on carrying the war into Yemen, whose
rich cities he hoped to plunder ; but the wasted state of
the army forced him to an immediate retreat. He
himself accordingly proceeded to Gonfode on the sea¬
shore, and arrived at Mecca on the 21st of March, after
an absence of 15 days.’ Of his army, consisting of 4000
Turks, he brought back only 1500 ; and of 10,000 camels,
only 300 survived the fatigues of the campaign.
the war against the northern Wahabys was prosecuted
with vigour by Tousoun Pacha, who had advanced east¬
ward from Medina to Khabara, about 300 miles into
B I A.
the interior of the country. Abdallah had fixed his head
quarters at Shenana, only five hours’ march from the Turk¬
ish army, lousoun was here seriously embarrassed by
the want of supplies. His treasurer Ibrahim Aga,2 witli
a detachment, had been some time before surrounded on
the road and cut to pieces, after a gallant resistance, and
his remaining troops were averse to a battle. From these
difficulties he was extricated by a peace, which Abdallah
weakly concluded with him, and by which he agreed to
renounce the possession of the holy cities, to be ranked
among the faithful subjects of the sultan, to pray for him
in the mosques, and to submit to his authority as his so¬
vereign. But this treaty, however disgraceful to the Wa¬
habys, was far from satisfying the views of Mohammed
Ali, who, with his usual contempt of all engagements, re¬
fused to ratify it; and conscious of his strength, would en¬
ter into no overtures from Abdallah, however humble, hav¬
ing determined either to reduce or to exterminate the
rebellious sectaries of Arabia of which he was the head.
Both parties accordingly prepared for war. In Septem¬
ber 1815 Ibrahim Pacha, son of Mohammed Ali, landed
at Yembo with 2000 Turkish troops, besides 2000 pea¬
sants pressed into his service at Siout on the Nile, amid
the outcries of their wives and children. He had
also a corps of 500 Moggrebins from Barbary. Having
spent some time at Medina in reducing the surround¬
ing tribes, and visiting the holy sepulchre, he directed
all the troops which could be spared from the diffe¬
rent garrisons to march on Hanakye or Henakyeh, about
100 miles eastward of Medina, where, early in December,
his whole force was concentrated. Here he remained till
the end of April 1817; and though his troops suffered
severely under fever and dysentery, the diseases of the
climate, he succeeded, by several bold and well-concerted
expeditions, in impressing on the Arab tribes the ter¬
ror of his arms. He extended his alliances among them,
and by his policy as well as by his arms he silent¬
ly prepared the ruin of the Wahaby state. In the con¬
duct of the war Ibrahim combined, with the cruelty of a
Turkish conqueror, undaunted courage and skill, a rare
perseverance under difficulties, and a fertility of resource
which seldom failed him. The discipline of his troops
secured his superiority in the field; and the Wahaby host,
avoiding the risk of a battle, relied on their fortresses,
the nakedness of the land, and the noxious climate.
The issue of the war was thus reduced to a mere arith¬
metical question of the number of men that would be re¬
quired to carry it on. These being provided, the con¬
quest of the country was certain, and Mohammed Ali was
too well versed in war not to see the advantages which he
possessed, and too deeply interested to grudge the neces¬
sary supplies. He was willing to pay the fair price of his
success. The army of Ibrahim, notwithstanding its losses,
was accordingly maintained at its full complement by re¬
cruits from Egypt; and he now hastened to complete the
conquest of the country by reducing its strongholds, and
especially Derayeh, its capital. He had gone to the vil¬
lage ofMaouyeh, where he was joined by a powerful chief;
and having assembled all his forces, consisting of 4000 in¬
fantry and 1200 horse, besides his Arab auxiliaries, he ad¬
vanced in July to the fortress of Rass. In three several
assaults, conducted with desperate valour, but without
skill, the assailants were overwhelmed, and finally re¬
pulsed with severe loss, by the well-directed fire of the
365
Arabia.
1 Burckhardt’s Notes on the Bedouins and Wahabys, p. 350-7. Mengin, Histoire de VEgypte.
2 Ibrahim Aga was a native of Edinburgh, named Thomas Keith, a private in the T2d regiment of highlanders, and taken prisoner
in the last expedition of the English to Egypt. He became a mussulman, and on account of his valour was promoted to the high
office of treasurer by Tousoun Pacha.
366 A R A
Arabia garrison; and Ibrahim, after vainly contending for three
II months and 17 days against the obstinate valour of the in-
Aratan. an(j incurring a loss of 3400 men, was forced to
raise the siege of an ill-fortified place, which, with the aid
of engineers, he might have reduced in two days. But this
was the only disaster which befell the Turkish arms. The
sequel of the campaign was one continued course of con¬
quest. Khabra, Aneyzey and its castle, and Banneydeh,
successively fell after a slight resistance. At the latter place
the Turkish army remained for two months. Having re¬
ceived large reinforcements, it commenced its march, accom¬
panied by a train of 10,000 camels and other beasts of bur¬
den, across frightful deserts of sands, and in January 1818
encamped at Chakra, which was taken after a siege of seven
davs. The town of Dorama was stormed after a brave re¬
sistance, and abandoned to pillage and the sword; and on
the 22d of March, Ibrahim directed his victorious march to
Derayeh, the capital, and last stronghold of the Wahaby
state. This place, which consists of five small towns, each
surrounded with a wall protected by bastions at small dis¬
tances, was now closely besieged by the Turkish army,
which, including infantry and cavalry, amounted to 5500
troops. The siege was long and obstinate, but the Turkish
troops still maintained their superiority. The different divi¬
sions of the town were successively stormed; and the un¬
fortunate Abdallah, thus driven to his last retreat, was re¬
duced to ask a suspension of arms and a conference. His
interview with Ibrahim presented a touching spectacle of
fallen dignity. He demanded peace: the conqueror granted
his request, but added that he was not authorized to leave
him at Derayeh,—the positive order of his father was that
he should repair to Egypt. Abdallah, after 24 hours of de¬
liberation, intimated his assent to the proposed terms, and
only conditioned for his life. Ibrahim would not answer for
the decision either of his father or the sultan, farther than
that he thought them both too generous to take his life.
Abdallah, having bidden a last adieu to his afflicted family,
repaired to the tent of Ibrahim, from which he set out on
his journey across the desert, and arrived at Cairo. He was
sent to Constantinople, where, notwithstanding the inter¬
cession of Mohammed Ali, he was beheaded, along with his
companions in misfortune, in the square of St Sophia, after
being exhibited in every part of the city for three days.
With the death of Abdallah terminated the dominion of the
Wahabys, which, under a succession of vigorous and politic
princes, had in the course of a century been extended over
the whole peninsula of Arabia. But their empire, loosely
A R A
held together by the tenure of recent conquest, was over- Arabia
thrown by the first attack to which it was exposed. The ||
chiefs who yielded to the terror of the Wahaby arms, de- ■^racl>ne
serted on the first appearance of a hostile army ; others were ''■"V'*’
seduced by the influence of gold, which was liberally distri¬
buted ; and domestic dissension coming in aid of foreign
war, dissolved the union of the tribes, and completed the
ruin of the country. According to M. Mengin, whose in¬
formation is undoubted,1 Arabia had ample means of defence,
in the difficulties of the country, and in the numbers, intre¬
pidity, and discipline of its troops ; and, with an able leader,
he expresses his strong and apparently just conviction, that
the Turkish army, in place of conquering the country, would
have perished in its burning deserts.
The ruin of the Wahabys is deeply to be regretted, as
it may throw back for several centuries the civilization of
Arabia. The Wahaby princes reformed the morals as well
as the religion of their country. Under the reign of Saoud
the administration of justice was rigid and impartial. The
crimes of rapine, thieving, and murder, so common among
the Arab tribes, were severely punished; an exact police
was established throughout the country ; and caravans and
travellers were seen journeying on all the roads in perfect
security. The Turkish conquests will restore the primitive
barbarity of the Arabian manners, and anarchy and crime
will resume their wonted sway. But Arabia contains within
itself the seeds of independence. The distance of Nedjed
from Cairo, and the expense and difficulty of sending sup¬
plies through the interior deserts, will render it extremely
difficult to maintain a Turkish force in the heart of the
country; while the religious principles of the tribes, their
warlike character and love of freedom, animating them to
new efforts, may yet enable them to triumph over the foreign
tyranny which oppresses them, and to re-establish their
freedom on a new and a more secure basis.
The expeditions of Mohammed Ali against the Wahabys
of Assyr, between 1824 and 1827, and again in 1833 and
1834, led to no lasting advantage for the Egyptian power.
Since then, there have been frequent gatherings of the
Wahabys in various parts of the peninsula ; and there can
be no doubt, that, should the decline of the Turkish empire
continue, those intrepid and persevering reformers of a
decrepit religion will ere long recover their former power.
Only a few years ago, in 1850, they made a successful at¬
tempt upon Mecca and Medina, conquered both cities, and
occupied them for a considerable time.
(d. b—n.) (w. p—E.)
ARABICI, a sect which sprung up in Arabia about the
year 207, whose distinguishing tenet was, that the soul died
with the body, and also arose again with it. Eusebius (lib.
vi. c. 38) relates that a council was called to stop the pro¬
gress of this rising sect; and that Origen assisted at it, and
convinced them so thoroughly of their error that they ab¬
jured it.
ARABISM, Arabismus, an idiom or manner of speaking
peculiar to the Arabs or the Arabic language.
ARABIST, a person curious and skilled in the learn¬
ing and language of the Arabians: such were Erpenius
and Golius. The surgeons of the thirteenth century are
called Arabists by Severinus.
ARACAN. See Akracan.
ARACHIS, a genus of plants of the natural order Le-
guminosm. The only known species is A. hypogaa, much
cultivated in warm countries, and known by the inappro¬
priate name of Earth-nut. It grows in sandy soils in
southern Europe, in Africa, and Asia. The seeds contain
a bland oil, and taste like sweet almonds.
ARACHNE, in Fabulous History, a Lydian maiden who
is said to have been the inventress of spinning. She is fabled
to have been so proud of her skill in this art as to challenge
Minerva to compete with her. The goddess, inflamed with
jealousy, struck Arachne and tore her work, upon which
she hanged herself in despair. Minerva, from compassion,
brought her to life, and transformed her into a spider, which
still employs itself in spinning.—Ovid, Met., vi. 1-145.
1 M. Felix Mengin landed in Egypt with the French expedition under Buonaparte. lie remained in Cairo for 20 years after the
country was evacuated by his countrymen, where he collected much valuable information respecting the internal administration of Egypt
and the Wahabys. His account of this Mahometan sect is derived from the grandson of Ebn-Abdul-Wahab, its founder.
367
ARACHNIDES,
Arach- From aga^wj, a spider, and tidog, resemblance, a class of
nides. invertebrated animals, formerly regarded as true insects,
and as such classed by Linnaeus in his order Aptera, un¬
der the generic names of Phalangium, Aranea, Acarus,
and Scorpio. The Arachnides were first formed into a dis¬
tinct class by M. Lamarck, whose arrangement of the
Linnaean Aptera is admitted by Latreille to approach the
most nearly to the natural order.
The third primary division in the system of Cuvier,
that of the articulated animals {animalia articulata'), con¬
tains four great classes, viz. Annelides, Crustacea,
Arachnides, and Insecta. We have already stated our
intention (see Animal Kingdom) to treat of the first of
these classes under the title of Helminthology, of the last
under Entomology, and of the two intermediate classes in
the order of their alphabetical occurrence. We shall
therefore now proceed with the history and classification
of Arachnides.
The naturalists who preceded Lamarck appear to have
confounded this class either with the true Insecta, or with
the crustaceous tribes, such as crabs and lobsters. It was
in the course of his public lectures (in 1800) that the last-
named observer instituted for their reception a separate
class, under the title which they now bear.
Cuvier, in one of his earliest works ( Tableau Elementaire
de VHist. Nat. des Animaux, 1798), continued, with his
contemporaries, to class the Arachnides with insects, of
which he regarded them as forming the third principal
division, preceded only by the Crustacea and Myriapoda;
thus far departing from and improving the old Linnaean
system, by assigning them a higher place in his general
arrangement, but not yet admitting them to the honour of
a separate class.
Lamarck published the first edition of his Systeme des
Animaux sans Vertebres in the year 1801, and he there ex¬
plains the reasons which induced him to form the separa¬
tion previously advocated in his lectures.
M. Latreille did not admit the classic separation of the
Arachnides, either in his Histoire Naturelle de Crustaces et
des Insectes (1802-5), or in his later work, the Genera
Crustaceorum et Insectorum (1806-7), but merely placed
them at the head of the class of insects. In a subsequent
volume, however (Considerations Ge?ierales sur VOrdre
Naturel des Crustaces, &c. 1810), he practically admits
the propriety of M. Lamarck’s views ; and in it we find the
Arachnides forming a separate class, and constituted of
the same materials as those used by his predecessor. In
that portion of Baron Cuvier’s Hegne Animal (vol. iii.
1817) of which M. Latreille is the author, we find the
same arrangement followed, with this exception, that in
the last-named work the Myriapoda and Chelopoda are
removed from the Arachnides and placed at the head
of the class Insecta—a modification likewise adhered to
both in the Families Naturelles du Hegne Animal (1825),
and in the recent edition of the Hegne Animal itself (1829),
which contains the latest view of M. Latreille. By these,
in as fur as concerns our general principles of arrangement,
we shall be chiefly guided in the course of this article;
but we conceive it due to M. Lamarck to present our
readers, in the first place, with a short statement of his a l
opinions.1 Aracn.
Ho defines the Arachmdes as follows j Oviparous ani-V^^^^^
mals, at all times provided with articulated legs, not sub¬
ject to metamorphoses, nor ever acquiring new kinds of
organs. Respiration tracheal or branchial: stigmatiform
openings for the entrance of the air. A rudimentary
heart and circulation in the greater proportion of species.
Copulationes plures per vitam in plurimis.2
It is known that no vertebrated animal provided with
feet has ever more than four; and that among such as are
invertebrated, those which in a state of complete deve¬
lopment are provided with feet, have never less than six.
Amongst invertebrated animals, insects have essentially
the smallest number of feet; for the various orders and
families of that class, when arrived at their final develop¬
ment, have never more than six. They are hence called
hexapods by some modern writers. It is otherwise, how¬
ever, with the Crustacea and Arachnides, the greater pro¬
portion of which have more than six feet. Certain species,
in their earliest state, have no more than that number;
but their other feet appear as they advance in age. A
few are hexapod, or six-footed, during the entire term of
their existence ; but in addition to those characters which
determine the class to which they belong, various other
relations connect them with their congeners, and show
that they are not genuine insects.
Among those articulated animals which possess no sys¬
tem of circulation, insects alone undergo genuine meta¬
morphoses ; and none of the Arachnides are subject to
such changes. Now, as all Arachnides are essentially dis¬
tinct from the Crustacea, and as they differ from insects
in the important characteristic just mentioned, it follows,
according to M. Lamarck, thaf they constitute an assem¬
blage of beings which ought not to be held in separation,
however diversified they may be in various points of their
organization.
The most remarkable circumstances in the structure of
Arachnides are the following : That while many of these
creatures are obviously provided with a circulating sys¬
tem, others present no vestige of that system; that the
former breathe by means of branchial cells, while the lat¬
ter respire through tracheae; and that certain tribes are
provided with antennae, and others are entirely destitute
of any such organs. These apparent non-conformities of
structure result from this, that throughout the extended
course of their class, the organization of the Arachnides
undergoes rapid and remarkable changes; and if in the
course of our observations we were to attend not only to
the differences of external or internal parts, but to the
progress of nature in the order of her productions, we
would sooner perceive the propriety of that succession or
change of organization even among animals really allied
to each other by the great majority of their relations ; and
it would not have been deemed necessary to remove to
another class such of the Arachnides as were antennated,
because it would have been then more clearly perceived
how incompatible was such a change with the assignment
of their natural and appropriate place in the system.
1 See the Mstoire Naturelle des Animaux sans Vertebres, 7 vols. 8vo. Paris, 1815-22.
’ “ Animalia ovipara, pedibus articulatis in omni tempore instructa, ad metamorphoses non subjecta, nec nova partium genera ac-
quirentia. Respiratio trachealis ant branchialis: orificiis pro aeris intromissione stigmatiformibus. Cor circulatioque in pluribus in-
choatis. Copulationes,” &c. ut supra.
368 A R A C H
Arach- The class of Arachnides, as established by Lamarck
nides. in his Cours, contained five or six small families, which,
though each possessed of particular characters of dis¬
tinction, it would have been difficult to separate from their
common frame-work, without considerable inconvenience
to whatever other class one or more of such families might
have been removed. If, for example, the antennated
Arachnides should be classed among insects, we then de¬
stroy the most simple and satisfactory definition which
can be given of the last-named class, while we are forced
to assign to the animals with which we unite them a po¬
sition in the general series unsuitable to their real nature
and attributes. If we transport the tracheal Arachnides
to the class Insecta, in order to enable us to define the
latter class by the exclusive character of respiring by
tracheae, then insects can no longer be said to be uni¬
formly distinguished by the possession of antennae, and
the genus Phalangium, &c. would be separated from the
class which contains the spiders. For these reasons La¬
marck is of opinion that the division which contains his
Arachnides, whether antennated or non-antennated, ought
to be preserved in its integrity, if we wish to avoid the
impropriety of associating with insects other forms of
animal life which nature has distinguished by different
characters.1
A class may be constituted of natural materials, and
contained within suitable limits, and nevertheless present
among its various families animals of very different forms
and construction. During every period of its existence,
a butterfly presents an aspect very dissimilar to that of
a scarabseus, yet both belong to the true Insecta. When
strong general affinities (analogies d'ensemble) prevail,
those special diversities of structure which are occasionally
observable are insufficient to authorize a separation of
classes. The genera Aranea, Phalangium, and Galeodes,
are very nearly related to each other, although the first
respire by obvious branchial cells, while the others enjoy
a tracheal respiration.
The non-antennated Arachnides are in general provided
with eight feet; and the Acarides and Pycnogonides con¬
duct naturally to the Phalangides, such as the genus pha¬
langium and others. Now, if these Acarides belong essen¬
tially to the Arachnides, can the parasitical genera, such
as Pediculus and Ricinus, which lead towards them so evi¬
dently, be regarded as belonging to another class ? The
transition is so gradual and prepared, that the Acarides,
provided for the most part with eight feet, like the other
non-antennated Arachnides, yet present us with many ge¬
nera (such as Astoma, Leptis, Caris) which have never
more than six. Lamarck maintains the necessity of pre¬
serving the class Arachnides according to the limits which
he has himself assigned to it, because its being so pre¬
served relieves the class of insects from species with
which that class has little or no connection. Without
citing the impossibility of assigning a suitable position
among insects to tribes like the Parasites, the Thysanoura,
and the Myriapoda, the strongest objection to the re¬
union of these animals with insects is, that it will alter
the general and truly natural characters assigned to the
latter, viz. that of presenting, after exclusion from the
egg, a particular state of larva, singularly varied accord¬
ing to the different orders in the forms and parts of the
animal, and that of finally exhibiting an imago or perfect
state very different from the larva, and distinguished by
six articulated legs, two reticulated eyes, and a pair of
antennae.
Arachnides, on the contrary, although in many instances
antennated, and, like all other living beings, undergoing
N I D E S.
successive developments of parts from the period of their Araeh. :
birth, yet offer not the condition of a larva distinct from nides.
that of the perfect state : they preserve, not of course the
dimensions, but the form and proportions of the parts
with which they were originally produced; and if a few
of them acquire additional parts in the course of their
development, these are not of a new kind, but merely su¬
pernumerary to such as previously existed; for example,
a pair of feet, or another segment to the abdomen. But
this kind of development is different from that called me¬
tamorphosis in insects. All of these acquire either a
new form, or parts of structure of a different kind from
those which they possessed when first produced from the
egg; and their state of larva, manifestly distinct from
that of the perfect insect, is never equivocal.
Thus the Arachnides of Lamarck, distinguished in a
general point of view from true insects by the want of
metamorphoses, yet breathing in air, are remarkable for
the singular gradations which their organization presents
us when we compare the different families with each
other. In fact, these animals exhibit, in their totality,
different groups, which offer among themselves such great
dissimilarities of organization, as might almost furnish the
materials of as many classes; but such a proceeding
would injure the simplicity of systematic arrangement,
and would be unsuitable, in as far as these great divisions
might still be connected together by characters of general
application, the same, in truth, as those by which the
class of Arachnides is itself distinguished.
Although certain Arachnides possess organs adapted to
a circulating system, they do not on that account belong
to the crustaceous class. They are chiefly distinguished
from that class by their respiratory organs, which, whe¬
ther tracheal or branchial, are always placed in the inte¬
rior of the body, whilst in the Crustacea they are exter-*
nal. In the former, also, the opening which admits the
fluid to be respired is stigmatiform; but it is not so in
the latter.
Even the structure of the eyes affords an index to the
Arachnides. All true insects have two eyes, with plane
facettes, presenting the appearance of a very delicate net¬
work ; but in the Arachnides the eyes are smooth, whe¬
ther isolated, as among the greater number, or grouped
as in spiders, and form a spiall mass, of which the surface
is granular or sub-granular, and not in facettes. Arach¬
nides form a class superior to insects, because many of
them are more highly organized, and all of them are more
nearly allied to the Crustacea than genuine insects. It
does not follow from this that all the individuals of that
class are superior to the most perfect insects, or that they
have derived their existence, according to the French
phraseology, by transition from these last-named crea¬
tures, or by an advance or progression in the scale of or¬
ganization. For in the progress of animal life from the
lower to the higher groups, the Arachnides appear to
commence almost at the same epoch as the genuine in¬
sects, and present a dichotomous or double ramification,
corresponding in its level with that which bears the entire
class of insects. About that same point of the animal king¬
dom there seems in fact to be three distinct streams or
courses of life, immediately succeeding the Epizoaria,
viz. that of the apterous insects ( Pulex), which leads suc¬
cessively to all the other forms of insect life ; that of the
antennated parasitical Arachnides and Ricinus),
which leads to the Acarides and other non-antennated
Arachnides; and that of the wandering (vagabundce)
antennated Arachnides (Thysanoura and Myriapoda), from
which the crustaceous tribes may be said to spring.2
1 Animaux sans Vertehres, tome v. p. G.
2 iiirf. tome v. p. 10.
arachnides.
Thus, of those great divisions which appear to derive
their origin almost from the same point in the scale, the
first is formed of an enormous series of animated beings,
characterized by the strongly contrasted aspects of larva
and perfect insect; and the others are true Arachnides,
and consequently present no such marked distinction be¬
tween the conditions of the young and old. In the most
perfect of the aiachnidean class, such as spiders and scor¬
pions, Cuvier has demonstrated a muscular and dorsal
heart, subject to sensible systole and diastole; and on the
abdomen he discovered several stigmatic openings (from
two to eight), which lead to an equal number of particu¬
lar purse-shaped cavities, each of which contained a great
many small and very delicate laminae or plates. These
isolated cavities, and the plates with which they are fill¬
ed, are without doubt the respiratory organs of these
Arachnides. Cuvier regards them in the light of lungs;
while Lamarck himself is inclined to view them rather as*
branchial cavities analogous to those observable in the
leech and earth-worm—the property of branchia being,
in the first place, the power of becoming habituated to
the respiration of air (water being their usual medium),
whilst the true lung respires air alone ; and, in the second
place (and this character applies of course a fortiori to
lungs also), never to exist except in animals which are
possessed of a circulating system.1
Finally, from the dorsal heart already mentioned two
large vessels derive their origin, and are then ramified
over the membrane of the respiratory cavities. Cuvier
regards these vessels as pulmonary, the one acting as an
artery, the other as a vein—and other vessels spring
from the same dorsal trunk, and distribute themselves to
various parts of the body. In these animals there is even
a liver, composed of four pair of glandular clusters, which
discharge their fluid at four different points of the intes¬
tine.
It is among the Arachnides that we find the first es¬
tablishment of organs for the circulation of the animal
fluids; and in the same class we perceive, as it were, the
termination of tracheal respiration by ramified tracheae,
with a view to the substitution of the branchial system,
which, though in itself admitting of considerable varia¬
tion, is always characterized by its more local restriction.
Among the Arachnides also we find the commencement of
the principal of the conglomerated glands.
I he respiratory sacks, which Cuvier pointed out in the
spiders and scorpions, were also detected by M. Latreille
in the genus Phryna, in such a manner as to connect, by
that dominating feature in their structure, the Arachnides
pedipalpes and the Arachnides Jileuses of that author. Al¬
though among the Phalangides the respiratory sacks have
not yet become perceptible, yet the aeriferous tracheae
have changed their character, and no longer consist of
a double cord with a series of plexus, but are merely
branched or ramified. The same order prevails among
the Acarides, and results mainly from the reduced num¬
ber and altered position of the stigmata. Among the an-
tennated Arachnides, in which the stigmata are more nu¬
merous, and in general lateral, the tracheal cords, like
those of insects, have as many plexus as stigmata; and
such Arachnides, in fact, approach the most nearly to the
class of insects. Thus tracheal respiration changes by
degrees its nature a»nd mode of action, as the stigmata
undergo an alteration in regard to their number and posi¬
tion ; and, becoming more and more reduced and restrict¬
ed, it prepares the way, as it were, for branchial respira¬
tion, which only shows itself effectively along with the
establishment of a circulating system. It results from
the^e considerations that, in spite of the difference of or-
fharr-?bSerVable m dlfferent Emilies of Arachnides,
these families are nevertheless related and united by
would " es’ whlch 11 18 ™possible to mistake, and
would be improper to separate, and which appear to
place them at an almost equal distance from Insects and
Crustacea. In their aspect, however, they in general re¬
semble somewhat more nearly the latter class! For ex¬
ample, the cancendes or crabs represent in some respects
by their short bodies, and heads confounded with the
thorax, the usual form of spiders^ while the cray-fish and
1 halassmse {Cancer anomalus, Leach) recall the figure of
the scorpion. °
The greater proportion of Arachnides dwell on the land,
a few inhabit the waters, and a certain number are parasiti¬
cal on the bodies of other animals, of which they suck the
juices. In general they are carnivorous, and live on blood,
or at least on animal substances; a very limited number
existing on vegetable matter. Many are furnished with
mandibles, which perform the functions of a trunk or
sucker; and others are provided with an isolated or sepa¬
rate trunk, frequently accompanied both by mandibles
and palpi. They are for the most part solitary animals,
o. gloomy habits, and forbidding aspect; they court con¬
cealment, and avoid exposure to strong light. The bite
of many species is dangerous, in consequence of a poison¬
ous or irritating fluid frequently instilled into the wound.
The offensive organ in the scorpionides is placed at the
extremity of the abdomen.
The following is a tabular view of M. Lamarck’s system
of arrangement.
General Division of Arachnides.
Order I.—Antennated tracheal Arachnides. Head fur¬
nished with two antennae. Respiration effected by
means of double-corded plexiform tracheae.
Section I.—Crustaceans Arachnides. Two composite
eyes, of which the surface is granular or sub-granular.
They are sometimes called wandering Arachnides, to
distinguish them from such as are fixed or parasitical.
They are frequently of a scaly structure, and provided
with mandibles fitted for incision and division. This
section consists of two families, viz. Thysanoura and
Myriapoda. The following are the genera of Thysa¬
noura : Smynthurus, Podura, Machilis, Lepisma. Those
of Myriapoda are, Scutigera, Lithobius, Scolopendra,
Polyxenus, Julus, Glomeris.
Section II.—Acarideous Arachnides. Two or four smooth
eyes. These animals are parasitical, and provided
either with a retractile sucker or with two mandibles
hooked for the purpose of adhesion. Their bodies are
never scaly. The genera are Pediculus and Ricinus.
Order II.—Non-antennated tracheal Arachnides. No an¬
tennae. Tracheae for respiration branched, but not gan-
glionized. Two or four smooth eyes.
Section I.—Body either without apparent division, the
head, thorax, and abdomen, being united in one mass,
or composed of two divisions. This section is composed
of two families, viz. Acarides and Phalangides. The
former contains the following genera: Astoma, Lep-
tus, Caris, Ixodes, Argas, Uropoda, Smaris, Bdella,
Acarus, Cheyletus, Gamasus, Oribata, Erythraeus,
Trombidium, Hydrachna, Elais, Limnochares. Ihe
369
1 Analyse des Travaux des Sciences de I'lnstitut pendant l'annex 1810.
o A
VOL. III.
ARACHNIDES.
genera of Phalnngides are these—Trogulus, Siro, Pha-
langium.
Section II.—Body divided into three or four distinct seg¬
ments. This section is likewise composed of two families,
Pycnogonides and Pseudo-scorpio7ies. Of the first family
the genera are, Nymphum, Phoxichilus, Pycnogonum;
of the second, Galeodes, Chelifer.
Order III.—Non-antemiated branchial Arachnides. No
antennae. Branchial cells or pouches for respiration.
From six to eight smooth eyes.
Section I.—Pedipalpi or Scorpionidce. Palpi very large,
in the form of projecting arms, terminated by claws or
pincers. Abdomen distinctly ringed, and not furnished
with a spinning apparatus. Genera—Scorpio, Thelypho-
nus, Phrynus.
Section II.—Araneides or Spinning Arachnides. Palpi
simple, in the form of small feet; those of the male
bearing the sexual organs. Mandibles terminated by
a movable crotchet. Abdomen without rings, and
furnished at its termination with a web-making appara¬
tus, consisting of from four to six spinners. Genera—
Aranea, divided into numerous tribes or sub-genera;
Atypus, Mygale, Avicularia.
In his Considerations Generates, M. Latreille founds the
orders of the class Arachnides on two principal points as
the first basis. These animals are either masticators or
suckers. The jaws of the former are simple, and fitted
for cutting and triturating the substances on which they
feed; those of the latter, when they exist at all, serve
only to seize their prey, and are terminated by a movable
piece, either solitary and hooked, like a claw or crotchet,
or accompanied by a fixed projection like a small finger.
In the latter case the mandibles have the appearance of a
pair of pincers. The Arachnides of this division compress
with their pincers the small animals on which they prey,
and so force the alimentary juices to pass by degrees into
the oesophagus. The body of their prey having under¬
gone this operation, is thrown aside. In spiders the claw
of the mandible seems to execute an additional function.
It distils a poisonous liquid, analogous in its nature to that
which exudes from the mouth of the scolopendra, and
the tail or sting of the scorpion. Moreover, all the mas¬
ticating Arachnides are furnished with antennae, while the
suctorial tribes, with the exception of two genera, Ricinus
and Pulex, are unprovided with these organs. Thus the
primary divisions of this class by Latreille nearly corre¬
spond to Lamarck’s two orders, the Antennistes and Pal-
pistes.
M. Latreille then subdivides the masticating Arachnides
into three orders— Tetracera, Myriapoda, and Thysanoura.
The last alone present a thorax distinct from the abdo¬
men, and have no more than six feet. In the two first-
named orders the organs of movement amount at least
to the number of fourteen, disposed along the sides of the
body, each segment of which, with the exception at most
of the last three, carry one or two pair. The Tetracera
(genus Oniscus of Linnaeus) are distinguished by four an¬
tennae ; there are only two in the Myriapoda. The
Tetracera have besides several jaws, and are furnished with
plates or foliaceous appendages on the inferior surface of
the posterior extremity of their bodies. The number of
their feet is invariably fourteen. They are related in
several particulars to the Crustacea. De Geer observed,
that in Assellus and Idotea there is a kind of membranous
cavity, frequently filled with air, beneath the plates of the
tail; and similar parts are observable in the true crustace-
ous Squillae of Fabricius. In Oniscus the air penetrates
the body by openings, which are covered by the first folds
of the tail. The other Tetracera probably receive it in a
similar manner: at all events they are not provided with
distinct external stigmata, like the Arachnides of the suc¬
ceeding orders. We still find in this first division species
which inhabit the sea; but as soon as we enter the order
Accra (scorpions, spiders, &c.) we find none occurring in
that element.
The structure of suctorial Arachnides is reducible to
three principal forms or combinations of organs ; Lf, Those
possessed of antennae, and of which the head is distinct
from the thorax—Parasita ; 2d, Those which are unpro¬
vided with antennae, each segment of the body furnished
with a pair of legs, and the head distinct—Pycnogonides;
3(/, Those which are unprovided with antennae, but of
which the head and thorax are confounded as it were in a
single segment, which alone is provided with feet—Acei'a.
This last-mentioned order, according to Latreille, would
form the first, if the organs of the mouth alone were con¬
sidered, as these are more complicated than in any other
suctorial Arachnides. The Acera have two palpigerous
maxillae, and frequently a lip, with two strong mandibles.
The generality of the Pycnogonides have also mandibles,
which have been taken for palpi, and true palpi, which
have been erroneously regarded as antennae; but their
mouth consists of a tunnel or syphon of a single piece. It
is still more simple in the Parasites, being nothing more
than a very short projection, containing a small sucker, or
a cavity of which the sides are dilatable, and accompanied
by two crotchets.
In regard to the families of the Arachnides, the Tetra¬
cera offer two principal groups. Some dwell in salt or
fresh water, are usually fixed upon other animals, of which
they suck the blood, and have, with the exception of the
genus Bobyra, four very obvious and distinct antennae.
They constitute the first family, that of Others
are more terrestrial than aquatic. They wander from place
to place, love obscure and sombre situations, and live upon
putrid substances ; their two intermediate antennae are
but slightly developed. They form the second family,
called Oniscides. According to Latreille, the structure of
the mouth in Scolopendra is so different from that of Julus,
that it is difficult to conceive the motive which influenced
Fabricius to unite these Arachnides into a single order,
that of Mitosata. In Julus, the maxillae and the lip are
soldered together, forming one transverse plate, without
distinct palpi, or their place supplied by tubercles. The
Scolopendrae have their maxillae separated, four projecting
palpi, and the labia in the form of hooks, subservient to
the same uses as the mandibles of spiders. These consi¬
derations, and the figure of the antennae, have required
the establishment of two families, which compose Latreille’s
order Myriapoda, viz. Chilognatha and Syngnatha. Pro¬
ceeding upon the same principles, he divides the order
Thysanoura likewise into two families, the Lepismenae and
the Podurellcc. The next orders, Parasita and Pycnogo¬
nides, contain few genera, and do not admit of subdivision
into families. The last order, Acera, is composed of eight
families, viz. Scorpionides, Pedipalpi, Aranides,Phalangita,
Acaridiae, Riciniae, Hydrachnellae, and Microphthira.
Before commencing our systematic exposition of this
class, we shall lay before our readers the sentiments of
Mr Kirby. “ I must next say something on the orders of
the Araehnida. Every one at first sight sees that spi¬
ders and scorpions are separated by characters so strongly
marked, that they look rather like animals belonging to
different classes, than to the same. These form the two
primary orders of the Arachnida, and they appear to be
connected by two secondary or osculant ones,—on the one
side by Galeodes, and on the other by Thelyphonus and
Phrynus. This class, although there is an appearance of
Arach.
nides.
v O
eight legs, is, strictly speaking, of a Hexapod type ; for the
anterior pair, ordinarily regarded as legs, and performing
their function, are really the analogues of the maxillary
palpi of perfect insects. This will be evident to you if
ou examine any species of Galeodes. These animals, if we
ook at them cursorily, we should regard as decapods; but
when we trace the two anterior pairs of apparent legs to
their insertion, we find that both proceed from the head,
which in that genus is distinct from the trunk; while the
three last pairs, which alone are furnished with claws, are
planted, as legs usually are, in the latter part. The first
A R A C H N I D E S.
Phrynidea.
371
l
Dee. Mandibles unguiculate. Anterior palpi chelate
01 unguiculate, very robust. Posterior palpi pediform,
very long and slender. Abdomen divided into seg¬
ments. Spiracles two pairs. Anus terminating in a
mucro, and sometimes in a filiform jointed tail, with¬
out a sting at the end.4
In the Pecjne Animal (2d edition, 1829), Latreille in¬
cludes in the class Arachnides only those species which
... correspond to the Arachnides palpistes of M. Lamarck,
pair represent the ordinary palpi of Arachnida, are analo- By this arrangement he is of opinion they maybe classed
gous to the labial ones of hexapods, and, as likewise in and defined in a more simple and rigorous manner. Accord-
Phrynus and Thelyphonus, are more robust than what are ing to his most matured views, then, the Arachnides, like
usually taken for the first pair of legs ; but they differ in the Crustacea, are destitute of wings, and are not subject
being considerably longer, and, instead of terminating in to metamorphoses, but only to simple changes. Their
a chela, are furnished with a retractile sucker.1 The sexual organs are removed from the posterior extremity
second pair are more slender and shorter than the first, of their bodies, and situated, with the exception of cer-
They correspond precisely with what are deemed the first tain males, at the base of the abdomen. They bear a re¬
pair of legs of Octopods and Arachnida, and are clearly semblance to insects in as far as the surface of their bo-
analogous to the maxillary palpi of insects. Whether the dies present openings or transverse clefts named stigmata,
base of the first pair of these palpi is in any respect ana- for the entrance of air, but in smaller number than in in-
logous to the labium of insects (as that of the second sects (eight at most, generally two), and placed only at
seems to be to their maxillae), I am not prepared to assert; the inferior part of the abdomen. Their respiration is
it will therefore be most advisable to name these palpi an- farther carried on either by aerial branchia, performing
terior wad posterior ; but as they evidently proceed from the office of lungs, inclosed in the cells of which the open-
the head in Galeodes, and in that genus are clearly analo- ings just mentioned are the entrance, or by means of ra-
gous to those of the Phrynidea (which in their turn as *—1  rr'1  n • • • ” •
clearly represent those of the Aranidea), it follows, that
in all they are organs of the part representing the head,
and therefore not in a primary sense legs, although in
a secondary, as M. Savigny2 has proved, they may be so
called.”3
diated tracheae. The organs of vision consist of small sim¬
ple eyes, variously grouped when numerous. The head,
usually distinct from the thorax, presents, as analogous to
the antenna- of insects, two articulated appendages, in the
form of small talons of two or more pieces, which have
been improperly compared to the mandibles of insects,
The following are the secondary groups of the class though moving in a different direction. They, however, co-
Arachnides, according to Mr Kirby’s exposition, in the
work last quoted.
1. Aranidea.—M‘Leay. (Aranea, L., Araneidce, Lat.)
The Aranidea or spiders seem resolvable into two
sub-orders—the Sedentaries and the Wanderers;
thus forming, perhaps, what Mr M‘Leay would de¬
nominate the normal groups of a circle oi Arachnida.
Dee.—Mandibles armed with a perforated claw. Head
and trunk coalite. Palpi pediform, anterior pair
without claws. Abdomen without segments or elon¬
gated tail. Spiracles two. Anus furnished with an
apparatus for spinning.
2. Scorpionidea.—M‘Leay. (Scorpio, L. Latr.)
Dee.—Mandibles chelate. Head and trunk coalite. An¬
terior palpi chelate. Posterior palpi pediform. Pec-
tens two. Abdomen divided into segments, and ter¬
minating in a jointed tail, armed at the end with a
sting. Spiracles four pair.
3. Galeodea.
Dee.—Head distinct. Eyes two. Mandibles chelate,
with dentated chelae. Palpi pediform, the anterior
pair thickest, with a retractile sucker. Trunk con¬
sisting of two principal segments, with a minute sup¬
plementary posterior one. Spiracles two, placed in
the trunk. Pseudo-pectens two. Abdomen divided
into segments. Anus unarmed, and without a spin¬
ning apparatus.
operate in the action of the jaws, and are represented in
those Arachnides of which the mouth is formed like a sy¬
phon or sucker by two pointed plates or lancets.5 A sort
of lip (labium, Fab.), or rather tongue, formed by a pecto¬
ral prolongation; two maxillae, formed by the radical part
of the first article of two small feet or palpi,G or by a lobe
or appendage of that article; a beak-shaped projection,
named sternal tongue (langue sternale) by M. Savigny,
produced by the re-union of a very small chaperon, ter¬
minated by a minute triangular lip, and of a longitudinal
inferior keel, usually hairy:—these, and the parts called
mandibles, compose, under certain modifications, the gene¬
ral structure of the mouth in the class Arachnides. The
pharynx is placed in advance of a sternal projection, which
has been regarded as a lip; but when we consider its po¬
sition behind the pharynx, and the absence of palpi, it is
probably rather analogous to a tongue (languette). The
feet, like those of insects, are generally terminated by two
crotchets, sometimes by three, and are all attached to the
thorax, which is almost always formed of a single articu¬
lation, for the most part intimately united to the abdo¬
men. The abdomen in the greater proportion of species
is soft, or but slightly protected.
When considered in relation to their nervous system,
the Arachnides are obviously distinguished both from the
Crustacea and Insects; for, with the exception of the scor¬
pions, the ganglia or swellings of the nervous cords never
exceed three in number.
The greater proportion of Arachnides feed on living in¬
sects, the bodies of which they seize or adhere to, and
1 Leon Dufour, Six Nottv. Arach. S[C. Ann. Gcn.dcs Sciences Physiq. iv. iii. 17, t. Ixix. f. 7- b-
2 Mem. sur les Anim.sans Veriebres. 3 Introduc. to Entom. vol. iv. p. 3CG. (1826.) 4 Tnd. p. .188.
4 Chcliceres or Antenne-pinces of the French writers.
* According to Latreille, these do not differ from feet properly so called, except in the tarsi, composed of only a single joint, and
usually terminated by a small crotchet; they almost entirely resemble the ordinary feet of the Crustacea.
372
A R A C II N I D E S.
Arach- suck their juices. Others are parasitical on the bodies of
nides. vertebrated animals. A few, such as certain mites, feed
on cheese, and on flour and other vegetable productions.
In some of the species two of the feet are not developed
till the animals have changed their skin; and in general
it is not till after their fourth or fifth moult, or casting
of their exuviae, that the Arachnides attain to their com¬
pleted state.1
The following tabular view exhibits the classification
and relative position of the orders and genera of this ex¬
tensive class.
CLASS ARACHNIDES.
Order I.—Pulmonari^e.
Family II.—Pedipalpi.
Tribe 1.— Tarentulce.
Genus 34. Phrynus.
35. Thelyphonus.
Tribe 2.—Scorpionides.
Genus 36. Buthus.
37. Scorpio.
Order II.—Tracheari^e.
Family I.—Pseudo-Scorpiones.
Genus 38. Galeodes.
39. Chelifer.
Family I.—Araneides.
Sect. I.— Tetropneumones.
Genus 1. Mygale.
2. Cteniza.
3. Atypus.
4. Erodion.
5. Dysdera.
6. Filistata.
Family II.—Pycnogonides.
Genus 40. Pycnogonum.
41. Phoxichilus.
42. Nymphon.
43. Ammothea.
Family III.—Holetra.
Tribe 1.—Phalangita.
Sect. II.—Dipneumones*
A.—Sedentariae.
Tribe 1.— Tubitelce*
Genus 7. Clotho.
8. Drassus.
9. Segestria.
10. Clubiona.
11. Aranea.
12. Argyroneta.
Tribe 2.—Incequiteloe.
Genus 13. Scytodes.
14. Theridion.
15. Episinus.
16. Pholcus.
Tribe 3.— Orbitelce-
Genus 17. Linyphia.
18. Uloborus.
19. Tetragnatha.
20. Epeira.
Tribe 4.—Laterigradce.
Genus 21. Micrommata.
22. Senelops.
23. Philodromus.
24. Thomisus.
B.—Erraticae.
Genus 44. Phalangium.
45. Gonoleptes.
46. Siro.
47. Macrocheles.
48. Trogulus.
Tribe 2.—Acarides.
Genus 49. Trombidium.
50. Erythraeus.
51. Gamasus.
52. Cheyletus.
53. Oribata.
54. Uropoda.
55. Acarus.
56. Bdella.
57. Smaridia.
58. Ixodes.
59. Argas.
60. Eylais.
61. Hydrachna.
62. Limnochares.
63. Caris.
64. Leptus.
65. Aclysia.
66. Astoma.
67. Ocypete.
We shall now proceed to the first subdivision of tbe
class into two great orders.
Tribe 5.—Citigradce.
Genus 25. Oxyopus.
26. Ctenus.
27. Dolomedes.
28. Lycosa.
29. Myrmecia.
Tribe 6.—Saltigradce.
Genus 30. Tessarops.
31. Palpimanus.
32. Eresus.
33. Salticus.
Order I.—Arachnides PulmonarijE.
Characterized by the possession of pulmonary sacks, a
heart with distinct vessels, and from six to eight simple
eyes. The sacks contain aerial branchia, which perform the
office of lungs, and are named pneumo-branchiabyLatreille.
They are placed under the abdomen, and are indicated
externally by stigmata or small transverse openings, of
which there are sometimes four on each side, sometimes
only four in all, or two on each side. The eyes vary in
number from six to eight,2 whereas in the subsequent or¬
der ( Trachearice) there are never more than four. The re¬
spiratory organ is formed of small plates. The heart is a
/ Latrfle ^ observed, in conformity with the experience of Jurine fils, that the Argulns of Muller does not acquire the faculty
of generating till after the completion of the sixth moult. Caternillars wnernllv .u - , ' £ ’ »uc acquire me iai,uiL?
the form of the chrysalis, which, with the final transformation to the^ ?mS ^ u*? bef°re ?? T
■ The genus IWe/, of M. Refines,ue is described as havi„“„5y lut M 1 ""mf,er.of “““T', f fS
had been overlooked. ^ Iour eyes; but M. Latreille is of opinion that the lateral pair
Arach
nides
ARACHNIDES.
large vessel, which stretches along the back, and gives off
branches forwards and on either side.1 The feet are con¬
stantly eight in number. The head is always confounded
with the thorax, and presents two pincers (mandibulce of
authors, cheliceres or antenne-pinces of Latreille) terminat¬
ed by two finger-like projections, of which one is mov¬
able. or by a single hook or claw, always movable. The
mouth is composed of a lip (labium) ; of two palpi, which
sometimes assume the shape of arms or talons; of two or
four maxillae, formed, when there is only a pair, by the
radical article of the palpi, and when there are four, by
that same article and the corresponding portion of the first
pair of feet; and of a languette of one or two pieces. If
we were to assume as a basis the progressive diminution
in the number of the pulmonary sacks and stigmata, then
the scorpions which have eight, while the other Arach-
nides have only four or two, would form the leading ge¬
nus of the class, and the family of Pedipalpi would take
precedence of the Araneides or spinners; but these last-
named Arachnides are to a certain extent isolated, by rea¬
son of the sexual organs of the male, by the hook of their
frontal talons, by their pediculated abdomens, and the pe¬
culiarities of their spinning apparatus, as well as by their
natural habits; and the scorpions also appear to form a
more natural transition from the pulmonary Arachnides to
the family of the pseudo-scorpions, the first of the second
order.
Of all the Arachnides the Pulmonarice exhibit the great¬
est analogies to the crustaceous class, especially to the
genus Limulus and others of the paecilopodous order. The
pneumo-branchia and their stigmatiform openings may
frequently be detected externally by yellowish-white
markings, disposed in two longitudinal series. The first
two are placed immediately beneath the sexual organs, at
least in the females, at a small distance from the origin of
the abdomen, and on its second segment, when that part
is annular or divided into segments. Thus the second
segment in these Arachnides corresponds in its characters
to the first segment of the female Limulus. We may also
perceive in them the indications of conglomerated glands,
and even in certain species traces are observable of chili-
ferous vessels.
The claw of the mandibles in spiders, and the terminal
joint of the tail in scorpions, form a species of dart, perfo¬
rated by one or two openings, which give issue to a poi¬
sonous liquid secreted by special glands. This poison is
mortal to such small creatures as form the natural prey
of the Arachnides, and is even productive of dangerous
consequences to man and the larger animals. Its mode
of action on animals unprovided with a circulating sys¬
tem is not clearly understood, but the phenomena attend¬
ing it might reasonably be adduced in support of that
theory which advocates the agency of poison from the bite
of venomous reptiles as being carried on as much through
the medium of the nervous as the circulating fluid. The
almost instantaneous death of animals from the bite of
certain snakes has been regarded as a proof that the vas¬
cular system was not alone concerned; and the same sud¬
den effect produced upon those classes in which, as far
as we can perceive, no vascular system exists, demon¬
strates some other mode of action.
Notwithstanding the researches of Cuvier, Marcel de
Serres, Leon Dufour, Treviranus, and other observers,
om knowledge of the internal organization of several ge-
Arachnides is extremely deficient. Hence it is
difficult to trace the boundaries of the orders in a manner
at once natural and precise. At the same time it has
been remarked, that the accurate observation of the eyes
and other external organs furnish characters which coin¬
cide with the distinctions deduced from internal structure,
as far as the latter has been ascertained.
Family I—-Araneides.
This extensive family corresponds to the genus Aranea
of Linnaeus, and contains all those species commonly call¬
ed spiders—the Arachnides fileuses of Latreille. The cha¬
racters are, two or four branchial pouches; from six to
eight simple eyes; last article of the mandibles (cheliceres)
in the form of a corneous claw, perforated at the extre¬
mity for the emission of poison, and folded upon the pre-
ceding joint; abdomen usually soft, without divisions,
its extremity furnished with from four to six small teat¬
like appendages, pierced with numerous holes for the pas¬
sage of the silk or spinning materials ;2 feet palpi, without
pincers at the extremity, but terminated in the female by
small hooks, and in the male by the generative organs.
The maxillae are never more than two in number. The
languette consists of a single piece, always external, and
placed between the maxillae; its form more or less square,
sometimes triangular or semicircular. The thorax, usu¬
ally impressed with a form resembling the letter Y, indi¬
cating the space occupied by the head, is composed of a
single article. The legs, of which the forms are analo¬
gous, though the dimensions differ considerably, are com¬
posed of seven joints, of which the first two form the
haunch, the third the thigh, the fourth and fifth the leg,
and the remaining two the tarsi; the last is terminated
by a couple of hooks, which are usually toothed or pecti¬
nated, and in many species there is an additional tooth of
smaller size, but not pectinated. The intestinal canal is
straight: there is first a stomach composed of several
sacks; and towards the middle of the abdomen a second
dilatation occurs. According to Marcel de Serres the heart
is situated in the abdomen, and stretches throughout its
whole length; there is a considerable swelling towards its
superior extremity, after which it assumes and retains the
cylindrical form. It is very muscular, and its pulsations
are strong and frequent. The pulmonary pouches, usu¬
ally two in number, are always situated on the lower sur¬
face of the abdomen, near its origin, and are covered by a
coriaceous skin, generally of a red colour; the stigmati¬
form opening proper to each pouch is placed towards its
base, on the inner side. These pouches are formed of a
white membrane, strong but flexible, which presents on its
interior, transverse, projecting, parallel, nearly semicircu¬
lar folds or plates, which constitute the respiratory organ.
The liver is proper to the abdomen, of which it occupies
the chief portion. It is composed of an infinity of minute
glands fixed to the intestinal canal, and filled with a pe¬
culiar liquid, thick, and of a brown colour. The interior
of the abdomen also contains the silk vessels, four in num¬
ber, long, cylindrical, folded, yellow. They open into a
common canal, situated at the origin of the spinners.
373
1 According to M. Marcel de Serres (Memoire sur le Vaisseau Dorsal des Inscctes), the blood in the araneides and scorpions pro¬
ceeds first to the respiratory organs, and from thence by special vessels to the various parts of the body. Latreille, however, seems
to think, from the relations which exist between these creatures and the crustaceous tribes, that such circulation may be effected in
the contrary direction. See the Regne Animal, tome iii. p. 212; and a memoir bv Treviranus On the Internal Organization of Arach¬
nides. 1 vol. 4to, Nuremberg, 1812.
2 Some naturalists are of opinion that the two small spinners placed in the centre of the four exterior ones yield no silk-
A R A C H
The nervous system consists, Is#, of a cerebriform gang¬
lion, placed towards the base of the thorax, quadrangular
in some, in others rounded—from it proceed whitish ner¬
vous threads to the mouth, eyes, and feet; 2c?/?/, of two
nervous cords, derived from the above ganglion, which oc¬
cupy the median line of the body, and of ganglia which
distribute nervous filaments to the different organs, and
principally to the alimentary canal and the silk vessels.
M. Dufour did not ascertain the number and disposition
of these latter ganglia. According to Treviranus they do
not exceed two.
The dorsal and abdominal region of many spiders ex¬
hibit several small depressed points, which are produ¬
ced by the attachment of the filiform muscles which tra¬
verse the liver. These are likewise observable in the scor¬
pions.1
The silk vessels with which both sexes of many spe¬
cies fabricate those webs so remarkable at times for their
symmetrical form and exquisite delicacy of structure,
vary in shape and position according to the habits of the
species. The formation by these creatures of skilfully
wrought nets for the capture of their prey, is a fact of
such every-day occurrence and observation, that we cease
to regard it in its proper light, as one of the most admir¬
able and surprising instincts of animal life. According to
Reaumur, the silk undergoes its first elaboration in two
small reservoirs, shaped like a drop of glass placed
obliquely, one on each side, at the base of six other reser¬
voirs in the form of intestines, which lie side by side, and
folded six or seven times. The latter derive their origin
from a little below the commencement of the abdomen,
and proceed to the nipples by a slender thread. It is in
the last-named vessels that the silk acquires that greater
consistence and those other qualities which render it fit
for use. A certain degree of dryness or evaporation
seems necessary for the proper formation of the threads;
but when the atmosphere is in a favourable condition the
requisite change appears to take place almost instanta¬
neously.
Various opinions have been entertained regarding the
origin of those white, flaky, filamentous, silky substances
which are frequently found floating in the atmosphere
during the mornings of spring and autumn. They are
called fils de la vierge by the French, and Lamarck still
maintains the opinion that they are meteoric productions.
The results of chemical analysis, as well as of ordinary
observation, render it little less than certain that they are
produced by small spiders of the genera Epeira and Tho-
misus. The innumerable threads which the sun-beams
occasionally bring to view over the entire surface of
ploughed fields are also formed by spiders of the genus
Lycosa. Latreille is of opinion that many of these crea¬
tures, before they are sufficiently provided with spinning
materials to form webs, content themselves by ejecting
simple longitudinal threads. They are merely appren¬
tices to the weaving art.
The habits of spiders vary greatly. Some rest in the
centre of their webs, the outstretched cordage of which
warns them of the temporary entanglement of their prey,
on which they instantly rush, and devour after the inflic-
N I D E S.
tion of a mortal wound. Others seek the protection of a Arach-
leaf or other natural harbour, and only appear in the more nicies,
open parts of their premises when lured by an expected
capture. Many spin comfortable tunnels, or horizontal
watchtowers, as they maybe called, in which they repose
till the vibration of their nets calls them into active ser¬
vice. An extensive tribe of erratic species (the
dce) spin no webs at all, but trust to strength, activity,
and cunning, for their daily, or, it may be, monthly fare;
for spiders, though voracious in times of abundance, are
capable of frequent and long-continued abstinence. The
webless species are often endowed with the faculty of
leaping, and after insidiously approaching their prey by
the most wary and almost imperceptible footsteps, they
spring upon it at once, and inflict the fatal wound. Se¬
veral kinds hunt down their insect food by speed of foot;
and a few are nocturnal, and surprise their defenceless
and unsuspecting victims during the darkness of the
night. According to Mr Sheppard, a large species, which
occurs among the fen ditches of Norfolk, actually con¬
structs a sort of raft of weeds, or floating island, on which
it allows itself to be wafted about, and from which it
seizes upon drowning insects; and another (Egccsapiralica
of Walckenaer) gives chase to its prey over the surface
of the water.
Unwet they bathe their oily forms, and dwell
With feet repulsive on the dimpling well.
The passion of love, so powerful in its influence over
the most savage beasts, rules with a feeble and transitory
sway over the subjects of our present inquiry. The male
spider approaches the female with the greatest circum¬
spection, fearful lest the sexual feeling should not have
banished that thirst for blood which under ordinary cir¬
cumstances induces them to prey as readily on each other
as on winged insects. It therefore not unfrequently hap¬
pens, that if a small male approaches a large female,
whose feelings unfortunately do not coincide with his
own, instead of being caressed he is eaten. According to
Audebert, the female of the domestic spider is capable of
producing successive generations without any renewal of
intercourse with the male. He also states that he kept
the same individuals in life for five or six years.
All female spiders, including even the erratic and web¬
less species, are provided with reservoirs of silky matter,
which, if not used in spinning, are at all events employed
in forming a protecting covering for the eggs. The most
casual observer of nature must have frequently remarked
the care with which the anxious mother carries about
and watches over her unhatched offspring; and the deli¬
cate colour of the silken bag which contains the eggs, and
the fine contrast which in some cases it presents to the
body of the parent, cannot have escaped observation. The
truth is, that spiders, though frequently of a repulsive
aspect, are as often distinguished not only by great beauty
of colour, but by extreme elegance of form and delicacy
of structure. We are prejudiced against the race in ge¬
neral, because all those that dwell within doors are of a
dark and lurid hue, and from their haunts and habits have
become objects of aversion and disgust. Thomson has
well described,
1 “ L’organe reproducteur du male est forme de deux verges qui s’ouvrent a 1’extremitd des palpes, et communiquent chacune avec
un testicule en forme de poire, qu on observe dans le thorax. On voit souvent a cote des verges deux crochets, servant au male a
saisir la femelle. L’organe reproducteur de ces derniers individus est place dans 1’abdomen. II est compose de deux valves, situe'es
vers le milieu de sa partie inferieure, et pres de son origine; a leurs deux ouvertures correspondent les oviductus, dont les membranes,
en se deyeloppant, torment les ovaires. Ces organes ne sont point composes de canaux cylindriques, et ne consistent qu’en une mem¬
brane gendrale, enveloppant tous les ceufs, et se divisant seulement vers sa base en deux parties qui se prolongent et constituent les
oviductus. On decouvre vers la base des valves un organe particulier, analogue a 1’oviscapre des femelles des insectes, coriace, ayant
la figure d’un cuilleron, plus large vers son origine qu a 1’extremitd, ou il est assez allonge, et jouissant d’une certaine mobilitd. 11
parait fournir la matiere soyeuse qui recouvre les oeufs ou leurs cocons.” (Did. Class. d'Hist. Nat. tome i. p. 509.)
A R A C II N I D E S.
Arach- _ AVhere gloomily retired,
nides. The villain spider lives, cunning and fierce,
J Mixture abhorred ! amid a mangled heap
1 Of carcases, in eager watch he sits,
O’er-looking all his waving snares around.
Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft
Passes,—as oft the ruffian shows his front ;
The prey at length ensnared, he dreadful darts
With rapid glide along the leaning line ;
And fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs,
Strikes backward grimly pleased; the flutt’ring wing,
And shriller sound, declare extreme distress, B
And ask the helping hospitable hand.
But many of those which live in fields, woods, and gar¬
dens, are worthy of being admired for their beauty, no
less than for their singular instincts and remarkable modes
of life.
The external appearance varies considerably in the
same species, according to the age of the individual. The
younger they are, the less varied is their colouring. The
375
Soon after its confinement it attempted to form a web Arach-
on the side of the vessel, but performed the operation nides.
very slowly and awkwardly, owing to the want of the
proper number of legs. However, in the course of about
a fortnight it had completed a small web, upon which it
generally sat, and no doubt regarded with complacency.
A month after being caught it shed its skin, leaving the
slough on the web. After this change five new legs be¬
gan to appear, which for a short period were of little or
no use to it in walking. These new members, however,
extended themselves considerably in the course of three
days, and became about half as long as the old ones. The
web was now increased, and the spider continued immov¬
ably sitting on it in the day-time, unless drawn from it,
or attracted by a fly thrown to it as its usual provision.
Twenty-nine days afterwards it again cast its skin, leaving
the slough hanging in the web, opposite to a hollow cell
it had woven so as to prevent itself from being completely
number and colour of the eggs differ according to the seen. The legs were now larger than before the chano-e
species. T here is seldom more than a single laying of of the skin, and they continued to increase for several
eggs in each year. In some species the eggs are free or  - - -
unattached in the cocoons which contain them, in others
they are fixed by agglutination. In the course of the
summer season they are usually hatched in from fifteen
to thirty days, according to the temperature. The eggs
ot such as deposit in autumn (as Epeira diadema, a fine
species, which occurs in gardens, near the outskirts of
woods, and in moors and furzes) are, however, seldom
hatched till the commencement of the ensuing spring.
Some species of spider appear to possess the power of
reproducing lost or mutilated parts, after the manner of
the Crustacea. It is somewhere remarked, that in pro¬
portion to the simplicity of organic structure in an ani¬
mal, its body is more capable of repairing by reproduction
such portions as have been destroyed or deteriorated.
Ihis would induce the belief that frogs and lizards are
lower in the scale than insects, and that the latter, which
do not possess the reproductive power, are more highly
organized than spiders and other Arachnides. This, how¬
ever, is not the case; and we may therefore infer that the
principle itself is erroneous, or at least incapable of ge¬
neral application. The ascertainment of the fact, that
spiders were capable of effecting this repair of parts, is
due to the ingenious observations of MM. Vincent Amo-
reux and Amedee Lepelletier. It was also, however, ob¬
served by Sir Joseph Banks in this country, and commu¬
nicated by him to Dr Leach, by whom the circumstance
was recorded in the Supplement to the sixth or preceding
edition of this work.
As Sir Joseph was writing one evening in his study, a
days, but did not attain the size of the old legs. It was
then put into a small bowl as a more commodious and con¬
venient residence, where it spun a larger and more per¬
fect web. We are not acquainted with the result of any
further observations on the subject.
Various attempts have been made at different periods
to fabricate gloves and stockings from the silk of the
spider. Nearly a century ago, Bon of Languedoc suc¬
ceeded in making a pair of each of these articles from
this frail material: they were nearly as strong as those of
common silk, and of a fine gray colour. Reaumur was
appointed by the Royal Academy to report on the ad¬
vantages which might result from the regular prosecution
of a manufactory from spider-silk; but his opinion was,
that the natural fierceness and voracity of spiders ren¬
dered them entirely unfit to be bred and brought up to¬
gether. From 4000 to 5000 were distributed in cells,
each containing from 50 to 200 individuals; but in a short
time only a few were left alive. He also stated, that the
web of the spider was not equal to that of the silk-worm,
either in strength or lustre. The cocoons of the latter
weigh from three to four grains, so that 2304 worms pro¬
duce a pound of silk. But the bags of a spider, when
cleaned of filth and dust, do not weigh above the third
part of a grain, so that the work of twelve spiders does
not exceed that of a single silk-worm, and to form a pound
of silk 27,648 spiders would be required; and as it is the
females alone that spin the bags, if they are kept in pairs
for the purpose of breeding, 55,296 individuals would be
necessary to the formation of every pound. Even this
web-spinning spider, above the medium size, passed over calculation applies only to good spiders of the domestic
some papers on the table, holding a fly in its mouth.
Surprised to see a spider of this description walking about
with its prey, and struck with something peculiar in its
gait, he caught and placed it under a glass for examina¬
tion, when he perceived, that instead of eight legs, it had
only three. This mutilation accounted sufficiently for its
inability to spin a web; but the singular circumstance of
its having changed its natural habits, and having become
a hunting instead of a spinning spider, and his desire to
ascertain whether its limbs would be reproduced, induced
Sir Joseph to prolong its captivity. On the following
morning the creature destroyed two flies by sucking out
their juices, leaving the bodies entire. Two or three days
alterwards it devoured the body and head of a fly, leaving
only the wings and legs. After this time it sometimes
sucked and sometimes swallowed the flies.
breed, for those found in gardens scarcely yield the twelfth
part of silk of the house species ; therefore 280 would not
produce more than a single silk-worm, and 663,555 would
scarcely yield a pound of silk.1
Sir George Staunton, in his Embassy to China, states
that spiders’ webs are met with in the forests of Java of
so strong a texture as to require to be cut through with a
knife; and in the Philosophical Transactions (1668) we
are informed that the spiders of Bermudas suspend their
webs between trees seven or eight fathoms distant, and
that they are so strong as to entangle birds as large as
thrushes. “ The web of a house-spider,” observe Messrs
Kirby and Spence, “ will, with occasional repairs, serve for
a considerable period; but the nets of the geometric spi¬
ders are in favourable weather renewed, either wholly, or
at least their concentric circles, every twenty-four hours,
1 Memoirs of the Academy, 1710.
A R A C II N I D E S.
even when not apparently injured. This difference in the
operations of the two species depends upon a very re¬
markable peculiarity in the conformation of their snares.
The threads of the house-spider’s web are all of the same
kind of silk, and flies are caught in them from their claws
becoming entangled in the fine meshes which form the
texture. On the other hand, the net of the garden spi-
der is composed of two distinct kinds of silk; that of the
radii not adhesive, that of the circles extremely viscid.
The cause of this difference, .which, when it is considered
that both sorts of silk proceed from the same instru¬
ment, is truly wonderful, may be readily perceived. If
you examine a newly formed net with a microscope, you
wrill find that the threads composing the outline and the
radii are simple, those of the circles closely studded with
minute dew-like globules, which from the elasticity of the
thread are easily separable from each other. That these
are in fact globules of viscid gum, is proved by their ad¬
hering to the finger, and retaining dust thrown upon the
net, while the unadhesive radii and exterior threads re¬
main unsoiled. It is these gummed threads alone which
retain the insects that fly into the net; and as they lose
their viscid properties by the action of the air, it is ne¬
cessary that they should be frequently renewed.”1
Dr Lister was of opinion that spiders possessed the
power of again withdrawing their webs within their bo¬
dies,—a fact which, with Degeer, we may reasonably
doubt, when we consider the immediate atmospheric
change which takes place in the nature of the thread after
it is once protruded. In fact, when a spider ascends on
the same cord by which it had previously dropped from a
height, a small ball or rounded wreb will be found adher¬
ing to it, composed of the coil which it has collected in
its re-ascent. The extreme tenuity of the component
or elementary threads of the spider’s web has been well
explained by Leeuwenhoeck. He states that the threads
of the minutest spiders, some of which are not equal in
bulk to a grain of sand, are so fine that four millions of
them would not exceed the thickness of a human hair.
Now we know that each spinner, of which there are four,
is pierced by about a thousand holes, consequently that
every compound or ordinary thread-is composed of 4000
still finer. Thus a spider’s thread, of the thickness of a
human hair, may in some instances be composed of not
fewer than sixteen thousand millions of single threads !
The bite of an ordinary spider occasions almost instant
death to most insects. The great species of South Ame¬
rica attack vertebrated animals, such as humming-birds
and young pigeons, and their bite is often attended with
dangerous consequences even to the human race. Spiders
are themselves preyed upon by birds; and a winged insect
of the genus Sphex pierces them with its sting, carries
them off, and buries them dead or alive in holes where its
eggs are deposited, the larvae produced from which after¬
wards feed upon the dead body of the spider. Most
species perish about the commencement of winter, al¬
though many others are known to exist for several years.
According to Sparmann, they form an article of food to the
Bosjiesmen of Southern Africa; and Labillardiere relates,
that the inhabitants of New Caledonia eat with avidity
great quantities of a spider nearly an inch long (A. edulis),
which they roast over the fire.2
The ascent of spiders into the air, and the extension
of their webs from tree to tree across an open space, or
even over a running stream, have frequently excited the
attention ofnaturalists. Dr Lister relates, that attending
minutely to a spider at work weaving its net, he observed Arach-
it suddenly desist, and, turning its nipples to the wind, nides.
dart out a thread with the violence of a water jet. This
thread, taken up by the wind, was carried to some fathoms’
length, still issuing from the body of the animal. Some
time after the spider leapt into the air, and the thread
mounted her up swiftly. He afterwards made the same
observation on about 30 other species of spiders, and
found the air filled with young and old sailing on their
threads, and probably seizing insects in their passage, as
he found legs and wings, and other manifest signs of
slaughter, on these threads, as well as on the webs below.
These observations were corroborated by Dr Hulse, who
made the like discovery about the same time. It is Dr
Lister’s opinion that this darting of threads was known
to Aristotle and Pliny (vide Hist. Anim. lib. ix. cap. 89;
and Plin. lib. x. cap. 74), but he believes their sailing
was first observed by himself. On these sailing spiders
he further observes, that they will often dart, not a single
thread alone, but a whole sheaf at once, consisting of many
filaments, all of one length, but divided from each other,
and distinct; and the longer they become, the more they
spread, and appear like the numerous rays of a blazing
star. Lie observed, too, that some species seemed to use
their legs as oars, sometimes closing, and again spreading
them out, as occasion might require. When the air is still
it is highly probable they can direct their course, and per¬
haps mount or descend at pleasure. In rowing, he observ¬
ed they always take their flight backwards. These threads
mount* to an almost incredible height, and may always be
observed in a fine clear day in autumn, when there is little
or no wind. In a letter to Mr Ray, he further states, that
“ I one day observing the air full of webs, forthwith mount¬
ed to the top of the highest steeple on the minster (at
York), and could there discern them exceedingly high
above me.”
If a spider is placed on the top of a pole surrounded by
water, it nevertheless effects its escape by means of a
silken line, which is ere long found to extend from the
pole to some other object on the outside of the pool. It
is evident that the spider possesses the power of permit¬
ting the material of which its threads are composed to
escape at pleasure ; but whether this is accomplished by a
projectile force, by electrical agency, or by the mechani¬
cal action of the external currents of the atmosphere, is
still a subject of dispute. The beautiful regularity with
which the radiated parts of the web are usually disposed
favours the idea expressed by a French writer, that the
animal possesses the power of shooting out its threads and
directing them at pleasure towards a determined point;
whilst the observations of Messrs Rennie and Blackwall
indicate the necessity of a current of air as a moving force.
It appears, from the experiments of the latter gentleman,
that when spiders are placed upon an insulated twig sur¬
rounded by water, and exposed to a current of air, however
slight, either naturally or artificially produced, they directly
turn the thorax towards the quarter from whence it came,
and elevating the abdomen, they emit from their spinners
a small portion of glutinous matter, which is instantly car¬
ried out in a line, consisting of four finer ones, with a ve¬
locity equal or nearly so to that of the air. They next
carefully ascertain whether their lines have become firm¬
ly attached to any object, by pulling at them with their
anterior pair of legs ; if the result satisfies them, they glue
the nearer end to the twig, and then march across. “ Such
was invariably the result when spiders were placed where
1 Introduction to Entomology, vol. i. p. 411.
2 Voyage d la Recherche de la Perouse ; Introduction to Entomology, vol. i. p. 302.
A R A C H
Arach- the air was liable to be sensibly agitated: I resolved there-
nides. fore to put a bell glass over them, and in this situation
they remained 17 days, evidently unable to produce a
single line by which they could quit the branch they
occupied, without encountering the water at its base;
though, on the removal of the glass, they regained their
liberty with as much celerity as in the instances already
recorded.” {Linn. Trans. voL xv.) Mr Blackwall affirms
with confidence, that in motionless air, spiders have not
the power of darting their threads even through the space
of half an inch. Mr Murray, Mr Bowman, Mr Mark
Watt, and others, maintain a contrary opinion.
Lastly, Mr Virey thinks it more probable that spiders
actually fly (by vibrating their feet) through the air,
than that they are acted upon either by electrical influ¬
ences or the agitation of the air. He does not assert that
they have wings.
The bodies of spiders decompose so rapidly after death,
that both their forms and colours are speedily altered
and effaced. It is therefore with great difficulty that
they are preserved as subjects of examination in mu¬
seums. Hence, perhaps, our comparative ignorance both
of their structure and habits.
Sect. I.—Tetrapneumones.
Two spiracles and two pulmonary sacks or pneumo-
branchia on each side.
This section is characterized by the position of the eyes,
which are always placed at the anterior extremity of the
thorax, and usually close to each other. The mandibles
{cheliceres of Latreille) and feet are robustly formed. The
greater proportion of species have only four spinners.
They fabricate silken tubes, in which they dwell, and
these are placed sometimes in subterranean tunnels,
sometimes under stones, and sometimes beneath the bark
or among the leaves of trees.
The first division of the section corresponds to the
Theraphoses of Walckenaer, and contains the three fol¬
lowing genera, viz. Mygale, Atypus, and Erodion. These
are distinguished from the others by having four spinners
and eight eyes, and by the hooks of their mandibles be¬
ing bent underneath instead of inwards.
Genus Mygale, Walckenaer.—Palpi inserted at the su¬
perior extremity of the maxillse, in such a manner that
they appear to be composed of six articles, of which
the first, straight and elongated, with the inner angle
of its upper portion projecting, performs the function
of a jaw. The languette is small and nearly square.
The last joint of the palpi in the male is button-shaped,
and bears at its extremity the reproductive organs ; and
the two anterior legs in that sex are provided with two
strong spines or spurs at their inferior extremity.
This genus, as established by Walckenaer, is composed
of the bird-catching spiders (A. avicularia, Linn.), and the
Araignees mineuses of Olivier. It contains several species of
great size and singular habits. The foreign kinds are as
yet imperfectly characterized. The habits of a large spe¬
cies found in Martinique, where it is called Matoutou, have
been well described by Moreau de Jonnes. It spins no
web, but lies concealed in holes and crevices of the vol¬
canic tufa, from which, however, it makes frequent ex¬
cursions in search of prey, which consists not only of in¬
sects, but of humming-birds and other species of the fea¬
thered race. It hunts chiefly during the night. It is
possessed of great muscular strength, and unwillingly
quits an object of which it may have become possessed.
\V hen induced to seize upon any hard and polished sub-
VOL. m.
N 1 D E S. 377
stance, it leaves traces of a poisonous liquid, which, had Arach-
the substance been of a yielding nature, it would have in- nides.
jected into the wound. This liquid is lactescent, or of a
milky aspect, and very abundant in proportion to the size
of the animal. I he female carries her eggs in a cocoon
of white silk, of a very close texture, which she holds by
means of her palpi, beneath the thorax. When attacked,
she drops her eggs to defend herself, and secures them
again when the combat has ceased. The young, when
first produced, are entirely white ; and the earliest change
which they experience is the appearance of a black spot
in the centre of the dorsal surface of the abdomen. From
eighteen hundred to two thousand young have been ob¬
served to proceed from a single silk bag; but of these it
is probable that an immense proportion perish in infancy,
by the depredations both of birds and insects.
Several species of this genus inhabit Europe, and their
characters and economy are detailed by Olivier, Latreille,
the Abbe Sauvage, and other writers. Our restricted
limits prevent our describing more than a few, which we
shall select as well from the indigenous as exotic.
f Superior extremity of the mandibles unprovided with
a series of transverse spines or corneous points.
Tarsi furnished with a thick hairy brush, which
conceals the crotchets.
Sp. Avicularia.—Aranea Avicularia, Linn. The bird-
catching spider, Shaw. (PI. XLVI. fig. ])—Body nearly
two inches long, very hairy, especially in the young. Tho¬
rax depressed, large, oval, truncated posteriorly. Ge¬
neral colour black; the extremities of the palpi, the
feet, and inferior hairs of the mouth, reddish. Hooks
of the mandibles strong, conical, and very black. This
species is said to dwell in the clefts of trees, and in hol¬
lows among rocks and stones. According to Madame
Merian, it surprises small birds on their nests, and sucks
their blood with avidity. It forms a tube-shaped cell,
narrow at its posterior extremity, composed of a fine white
semi-transparent tissue, resembling muslin. The cocoon
of this species is like a large walnut in size and form.
Its native countries are Cayenne and Surinam. Other
nearly allied species also occur in those parts of South
America, as well as in Africa and the East Indies. Their
bite is dangerous, although the accounts given by Piso
and other authors is no doubt exaggerated. To this sec¬
tion may be referred the M. blondi (PI. XLVI. fig. 2), can-
cerides, fasciata, atra, and brunnea of Latreille.
j-f Superior extremity of the first piece of the mandibles
provided with corneous points like the teeth of a
rake. The tarsi are not so covered with hair as to
conceal the crotchets.
The species of this section inhabit dry and mountain¬
ous places, where they form tunnels or subterranean galle¬
ries, sometimes two feet in depth. At the entrance they
construct a door, moving upon a hinge, and formed of
silk and clay, undistinguishable from the surrounding soil.
There is what we may not improperly call a mat of silk
fastened to the inner surface of the door, on which the
animal frequently reposes, probably for the sake of guard¬
ing the entrance, and being at hand to secure its passing
prey. A fine silk tube, which is the proper dwelling,
clothes the interior of the gallery. M. Dufour is of opi¬
nion that the females alone excavate the tunnels.
Sp. Cccmentaria.—Araignee mineuse, Dorthes. In
Linn. Trans, ii. (PI. XLVI. fig. 3.)—The female of this
species is about eight lines in length, of a reddish-brown
colour, somewhat pale on the edges of the thorax. Ihe
mandibles are blackish, and are each furnished near the
articulation of the crotchet with five points, of which the
innermost is the shortest. The abdomen is mouse-colour¬
ed, with darker spots. The first article of all the tarsi is
378
ARACHNIDES.
Arach- furnished with small spines, the crotchets of the last have
nides. a spire at their base, and a double range of pointed teeth.
—Spjnners are slightly projecting. The M. car-
minans of M. Latreille (2d edit, of the Nouv. Diet, d'Hist.
Nat.) is supposed to be the male of this species. He
differs in the greater length of his legs; in the crotchets of
the tarsi, of which the teeth are more numerous; in the
want of the spines, and the greater shortness of the spin¬
ners. His two anterior feet are terminated beneath by a
strong spine.
This species inhabits Spain, the southern parts of France,
and other shores of the Mediterranean. Its habits are
presumed to be nocturnal, as it is never seen abroad or at
work during the day.1 It forms its tunnel in strong earth,
free from stones, and on a sloping surface to avoid mois¬
ture. It resists the opening of its door with its utmost
strength, and continues struggling in the entrance till the
light has fairly entered, after which it retreats into the
earth. The door is beautifully formed, and suspended on
a hinge from above, so that it always shuts close of its own
accord. It preys upon beetles and other large and strong
insects. When its door is cut off or unhinged, it forms ano¬
ther in its place, which, according to Rossi, differs from
the first in not being movable. The Italian author does
not mention by what means its entrance and exit are then
accomplished; but Latreille has suggested that the experi¬
ment may have been tried just before the commencement
of winter, and that the second operculum was closed with
a view to exclude the rigours of that inclement season.
In the following genera of this division the palpi are
inserted upon an inferior dilatation of the external side of
the maxillae, and consist of only five articles. The lan-
guette, at first very small, as in the genus Atypus, after¬
wards becomes elongated and advanced between the jaws.
The last joint of the palpi in both sexes is lengthened and
antennated towards the extremity. The males are not
provided with a strong spur at the extremity of the two
anterior legs.
Genus Atypus, Latreille. Oletera, Walckenaer.—
Languette very small, and almost covered by the ex¬
ternal portion of the base of the maxillae. Eyes conti¬
guous, and grouped upon a tubercle.
Sp. Sulzeri, Latreille. Aranea Picea, Sulzer. (PI.
XLYI. fig. 4.)—General colour blackish. Length of the
body eight lines. Thorax nearly square, depressed poste¬
riorly, enlarged and broadly truncated in front. The man¬
dibles are strong, and their claw is furnished near the base
with a tooth-like projection. The last article of the palpi
in the male is pointed at the extremity.
Phis is the only species of the genus known in Europe.
It was first described by Sulzer as a Swiss species (Ges-
chichte der Insecten. PI. XLVI. fig. 2). It has since
been observed by several French entomologists at Sevres,
near Paris, and was discovered in this country by F)r
Leach, near Exeter. Its habits are curious and interest¬
ing. It constructs for its dwelling a silky scabbard, in¬
termingled with moss, eight or ten inches long. Its di¬
rection is at first horizontal over the surface of the ground,
and then perpendicular beneath the surface. The eggs
are deposited at the bottom, enveloped m a white web.
The animal itself is slow in its movements. It is most
frequently met with in the month of July. It appears to
have been described and figured by Iloemer as the sub¬
terranean spider.
An American species, the Atypus rufipes of M. Milbert,
1 The eyes of spiders are occasionally observed to shine in the
faculty of seeing both by night and day.
of which the body is entirely black, and the feet rufous, Aracli.
occurs in the neighbourhood of Philadelphia. nides.
Genus Erodion, Latreille. Missulena, Walckenaer.—
This genus differs from the preceding in its straight,
elongated languette, which projects between the jaws.
Its eyes are spread over the front of the thorax.
Sp. Occatorius, Latreille, Walckenaer. Body black,
about an inch in length. Brought from New Holland by
M. Lesueur.
The second division of this section exhibits the pro¬
longed languette of the Erodions, and the palpi composed
of five articulations; but the claws of the mandibles are
folded inwards instead of downwards. The spinners are
six in number ; and the first pair of legs, instead of the
fourth, are the longest. Some of these Arachnides have
only six eyes.
Genus Dysdera, Latr. Walck.—Eyes six, disposed in the
form of a horse-shoe, opening outwards. Mandibles
strong and projecting. Maxillae straight, and dilated
towards the insertion of the palpi.
Sp. Erythrina. (PI. XLVI. fig 5.)—Mandibles and
thorax sanguineous; colour of the legs lighter. Abdomen
soft and silky, and of a grayish yellow.
Inhabits the south of France and England, beneath
stones. It is rare in the latter country, but has been
taken near Plymouth, Exeter, and London. A variety of
this species has been described by Scopoli under the
name of Aranea hombergii.
Genus Filastata, Latr.— Eyes eight, placed on a small
elevation at the anterior extremity of the thorax. Man¬
dibles small; maxillae arched on their exterior side.
Of this genus the F. testacea of Walckenaer was dis¬
covered near Marseilles. The F. bicolor is described in
the Faun. Franc. Arach. vi. 1-3.
Sect. II.—Dipneumones.
A. Sedentarice.
The genera of this great division are possessed of only
a pair of pulmonary sacks, and corresponding stigmata.
The palpi, composed of five joints, are inserted on the
exterior side of the maxillae, near their base, generally in
a sinus. The languette is advanced between the maxillae,
and is sometimes nearly square, sometimes triangular or
semicircular. The spinners are six in number. The last
article of the palpi in the males is more or less ovoid, and
usually contains the generative organs in an excavation.
The first four tribes of this section may be considered
as forming a large group, which we name Sedentarice.
They either spin webs for the capture of their prey, or
throw out isolated and irregular threads for the same
purpose. Their eyes are grouped across the front of the
thorax. Of these there are usually eight; four or two in
the centre, and two or three on each side. Sometimes
there are only six eyes.
The first three of these tribes, viz. Tubitelce, Inaequi-
telce, and Orbitelce, are sometimes included under the more
general appellation of Rectigrade, from their straight¬
forward mode of progression, particularly as contrasted
with that of the fourth tribe or Laterigradce, which, like
many of the crustaceous class, can direct their steps in
different directions without turning the body. In these
tribes the relative length of the legs is variable. In many
the first and the last pair are the longest; in others the two
dark like those of cats, moths, &c., and they probably enjoy the
V
A R A C H N I D E S.
379
Anch- anterior pairs ; while in some the third and fourth pair are
aides, the most extended. The eyes, in their general dispo-
sition, do not form a crescent, or the segment of a circle.
Tkibe I.—TuBITELjE.
Spinners cylindrical, close to each other, directed back¬
wards. The feet are robust; the first and last pair are
the longest.
Genus Clotho, Walckenaer. Uroctea, Dufour.—Man¬
dibles very small, capable of little extension, and with¬
out teeth. Crotchets small, body short, legs long, the
third and fourth pair rather longer than the preceding.
The eyes are disposed as in genus Mygale. The max¬
illae have on their external side a slight dilatation at
the insertion of the palpi, and terminate in a point.
The languette is triangular. The superior or lateral
spinners are the longest; but the most peculiar cha¬
racter, according to M. Dufour, is the existence, in the
I position of the intermediate spinners, of a pair of comb¬
shaped valves, which open or close at the will of the
animal.
Sp. b-maculata.—Body about an inch in length, of a
chesnut-brown colour ; the abdomen black, with five small
round yellowish spots, of which four are disposed trans¬
versely in pairs, and the fifth is single and posterior.
This species was found in Egypt by M. Savigny. It
occurs in Dalmatia, and near Montpellier; also in Cata¬
lonia, and other parts of Spain. Its manners have been
described by M. Dufour.
Genus Drassus, Walck.—Mandibles robust, project¬
ing, toothed beneath. Maxillae obliquely truncated at
their extremity. The eyes are nearer the anterior edge
of the thorax, and the line formed by the four posterior
exceeds in length that formed by those on the anterior
line. The fourth and second pair of feet are obviously
longer than the others. The legs and first joints of
the tarsi are armed with sharp points.
The spiders of this genus live under stones, in the
clefts of walls, and among leaves. They form little
dwelling-places of white silk. The cocoons of some are
orbicular, flattened, and composed of two valves applied
one against another.
Sp. Relucens.—Small, cylindrical, with a yellow tho¬
rax, covered with a purple silky down. The abdomen is
thin, red, and green, with metallic reflections, and two
transverse lines of golden yellow, of which the anterior is
arched. One variety has also four additional golden spots.
The species is generally found running on the ground.
It is common in the environs of Paris, and is one of the
most beautiful of the tribe.
Genus Segestria, Latr.—Eyes six, of which four are an¬
terior on a transverse line, and two posterior, placed on
each side behind the two lateral eyes of the preceding
line. The languette is elongated and almost square.
The first and second pair of feet are the longest, and
the third pair the shortest.
The species of this genus spin cylindrical elongated
webs in the clefts of old walls, in which they lie concealed,
with their anterior pair of legs stretched forwards. Di¬
vergent threads of glutinous silk border the external open¬
ing to their habitation, and form a net for the capture of
their insect prey.
Sp. Senoculata.—Thorax blackish-brown. Abdomen
oblong, grayish, with a longitudinal band of blackish spots.
Legs pale brown, obscurely banded. Inhabits rocks and
old buildings.
Genus Aranea, Latr. Tegeneria, Walck.—The two
upper spinners conspicuously longer than the others.
ic four anterior eyes placed in a curved line, bending Arach-
backwards. . The first and last pair of legs the longest, mdes.
I his genus inhabit the interior of our dwellings; also
the angles of old walls, on plants, hedges, &c. They
construct large webs, nearly horizontal, at the higher
part of which is a tube or tunnel, where the spider lies
concealed. 1
Sp. Domestica.—Of a livid ash colour. Thorax of the
male without spots. On that of the female there is on
each side a blackish band. Abdomen blackish, with a
longitudinal spotted band on the back.
This is the most frequent inhabitant of our houses, and
an object of more than common aversion. It sometimes
attains to a large size. According to Homberg, it is sub¬
ject, especially in the kingdom of Naples, to a disease
which renders it more than usually hideous. Its body
becomes covered with scales, among which a number of
mites engender. Geoffroy was of opinion that a spider
was supplied only with a certain portion of spinning ma¬
terial ; that if the web was intentionally destroyed, and an
individual frequently obliged to reconstruct its web, it be¬
came at last incapable of further exertion in that line, and
would probably perish for want of the usual means of sub¬
sistence.
The spiders of this country are entirely harmless, from
their want of power to pierce the skin. But that they
are furnished with a poisonous liquid, which they instil
into the wound of their victims, cannot be doubted. Oli¬
vier, indeed, reports, that a farmer in one of the Isles
d’Hieres was bitten by a large spider while turning a
sheaf of wheat. The wound occasioned at first only a
slight inflammation, so trivial that it was for some time
neglected, till its increase created alarm. Gangrene and
death ensued. They may be taken internally with im¬
punity. “ J’ai vue,” says Latreille, “ le celebre astronome
Lalande avaler de suite quatre gros individus de cette
espece.” (A. domcstique.)
Genus Argyroneta, Latr.—Maxillae inclined upon the
languette, of which the form is triangular. The four
central eyes form a quadrangle; the lateral pair of each
extremity are grouped together, and placed on a small
eminence.
Sp. Aquatica. Aranea Aqvatica, Lin. Geoff.—Of a
blackish-brown colour, the abdomen deeper, surface silky,
the back with four impressed points. Lives in ditches arid
slow-running waters, beneath the surface of which it spins
a beautifully constructed web. “ The habitation of ara-
nea aquatica, the other spider to which I alluded, is
chiefly remarkable for the element in which it is con¬
structed, and the materials that compose it. It is built
in the midst of water, and formed in fact of air! Spiders
are usually terrestrial; but this is aquatic, or rather am¬
phibious : for though she resides in the midst of water,
in which she swims with great celerity, sometimes on her
belly, but more frequently on her back, and is an admi¬
rable diver, she not unfrequently hunts on shore, and
having caught her prey, plunges with it to the bottom of
the water. Here it is she forms her singular and unique
abode. She would evidently have but a very uncomfort¬
able time were she constantly wet; but this she is saga¬
cious enough to avoid, and, by availing herself of some
well-known philosophical principles, she constructs for
herself an apartment, in which, like the mermaids and
sea-nymphs of fable, she resides in comfort and security.
The following is the process:—First she spins loose
threads in various directions, attached to the leaves of
aquatic plants, which may be called the frame-work of
her chamber; and over them she spreads a transparent
varnish resembling liquid glass, which issues from the
380 A R A C H
Arach- middle of her spinners, and which is so elastic that it is
nides. capable of great expansion and contraction; and if a hole be
made in it, it immediately closes again. Next she spreads
over her belly a pellicle of the same material, and ascends to
the surface. The precise mode in which she transfers a
bubble of air beneath this pellicle is not accurately known ;
but from an observation made by the ingenious author of
the little work from which this account is abstracted, he
concludes that she draws the air into her body by the
anus, which she presents to the surface of the pool, and
then pumps it out from an opening at the base of the
belly, between the pellicle and that part of the body, the
hairs of which keep it extended. Clothed with this aerial
mantle, which to the spectator seems formed of resplen¬
dent quicksilver, she plunges to the bottom, and, with as
much dexterity as a chemist transfers gas with a gas¬
holder, introduces her bubble of air beneath the roof pre¬
pared for its reception. This manoeuvre she repeats ten
or twelve times, until at length, in about a quarter of an
hour, she has transported as much air as suffices to ex¬
pand her apartment to its intended extent, and now finds
herself in possession of a little aerial edifice—I had
almost said an enchanted palace—affording her a com¬
modious and dry retreat in the very midst of the water.
Here she reposes unmoved by the storms that agitate
the surface of the pool, and devours her prey at ease and
in safety. Both sexes form these lodgings. At a parti¬
cular season of the year the male quits his apartment,
approaches that of the female, enters it, and enlarging it
by the bubble of air that he carries with him, it becomes
a common abode for the happy pair.1 The spider which
forms these singular habitations is one of the largest Eu¬
ropean species, and in some countries not uncommon in
stagnant pools.”2
Tribe II.—IxiEQUiTELiE.
External spinners conical, convergent, slightly project¬
ing, disposed en rosette. Legs slender, first and last pair
usually the longest. The maxillae are inclined on the
tongue, and are either narrow or present no sensible
enlargement at their superior extremity. The abdomen
is more voluminous, softer, and more highly coloured
than in the preceding tribe. Their webs constitute an
irregular net-work of various forms, the threads of which
cross each other in different directions. They bind their
prey with cords, which, though silken, secure them very
effectually. The species are short-lived, and tend their
eggs very carefully till the exclusion of the young.
Genus Scytodes, Latr.—Eyes six, disposed in pairs.
M. Dufour states that the crotchets of the tarsi are in¬
serted in a supplementary article.
Sp. Thoracica. (PI. XL VI. fig. 6.)—Pale reddish-white,
spotted with black. Thorax large, somewhat orbicular.
Abdomen not globose.
This species inhabits houses. It has been found near
Dover, but is otherwise scarcely known as a British spe¬
cies.
Genus Theridion, Walck.—Eyes eight in number, of
which four in the centre form a square, the two ante¬
rior being placed upon a small eminence, and a pair are
placed on each side upon a common elevation. The
thorax is almost triangular, or shaped like a heart re¬
versed.
N I D E S.
Sp. Malmignatto. Aranea \3-guttata, Fab.—Lateral Arad,
eyes, separated from each other. Body black, with thir- aides,
teen small round spots of a blood-red colour on the abdo-
men. This species inhabits Corsica, the inhabitants of
which island hold it in great dread, from the belief that
its bite is dangerous, if not mortal.
Another species, the Theridion henignum of Walck-
enaer, may from its name be presumed to possess ano¬
ther character. It lives in autumn among the clusters
of grapes, where it watches for its prey, and thus deters
many insects from injuring the fruit. The prejudice
against this genus probably arises from several of them
being of a dark colour, with red spots resembling drops of
blood upon their bodies.
Genus Episinus, Walck.—Eyes eight, near each other,
and placed upon a common elevation. The thorax nar¬
row and almost cylindrical.
Sp. Truncatus.—Thorax acute in front, rather longer
than broad, obscure brown above, reddish brown beneath.
Abdomen pyramidal, truncated behind, its anterior por¬
tion brown, third pair of legs whitish, the others brown.
Genus Pholcus, Walck.—Eyes eight, tuberculated, di¬
vided into three groups, of which there is one on each
side composed of three eyes disposed in a triangle, and
a third in the centre, somewhat advanced, composed of
two eyes on a transverse line.
Sp. Phalangioides, Walck. Araignee domestique d
longues pattes, Geoff.—Body long, narrow, pubescent, of
a livid or pale yellow colour. The abdomen is almost cy¬
lindrical, very soft, and spotted above with black. The
legs are very long and slender, with whitish rings at the
extremities of the thighs and tibiae.
This species is common in houses in the western parts
of England. Its body vibrates like that of some tipula1.
The female carries her eggs in an agglutinated mass be¬
tween her mandibles.
Tribe III.—Orbitel^e.
In this tribe the exterior spinners and the legs re¬
semble those of the preceding, but the maxillae differ,
being straight, and sensibly broader at their extremity.
The first and second pair of legs are the longest. The
eyes are eight in number, of which four are placed quad-
rangularly in the centre, and a pair on each side. These
spiders differ from the Incequitelce in the form of their
webs, which are composed of a regular net-work, formed
of concentric circles, crossed by straight lines or radii,
proceeding from the centre, where the animal lies, to the
circumference. Some conceal themselves in cavities, or
in chambers built by themselves, near the margins of
their webs, which are sometimes horizontal, sometimes
perpendicular. Their eyes are numerous, agglutinated,
and inclosed in a large cocoon.
Genus Linyphia, Lati\—Four central eyes, of which the
posterior pair are larger, and separated by a larger
space ; the others are in pairs, one on each side, and
placed obliquely. The maxillae are enlarged at their
superior extremity.
This genus constructs among brooms and other bushes
a slender, open, horizontal net, from which various threads
proceed irregularly upwards to different points.
1 Mcmoire pour servir d commencer PHistoire des Araignees Aquatiques.
* Introduction to Entomology, by Kirby and Spence, vol. i. p. 4011.
«
A R A C II N I I) E &
Arach- Sp. Triangularis.—Pale red, inclining to yellow. Tho-
nides. rax with a dark dorsal line, bifid in front. Abdomen oval,
inclining to globose, with spots and angulated bands of
brown and white. Inhabits the European hedges, and
constructs its webs on brooms and pine-trees.
Genus Uuoborus, Latr.—Four posterior eyes placed at
equal distances on a straight line, and the two la¬
teral eyes of the first line nearer the anterior margin
of the thorax than the intermediate pair, so as to form
an arch bent backwards. The maxillae commence in
this genus to enlarge a little above their base, and
terminate in the form of a spatula. The tarsi of the
last three pair of legs are terminated by a single claw.
I he first article of the two posterior pair have a range
of small hairs.
These spiders repose in the centre of their webs, with
their four anterior feet stretched forwards; the third pair
are extended laterally, and the posterior pair backwards.
Sp. Walckenarius, Latr.—Of a reddish-yellow colour,
covered by a silky down, forming on the upper part of
the abdomen two series of small bundles. Length about
five lines. The legs are marked with paler rings. Oc¬
curs near Bordeaux, and other southern departments of
France.
Genus Tetragnatha, Latr.—Eyes placed four and four
on two nearly parallel lines, and separated by almost
equal intervals. Maxillae long, narrow, enlarged only
at their superior extremity. Mandibles also very long,
especially in the males. Their web is vertical.
Sp. Extensa.—Abdomen oblong, golden green, with
the sides and two lower lines yellowish. Sits with its
legs extended on a vertical web. Inhabits moist places.
Genus Epeira, Walck.—A pair of eyes on each side,
almost contiguous; the other four forming a central
quadrangle. The maxillae dilated from their base.
With the exception of that oLE”. curcubitina, which is ho¬
rizontal, the webs of this genus are either vertical or in¬
clined. Some repose in the centre of their webs, with
their bodies reversed, or heads downwards; others con¬
struct a sheltering habitation, sometimes formed of leaves
spun together, sometimes like a silken tube, or of a more
open form like a bird’s nest, in the vicinity of their nets.
Some foreign species construct such powerful webs as to
arrest the flight of small birds, and even to incommode
the traveller while journeying through the forests. Many
of the species are remarkable for the beauty of their co¬
lours, their singular forms, and still more singular habits.
Between 60 and 70 species are described by M. Walck^
enaer in his Tableau des Araneides; and M. Leon Du-
four has greatly contributed to illustrate the history of
this extensive genus in the Annales des Sciences Phy¬
siques of Brussels, and the Annales des Sciences Naturellcs
of Paris. We regret that the limits of our present un¬
dertaking do not admit of our entering into further de¬
tails.
Sp. Diadema. (PI. XLVI. fig. 7.)—Reddish ; abdomen
globose-oval, with an elevated angle on each side near the
base; dorsal band darker, broad, triangular, dentated,
with a triple cross of yellowish-white spots, and four
impressed dots disposed in a quadrangle. Legs and palpi
spotted with black.
This is one of the largest of the British species. It
frequents the borders of woods, rocks, and gardens; also
moors and other desert places. It varies considerably
both in size and colour. We are indebted to Treviranus
for an account of its anatomical structure. The heart
presents a character not observed in that of any other
species. From its inferior and anterior part proceed two
muscles which, at first united in one, diverge as they ap-
proach the posterior portion of the abdomen. The heart
itself exhibits several branches, the two anterior of which
are sent to the branchia ; and the function of these last-
named organs, according to Treviranus, is to absorb hu¬
midity from the atmosphere, and convey it to the circu¬
lating system. The true respiratory organs are discover-
able in a species of stigmata placed in the thorax and
abdomen. These stigmata are not pierced, like those of
insects; but numerous vessels are seen distributed over
their surface.
The sceptre or diadem spider, as this species is fre¬
quently called, pairs about the end of summer, and depo¬
sits its eggs in autumn. The eggs are of a fine yellow,
inclosed in a cocoon of a close texture, but covered with
a looser substance of a yellowish hue. This spider forms
no nest, but shelters itself beneath a leaf or some other
natural covering. Its web is large and vertical. The
young are hatched in spring, and are at first yellow, with
a blackish spot on the upper part of the abdomen.
M. Vautier has described a singular species of this ge¬
nus, remarkable for the posterior enlargement of its ab¬
domen, which is terminated by a couple of arched and
elongated spines. (Annales des Sciences Naturelles, tomei.
p. 261.) is na.me& Epeira curvicauda. (PI. XLVI. fig 8.)
Tribe IV.—Laterigrad;e.
The species which constitute this tribe are, like those
of the preceding, of sedentary habits ; but they differ in
their mode of progression, being able to walk sideways
and backwards, as well as straight forward like the others.
Hence the designation of the tribe. Their four anterior
feet are always longer than the others. In some the first
pair are longer than the second; in others they are near¬
ly equal. The mandibles are usually small, with their
crotchets transversely folded, as in the preceding tribes.
The eyes are always eight in number, frequently unequal,
and forming by their union a crescent, or the segment of
a circle. The maxillae in the generality of this species are
inclined upon the lip. The body is generally flattish, crab¬
shaped, with the abdomen large, rounded, and triangular.
The genera included in this division can scarcely be
said to spin webs,—they merely throw out a few isolated
threads. They are usually found on plants, tranquil and
stationary; sometimes concealed between two leaves, of
which they fasten the edges together. They watch their
eggs with great care till the young are hatched.
Genus Micrommata. Sparassus, Walck.—Maxillae
straight, parallel, rounded on their edges. Eyes dis¬
posed four and four, on two transverse lines, of which
the posterior is the longer, and arched backwards.
The second and first pair of feet are the longest. The
languette is semicircular.
Sp. Smaragdina.—Colour bright green, sides bordered
with yellow. Abdomen greenish-yellow, with a darker
green line upon the back.
Ihis species places its cocoon in the centre of three or
four leaves fastened together and lined with silk.
Genus Senelops, Dufour.—Maxillae straight, or slight¬
ly inclined, without lateral sinus, pointed, and ob¬
liquely truncated on the internal side. Languette semi¬
circular. Six eyes in front, on a transverse line; two
others behind, one on each side. The legs are long;
the first pair are the shortest.
Sp. Omalosoma.—Four lines in length, very flat, of a
reddish-gray colour, with cinereous spots, and the feet
ringed with black. The abdomen appears to present
381
Arach-
nides.
382 A It A C H
Aracli- posteriorly the vestige of rings or segments, forming a
nides. sorj; 0f dentation along the sides.
This rare species was discovered by M. Dufour in the
kingdom of Valentia. It inhabits rocks, and runs with
singular rapidity. It occurs both in Egypt and Syria.
Genus Philodromus, Walck.—Maxillae inclined upon
the languette, which is higher than broad. The eyes,
nearly equal in size, are disposed in the form of a cross
or semicircle. The mandibles are lengthened and
cylindrical.
Sp. Tigrina.—Thorax very broad, flattened, of a red¬
dish fawn-colour, brown laterally and posteriorly, white
in front. The pentagonal abdomen variously coloured by
means of minute red, brown, and white hairs, by which
it is covered. It is bordered with brown along the sides,
and is marked on the dorsal region with from four to six
impressed points. The belly is whitish. The legs are
long, slender, reddish, with brown spots.
This species is common on trees. When touched it
immediately either runs off with great rapidity, or sud¬
denly drops to the ground. Its cocoon, of a beautiful
white colour, incloses about one hundred unagglutinated
eggs. It places them in the clefts of trees, and guards
them with great care.
Genus Thomisus, Walck.—Mandibles shorter than in
the preceding genus, wedge-shaped. Four posterior
feet, shorter than the others. The sexes frequently
differ in their size and colours.
Sp. Citreus.—Colour citron-yellow. The abdomen
large, broader behind; the back with two red spots. In¬
habits flowers. The female is common in Britain; the
male more rare, of a smaller size, brown, banded with
yellowish-green.
13. Erraticce.
The four preceding tribes are characterized by their
usually sedentary habits. The remainder of the Aran-
eides are of a more wandering disposition. This is in
proper accordance with their other capabilities; for, as
they cannot spin webs for the capture of their prey, they
are under the necessity of moving about from place to
place to extend the sphere of those exertions, the suc¬
cessful issue of which depends on agility as well as cun¬
ning. “ Such,” says Evelyn, “ I did frequently observe
at Rome, which, espying a fly at three or four yards dis¬
tance, upon the balcony where I stood, would not make
directly to her, but crawl under the rail, till, being arrived
to the antipodes, it would steal up, seldom missing its
aim ; but if it chanced to want anything of being perfect¬
ly opposite, would, at first peep, immediately slide down
again,—till, taking better notice, it would come the next
time exactly upon the fly’s back; but if this happened
not to be within a competent leap, then would this insect
move so softly, as the very shadow of the gnomon seem¬
ed not to be more imperceptible, unless the fly moved;
and then would the spider move also in the same propor¬
tion, keeping that just time with her motion, as if the
same soul had animated both these little bodies; and
whether it were forwards, backwards, or to either side,
without at all turning her body, like a well-managed
horse; but if the capricious fly took wing and pitched
upon another place behind our huntress, then would the
spider whirl its body so nimbly about, as nothing could
be imagined more swift; by which means she always kept
the head towards her prey, though, to appearance, as im-
NIDES.
movable as if it had been a nail driven into the wood, till Aracli
by that indiscernible progress (being arrived within the nides.
sphere of her reach) she made a fatal leap swift as light-
ning upon the fly, catching him in the pole, where she
never quitted hold till her belly was full, and then carried
the remainder home.”1
Though the species above alluded to, and others consti¬
tuting the ensuing tribes, spin no webs, they are yet pro¬
vided with a sufficiency of the necessary material to en¬
able them to construct cocoons for their eggs, and also
to throw out an occasional thread to break their fall when
leaping on a vertical surface.
The eyes of the erratic spiders are always eight in
number, and are grouped rather along than aci'oss the
thorax, forming a curvilinear triangle, or a truncated or
quadrilateral oval. One or two pair of eyes are generally
much larger than the others. The thorax is large, and
the legs robust.
Tribe V.—Citigrad^.
In this tribe the legs are generally fitted for running.
The maxillm are always straight, and rounded at their
extremities. The eyes are grouped in a curvilinear tri¬
angle, or in an oval or oblong figure, of which the anterior
side is much narrower than the thorax taken in its great¬
est breadth. The thorax itself is ovoid, narrower in front,
and somewhat ridged or keel-shaped in its longitudinal
centre.
The females for the most part keep close to their co¬
coons, which they carry about them, either suspended at
their extremities, or applied between the chest and the
base of the abdomen. They watch over their young for
some time after they are hatched.
Genus Oxyopus, Latr. Sphasus, Walck.—Eyes ranged
two and two on four transverse lines, of which the two
at the extremes are the shortest; they describe a kind
of oval figure, truncated at each end. The languette
is elongated, narrow at the base, dilated and rounded at
the extremity. The first pair of legs is the longest;
the fourth and second are nearly equal; the third is the
shortest.
Sp. Variegatus.—Body hairy and gray, variegated with
red and white. Legs pale reddish, spotted with brown;
the tibial spines elongate. Inhabits France.
Sp. Lineatus. (PI. XLVI. fig. 9.)—Abdomen elongated,
yellowish, with lengthened black spots on the sides, and a
"black longitudinal band beneath. This species forms its
web on low growing plants, but nestles among the leaves
of trees about the period of laying.
G enus Ctenus, Walck.—Eyes placed on three transverse
lines (2, 4, 2) forming a curvilinear triangle, reversed,
and truncated anteriorly. The languette is square and
almost isometric. The fourth pair of feet are the long¬
est ; the first pair are next in length; the third are the
shortest.
This genus, according to Latreille, was established for
the reception of a species found in Cayenne. Others,
possessed of the same generic characters, have been
found both in that colony and in Brazil, but their descrip¬
tions have not yet been made public.
Genus Dolomedes, Latr.—Eyes disposed on three trans¬
verse lines (4, 2, 2,) representing a quadrilateral figure,
somewhat broader than long. The two posterior are
1 Evelyn’s Travels in Italy.
A R A C H N I D E S.
Arach- placed upon an eminence. The second pair of legs are
nides. equal to the first, if not somewhat longer; and the
fourth pair are the longest of all. The languette is
square, and, like that of the preceding genus, is as
broad as high.
Of this genus, some have the two exterior eyes of the
anterior line larger than the pair comprised between them;
and the form of the abdomen is oblong oval, with a termi¬
nal point. Ihe females construct a silken nest, funnel-
shaped, or in the form of a bell, which they place in a
thicket, or among leaves near the summit of a tree. In
this they deposit their cocoons of eggs, of which they
are exceedingly careful. When they leave their retreats,
either to hunt for prey, or from any cause of alarm nearer
home, they never fail to carry their bundle of eggs along
with them. Clerk (Aranei suecicce) mentions his having
observed species of this genus spring with great activity
upon flying insects.
Other species of Dolomedes have the four anterior eyes
of equal size, and the abdomen oval, and rounded at the
extremity. These inhabit the margins of water, run over
the surface with agility, and even proceed a little beneath
the surface without being wetted. 1 he females form coarse
irregular nets, suspended between the branches of plants,
and place their cocoons upon them.
Sp. Mirabilis. Aranea saccata, Linn.—Colour pale red¬
dish, covered with grayish down. Thorax heart-shaped,
anteriorly abruptly sloping; the anterior angles and dor¬
sal line whitish. Abdomen conical, suboval; darker on the
back. Inhabits the woods of Europe. The female carries
about her eggs inclosed in a dirty orange-coloured or
whitish bag.
Genus Lycosa, Latr.—Eyes disposed in a quadrilateral
figure, longer than broad, the posterior pair not placed
on an eminence. The first pair of feet are sensibly
longer than the second, but shorter than the fourth,
which are the longest of all. The maxillas are truncat¬
ed obliquely at their external extremity. The languette
is square, but rather longer than broad.
Ihe species of this genus run swiftly on the ground.
They live in holes, either previously formed by the acci¬
dents of nature, or hollowed out by themselves, and forti¬
fied along their interior walls by silken threads. Some
dwell in the cavities of walls, where they form silken tun¬
nels, covered externally by minute particles of earth and
sand. In these retreats they undergo the periodical re¬
newal of their skins ; and also pass the winter, after having
previously closed up the outer orifice of their dwellings.
Ihe females likewise deposit their eggs in these elongat¬
ed cells. Their cocoons are usually fixed to the extre¬
mity of the abdomen, and when the mothers go abroad,
they have thus no difficulty in carrying their eggs along
with them. As soon as the young are hatched, they col¬
lect on the back of the female parent, and remain there
till they gain sufficient strength to shift for themselves.
Ihe species are exceedingly voracious, and defend the
possession of their domiciles with the greatest courage.
Sp. Tarentula. Aranea tarentula, Linn.—(PI. XLVI.
ng. 10.) Colour ashy brown above ; thorax with a radiated
line, and margins griseous ; abdomen marked anteriorly with
trigonal spots, posteriorly with arcuate transverse streaks
of black, bordered with white; beneath saffron-coloured,
with a transverse black band; thighs and tibiae beneath
rufous white, with two black spots.
Ibis species, an inhabitant of the south of Europe, is
the celebrated tarentula, of which so many extraordinary
accounts have been given by travellers. It is scarcely
necessary to observe that these are fabulous. Its bite was
said to produce symptoms equally severe with those of
383
the niost malignant fever, and of such a nature as to ad- Arach
mit of being cured only by means of music. Some authors nides
have even gxven a list of the tunes which are most effi- “
cacious in restoring the tarentolati (for so the patients
were called) to health. The true tarentula occurs in the
south of Italy, especially near the town of Tarentum, from
which it has no doubt derived its name. It is the largest
of the European species.
A species of this genus exists in the south of France
which bears a close resemblance to the Italian species, and
appears to have been confounded with it by Olivier. It is
the Lycosa Melanogaster of Latreille, and the Tarentula
Narbonensis of Walckenaer, and differs from the species
above described chiefly in being somewhat less, and in
having the abdomen black beneath, and the edges only of
a red colour.
Genus Myrmecia, Latr.—Eyes placed on three trans¬
verse lines; four in front, then two somewhat nearer
the centre than the outer eyes of the first line, and two
others behind the preceding pair. The mandibles are
strong. The maxillae are rounded and hairy at the
extremity. The tongue is almost square, somewhat
longer than broad. The feet are long, almost filiform,
the fourth and first pair being the longest. The thorax
appears as if divided into three portions, of which the
anterior is the largest, and of a square form; and the
others are hunched or knot-shaped. The abdomen is
much shorter than the thorax, and is covered from its
origin as far as the middle by a solid epidermis.
Sp. Rufa.—Length about six lines. Fulvous, shining,
nearly smooth, with the extremities of the palpi, the thighs,
the first article of the posterior feet, and the end of the
abdomen, blackish. Found near Rio Janeiro.
Tribe VI.—Saltigrad^e.
In this group the eyes are placed in a square figure, of
which the anterior line extends along the breadth of the
thorax. The thorax is demi-ovoid, or nearly square ; flat,
or but slightly bulged above; as broad before as else¬
where, and sloping suddenly down the sides. The legs
are adapted both to running and leaping, and the thighs
of the anterior pair are generally remarkably large and
strong.
Several of the species construct among leaves and stones
small oval sacks of silk, open at both ends, in which they
seek refuge during bad weather, and while changing their
skins. When any danger threatens these retreats they
appear on the outside, and after a moment’s reconnoitring
run off with great agility. The females form small tents,
which afterwards serve as cradles for their young, and
where the mother and her progeny dwell for some time
together. The males, in their battles with each other,
exhibit many singular manoeuvres.
The genus Tessarops of M. Rafinesque, and that of
Palpimanus established by M. Dufour, both belong to this
tribe. That first mentioned is said to have only four eyes.
'Ihe latter is very rare, and was discovered in Valentia.
We are not yet acquainted with the characters of either.
Genus Eresus, Walck.—Four eyes approached in a
small trapezium, near the centre of the anterior portion
ot the thorax; and four others on its sides, forming a
larger square. The languette is pointed and triangular.
The tarsi are terminated by three crotchets.
Sp. Moniligerus.—Black; abdomen above cinnabar-
coloured, with four or six black dots, arranged in two
longitudinal lines ; joints of the legs whitish ; hinder sides
of the thorax, the thighs, and the first joint of the four
hinder legs, pale cinnabar. This is the Aranea quadrigvt-
384 ARACH
Arach- tata of Rossi’s Fauna Etrusca. It inhabits France, Ger-
nides. many, and England,
Genus Salticus, Latr. Axxus, Walck.—Four eyes on a
transverse line on the anterior portion of the thorax,
the two intermediate larger than the others; the re¬
maining eyes are placed two and two on each side of
the thorax; they thus form a kind of parabola or part
of a square, open posteriorly. The languette is very
obtuse, and truncated at the summit. The tarsi have
only two crotchets at their extremity. The mandibles
of many of the males are very large. The shape of the
thorax and the length and proportions of the legs vary
according to the species.
Sp. Scenicus. Aranea scenica, Linn.—Black, margin of
the thorax covered w ith white down; abdomen short ovate,
covered above by a reddish white pubescence, with three
transverse arcuate lines, and the termination white; the
first band is basal and entire, the others acutely bent an¬
teriorly,, and interrupted in the middle.
This species is called in Britain the hunting spider. It
occurs on walls and palings, and is a common species, of
considerable beauty. It loves exposure to light and heat,
and is frequently seen near windows in sunny weather.
Its movements are lively and amusing. When it sees a
fly or a gnat it moves towards it with a slow and gentle
motion, and then springs upon it with a single rapid
bound. It leaps upon its prey as securely down a perpen¬
dicular wall as on a horizontal surface, by means of a
thread which, previous to each of its bounds, it has the pre¬
caution to attach to the plane of its position. The palpi
of the female are whitish; her legs reddish-gray, with
darker spots. The mandibles of the male are very large.
Family II.—Pedipalpi.
Palpi very large, extended in the form of arms, and
terminated either by pincers or a claw. Mandibles with
two fingers, of which one is movable. Abdomen com¬
posed of distinct segments, without any terminal spinners.
Sexual organs at the base of the abdomen. Thorax con¬
sisting of a single piece, and presenting near its anterior
angles three or two eyes, approached or in groups, and
two other eyes close together in the centre of its anterior
or posterior margin. Four or eight pulmonary sacks.
Tribe I.—Tarenxul.*.
Our present division corresponds.to the genus tarentula
of Fabricius. The abdomen is attached to the thorax by
a pedicle, or by a portion of the transverse diameter,
without comb-shaped plates at its inferior base, or sting
at its extremity. The stigmata are four in number,
placed near the base of the abdomen, and covered by a
plaque. The mandibles are terminated merely by a claw
or movable crotchet. The languette is elongated, nar¬
row, dart-shaped, concealed. Maxillm two, formed by the
first joint of the palpi. Eyes eight, of which three are
disposed in the form of a triangle near each anterior cor¬
ner, and two are placed upon a tubercle near the centre of
the anterior margin.
Naturalists have as yet acquired but a slight knowledge
of this tribe of Arachnides. They inhabit chiefly the
warmest countries of Asia and America.
Genus Phrynus, Olivier.—Palpi terminating in a claw.
Body flat, thorax broad, crescent-shaped. Abdomen
without a tail. The two anterior tarsi long, slender,
antenniform.
This genus was named Tarentula by Fabricius, but we
N I D E S.
prefer retaining the name previously bestowed by Olivier, Arach.
not only on account of its possessing a prior claim, but "ides,
because the term Tarentula, as generally understood, ap-
plies to a spider of the genus Lycosa, the Aranea tarentula
of Linnaeus.
Sp. Lunatus. (PI. XLVI. fig. 11.)—The arms or foot-
palpi of this species are nearly three times the length of the
body. They are unfurnished with spines, except at the
extremity of the fourth article. This is the phalangium
lunatum of Pallas. Spicil. Zool. fasc. 9. tab. fig. 5, 6.
Sp. Reniformis. Phalangium ren forme, lAnx\. Herbst.
Tarentula reniformis, Fabr. (PI. XLVI. fig. 12.)—Arms
very spiny on their interior margins ; the third and fourth . /
articulations elongated. The fifth articulation is furnished
with four spines. According to Mauge, this species is much
dreaded by the negroes of the Antilles.
Genus Thelyphonus, Latr.—Palpi shorter and thicker t
than those of the preceding genus, terminated by pin- L
cers or double fingers. Body long, thorax oval, abdo-
men furnished with a slender articulated prolongation A
or tail. The anterior tarsi are short, with few articula¬
tions.
This genus appears to have been confounded by Gro-
novius with Scorpio, by Linnaeus with Phalangium, and
by Fabricius with Tarentula. It forms the passage in the
natural progress of generic forms to the scorpion tribe.
Sp. Caudatus, Latr. Phalangium caudatum, Linn.—(PI.
XLVI. fig. 13.)—Some confusion seems to exist in regard
to the exact or characteristic locality of this species. It is
now said to occur in Java. South America furnishes
another species, called by the inhabitants of Martinique
vinaigrier, on account of its extremely acid odour.
Tribe II.—Scoupionides.
Abdomen sessile, or united to the thorax by its entire
breadth, and furnished at its lower base with two mov¬
able comb-shaped plates, and terminated by a knotted
base, armed with a sting at its extremity. Stigmata
eight in number, four on each side along the belly. Man¬
dibles terminated by two fingers, of which the exterior is
movable.
The thorax of scorpions assumes the form of a length¬
ened square. There is a triangular appendage at the base
of each of the four anterior feet, which in combination
produce the appearance of a lip of four divisions; but of
these, according to the views of Latreille, the lateral pair
ought to be regarded as maxillae, and the two others as
forming the languette. The abdomen is composed of
twelve articulations, including those of the tail, which are
six in number. The first division of the abdomen is com¬
posed of two parts, the anterior of which bears the sexual
organs, the posterior the comb-shaped appendages. These
last-named parts are composed of a principal portion, nar¬
row, lengthened, jointed, movable at its base, and fur¬
nished along its inferior side with a range of small, narrow,
elongated, parallel plates, hollowed interiorly, united to
the principal piece before mentioned, and somewhat re¬
sembling the teeth of a comb; their number seems to
vary according to the species, and probably even with the
age of the individual. The uses of these organs in the
economy of the animal have not yet been determined.
The four following segments of the abdomen have each a
pair of pulmonary sacks and stigmata. Immediately be¬
hind the sixth segment the abdomen becomes suddenly
narrow, and the six following knotty rings compose the
tail, terminated by an arched slender point, beneath the
extremity of which are two small holes, from which, at
i
arachnides.
Arach¬
nides.
the will of the animal, there flows a poisonous fluid, con-
tained in an interior reservoir. The tarsi resemble each
'other, and are composed of three articulations, the last of
which is armed with a pair of crotchets. The four pos¬
terior legs have a common base, and the first article of
the haunches is as it were soldered; the posterior pair
are in part joined by their back part to the abdomen.
Two nervous cords, which derive their origin from the
brain or superior ganglion, unite at intervals and form
seven other ganglia, of which the last belongs to the
tail. In all other Arachnides, according to Latreille, the
number of these ganglia never exceeds three.
Eight stigmata mark the position of an equal number
of whitish purses, containing a great number of small de¬
licate plates, among which it is believed the air perme¬
ates. A muscular vessel prevails along the back, and
communicates by means of two other vessels with each of
these purses. The intestinal canal is straight and slen¬
der. The liver is composed of four pair of glandular
bunches, which discharge their fluid into the intestines
at four points. The females are viviparous.
. Scorpions occur in the warmer regions of Europe, Asia,
Africa, and America. Several of the larger exotic spe¬
cies are poisonous, but the bite of the European kinds
is rarely attended by fatal consequences, except to small
animals. Maupertuis tried various experiments upon
dogs and poultry with the scorpions of Languedoc. Only
one dog died. The others, as well as the poultry, though
repeatedly stung by exasperated scorpions, suffered no in¬
jury. Redi’s experiments on pigeons were followed by a
different result. They generally died in convulsions in
about five hours after the infliction of the wound. Some,
however, appeared to suffer no inconvenience from the
bite of these animals. This difference may be attributed
to the particular condition, or rather the quantity of the
poison contained in the vessels at the time of the trial.
The scorpions of Tuscany are so harmless that they are
handled by the peasants without any fear.
Scorpions generally inhabit sombre and shady places,
under stones, among old ruins, deserted, dwelling-houses,
and even, though more rarely, such as are occupied by
man. They prey upon various kinds of insects, which
they sting with their envenomed tails. They are very
fond of the eggs of spiders and of insects. In running,
they usually carry their tails curved forwards over their
backs; and they possess the power of moving them in all
directions, either as offensive or defensive weapons. We
have already mentioned that they produce their young
alive. Redi states the number of these to amount to
between 26 and 40, but some species are more prolific.
Maupertuis found from 27 to 65 in the bodies of those
which he examined. They were suspended or connected
by a lengthened thread, and each was inclosed in a very
delicate membrane. The European kinds appear to pro¬
duce in August, and are afterwards observed to change
their skins. Some naturalists are of opinion that they
couple twice a year. The female carries her young for
several days upon her back, and watches over and defends
them for about a month.
In the preceding generalities we have given the princi¬
pal characters of the old genus Scorpio. That genus has
been recently divided into two, in conformity with the
number of the eyes.
Genus Scorpio, Latr.—Eyes six.
Sp. Europteus.—Colour brown, varying in shade. Feet
and terminal joint of the tail of a paler yellowish brown.
Claws angular and heart-shaped. Pectens, or comb-shaped
appendages, each with nine teeth.
Ihe characters given by Linnaeus to his S. Europaeus
VOL. in.
do not accord with our observations on those found in
prance an Italy. . “ Cauda sub aculeo mucronata est.”
An American species is furnished with a projecting point''
faneat/i the sting, and the existence of that feature^in the
transatlantic species seems to have induced De Geer to
mistake the latter for the one described by Linnseus as
inhabiting the southern countries of Europe.
Genus Buthus, Leach.—Eyes eight.
Sp. Occitanus. (PI. XLVI. fig. 14.)—Colour yellowish
or reddish. Tail rather longer than the body, with elevated
and delicately granulated lines. Each pecten furnished
with 28 teeth or upwards. About two inches in length.
This is the species experimented on by Maupertuis.
He inclosed about 100 in one place, and after the lapse
of a few days he found only 14 survivors, which had killed
and eaten their companions. It occurs in France, Portu¬
gal, and Spain ; likewise in Barbary.
Sp- Afer. (PL XLVI. fig. 15.)—Nearly half a foot long,
and of a blackish-brown colour, with large heart-shaped
claws, chagrined on their surface, and slightly haired. A
notch in the anterior angle of the thorax. Number of teeth
in each comb, thirteen. Occurs both in Africa and India.
Sp. Americanus.—Body slender, elongated, yellowish,
with brown spots. Combs with twenty-eight teeth. Arms
long and thin; claws filiform. Tail three times the length
of the body. Sting with a point beneath. Inhabits Ame¬
rica.
The Scorpio dentatus of Herbst is allied to the preced¬
ing. It inhabits Sierra Leone.
Order II.—Tracheari^e.
The Tracheal Arachnides are distinguished by their
respiratory organs, which consist of radiated or branched
tracheae, receiving air only by two stigmatic openings.
They possess no (ascertained) circulating system, and
their eyes vary from two to four. Muller assigns six eyes
to the Hydrachna umbrata, but Latreille is of opinion that
some optical or other deception may have interfered
with the usual accuracy of the great Danish naturalist.
The respiration of the Pycnogonides is unknown, no stig¬
mata having been observed in that family.
The Arachnides of this order are the smallest of their
class. Some species are almost microscopical. They are
naturally divided into two great divisions. Those which
belong to the first are more-nearly allied to the preceding
order, the pulmonary Arachnides, in the form and struc¬
ture of their masticating organs; such as pertain to the
second have the parts of the mouth more simply construct¬
ed of certain parts, which, in union with the languette,
constitute a kind of trunk or sucker. But many of the
species are so minute, even in their general dimen¬
sions, that the examination of these organs, and the con¬
sequent classification of the species in accordance with a
cibarian system, are attended with considerable difficulty,
and, in the opinion of Latreille, ought not to be had re¬
course to, except in default of other more obvious cha¬
racteristics.
The long-legged spider (commonly so called), which is
a species of Phalangium, frequently met with in hay fields
and other places during the summer season, is a familiar
example of this order. So also are mites and other aca-
rideous species.
Family I.—Pseudo-Scorpiones.
Thorax articulated, the anterior segment the larger.
Abdomen distinct and annulated. Palpi large, in the
form of feet or claws. Both sexes with eight feet, having
two equal hooks at the end of the tarsi, the two anterior
1 3 G
385
Arach¬
nides.
386 A R A C H N I D E S.
Arach- sometimes excepted. Two mandibles (antenne-pinces or
nides. cheliceres of Latreille) terminated by a couple of fingers;
and two maxillae formed by the first article of the palpi.
This family consists of two genera, the habits of which
are terrestrial; their bodies oval or oblong.
Genus Galeodes, Oliv. Solpuga, Lichtenstein.
Mandibles very large, with vertical, strongly toothed
fingers, of which one is superior, fixed, frequently fur¬
nished at its base with a slender pointed appendage; the
other movable. Palpi large, advanced, in the form of
feet or of antennas, terminated by a short button-shaped
article, vesicular and hookless. Anterior pair of feet re¬
sembling the palpi, but smaller; they are also hookless.
Each of the other feet has the terminal joint of the tarsus
furnished with a pair of hooks. The posterior pair of feet
have five remarkable scaly excrescences placed upon
foot-stalks, and ranged along the inferior surface of their
first two articulations. The eyes, two in number, are very
close to each other, and are situated on an eminence of
the anterior portion of the first segment of the thorax,
which presents the appearance of a large head bearing
the anterior pair of feet, in addition to the masticating
organs.
According to M. Dufour the terminal article of the
palpi incloses a particular disc-shaped organ, of a whitish
colour and pearly lustre, not visible externally unless the
animal is irritated. The lip (labre) has the form of a small
beak, much compressed, recurved, pointed, and hairy.
The languette is small, keel-shaped, and terminates in two
divergent threads, each placed on a small articulation.
Latreille perceived a pretty large stigmatic opening on
each side of the body, between the first and second feet,
and another cleft at the base of the abdomen. The ab¬
domen is oval and composed of nine rings. We lately re¬
ceived two species of this genus from Persia.
Sp. Araneoides, Olivier. (PI. XLVII. fig. 1.)—Solpuga
Arachnoides, Herbst.—Colour pale yellowish-brown. In¬
habits Africa and the western countries of Asia.
Genus Chelifer, Geoff. Obisium, Uliger. — Palpi
elongated, furnished with didactile pincers at their
extremity. Eyes placed on the sides of the thorax.
Legs nearly equal in size, each terminated by a pair of
crotchets. Body flat. Thorax almost square.
These animals run swiftly, both backwards and for¬
wards. They carry their eggs about with them after the
manner of spiders. The elder Hermann is of opinion
that they spin webs. Such of the species as have the tho¬
rax divided or impressed by a transverse line form the
genus Chelifer of Dr Leach. Their eyes are two in num¬
ber. Others have the thorax undivided, and of these
the eyes amount to four. They form the genus Obisium
of the last-named author.
&p. Fasciatus.—Hands oval. Segments of the abdo¬
men bordered with white. Lives beneath the bark of
willow and other trees. Sometimes occurs near London.
Leach, in Linn. Trans, xi.
Sp. Cancroides. (PI. XLVII. fig. 2.)—This species mea¬
sures about a line and a half in length. The body and
legs are of a reddish brown. The palpi are about twice
the length of the body. It is a European species, inha¬
biting old books, herbariums^ &c. and preys upon the
bodies of several destructive insects. It ought therefore
to be cherished in the live state by collectors.
Family II.—Pycnogonides. Arach.
Trunk composed of four segments, occupying almost
the entire length of the body, terminated at each extre¬
mity by a tubular article, of which the anterior portion,
sometimes simple, sometimes accompanied by mandibles
(antenne-pinces) and palpi, or by one or other of these or¬
gans, constitutes the mouth. Both sexes have eight feet
proper for running ; but the females are moreover provid¬
ed with two false feet, placed near the anterior pair, and
serving to carry the eggs.
The species of which this family is composed inhabit
the sea. They usually keep themselves concealed among
sea-weed along the shores, and feed upon small marine
animals. Their movements are slow. Their bodies are
generally linear, the legs very long, composed of from
eight to nine articles, and terminated by two unequal crot¬
chets, of which the smaller is cleft. The first articula¬
tion of the body, or that which represents the head and
mouth, forms an advanced, nearly cylindrical tube, pierc¬
ed at its extremity by a triangular opening. It also bears
the mandibles and palpi. The former are linear or cylin¬
drical, composed of two pieces, of which the last is pin-
cer-shaped, with the inferior or fixed claw shorter than the
other. The palpi are filiform, with a crotchet at the end,
and composed of from five to nine articles. Each of the
succeeding segments of the body, with the exception of
the last, serves as a point of attachment to a pair of legs;
and the segment which articulates with the mouth is pro¬
vided on its dorsal portion with a tubercle bearing the
eyes, and on its ventral portion (in the females) with a
small additional pair of feet on which the eggs are distri¬
buted. The terminal segment is small, cylindrical, and
pierced at its extremity. The stigmatic openings in the
bodies of this family have not yet been discovered.1
M. Savigny is of opinion that this family forms the na¬
tural transition from the class Arachnides to the crustace-
ous tribes, and great uncertainty still prevails in the minds
of naturalists regarding their true position in the system.
We place them in the position which they now occupy in
our present arrangement, in accordance with the views of
M. Latreille. M. Milne Edwards, who has studied these
animals in their native places, informed that celebrated
entomologist, that in the interior of the Pycnogonides
he observed caeca or lateral expansions of the intestinal
canal.
Genus Pycnogonum, Brunnich.—In this genus the man¬
dibles and palpi are wanting, and the length of the feet
scarcely exceeds that of the body, which is proportion¬
ally short and thick. The species are parasitical on
cetaceous animals.
Sp. Balcenarum. (PI. XLVII. fig. 3.)—Phalangium
Balcenarum, Linn.—Inhabits the European Ocean. This
species is frequently taken by the trawl-fishers in Plymouth
Sound. It has been found by M. d’Orbigny on the coasts
of France.
Genus Phoxichilus, Latr.—In this genus the palpi are
wanting, as in the preceding; but we observe a pair of
mandibles, and a greater elongation of the legs.
To this genus belongPycnogonum spinipes of the Fauna
Groenlandica, Phalangium hirsutum of Montagu (Linn.
Trans, ix.), Nymphon hirtum of Fabricius, &c.
Genus Nymphon, Fab.—Resembles the preceding genus
1 Recent observations induce the belief that these creatures breathe through their skins,_a peculiar character, which, when satis-
factonly established, may lead to their being erected into a separate order, intermediate in some respects between the Arachnides and
the apterous insects of the parasitical order. (See Rcgne Animal, tome iv. p. 277, note.)
ARACHNIDES.
Arach- in the narrow and oblong form of its body, the length
nides. 0f its legs, and the presence of mandibles; but in addi-
tjon t0 these organs there are likewise a pair of palpi.
Sp. Gracile, Leach. (Zool. Misc. i. 45.)—Colour cine-
leous; thighs cylindrical. Inhabits most parts of the Bri¬
tish seas. We are doubtful whether this species should p o T . ^ ....
be considered as synonymous with the Nymphon grossipes as ^(1 ^n^’v ]^*vpa (,1^fo1vifes Pr<'jJecting; ^lmost as long
(Phalangium grossipes, Linn.) figured on PI. XLVII. fig. 4.
Mandibles horny in the males. A blackish band with a
festooned border on the back of the female.
Of certain species of this genus Mr Kirby has formed
xVaji?en,,US Gorwhptes. (See Linn. Trans, vol. xii. Plate
XXII. fig. 16.)
The term grossipes is certainly very inapplicable to either
kind.
as the body. Eyes distant, each placed upon an iso¬
lated tubercle.
Sp. Rubens. (PL XL VII. fig. 6.)—Colour pale red; legs
paler. Dwells in moss at the roots of trees.
Genus Ammothea, Leach.—Mandibles much shorter than
the rostrum, with equal joints, the fingers arcuate, and Genus MACRocHELES,Lati\—Mandibles long and project¬
meeting at their tips. Palpi nine-jointed, the third joint   -t’...- —- • ^ ■
very long. Legs slender; coxse with the middle joint
longest; tibiae with the first joint rather the shortest;
tarsi with the first joint small; claws double, unequal.
Egg-bearing organs nine-jointed, inserted under the first
legs, behind the rostrum.
Sp. Carolinensis. (PI. XLVII. fig 5.)—Body entirely
brown, testaceous; back with three trigonate tubercles.
{Zool. Miscell. i. 34.) From South Carolina.
PAMIEV 111. IIOLETRA.
The groups composing this family are characterized by
the union of the thorax and abdomen in a single mass,
beneath a common epidermis. The thorax is almost di¬
vided into two by a contraction; and the abdomen, in some
species, presents the appearance of rings, formed by the
folds of the epidermis. The anterior extremity of the
body frequently projects in the form of a beak or muzzle.
The generality are provided with eight feet; some have
only six.
Tribe I.—Phalangita, Latr.
Mandibles very conspicuous, terminated by didactylous
mg. Eyes sessile, or none. Two anterior feet, Very
long, and antenniform. The upper part of the body
forms a plaque or scale, without any distinct rings.
According to Latreille, the Acarus marginatus and tes-
tudinarius of Hermann {fils') belong to this genus.
Genus Trogulus, Latr.—Anterior extremity of the
body advanced in the form of a hood or chaperon, and
receiving in an inferior cavity the mandibles and other
parts of the mouth. The body is very flat, and cover¬
ed by a strong skin.
Sp. Nepceformis.—Colour obscure ash-colour. Central
portion of the dorsal part of the abdomen, and the sides,
obsoletely subcarinated. External apex of the first joint
of the tarsi produced. Inhabits France and Germany,
lurking beneath stones.
Tribe II.—Acarides.
Sometimes furnished with mandibles composed of a sin¬
gle pincer, didactylous or with a simple claw, and con¬
cealed in a sternal lip ; sometimes furnished with a sucker
formed of plates or laminae joined together. A few have
pincers. Palpi filiform, and composed of five articles, of onty a simple cavity for the mouth, without additional ap-
which the last is terminated by a small nail. Two dis- Pondages.
tinct eyes. Two maxillae formed by a prolongation of the The species of this tribe (corresponding to the genus
radical article of the palpi; and besides these there are °f Linnaeus) are almost microscopical, and are uni-
sometimes four other jaws, which, however, result merely versally distributed. Some are erratic, and occur in a great
from a dilatation of the haunches of the first two pair of variety of situations, among stones, on trees, among flour,
legs. Body oval or rounded, and covered, at least on the cheese, and various other substances, whether animal or
vegetable; others are parasitical on the skins of living
creatures, which they sometimes greatly weaken by their
excessive multiplication. The disease called itch, if not
occasioned by, is at least in some way connected with, the
presence of minute species of this family. Dr Galet has
demonstrated that that disease may be communicated by
the transmission of mites from one (infected) individual
to another. Small mites have even been found in the
brain and in the eyes of the human race.
Many of the species, when first produced, have only
six feet. They are oviparous, and deposit a great num¬
ber of eggs.
Genus Trombidium, Fab.—Mandibles en griffe, or ter¬
minated by a movable claw. Palpi projecting, point¬
ed, with a movable appendage or finger at the ex¬
tremity. Two eyes, each placed at the end of a small
fixed pedicle. Body divided into two parts, of which
the first or anterior is very small, and bears, besides the
eyes and mouth, the first two pair of legs.
, .i * Sp. Holosericeum.—Of a blood-red colour. Abdomen
arc s mr - n ed, as those hatched in the spring are all sup- a]most square, narrower behind, and notched. Back fur-
posed to die in the autumn. wished wdth papillae, hairy at the base, and globular at
Sp. Cornutum, Linn, (the male). Opilio, ejusd. (the their extremities. Common in gardens during spring,
female).—Body oval, reddish or ash-coloured above, white Sp. Tinctorum. (PI. XL VII. fig. 7.)—4 his species is
beneath. Palpi long. Two rows of small spines on the three or four times larger than the preceding. It occurs in
tubercle which bears the eyes. Thighs with prickles, the East Indies, and produces a fine dye.
thorax, by a skin of a somewhat solid texture. The legs,
which are always eight in number, are long, and distinct¬
ly divided, like those of insects. Many are provided near
the origin of the two posterior legs with two stigmata,
one on either side, concealed by the haunches. The spe¬
cies of this tribe are for the most part of active habits.
The generative organs are placed internally beneath the
mouth.
Genus Phalangium, Linn. Fab.—Mandibles project¬
ing, much shorter than the head. Eyes placed upon a
common tubercle. The feet are long and slender, and
when separated from the body they for some time af¬
terwards exhibit signs of irritability. The females are
provided with a membranous oviduct, filiform, annu-
lated, and flexible. The trachea; are tubular.
The species of this genus are of predacious habits.
They prey upon small insects, which they seize with their
mandibles, pierce with their crotchets, and suck to death.
Ihey are of pugnacious tempers. Though analogous to
spiders in their external forms, they cannot spin. They
388 ARACHNIDES.
Arach- Genus Erythr^eus, Latr.—Mandibles and palpi as in
nides. Trombidium, but the body is undivided, and the eyes
are not mounted on a pedicle.
Sp. Phalangioides.—Legs very long, the last joint
broad, compressed. Body obscure red, with a dorsal band
of orange yellow. Inhabits most European countries,
running on the ground with great rapidity.
Genus Gamasus, Latr.—Mandibles didactylous; palpi
projecting, distinct, filiform.
Some species of this genus have the upper surface of
the body clothed, in whole or in part, with a scaly skin,
while others are entirely soft.
Sp. Coleoptratorum.—Anterior pair of legs somewhat
longer than the others. Coriaceous parts of the back
fuscous.
Inhabits the excrements of horses and cattle, and is
frequently found adhering in great numbers to the bodies
of coleopterous insects of the genus Scarabaeus, Hister, &c.
To this genus belongs the Acarus marginatus of Her¬
mann, which is sometimes found in the brain (corpus cal¬
losum) of the human race.
Genus Cheyletus, Latr.—Mandibles didactylous. Palpi
thick, arm-shaped, falcated at the extremities.
Sp. Eruditus. Acarus eruditus, Schrank.—Colour brown¬
ish. Inhabits books and museums.
Genus Oribata.—Mandibles didactylous. Palpi short
and concealed. Body covered by a coriaceous or scaly
skin, in the form of a shield or buckler. Legs long, or of
medium length.
The body in this genus is prolonged anteriorly in the
form of a muzzle. There is sometimes an indication of
a thorax. The ends of the tarsi are terminated by a
single crotchet in some, by two or three in others, with¬
out any vesicular ball or cushion. The species are found
beneath stones, among moss, and on trees. Their move¬
ments are slow.
Sp. Geniculata.—Of a brownish chesnut colour, shin¬
ing, hairy. Legs pale brown, thighs sub-clavate. Com¬
mon in Sweden, Germany, and England.
Genus Uropoda, Latr.—Mandibles pincer-shaped; palpi
not conspicuous. Body covered by a scaly skin, and ter¬
minated by a slender filament, by means of which the
species adhere to the bodies of coleopterous insects.
Sp. Vegetans. (PL XLVII. fig. 8.)—Brown, smooth, and
shining. Inhabits J ranee and England, attaching itself
to the legs and other parts of insects by its pedunculated
anus.
Genus Acarus, Fab. Latr.—’Furnished like the preced¬
es genera with didactylous mandibles, and very short
or concealed palpi; but the body is soft, and unfurnish¬
ed with a scaly crust. The tarsi are provided at their
extremity with a vesicular tuft. Many species live on
the substances used as aliments by the human race.
Sp. Siro. The cheese-mite. (PI. XLVIL fig. 9.) 
Whitish, with two brown spots. Body ovate, the^middle
coarctate, with long hairs. Legs of equal length. Inha¬
bits houses, feeding on flour and long-kept cheese.
Sp. Scabiei. (PI. XLVII. fig. 10.)—A microscopical spe¬
cies, which inhabits the skin of man in a diseased state. It
appears, from the observations of Bonnani and others
that this insect usually accompanies the disease called
the itch.
Genus Bdella, Latr.—Palpi elongated, bent, terminat¬
ed by hairs or bristles. Four eyes, posterior feet the Aracli.
longest. Sucker prolonged in the form of a conical or nides.
awl-shaped beak. Found in moss, beneath stones, and'k“'"VN-/
under the bark of trees.
Sp. Rubra. La Bdelle rouge of Latreille. (PI. XLVII.
fig. 11.)—Rostrum longer than the thorax. Colour coccine-
ous, legs paler than the body. Dwells beneath stones.
This is the pince rouge of Geoffrey, and the Acarus longi-
cornis of Linnaeus. It is a minute insect, measuring scarcely
half a line in length.
Genus Smaridia, Latr.—Distinguished from the preced¬
ing genus by the palpi, which are scarcely longer than
the sucker; straight, and without bristles at the extre-
mity. Eyes two. Anterior pair of legs longer than the
others.
Sp. Sambuci. Acarus Sambuci, Schrank.—Colour red,
the body slightly haired. Movements slow. Dwells be¬
neath the bark of trees, more especially that of the elder,
observed by Latreille in the south of France. This genus
is represented in PI. XLVII. fig. 12., by a figure of Sma¬
ridia passerina.
Genus Ixodes.—Palpi inclosed in the sucker, along with
which they form a short projecting beak, truncated, with
a slight expansion at the end.
The animals of this genus occur among bushes and
underwood, from which they detach themselves to fasten
on dogs, sheep, cattle, and other quadrupeds, to which they
adhere with remarkable tenacity. Their eggs, of which
they lay a prodigious quantity, are, according to M. Cha-
brier, obtruded by the mouth.
Sp. Reduvius. Acarus reduvius, Linn. (PI. XLVII.
fig. 13.)—The colour and appearance of this species vary
according to its state of repletion. The legs are black.
Genus Argas.—Palpi conical, composed of four articles,
not inclosed in the sucker.
Sp. Reflexus. Acarus marginatus. Fab. (PI. XLVII.
fig. 14.)—Pale yellowish, or flesh-coloured, with deeper an¬
astomosing lines. Inhabits houses in France, sucking the
blood of doves.
A species of this genus found in Persia (the malleh de
mianeh) is considered to be extremely poisonous. It ap¬
pears, however, from the observations of M. Szovits, a na¬
turalist recently employed by the Russian government to
explore the Caucasus, that the bite of these bugs ofMiana,
as they are sometimes called (Argas Persicus of Fischer),
is in reality by no means dangerous.
The three following genera correspond to the genus
Hydrachna of Muller. Their habits are aquatic, and
their forms oval, or nearly globular, and of a soft consis¬
tence. The number of their eyes varies from two to four,
and even to six, according to Muller. They were usual¬
ly confounded with the mites till the time of the last-
named observer, who inferred that as they lived habitual¬
ly in a different element, they ought to form a separate
division. They resemble small spiders, and probably on
that account received the name of Flydrachna, which
signifies water-spider. Fabricius, who only employed in
the formation of his groups characters drawn from the
structure of the mouth, has united Hydrachna with Trom¬
bidium. The observations of Latreille have led not only to
the distinct separation of these two genera, but to the sub¬
division of the genus Hydrachna into at least three dis¬
tinct groups of species, all of which may be readily distin¬
guished from the various kinds of mites (Acari) by their
ciliated or natatorial legs.
I he minute beings now under consideration occur
*
ARACHNIDES.
irach- abundantly in stagnant or slowly moving waters. The
aides, spring season is the most favourable for the observance of
their habits. They run through the water with great ra¬
pidity, with a continual movement of their legs. Their
dispositions are carnivorous, and their food consists of ani-
malcular species, of minute insects, small flies, and aquatic
larvae. Muller kept many Hydrachnae in vessels of water
full of animalcula infusoria, millions of which were eaten
in a few days, soon after which the Hydrachnae were found
in a state of great languor, and transparent from exhaus¬
tion. They speedily revived when a few drops of water
containing animalcules were mingled with that through
which they swam.
The males are usually much less than the females, and
the sexes frequently differ in colour. Only four or five
species were known before the time of Muller, to whose
persevering labours we owe the best elucidation which has
yet been given of their history.1
Latreille is of opinion that the structure of the masti¬
cating organs authorizes the establishment of the three
generic groups which follow.
Genus Eylais, Latr—Mandibles terminated by a mov¬
able crotchet.
Sp. Extendens. Atax extendens, Fab. (PI. XLVII.
fig. 15.)—Body rounded, smooth, shining, immaculate, red.
Hinder legs straight. Inhabits stagnant waters.
Genus Hydrachna, Latr.—Mouth composed of plates
forming a projecting sucker. Palpi provided at their
extremity with a moveable appendage.
Sp. Geographica. (PI. XLVII. fig. 16.)—Black, marked
with coccineous spots. Inhabits gently flowing waters. A
beautiful species, not uncommon in several parts of Britain.
Sp. Cruenta. (PI. XLVII. fig. 17.)—Distended, red;
legs of nearly equal length. This is the Trombidium globa-
tor of Fabricius, and the mite aquatique ronde of De Geer.
unng the summer months on grasses and other plants,
from which it detaches itself, and fixing in the skin of the
human species, occasions an insupportable itching. “ Acarus
Autumnahs, says Dr Shaw, “ popularly known by the
name of the harvest bug, is also one of the most minute
of the genus, and is of a bright red colour, with the abdo¬
men bent on its hind part, with numerous white bristles.
This troublesome insect will make itself sufficiently known
to most people, during the months of July, August, and
September. It is easily distinguishable on the skin by its
bright red colour, and adheres so tenaciously when it has
once fixed itself, as to be scarcely separated without vio¬
lence; its motion when disengaged is pretty quick, though
by no means equal to that of some other acari. On
the part where it fixes it causes a tumour, generally about
the size of a pea, sometimes much larger, accompanied by
a severe itching. These insects abound on vegetables,
and are generally contracted by walking in gardens,
amongst long grass, or in corn fields.” ( General Zoology,
vol. vi. p. 464.)
According to Mr White of Selbourne, this minute crea¬
ture greatly abounds in the chalky districts of Hampshire.
He was assured that the warreners are much infested by
them, and are sometimes thrown into fever by their bites.
Another species is common on Phalangium opilio.
Genus Aclysia, Audouin.—Form like that of a bag¬
pipe. A syphon, without distinct palpi, placed beneath
the anterior extremity, which is narrow, curved, and
obtuse. The legs are very small.
The species of this genus are parasitical on the bodies
of water-beetles of the genus Dytiscus. The only one of
which we have any knowledge (A. dytisci) is described by
M. Victor Audouin, in the 1st vol. of the Mem. de la Soc.
d'Hist. Nat. de Paris. We found it on Dytiscus margina-
lis, in the vicinity of Edinburgh. A second species has
been recently discovered in Russia by Count Manheiren.
339
Arach-
nides.
Genus Limnochares, Latr.—Resembles Hydrachna in
its sucker-shaped mouth, but the palpi are simple.
Sp. Holosericea.—Body ovate, red, rugose, soft; eyes
black. This is the Acarus aquaticus of Linnaeus, and the
mite satinee aquatique of De Geer. Inhabits the waters of
Europe, and occurs frequently in ponds during the sum¬
mer months. It varies in colour from a bright red to a
grayish red. According to Fabricius, it deposits its eggs
on water scorpions {Nepce).
The remaining genera are distinguished from all other
Arachnides by having only six legs. Their habits are
parasitical.
Genus Caris, Latr.—Sucker and palpi apparent. Body
rounded, very flat, and covered by a scaly skin.
Sp. Vespertilionis.—Body fuscous. Found on bats.
Genus Leptus.—Sucker and palpi apparent. Body soft
and ovoid.
Sp. Autumnalis. Acarus Aulumnalis, Shaw. (PI.
XLVII. fig. 18.)—Colour red, very minute. Common
Genus Astoma, Latr.—Neither sucker nor palpi visible.
The mouth consists merely of a small opening, situated
in the breast. The body is soft, and oval; the legs
very short.
Sp. Parasitica. (PI. XLVII. fig. 19.)—Body cocci¬
neous, slightly contracted in the centre. This is the mite
parasite of De Geer. It inhabits the bodies of flies and
other insects.
Genus Ocypete, Leach.—This genus, arranged by Dr
Leach in the same stirps as Trombidium, is placed by
Latreille at the end of his Hexapod Arachnides. It
differs from those with which it is conjoined by the pos¬
session of mandibles.
Sp. Rubra, Leach, Linn. Trans, xi.—Colour red,
back furnished with a few long hairs. The legs are cover¬
ed with many hairs of a rufous cinerescent colour. The
eyes are blackish brown. This curious little animal, which
is not larger than a grain of sand, is parasitical, and fre¬
quently occurs on the larger tipulae, adhering to their legs.
Dr Leach obtained no less than 16 specimens from one
insect.
See O. F. Muller’s Hydrachnae, 1 vol. 4to, 1781.
390 A R iE
Arach- The following more special works may be consulted regarding
nides the Arachnides, in addition to the general system in which they
|] are treated of in their order of occurrence :—A Natural History of
Arseome- Spiders and other curious Insects. By Eleazar Albin. Lond. 1736.
ter. Aranei Suecici, descriptionibus et figuris sen. illustrati, &c. By Ca-
v / rolus Clerk. Holmiae, 1757. Aranei, or the Natural History of
Spiders, including the principal parts of the well-known work on
the English Spiders, by Eleazar Albin ; and also the whole of the
celebrated publication on Swedish Spiders, by Charles Clerk, re¬
vised and enlarged, &c. By Thomas Martyn. 2 vols. Lond. 1793.
Araneologie, oder Naturgesch. der Spinnen, &c. By Quatremere-
Disjonval. Frankfurt, 1798. De i’Araneologie, ou sur la Decou-
verte des Rapport Constant entre FApparition des Toiles et Varia¬
tions Atmospheriques, &c. By the same. Paris. 1797. Description
des Arachnides de 1’Egypte. By Jul. C. Savigny. Paris, 1812.
A R iE
Exercitationes de Animalium Vertebris carentium in Ovo Forma- Arach-
tiono—P. 1st, De Generatione Aranearum in Ovo. By T. M. Herold.
Marburgh, 1824. Arachnides. By Bory St Vincent. Extrait du ii
3® vol. de 1’Encyclopedie Moderne. Paris, 1824. Die Arachniden. Araeome
By C. W. Hahn. Nurnberg, 1831-35. Specimen acad. genera ter.
Araneidum Suesise Exhitens. By Carol. Sundevall. Lund. 1823. v. ,
Conspectus Arachnidum. By the same. Goth. 1833. Die Arach-
niden. By C. L. Koch. Nurnberg 1836-46. Uebersicht des Arach-
nidensystems. By the same, 1837—43. Deutschlands Crustacean,
Myriapoden u. Arachniden. By the same. Regensburgh, 1835-41.
Tableau des Arane'ides. By C. A. Walckenaer. Paris, 1805. His-
toire Naturelle des Araneides. By the same. Strasbourg, 1805-8.
Histoire Naturelle des Insectes—Apteres, Arachnides. By the same.
Tom. I. II., Paris, 1836-7. Tom. III., containing Phryneides, Scor-
pionides, &c. By Paul Gervais. Paris, 1844.
Acarus 
Aclysia  
Ammothea..
Aranea 
Argas 
Argyroneta
Astoma 
Atypus  
Bdella 
Buthus 
Caris 
Chelifer 
Cheyletus..
Clotho 
Ctenus 
Dolomedes.
ALPHABETICAL INDEX TO THE GENERA OF ARACHNIDES.
Paere
.388
.389
.387
,.379
.388
.379
..389
,.378
,.388
..385
..389
..386
.388
,.379
,.382
,.382
Pase
Drassus 379
Dysdera 378
Epeira 381
Episinus 380
Eresus 383
Erodion 378
Erythraeus 388
Eylais 389
Filistata 378
Galeodes 386
Gamasus 388
Hydrachna f. 389
Ixodes  388
Leptus   389
Limnochares 389
Linyphia 380
Page
Lycosa   383
Machrocheles 387
Micrommata 381
Mygale 377
Myrmecia 383
Nymphon 386
Ocypete 389
Oribata 388
Oxyopus 382
Palpimanus 383
Phalangi um 387
Philodromus 382
Pholcus 380
Phoxichilus 386
Phrynus 384
Pycnogonum 386
Salticus 
Scorpio 
Scytodes 
Segestria 
Senelops 
Siro 
Smaridia 
Tessarops....
Tetragnatha.
Thelyphonus
Theridion....
Thomisus 
Trogulus 
Trombidium
Uloborus 
Uropoda 
Page
 384
 385
 380
 379
 381
 387
 388
 383
 381
 384
 380
 382
 387
 387
 381
 388
(J. w.)
History.
Theory.
ARACHNOIDES, in Anatomy, an appellation given to
several membranes,—as the tunic of the crystalline hu¬
mour of the eye, the external lamina of the pia mater, and
one of the coverings of the spinal marrow.
ARACK. See Arrack.
ARAEOMETER (composed of ugcuog, levis, tenuis, and
(mtoov, measure'), a measure of the comparative density and
rarity of bodies. The name does not occur in ancient
authors; hydroscopium and baryllium being the ancient
names of the instrument. This instrument was known in
the civilized part of the Roman empire about, the year
400, as appears from the fifteenth epistle of Synesius, ad¬
dressed to Hypatia, daughter of Theon; and to Hypatia
some modern writers have erroneously ascribed its inven¬
tion. The instrument is also described in some verses
annexed to Priscian; and the principles on which its
operation is founded are to be seen in the treatise of Ar¬
chimedes on floating bodies (De Humido Insidentibus).
The term, as used by writers on natural philosophy, is
chiefly applied to instruments which are made to float, so
as to indicate the specific gravity of the liquids in which
they are placed: the pese liqueur and hydrometer, in com¬
mon use for measuring the specific gravity of vinous
spirits, are instruments of this kind.
A floating body displaces a portion of the liquid, the
weight of which is equal to its own weight: the liquid act¬
ing upwards with a force equal to this weight, and the
weight of the body acting downwards with the same force,
equilibrium takes place. If the body be afterwards
placed in a liquid of less density, the part of the body im¬
mersed will be greater than when the body was in the
more dense liquid, because it requires a greater volume of
this less dense liquid to equal the weight of the floating
body. The absolute weights of two bodies being the
same, their specific gravities are in the inverse ratio of
G v .
their volumes —- -rr, when G is put for the specific
9 V
gravity of the first body, g for that of the second ; V for
the volume of the first, and v for the volume of the second.
On this principle the common hydrometer is constructed; Aneome.
the instrument described by Synesius is also of this kind, ter with
In order that a small difference in the volume immersedsca^-
may be sensible, the part which is intersected by the sur¬
face of the fluid is in the form of a very slender cylinder,
the great bulk of the instrument being always immersed
in the liquid. At the inferior part is a
small ball, containing mercury or small
lead shot, which serves as ballast, bring¬
ing the centre of gravity low, so that
the instrument may float erect, and
without much lateral oscillation. The
common hydrometers are made of glass,
and sometimes of brass, or tin or pew¬
ter, and some have been made of am¬
ber as objects of curiosity. When made
of glass, a scale, inscribed upon paper, is inserted in
the cylindrical stalk: the division of the scale at which
the surface of any liquid intersects the stalk, denotes the ‘
specific gravity of that liquid. The divisions of the scale Mode d
should be formed by immersing the instrument in liquids forming
of known specific gravity, and marking a number corre-^sca e
spending to that specific gravity opposite to each division.
The specific gravities of water and alcohol mixed in va¬
rious proportions have been accurately ascertained by Mr
/
*
*
I hren-
h t’s.
fs.
A R JE
Gilpin. (See his Tables, and Dr Blagden’s paper in the
Philosophical Transactions.) On immersing the instru¬
ment in a mixture of known proportions of these two li¬
quids, the point at which the surface intersects the stalk
is to be marked with the number expressing the specific
gravity of the mixture taken from the table. Some hy¬
drometers, such as that constructed by the French che¬
mist Beaume, and which is much used in France under
the name of Areometre de Beaume, have the scale divided
into equal parts, so that the divisions do not correspond
as they ought to do with the numbers which express
specific gravities.
In the araeometer of Fahrenheit, the uncertainty aris¬
ing from the erroneous division of the scale is obviated, no
division being required. The form of the instrument is
the same as that just described, only at the top there
is a small cup, into which weights
are put, so as to bring the surface
of the denser liquid to a fixed mark
on the stalk: when the instrument is
placed in a liquid of less density, some
of the weights are taken out till the
mark again comes to the surface. Sup¬
pose the weight of the instrument and
of the weights in the cup together equal
to 1000, when sunk to the mark in
distilled water at a certain temperature; the instrument
is now taken out of the water and immersed in a liquid,
where 10 must be taken out of the cup in order to bring
the mark to the surface; the immersion in water indi¬
cates that a volume of water weighs 1000; the immersion
in the second liquid shows that an equal volume of this
liquid weighs 990; when the volumes of bodies are equal,
the specific gravities are directly as the absolute weights
~ > consequently the specific gravity of the se¬
cond liquid is 990, that of water being 1000. To save
computation, it is convenient that the whole weight of
the apparatus, when in distilled water at a certain tempe¬
rature, should be represented by 1000; for this purpose
the instrument-maker divides the weight of the apparatus
into 1000 parts, and forms small weights consisting of one,
two, three, &c. of these 1000th parts, the relation of which
to the ounce or pound does not require to be known;
the weights thus formed are to be used with the instru¬
ment.
The araeometer of Nicholson is like that of Fahrenheit,
with the addition of an immersed cup, whereby it is ren¬
dered proper for ascertaining the specific gravity of solids.
Suppose that it requires 400 grains in
the exterior cup to sink the instrument
to the mark in distilled water, at 60
degrees of Fahrenheit’s thermometer;
1st, The body under examination is put
into the exterior cup, and weights (say
300 grains) are taken out till the mark
again stands at the surface ; this gives
the absolute weight of the body 300
grains. 2dly, The body is then put
into the immersed cup S, taking care
to brush off any air-bubbles with a hair pencil, and in
order to bring the mark to the surface, a weight (say
100 grains) must be put into the exterior cup, that is,
the weight of a volume of water equal to the body is 100
grains. The first part of the process gave the absolute
weight of the body 300 grains; and the volumes being equal,
the specific gravities are as the absolute weights ; conse¬
quently the specific gravity of the body is 300, that of water
being 100. This araeometer may be used to find the specific
arm
391
that described above in speaking of the araeometer of Fah- Aneome-
renheit. The araeometer of Nicholson is useful to the mine- ter-
ralogist for ascertaining the specific gravity of minerals,
the specific gravity being a convenient character for dis¬
tinguishing one kind of mineral from another. It is some¬
times made of tinned iron, but where more accuracy is
required, copper is the material employed. When nut
together, it does not exceed a foot in length, and there¬
fore is suited to form a part of the travelling mineralogist's
apparatus. °
Some araeometers have been constructed with the ex¬
terior cup C placed underneath, and sup¬
ported by a stirrup, whose upper part is
fixed to the stalk of the araeometer, as
represented on the margin. This is done in
order to place the centre of gravity low,
that the araeometer may thereby float more
steadily. The araeometer floats in a cylin¬
drical vessel fitted to the size of the stirrup,
and this vessel is supported on a stand so
formed as not to interfere with the free
motion of the stirrup.
The araeometer of Deparcieux is like the V 111 Depar-
common hydrometer, only the ball is much cieux’s.
more voluminous. This renders it capable
of indicating the small difference which exists in the speci¬
fic gravity of the water of different springs, for which pur¬
pose Deparcieux proposed it. The dilatation of the large
glass bulb by heat has a considerable effect on the opera¬
tion of this instrument, and this dilatation being different in
different instruments, renders the results inaccurate. The
different araeometers above mentioned have the advantages
of being easily made and easily carried about; but where
the specific gravity of a body is required with the greatest
accuracy, recourse must be had to the hydrostatic balance,
which ought to be constructed with the utmost care by
the most skilful artist.
The following algebraic expressions may serve to eluci¬
date some of the properties of the araeometers hitherto
spoken of:
g is the specific gravity of water, which is 1000 ounces
when the ounce and foot are taken as unities, 1000 ounces
avoirdupois being the weight of a cubic foot of water.
z is the diameter of the wire-stalk of the araeometer,
is 3'1415, &c. the number expressing the periphery
of a circle whose diameter is 1.
Itz2 is the surface of a transverse section of the wire-
stalk.
v is the volume of the bulb or body of the araeometer.
w is the whole weight of the araeometer.
x is the length of the stalk that is plunged in the
water.
^xrcz1 is the volume of the immersed portion of the
stalk.
When the araeometer floats in equilibrio, it displaces
a volume of water equal to its own weight; therefore,
— / i 2\ i w 4(«c — gv)
w—g{y-\-\ xtv-), and, g — . t^ 7
x =
2gwz2
gravity of liquids : the process, in that case, is the same as
w — gv is the difference between the quantity of water
displaced by the whole araeometer, and the quantity dis¬
placed by the bulb alone; w — gv, therefore, is the vo¬
lume of water displaced by the immersed portion of the
stalk. As the diameter of the stalk z is very small, the
cylinder of water w — gv, which has z for its diameter,
is likewise very small, and does not exceed a few grains
in weight; therefore a small variation in w (the weight
of the araeometer), or in g (the density of the liquid),
occasions a great variation in x (the length of the im¬
mersed part of the stalk). The value of a; changes
rapidly, when z (the diameter of the stalk) is changed.
392
A R iE
A R
ty of li
quid.
Arseome- because the value of x is divided by z2, which is the square
ter. of a very small quantity.
When the araeometer is immersed in a liquid of
Sensibility mother specific gravity g1, then the equation is a;1 =
tiO tlflG SpG- /" j \
cific gravi- _vf • subtract the value of x1 from that of x, and
IvnfU- g^TZ2
there results x — x1 = This is the diminution
99^
in the length of the immersed part of the stalk, which
takes place when the araeometer is transferred to a liquid
of a greater density. By this formula it is seen, that the
sensibility of the araeometer, that is, the length of the
portion of the stalk which emerges upon transferring the
araeometer to a denser liquid, is augmented, in the first
place by increasing w (the weight of water displaced by
the araeometer), that is, by increasing the volume of the
body of the araeometer; secondly, by diminishing z (the
diameter of the stalk), which is in the denominator of the
value of a? xl; consequently, the faculty of the arae¬
ometer to show the different densities of liquids is in
w
general expressed by the fraction
With regard to the vertical mobility of the araeometer,
when put in motion by placing a small weight s in its ex-
, . , „ . , 4(w + 5—gv)
tenor cup,substitute w+siorw; then,xl = ——2*7^2 *
Take the difference between this and x — :
Zg’xz1
this difference is xl — x = 5; which shows that the
9VZ
length of the portion of the stalk that a small weight
causes to immerge is proportional to or in the direct
ratio of the small weight, and in the inverse ratio of the
square of the diameter of the stalk.
When the small weight, the density of the liquid, and
the length of that part of the stalk which is submerged
on adding the small weight, are known, then this equation
will give the diameter of the stalk in known quantities
2—2*/ 1 .
gv^x1—x)
When the weight of the whole araeometer is known in
ounces, &c., and the specific gravity of one of two liquids
(water, for instance) is known, the difference of specific
gravity between that liquid and another liquid may be
had in known quantities.
g is the specific gravity of water.
gl is the specific gravity of the second liquid, which is
here supposed more dense.
w is the weight of the volume of water displaced by
the araeometer.
5 is a small additional weight placed on the exterior
cup to keep the araeometer, when placed in the denser
liquid, at the same point of immersion as when it floated
in water.
w + s is the whole weight of the apparatus when float¬
ing in the denser liquid.
The equation gl = ~ ~j~2 is obtained by substi¬
tuting g1 for g, and w -f s for w, in the equation g =
w ...
v q- lxff22’ w llch was glven above. Divide by ^ =r
w qx w "I" s
—-j-j—£, and there results - ^ , which gives the
proportion of the density of the second liquid to the den¬
sity of water. By subtraction there results ^   — -1
and o1 — n — —; that is, the difference between the Arseostyle
w . . . U
density of the second liquid and the density of water is Arafat.
found by multiplying the small weight by 1000 ounces,
and dividing this product by the number of ounces, &c.
which denote the weight of the araeometer uncharged.
Small bodies, whose specific gravities are known, serve Bead artt
to indicate the specific gravity of a liquid in which they ometer.
just remain suspended. In this way beads of glass three
or four tenths of an inch in diameter are employed, each
of which remains suspended in spirit of a certain specific
gravity. The density of each of these beads, or rather bub¬
bles, is regulated by the proportion between the quantity
of glass and the cavity which the glass incloses. A piece
of bees-wax, whose specific gravity, by the addition of
lead, is such that the body is just suspended in brine of a
known density, is used as an araeometer in some salt
works. The fresh egg of a common fowl is just sustained
by brine of a certain specific gravity, and is employed as
an araeometer.
The araeometer of Homberg consists of a phial with a Hom-
slender neck and glass stopper, so made that it may be filled berg’s,
with the same volume of different liquids. It is employed
in finding the specific gravity of liquids in the following
way : ls£, The phial is filled with distilled water, and then
weighed in a balance; 2dly, the phial is emptied, and
again filled with the liquid whose specific gravity is
sought, and weighed in a balance: the proportion of the
weight of the contents of the phial in the second process
to the weight of its contents in the first, is the specific
gravity required. The inconveniences which have pre¬
vented this method from being generally used are, the
difficulty of completely cleaning the phial from the liquid
which it previously contained; the difficulty of filling the
phial exactly with the same volume of each liquid; and
the variation of the volume of the phial from changes of
temperature.
The pressure of the atmosphere supports columns ofFump
different fluids, whose height is inversely „ arseome-
as the densities of the fluids. An araeome- ■ ter’
ter has been constructed on this principle.
It is a curved tube, one leg of which has
its extremity immersed in water, and the
other in the spirit whose density is to be
tried. On rarefying the air in the tube,
by means of a pump fixed at the upper
part of the tube, the water ascends in one
leg, and the spirit in the other; the height
of the column of each liquid being mea¬
sured by a scale of equal parts applied to
each branch of the tube. This instrument
has never come into use, probably on ac¬
count of the difficulty of ascertaining with precision the
points at which the surfaces of the columns are termi¬
nated. (w.A.c.J
ARiEOSTYLE (dpaios and crrvAos), in Architecture, a
term used by Vitruvius to signify the greatest interval which
can be made between columns.
ARiEOSYSTYLE (compounded of the Greek words
dpaios, crw, orvAos), in Architecture, an arrangement of co¬
lumns in pairs, with an interval, usually equal to half a dia¬
meter, between the coupled columns, and an interval of three
diameters and a half between the pairs.
ARAIOTICS (dpcnamKa), in Medicine, remedies which
rarefy the humours, and render them easy to be carried off
by the pores of the skin.
AR AFAH, the ninth day of the last month of the Arabic
year, named Dhoulhegiat, on which the pilgrims of Mecca
perform their devotions on Mount Arafat.
ARAFAT,a mountainnear Mecca in Arabia,held in high
w
A R A
Vragon. veneration by the Mahometans. A visit to it constitutes a
—' necessary part of the great pilgrimage. (See Mecca.) The
mountain consists of a granite rock about 150 feet high,
which is ascended by staircases, partly cut in the rock and
partly composed of solid masonry. On this hill Adam is said
to have met his wife Eve after a long absence; and it is
thence called Arafat or Gratitude. On the summit is a
chapel, which the Mahometans believe to have been built
by Adam. The interior was destroyed by the Wahabys in
1807.
ARAGON, or Arragon, a province, or, as it is usually
denominated by the inhabitants of the peninsula, a kingdom,
of Spain, and one of the component parts of that monarchy,
situated between Lat. 40. 0. and 42. 51. N., and between
Long. 2. 10. W. and 1. 45. E. It is bounded on the north
by the Pyrenees, which separate it from France ; east by
Catalonia and Valencia; south by Valencia; and west by
Navarre and the two Castiles. the length from north to
south is 215 miles, and its breadth from 65 to 135 miles, with
an area of 11,088 geographical square miles, and a popula¬
tion in 1849 of 847,105. In 1833 it was divided into the
new provinces of Zaragoza, Huesca, and Teruel. The pro¬
vince is divided by the river Ebro into two nearly equal parts,
which are distinguished as Trans-ibero and Cis-ibero. Its
surface is very irregular: the western part, towards Old Cas¬
tile, begins with the Sierra de Moncayo, but from the foot
of these mountains to the Ebro the country is a continued
level and fertile plain in the centre. To the south the ground
rises gradually till it attains considerable elevation in the
mountains near Cuenca, in which are the sources of the most
considerable rivers of Spain, some of which direct their
courses to the Mediterranean, while others force their way
to the Atlantic. Mountains, branching from the Pyrenees,
traverse the northern part, and it has likewise some moun¬
tains in the south; but these are of less elevation. The tem¬
perature of Aragon is extremely varied. In the north, near
the Pyrenees, the climate is rigorous; while in the south,
especially towards the Mediterranean, it is very mild.
The agricultural productions of the province necessarily
vary with the variations in the elevation and aspect of the
land. The greater part is appropriated to feeding flocks of
Merino sheep, and their wool forms the most important of
the productions of the province ; in return for which they re¬
ceive the manufactures of England and France. Wheat is
grown more than sufficient for its own consumption, and it
contributes to supply the neighbouring province of Navarre.
Its wine and oil are generally more than its own demands re¬
quire, and they are both of the best quality which Spain pro¬
duces ; but having none but difficult communication with
any other country where these valuable articles are wanted,
the cultivation of them languishes. Near the banks of the
Ebro flax and hemp are grown in more than sufficient quan¬
tities for the domestic manufactures ; and a supply of the lat¬
ter is furnished to some of the maritime towns of Biscay,
where it is preferred for cables to any other. The supply of
horses and cows is not equal to the demands of the inhabi¬
tants, the deficiency being made up from the adjoining pro¬
vinces. The mountainous parts abound with excellent ship-
timber, but the badness of the roads prevents this branch of
commerce from being carried on to any great extent.
The manufactures of the province are inconsiderable; that
of silk, which was formerly extensive, has been gradually on
the decline for some years. Manufactories for coarse cloths
occupy the inhabitants of the city of Albarracin, and the large
village of Tarazona; and some cloths of fine wool are made
at Jaca, and some baize in its vicinity. Linen and sail-cloth
are also made, but the quantity of each is small. There are
iron manufactories on the mountains, where the abundance
of trees calculated for making charcoal has introduced forges;
but the badness of the roads checks their extension.
VOL. in.
A R A
393
Aragon is not deficient in mineral riches, though the la- Aragon,
hour applied to them, as to most other objects in Spain, is in
a very languid state. Near the Pyrenees, besides mines of
iron there are three mines of lead and one of copper, and,
what is unique in Spain, a mine of cobalt. Besides these,
there is a mine of alum near Alcaniz, which is very produc¬
tive ; and there are also quarries of marble and iasper.
At two leagues N.N.E. of Albarracin is the extraordinary
fountain called Celia, at an elevation of 3700 feet above the
sea. From this fountain the river Xiloca issues, and run¬
ning through a beautiful country of 30 miles in extent, filled
with inclosures, orchards, gardens, and vineyards, joins its
waters, near Calatayud, to the more copious stream of the
Xalon, which descends from Old Castile ; and these united,
lose their names by mingling their waters w ith the Ebro. Be¬
tween the stream of the Xiloca and the mountains which sepa¬
rate Aragon from Molina, is a very extensive lake called Gal-
locanta, which covers about 6000 acres of land; and at a little
distance from the lake are the ruins of the ancient city Bil-
bilis, which has derived celebrity from being the native place
of the Roman poet Martial.
The principal river of Aragon is the Ebro, to which most
of the other rivers in the province are tributary. (See Ebro.)
The soil is generally dry; but the valleys are usually well-
watered and fertile. The Imperial Canal of Aragon, which
extends in the direction of the Ebro from Tudela almost to
Sastago, is about eighty miles in length, nine feet in depth,
and has an average breadth of sixty-nine feet. It is navi¬
gable for vessels of from 60 to 80 tons burthen. This great
work was commenced by Charles V. in 1529, but remained
unfinished for nearly 200 years.
The capital of Aragon is Zaragoza, a city of more than
40,000 inhabitants; for the description of v/hich, with its me¬
morable resistance to the French invaders, see Zaragoza.
The other considerable cities and towns are Teruel, Daroca,
Calatayud, Borja, Tarazona, Alcaniz, Caspe, Barbastro, Mon-
zon, Huesca, and Jaca. At the most western part of the
province a district called Cinco-villas is remarkably fruitful.
T he whole extent of 17,000 acres derives its fertility prin¬
cipally from an artificial canal, cut for the purpose of irriga¬
tion, called the royal canal of Tauste, by means of which the
whole of the land may be flooded at pleasure.
The name of this kingdom was derived from the small but
precipitous torrent Aragon, which rises in the Pyrenees,
and, running from north to south, falls into the Ebro.
A great portion of the Pyrenees is in the province of Ara¬
gon. They run from east to west, presenting towards Spain
the convex part of a kind of spherical segment, losing their
height gradually towards each extremity. The highest point
of this range of mountains, called by the French Mont Perdu,
and by the Spaniards Monte Perdido and Las Tres Sorores,
is visible from the city of Zaragoza. According to the actual
measurement of the naturalist Ramond, who reached its sum¬
mit in 1802, it is 11,430 feet above the level of the sea. Its
top is constantly covered with snow, the permanent limits of
which, on the same authority, are stated at 7750 feet of ele¬
vation. Before the measurement of Ramond, the point called
Canigu was supposed to be the highest peak of this range,
but it was thereby ascertained to be but 10,050 feet high.
There are at least fifty passes through the Pyrenees from
France into Spain, but few of these are practicable except
for the peasantry. The regular carriage roads over these
mountains are the following:—1. The Col de Pertus, be¬
tween Perpignan and Jonquera; 2. The pass of Puy Mo-
riens, between the valley of Sagre and that of the Ariege;
3. The Port de Confranc, between Zaragoza and Pan; 4.
The Port de Roncevaux, between Pamplona and St Jean ;
5. The pass of Bedassoa, between Vittoria and Bayonne.
From an accurate survey by the French engineers, it ap¬
peared there were upwards of eighty practicable passages,
3 D
A R A
A R A
of which twenty-eight would allow of cavalry, and seven of
artillery and wheel-carriages. None of these had been ever
examined by the Spanish government, though it was more
' than suspected that a very considerable contraband traffic had
been conducted through these passes, in spite of the vigi¬
lance of the officers of revenue in both kingdoms.
Previous to the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the poli¬
tical constitution of Aragon was the most liberal in Europe.
Formally monarchical, its genius and maxims were purely re¬
publican. The kings, who were long elective, retained only
the shadow of power; while its real exercise was in the hands
of the Cortes; an assembly consisting of the nobility, the
equestrian order, the representatives of the cities and towns,
and the ecclesiastical order.
No law could pass without the assent of every member
who had a right to vote. Without the permission of the
Cortes no tax could be imposed, war could not be de¬
clared, nor peace concluded. Besides these, and other ex¬
traordinary privileges enjoyed by the Cortes, the Aragonese
possessed another safeguard against despotic power in the
election of a Justiza, or supreme judge, who acted as the
guardian of the people, and the controller of the prince. He
was the supreme interpreter of the laws, and was account¬
able to the Cortes alone for the manner in which he dis¬
charged the duties of his high office.—See Robertson’s His¬
tory of Charles V., vol. i. § 3.
The history of Aragon before its union with Castile by
the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, when it was merged
in the kingdom of Spain, will be found in the general his¬
tory of that country. It had, before this epoch, a succes¬
sion of twenty sovereigns, from the year 1035 to 1516.—See
Zurita, Anales de Aragon ; Viage de Ponz ; Geografia de
Don Isidore de Antillon; Historia de la Economia Poli-
tica de Aragon, por Don Ignacio de Asso.
ARAGONA, a town of Sicily, situated on a hill, seven
miles N.N.E. of Girgenti. It is ill-built, but has some cu¬
rious antiquities, and an old castle containing a fine gallery
of pictures. In its vicinity is the celebrated mud-volcano
of Maccaluba. Pop. 6500.
ARAGONITE, a carbonate of lime, with a small quan¬
tity of carbonate of strontia in its composition. See Mine¬
ralogy.
ARAHAL, a town of Spain, in the province of Sevilla,
7 leagues south-east of the city of that name. The popu¬
lation, amounting to about 7000, is chiefly agricultural.
ARAL, a vast lake or inland sea, in Asia, about 200
miles eastward of the Caspian, between Eat. 40° and 47° N.
Long. 57° and 61° E. Its form is irregularly oblong, extend¬
ing from N.N.E. to S.S.W., about 290 miles by 130 from
W. to E. It is separated from the Caspian by a plateau of
the moderate elevation of 700 feet above that sea. Its west¬
ern shores are steep and rocky; the southern and eastern
are low and sandy, interspersed with marshes. Its waters
are saline, but are readily drunk by horses. It abounds
with the same species of fish as are found in the Caspian ;
and in both is found a species of seal which M. Vallen-
ciennes has lately characterized as a peculiar species, differ¬
ent from the Phoca Vitulina of Linnaeus and Pallas. In
winter it is partially frozen, so that persons pass on the ice
from the mouth of the river Sir to the town of Kourgrat.
This sea receives two large rivers, the Amur, anciently the
Oxus, from the west, and the Sir or Jaxartes from the east.
Its name, in the language of the Kirghese-Tartars, is Aral-
Denghis, or Sea of Islands, a group of which were described
by the Russians in 1850 as near the middle of the sea, and
have been named the Isles of Nicholas I., Constantine, Bel-
linghausen, and Lazareff. The level of the surface of this
lake, compared with the Caspian and Black Sea, has not
been well ascertained. Some barometrical measurements,
little to be trusted, made its surface about 117 feet above
the Caspian ; but later, and seemingly more accurate obser- Araliaces
vations, with the same instrument, reduce this difference to ||
34 feet. Indeed M. Von Humboldt is inclined to think Arwu.
that the surfaces of both seas are on the same level, and
both on the same vast Aralo-Caspian depression of the
Asiatic continent, which he reckons to occupy “ a space of
18,000 square geographic leagues; that is to say, 900 square
leagues greater than France, with a depression of about 81
English feet below the level of the Black Sea.”—(Asie
Centrale, ii. 311.) (t. s. t.)
ARALIACEiE, a natural order of plants, of which the ge¬
nus Panax is the chief. The Ginseng of the East is P.fru-
ticosa, and there are several species of Panax in the New
World and in Australia.
ARAM, the name given by the Hebrews to the exten¬
sive territory lying between Phoenicia, Palestine, Arabia
Deserta, and the Tigris, and the mountain-range of Taurus.
Aram, or Aramaea, seems to have corresponded generally
to the Syria and Mesopotamia of the Greeks and Romans.
ARAMAIC Language. This was divided into two dia¬
lects—the western and the eastern; the former is the Syriac,
and the latter is the Chaldaic or Babylonic. Both, though
nearly dead tongues, are yet used by some tribes about the
ancient Aram, and in the hills near Mosul; and it was the
most common dialect of the Jews after the Babylonian cap¬
tivity till their dispersion by the Romans.
ARANDA de Duero, a town of Spain, in the province
of Burgos, on the right bank of the river Duero. Pop.
4200. Long. 3. 40. 34. W. Lat. 41. 40. 12. N.
ARANGOES, pierced beads of rough carnelian, of va¬
rious shapes and qualities, formerly imported from Bombay
in considerable quantities for re-exportation to Africa. The
best are barrel-shaped, from two to three inches long. Since
the abolition of the slave-trade few have been imported.
ARANJUEZ (the ancient Ara Jovis), a town of Spain,
in the province of New Castile, 28 miles S.S.E. of Madrid.
It is situated in a fertile and well-watered valley on the left
bank of the Tagus, immediately above the junction of
that river with the Xarama, in Lat. 40. 1. 54. N. Long.
3. 37. 30. W. It is usually the residence of the Spanish
Court from Easter till the end of June, during which time
the population is increased from 4000 to about 12,000.
The town is built in the Dutch style, with avenues of trees,
and has numerous hotels, public gardens, theatres, and other
places of amusement. The palace was begun by Philip II.
and enlarged and embellished by his successors. The gar¬
dens are much admired for their rural beauties, fine shaded
walks, fountains, and cascades. During the Peninsular war,
this place suffered severely from the French. The treaty
of 1772 between France and Spain, by which they pledged
themselves to assist each other in opposing the English in
America, was concluded here ; and here, on the 18th oi
March 1808, broke out the insurrection which ended in the
abdication of Charles IV. in favour of his son Ferdinand.
ARARAT, a remarkable mountain in Armenia, in Lat.
39. 42. N. Long. 43. 68. E., at the point where the terri¬
tories of Persia, Turkey, and Asiatic Russia meet. This
mountain receives the name of Massis from the Armenians,
and it is the Aghur-Tagh of the Turks. According to Par¬
rot it has two summits seven miles apart, one of which he esti¬
mates at 16,000, and the other at 12,000 feet above the sea;
but it rises from a table-land, which is itself as high as 5000
feet. The loftiest peak is covered with perpetual snow, which,
however, does not form a glacier, and it reaches no lower
than 14,100 feet above the sea. On the other summit it only
lies from the end of October to the beginning of September.
The ascent is difficult, and was first made by Parrot of Dor-
pat, and in 1845 by Abich. Ararat is isolated, except on
the north, where it is connected with a chain extending along
the valley of the River Aras towards Erzeroum. It is a vol-
i
A R A
Aras canic mountain; but there was no record of an eruption until
!l 1840, when a vast column of vapour, mingled with dark
Aratus. smoke, was observed to proceed from a chasm on its flank
to a great height; the atmosphere was loaded with the odour
of sulphur; and an undulating motion of the earth, lasting
only about two seconds, rolled from the mountain to the east
and south-east, causing great destruction to the neighbour¬
ing districts. The village of Arguri and the monastery of
St James, with their inhabitants, were buried under the mass
of stones and mud that was thrown out. The mountain
is generally supposed to have been the place where Noah
landed from the Ark after the waters of the Flood had abated,
but that he landed on the summit of such a mountain is very
improbable. All the Bible says is that “ the ark rested upon
the mountains of Ararat;” but it nowhere tells us where
Ararat was ; and, consequently, learned men have conceived
themselves at liberty to seek for it wherever their fancy might
lead them. The Jews, indeed, in the first century of the
Christian era, identified the Ararat of Genesis with Armenia.
The Armenians revere Mount Massis as the place of descent,
and the Persians call it Koh-i-Nuh, or Noah’s Mountain.
The height of Ararat above given is from barometric ob¬
servation ; but the more recent trigonometric measurement
of Fedovow reduces its height to 15,842 feet. (t.s.t.)
ARAS, the ancient Araxes, a large river of Armenia,
rises near the city of Erzeroum, and the sources of the Phrat
or western branch of the Euphrates, and flows eastward for
about 500 miles, when it joins the Kur. It is a very rapid
and muddy river, with steep banks that prevent its waters
being used for the purpose of irrigation. About 200 miles
from its source it is joined by the Arpa-chai.
AHATUS, the son of Clinias, was born at Sicyon about
271 b.c. On the murder of his father by Abantidas, he was
rescued from a similar fate by the care of a relative Avho con¬
veyed him to Argos. At the age of twenty, with the assistance
of some Argians, he deposed the tyrant Nicocles, and thus,
without bloodshed, restored freedom to his native Sicyon.
In 245 he was elected chief of the Aclucan League, which
office he frequently held in subsequent years; and he was
mainly instrumental in confirming that great confederation
which restored the liberties of Greece. (See Acieeans.)
In Aratus were combined many private virtues with splendid
abilities; but he was more eminent as a statesman than as
a general; for in his wars with the Altolians and Spartans
he was frequently unsuccessful. He died at the age of 58, as
commonly reported by poison administered to him by the
order of Philip of Macedon ; but the symptoms of 'his dis¬
order afford no certain grounds for such an assumption. His
countrymen paid divine honour to his memory ; and two
yearly festivals (Arateia), were celebrated at Sicyon, one to
commemorate his birth, the other his deliverance of the city
from tyranny.—Plutarch, Aratus and Agis ; Polybius ii. iv.
vii. viii.
Aratus, a Greek poet, born at Soli, or Solse, a town in
Cilicia, which afterwards changed its name, and was called
Pompeiopolis in honour of Pompey the Great. He flou¬
rished about the 124th, or, according to some, the 126th
Olympiad, in the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, king of
Egypt. He discovered in his youth a remarkable poignancy
of wit, and capacity for improvement; and having received
his education under Dionysius Heracleotes, a Stoic philo¬
sopher, he espoused the principles of that sect. Aratus was
physician to Antigonus Gonatas, the son of Demetrius Po-
liorcetes, king of Macedon. His poem, entitled Qawogeva,
describes the nature and motion of the fixed stars, and shows
the particular influences of the heavenly bodies, with their
various dispositions and relations. He wrote this poem in
Greek verse. It was translated into Latin by Cicero, who
tells us, in his first book De Orators, that the verses of Ara¬
tus are very noble. This piece was translated by others as
A R A 395
well as Cicero, there being a translation by Germanicus Arau-
Caesar, and another into elegant verse by Festus Avienus. cania-
An edition of the Ptmnomena was published by Grotius at
Leyden, in quarto, in 1600, in Greek and Latin, with the
fragments of Cicero s version, and the translations of Ger-
mameus and Avienus; all which the editor has illustrated
u ith curious notes. A valuable edition was published at Ox-
foid, by Fell, in 1672, in 8vo ; but the most complete is that
of Buhle, published at Leipsic in 1801, in 2 vols. 8vo. There
were several other works ascribed to Aratus, none of which
have come down to us: Hymns to Pan ; Astrology and
Astrothesy ; a composition of Antidotes; an ’EttiAvtikoV on
Theopropus; an ThWoid on Antigonus; an Epigram on
Phila, the daughter of Antipater and wife of Antigonus; an
Epicedium of Cleombrotus ; a Correction of the Odyssey ;
and some Epistles in prose. Virgil, in his Georgies, has imi¬
tated or translated many passages from this author ; and St
Paul has quoted a passage of Aratus. It is in his speech to
the Athenians (Acts xvii. 28), wherein he tells them that
some of their own poets have said, Tow yap koli yivos lagiv,
For we are also his offspring. These words are the begin¬
ning of the fifth line of the Phcsnomena.
ARAU CANIA, an independent territory of South Ame¬
rica, between Lat. 37. and 39. 50. S. and Long. 70. and 75.
20. W. It is bounded on the north by the river Biobio,
which separates it from Chili, south by the Valdivia, east by
the Andes, and west by the Pacific Ocean.
The Araucanians are remarkable for the fierce and almost
uninterrupted struggle they have maintained for upwards of
300 years against the encroachments of the Spaniards on
their territory. They are of moderate stature, strong, mus¬
cular, and well-built, with a light copper complexion, lank
hair, oval faces, prominent cheek-bones, the nose somewhat
flat, the eyes small, and expressive of vivacity. Their gene¬
ral aspect indicates some degree of sternness and resolution;
they are bold and intrepid in war, patiently enduring fatigue,
and fearlessly exposing their lives.
The country is divided into four tetrarchies, each governed
by a Toqui. Each tetrarchy is divided into five provinces,
governed by an Apo-ulmen, and each of the provinces is sub¬
divided into nine districts, severally presided over by an Ul-
men. The Toquis are independent of each other, but form
a federal union for the public welfare. They have no main¬
tenance from the state, nor are their subjects bound to
render them any kind of personal service, except ;n time
of war. A great council, composed of Toquis, Apo-ulmens,
and Ulmens is convened upon any emergency. In time
of war, a commander-in-chief is chosen, generally from the
Toquis, but should none of them possess the requisite quali¬
fications, one of the inferior rulers is elected. The others
swear obedience to him, and furnish him with their contin¬
gent of men. Before the arrival of the Spaniards their army
of course consisted of infantry only; but they soon saw the
value of cavalry, and in a short time they could muster a
considerable body of horse. The cavalry are armed with
lances and swords; the infantry with pikes and clubs mounted
with iron. Formerly they used the sling and bow, but these
were soon laid aside. Every soldier is the rightful posses¬
sor of the booty he can seize ; but a fair division is made of
the plunder taken in common, the toqui himself receiving
no larger share than a private soldier.
Their religious system is somewhat similar to their poli¬
tical government. They believe in a supreme Being, whom
they call the Spirit of Heaven, and who is the great toqui
of the universe. Under this spirit there are apo-ulmens, or
inferior deities, and in the lowest rank are ulmens or genii.
They have no temples, idols, or priests, and only sacrifice on
solemn occasions. They believe in the immortality of the
soul. Polygamy prevails among them ; a man being al¬
lowed as many wives as he can purchase. 1 heir principal
396
Arau-
Arbela.
ARB
wealth consists in flocks and herds, and their industry is con¬
fined to husbandry. See America, Chili.
ARAUCARIA, a beautiful genus of the Conifene. It
differs from other firs by its broad shining leaves. The first
species was found in the mountains of Araucania; and the
two other known species are found in various parts of South
America, and in some islands in the Pacific. A. excelsa
grows freely in sheltered situations in Britain; where itis called
Norfolk Island Pine.
ARAUSIO, Civitas Arausiensis or Arausicorum, or Co~
Ionia Secundanorum ; so called, because the veterans of the
second legion were there settled ; now Orange, in the west
of Provence, on an arm of the river Aigues. See Orange.
ARAVULLI, a range of mountains in Rajpootana, ex¬
tending about 300 miles from north-east to south-west, where
they are separated from the Vindhya mountains by the valley
of the river Mhye. The Aravul'li form a series of ridges,
covering a breadth of from 6 to 60 miles, with a general ele¬
vation of 3600 feet. They rise abruptly from the western
desert, but fall gradually towards the east. Their general
geological character is of primitive formation, with rocks of
granite, compact dark blue slate, gneiss, and sienite; and the
summits of the diverging ranges, west of Ajmere, are quite
dazzling, says Colonel Tod, not with snow like the Hima¬
layas, but with enormous masses of vitreous rose-coloured
quartz. To the north of Komulmair, 25° north latitude, two
of their ridges form a continuous table-land between them,
6 to 20 miles in width, as far as Ajmere, where it breaks up
from the tabular form, and sends off numerous branches of
low rocky hills, through Jeypour and Alwar, which reach the
Jumnah in the vicinity of Delhi. That part of the range
between Komulmair and Ajmere, called Mairwarra, or the
region of hills, is inhabited by the Mairs, a branch of the
Mairas, one of the aboriginal tribes of India, who have lived
for ages by robbery, being at constant war with their Raj¬
poot neighbours. They have yielded, however, to British
influence, and give fair promise of becoming a civilized and
industrious people.
ARBACES was governor of Media under Sardanapalus
king of Assyria. Disgusted by the effeminacy of the king, he
stirred up his people to revolt, and dethroned Sardanapalus,
who thereupon burnt himself in his palace. Arbaces founded
the monarchy of the Medes, which lasted 317 years under
eight kings, till Astyages was expelled by Cyrus. Arbaces
reigned 28 years, and died b.c. 848, (Diodorus, ii.) He¬
rodotus gives a different account; but the authority of Ctesias
whose original work has perished, is followed by most ancient
historians. (V, Paterculus i.6; Justin, i. 3; Strabo, xvi. 737.)
-U or Cross-bow. See Cross-bow.
, , ,f’a"ciently Arba, an island and city of Illyria, in
the Gulf of Quarnaro. Of this island, which has been but
7Ki un0tlfC(Aby SeograPhers, there is a full account in the
Abbe Fortis s Account of Dalmatia. The appearance of the
island is exceedingly pleasant. On the east it has a very
high mountain at the foot of which the rest of the island is
extended to the westward, and divided into beautifiil and
fruitful plains interspersed with little hills fit to bear the rich-
est products. At the extremity that looks to the north a
delightful promontory, called Loparo, stretches into the sea •
it is crowned with little hills, which almost inclose a fine culti-
vated pkm. Near this promontory are the two small islands
of S. Gregorio and Goh. The city stands between two har¬
bours on a rising ground almost peninsular.
ARB EL A, now Arbil or Erbil, atown of Asiatic Tur¬
key, to the east of the Tigris, in Long. 44. 5. E. and Lat
36. 11. N., 40 miles east of Mosul. It appears to have been
once a very large town, but is now quite decayed. It is built
on an artificial mound, about 150 feet high, surrounded by a
wall inclosing about a thousand houses, and there are about
500 more at its foot. Its inhabitants are Kurds and Turks.
ARB
It is famous in history as having given its name to the last Arh
decisive battle, b.c. 331, between Alexander the Great and j! ^
Darius Codomannus, the last king of Persia. The battle Arbitra.
was fought in the plain of Gaugamela, fifty miles distant, and tion'
Alexander pursued the fugitives to Arbela. See Greece.
ARBERG, a town of Switzerland, in the canton of Bern
with a handsome castle, where the bailiff resides. It is seated
on the river Aar, in a kind of island; and since 1830 has been
fortified. Long. 7. 15. E. Lat. 47. 0. N. Pop. 850.
ARBITRARY, that which is left to choice or arbitration,
or not fixed by any positive law or injunction.
Arbitrary Punishment, in Law, denotes such punish¬
ments as are by statute left to the discretion of the judge.
It is a general rule in arbitrary punishments, that the judge
cannot inflict death. Hence all punishments that are not
capital have acquired the name of arbitrary 'punishments,
even although they be expressly pointed out by statute.
ARBITRATION, a terra derived from the nomenclature
of the Roman law, and applied to an arrangement for taking
and abiding by the judgment of a selected person in some dis¬
puted matter, instead of carrying it to the established courts
of justice. Arrangements for avoiding the delay and expense
of litigation, and referring a dispute to friends or neutral
persons, are a natural practice, of which traces may be found
in any state of society; but it is to the Justinian jurispru¬
dence that we owe it as a system which has found its way
into the practice of European nations in general, and has even
evafled the dislike of the English common lawyers to the
civil law. The eighth section of the fourth book of the
Pandects is devoted to this subject, and may be consulted
through the commentary of Heineccius, or a more minute
critical inquiry by Gerard Noodt, in his commentary on this
section (Opera, ii. 135). Almost all the advantages, as well
as the defects of the system in modern practice, seem to have
been anticipated by the Roman jurists. Thus it is shown that
voluntarily selected judges can only properly decide questions
which the parties themselves could settle by giving and tak¬
ing, and that they ought not to be authorized to deal with
criminal inquiries or public questions ; while, by excluding
matters of personal status, such as marriage or legitimacy, the
Roman jurists anticipated the principle, that even private
questions which may affect the public morals or policy cannot
be thus extrajudicially disposed of. They dwell on the prin¬
cipal advantage of the system in excluding appeal from the
arbiter’s decision on any such ground as erroneous law, or
false views of the influence of well-investigated facts. But,
on the other hand, they discuss, with their usual scientific
subtlety, the many defects, such as excess of authority, ne¬
glect of form, and partiality in receiving pleadings or evi¬
dence, and the like, by which arbitrations become vitiated;
and thus these jurists at once suggest what is ever the defect
of a system of arbitration, that the more it performs its func¬
tion of doing justice, the more it becomes what the esta¬
blished tribunals of the country ought to be, and fosters two
systems of judicature where one should be sufficient. Some
of the civilians make a distinction between the arbitrator, the
name technically applicable to a person voluntarily chosen by
parties to decide disputes, and the arbiter an officer to whom
the praetor remitted questions of fact as to a jury. In this
sense arbiters appear to have been employed as a substitute
for jury trial in some of the old provincial laws of France;
and hence, perhaps, it comes that, by a very remarkable pro¬
vision in the French code of commerce, all questions between
partners touching the partnership must be referred to arbi¬
tration. In the code of civil procedure, the title des arbi¬
trages is treated so fully and minutely, as very forcibly to con¬
vey the impression of a separate system of voluntary juris-
iction being created for performing what ought to be ac¬
complished by the ordinary tribunals in a well-regulated judi-
cia system. In Scotland, the practice of arbitration has been
ARB
rbitra- imported from the Roman law without requiring, as in Eno-
tion. land, statutory intervention. From the peculiarities of the
— Scottish system of registration, the decree-arbitral, or deci¬
sion of the arbiter, when recorded in pursuance of the consent
of the parties in their contract of arbitration, or submission
can be enforced as the decree of a court. (j. h. b.) ’
Arbitration, in the Law of England (according to
Blackstone), is “where the parties, injuring and injured, sub¬
mit all matters in dispute, concerning any personal chattels
or personal wrong, to the judgment of two or more arbitra¬
tors ; who are to decide the controversy : and if they do not
agree, it is usual to add, that another person be called in as
umpire (fmperator), to whose sole judgment it is then re¬
fen ed . or frequently there is only one arbitrator originally
appointed. The decision must be in writing (unless other-
wise expressly provided in the submission), and is called an
award ; and thereby the question is as fully determined, and
the right transferred or settled, as it could have been by the
agreement of the parties or the judgment of a court of law
or equity.
There were, however, many inconveniences attending this
mode of proceeding; and in the year 1698, the legislature ac¬
cordingly interfered and passed the act9th and 10th Will. III.,
cap. 15, which enacted that, “for promoting trade, and render-
ing the awaids of arbitrators the more effectual in all cases,
for the final determination of controversies referred to them
by merchants and traders, or others, concerning matters of
account or trade, or other mattersall merchants and others,
desiring to end any controversy, suit, or quarrel (for which
there is no other remedy but by personal action or suit in
equity), by arbitration, may agree that their submission of
their suit to the award or umpirage of any person shall be
made a rule of any of the courts of record, and may insert
such agreement in their submission ; which agreement being
proved by the affidavit of one of the witnesses thereto, the
coui t shall make a rule that such arbitration or umpirage pur¬
suant to such submission shall be conclusive ; and, after such
rule made, the parties disobeying the award shall be liable to
be punished, as for a contempt of court; unless such award
shall be set aside, as procured by corruption or undue means
in the arbitrators or umpire, to be proved on oath to the
court, before the last day of the next term after the award
is made.
An application for an attachment for not performing an
award, may be resisted at any time for defects appearing on
the face of the award itself; for such an award, after that
time, might be pleaded in bar to any action brought upon it,
although it cannot be set aside for such defects after the end
of the next term. Submissions of disputes to arbitration
niay be by consent of the parties, or with the interposition
of a court of justice ; by rule of court, or order of a judge,
when a cause is pending, either by bond, agreement in writ- •
mg, or by parol. A verbal agreement, however, to abide by
an award cannot be made a rule of court. Nor can matters
purely criminal be submitted to the decision of an arbitrator.
And by the 12th and 13th Viet. c. 45, §§ 12-15, the provi¬
sions of the former statutes as to arbitrations are extended
to controversies and disputes, for which the remedy is by
appeal to a court of general or quarter sessions of the peace.”
lastly, although the right of real property cannot pass by
a mere award, yet if a party be awarded to convey land, and
refuse, he will be liable to an action, or to an attachment for
not performing the award.
1 he agreement of reference must be expressed with great
care and accuracy;—provisions should be inserted giving
power to either party to make the submission a rule of court,
to enable the court to refer the matter back to the same or to
another arbitrator ; and in case of the death of either party
before award, for its making and delivery to his representa¬
tives ; and also as to the costs, which are usually directed to
ARB
rence and as to those of the cause to afode the event
award; and a certain day should be appointed on or before
"■h,ch the arbitrator is to make his aiird, with a^wer to
such arbitrator to enlarge the time. P ™
When arbitrators have the power of electing an umpire
hey may choose him, and call in his assistance as soon as
they begin to take the subject into consideration ; and this
is the more convenient practice, as it secures a decision upon
a single investigation of the controversy.
As to the award; it must be in pursuance of the submis¬
sion, and embrace all the matters submitted, and not extend
beyond it in the subject-matter, in persons, in time, or in par¬
ticular circumstances ; it must be certain ; it must make a
final end and determination of all matters contained in the
submission ; it must be mutual, that is, it must not be en¬
tirely of things to be performed by one party, without such
things being in satisfaction of the matters in difference ; and
finally, it must not be unreasonable, illegal, or impossible to
be effectuated.
Formeily, a submission to arbitration, being a mere autho¬
rity, might be revoked at any time before execution, by an
instrument of as high a nature as that by which the submis¬
sion was created. But now, by the Law Amendment Act
(3d and 4th Will. IV., cap. 42), the submission to arbitration
by Rule of Court, or Judge's order, or order of Nisi Prius,
or if there be an agreement to make the submission a Rule of
Court, cannot be revoked by any party thereto, without leave
of the court or a judge. The death, however, of either party,
before award is a revocation of the authority, unless otherwise
provided in the submission ; and so also is the marriage of a
female before aw ard ; the marriage operating as a civil death
to all her rights as a, feme sole.
Under this statute the attendance of witnesses, or produc¬
tion of documents before the arbitrator, may be compelled by
a rule of court, or order of a judge, on payment of expenses
and loss of time; and the arbitrators are empowered to ad¬
minister oaths to the witnesses, where it is so agreed or or¬
dered by the rule or order of reference. Any witnesses fail¬
ing to attend are deemed to be guilty of contempt of court,
or giving false evidence guilty of perjury.
The court or judge may also, in the cases within the sta¬
tute, enlarge the time for an arbitrator to make his aw^ard.
As to the mode of enforcing an award, see Attach-
MENT' , (R. M—M.)
ARBOIS, a town of France, department of Jura, for¬
merly Franche-Compte, famous for its wines. Pop. 6370
Long. 5. 47. E. Lat. 46. 55. N.
ARBON, a town of Switzerland, canton of Thurgau,
chief of the circle of the same name. It contains 1100 in¬
habitants, and has some trade in cotton goods. It is on the
Lake of Constance. Long. 9. 25. E. Lat. 42. 27. N.
ARBOR, in Mechanics, the axis or spindle of a machine,
as of a crane or a windmill. Also that part of a machine
which sustains the rest.
ARBROATH, or Aberbrothock, a seaport and manu¬
facturing town of Scotland, in the county of Forfar, 17 miles
north-east of Dundee, 15 miles E.S.E. of Forfar, and 60
miles N.N.E. from Edinburgh, situated on the North Sea,
at the mouth of the river Brothock, 12 miles north-west of
the Bell-Rock lighthouse, in Lat. 56.34. N. Long. 2. 35. W.
Arbroath was early celebrated for its abbey, founded by
\\ illiam the Lion in 1178, and dedicated to the famous
1 homas a Becket, archbishop of Canterbury. It was cre¬
ated a royal burgh in 1186, and the charter was renewed in
1589. King John of England granted it very unusual pri¬
vileges ; for, by charter under the great seal, he exempted
it a teloniis et consuetudine in every part of England, except
London. The founder of this abbey was buried there, but
there are no remains of his tomb. The monks belonged to
398 A K B
Arburg the Tyronensian order, and came from Kelso, the abbot of
II which place declared them to be free from his jurisdiction.
Arbuthnot. jn J320, a convention of the Scottish nobles was held in
this abbey by Robert I., where a letter was addressed to the
pope, praying him to admonish and exhort Edward II. not
to invade their territory. This letter is remarkable for the
spirit and independence of its style, considering the time and
circumstances under which it was written.—See Hailes’
iials of Scotland.
In 1394, an agreement was entered into by John Geddie,
the abbot, and the burgesses of Arbroath, by which the for¬
mer obliged himself and his successors to maintain a suffi¬
cient harbour at their own expense. The last abbot was the
too famous Cardinal Beaton, at the same time archbishop
of St Andrews. This abbey, like many other buildings of
the same class, fell a sacrifice to the zeal of the Reformers
in 1560; but its former magnificence and splendour are at¬
tested by the remains of its walls, cloisters, towers, piers, and
the fine window of the chancel.
At the commencement of the eighteenth century, Ar¬
broath was a place of little importance, but it has gradually
been enlarged and improved, and is now a flourishing town,
with considerable manufactures of hemp and flax. The prin¬
cipal manufacture is that of linen, which gives employment
to a great part of its population. It has seventeen spinning
mills, several bleach-works, two tanneries, two iron foun-
deries, several ship-building yards (with a patent slip), rope-
works, and breweries. Among its public buildings are the
town-hall, prison, trades-hall, and the parish church, to which
a handsome spire 150 feet high has lately been added; two
chapels of ease, three Free churches, an Episcopal, a Catho¬
lic, an Independent, and several Secession chapels. It has
three branch banks, a savings bank, three news rooms, a
subscription and a mechanics’ library, and an academy. A
weekly newspaper, the Arbroath Guide, is published on Sa¬
turday. During the course of last century, the Abbot’s har¬
bour was superseded by a more commodious one a little
to the west of the other, which has lately been much en¬
larged and improved at a cost of L.50,000. A neat sig¬
nal tower 50 feet in height, with an excellent telescope,
communicates with the Bell-Rock lighthouse; and on its
north pier is a fixed red light, at an elevation of 24 feet,
which is visible eight miles off. Its imports are hemp, flax,
vitriol, manganese, coal, &c.; its exports, paving-flags, bar¬
ley, potatoes, fish, &c. In 1849, there were 116 vessels, of
the aggregate burden of 12,609 tons, belonging to the port;
and in that year the gross amount of customs’ duty received
at its port was L.l 3,946, being upwards of L.2000 above
that of the preceding year. It is connected with Forfar by
a railway, which also unites it with the Scottish Midland and
the Aberdeen lines; and it communicates with Dundee by
the Arbroath and Dundee Railway. The municipal govern¬
ment is vested in a provost, two bailies, a treasurer, a dean of
guild, and twelve councillors; and it has seven incorporated
trades. Arbroath unites with Forfar, Montrose, Brechin,
and Bervie, in sending a member to parliament. By the
census of 1851, Arbroath had 1737 inhabited houses, and
17,008 inhabitants. The market-day is Saturday; and fairs
are held on the last Saturday of January, the first Satur¬
day after Whitsunday, the 1st of July if a Saturday, or on
thel first Saturday thereafter, and the first Saturday after
Martinmas.
ARBURG, or Aarburg, a city of Switzerland, in the
circle of Zoffingen, and canton of Aargau. It stands at the
confluence of the rivers Aar and Wigger, and has been al¬
most entirely rebuilt since its destruction by fire in 1840. In
1850 it contained 1650 inhabitants, who manufacture cotton
goods and hosiery. Conspicuous on the height above is the
citadel, built in 1660, now a military storehouse.
ARBUTHNOT, Alexander, principal of the univer-
A R B
sity of Aberdeen in the reign of James VI. of Scotland, was Arbuth.
born in the year 1538. He studied first at Aberdeen, and not.
was afterwards sent over to France, where, under the famous
Cujacms, he applied himself to the study of the civil law.
In the year 1563 he returned to Scotland and took orders.
Whether he was ordained by a bishop or by presbyters is a
matter of uncertainty. In 1568 he was appointed minister
of Arbuthnot and Logie Buchan ; and in the following year
Mr Alexander Anderson being deposed, he was made prin¬
cipal of the King’s College at Aberdeen in his room. In
the General Assembly which met at Edinburgh in the years
1573 and 1577 he was chosen moderator, and to the end of
his life was an active supporter of the Reformed religion.
He died in 1583, in the forty-fifth year of his age, and was
buried in the College church of Aberdeen. It was by him
that Buchanan’s History of Scotland, published in 1582,
was edited. The only production of his own is his Ora-
tiones de Origins et LHgnitate Juris, printed at Edinburgh
in 1572, 4to. His contemporary Thomas Maitland wrote a
copy of Latin verses on the publication of this book: they
are printed in the Delit. Poet. Scot. The same collection
contains an elegant epitaph on him by Andrew Melvil.
Arbuthnot, John, M.D., the son of an Episcopal clergy¬
man in Scotland, was born soon after the Restoration, at
Arbuthnot, near Montrose. Having gone through a course
of academical studies and obtained the degree of doctor of
physic at Aberdeen, he went to London, where he began
to display his talents in teaching mathematics, in which he
was well skilled. An Examination of Dr Woodward's Ac¬
count of the Deluge, See., in 1697, first made him known to t
the learned world. This performance was received with '
great applause; and in 1700 a treatise On the Usefulness of
Mathematical Learning increased his reputation. A very
interesting paper On the Regularity of the Births of both
Sexes, demonstrating from authentic proofs the universal
similarity which is observed by nature in this circumstance,
and drawing from these several political and moral inferences,
which he presented to the Royal Society, procured his elec¬
tion in 1704 into that body. Meanwhile he was acquiring
considerable eminence in his own profession, and was ap¬
pointed physician extraordinary to Prince George of Den¬
mark, and shortly afterwards one of the physicians in ordi¬
nary to Queen Anne. He was admitted in 1710 a fellow
of the college. He formed about this period a very intimate
acquaintance with Pope, Gay, and Swift, which lasted with
unabating affection during the rest of his life. In 1714, in
co-operation with Pope and Swift, he engaged in writing a
satire upon all the abuses of science in every branch, under
the form of the history of a fictitious character, and in the
grave ironical style. The plan was never finished, but the
Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus, published in Pope’s works,
form a part, of which much is the performance of Dr Ar¬
buthnot. It is very probable that the whole of the first book
is of his composition, in which the profound knowledge that
is displayed, and the good-natured pleasantry with which
the satire is directed, has gained it the character of one
of the most original, learned, and interesting pieces in the
English language. Those parts which relate to anatomy,
the manners and customs of antiquity, and logic, are parti¬
cularly his performance.
On the death of Queen Anne, which was a serious blow
to his personal and political views, Arbuthnot visited Paris,
where he spent some time. On his return he retired from
St James’s, where his services were no longer required, and
attended to the practice of his profession. His literary pur¬
suits were carried on at the same time with undiminished
ardour, though considerable intervals elapsed between the
publication of his wmrks. A work entitled Tables of Ancient
Coins, Weights, and Measures, explained and exemplified
in several dissertations, appeared in 1727, in a 4to volume,
J
ARC
j butus which is the chief of his serious performances. Although
[| there are inaccuracies in it which could hardly be avoided
^rc- in so intricate a subject, it is a work of great merit, and is
still considered as a standard authority, though the more
recent work of Hussey is generally preferred. A treatise
On the Nature and Choice of Aliments, which was published
in 1732, and another published in 1733, On the Effects of
Air on Human Bodies, finish the list of his acknowledged
works. Respecting his humorous works, which were the
productions of his leisure hours, they are so confounded with
those of his contemporaries, that it is not easy to distinguish
them. But a piece which, independent of any other, would
rank him among the best humorous writers in the English
language, entitled the History of John Bull, is confidently
ascribed to him. It is written with great wit and humour,
and all the circumstances and characters are most admir¬
ably adapted. Among his several avowed ironical pieces
are, A Treatise concerning the Altercation or Scolding of
the Ancients, and the Art of Political Lying.
In the year 1751 there were published two small volumes,
entitled The Miscellaneous Works of Dr Arbuthnot; but
the greater part of what they contain is denied by his son to
be of his composition. Through all his pieces of this kind
there runs a vein of good-natured pleasantry ; and this tends
to confirm the character given of him by Swift, “ He has
more wit than we all have, and his humanity is equal to his
wit.”
In these occupations he passed his days, amid all the plea¬
sures that can render domestic life happy, in the affection
and estimation of his friends, beloved and esteemed by all
his literary associates, who have each taken great pains to
celebrate their mutual friendship. Swift, in one of his poems,
sincerely laments that he is
Far from his kind Arbuthnot’s aid,
Who knows his art, hut not his trade.
Pope has dedicated to him an epistle called a Prologue to
the Satires. Of his two sons, he witnessed the death of
one; and the other, with several daughters, survived him.
At length, from an inveterate asthma, he fell into a dropsi¬
cal disorder; and in order to try the effect of a change of air,
he repaired to Hampstead, though without any hope of re¬
covery. Returning to his house in London, he died Feb¬
ruary 27, 1734-5.
ARBUTUS, a genus of the natural order Ericaceae, and
some of them very ornamental shrubs in our pleasure grounds.
This is especially the case with A. Unedo, a plant indigenous
in southern Europe, which stands our British climate well,
attaining a height of 20 feet, and bears a berry somewhat
resembling a strawberry. A specimen of A. Andrachne,
even higher still, remarkable for the iron-brown colour of its
epidermis, which it annually sheds, is growing in the open
air at Otterspool near Liverpool.
ARC, Joan of (Jeanne d’Arc), generally called the Maid
of Orleans, one of the most famed heroines in the annals of
history, was born about the beginning of the fifteenth cen¬
tury at Domremy, near Vaucouleurs, in Lorraine, where her
father, a peasant named Jacques d’Arc, resided. When she
was able in the least degree to earn a sustenance for herself,
her parents, who were poor, put her to service at a small inn,
where she performed several offices more properly belong¬
ing to the other sex, such as riding the horses to water, and
attending them in the fields, and many other similar services.
At the time when Charles VII. was reduced to a very low
condition, and the greatest part of his country had been over¬
run by the English, Joan, probably then at the age of 27 or
28, imagined herself favoured with heavenly visions, in one of
which she was commanded by St Michael to go immediately
to the relief of Orleans, at that time closely besieged by the
English army, and then to procure the consecration of the
king at Rheims. In February 1429 her parents took her to
ARC 399
the governor of Vaucouleurs, named Baudricourt, who at Arc.
fii st held her pretended inspiration to be no more than an
idle tale, and treated it with contempt; but at last, induced by
hex enti eaties, he sent her to Chinon, where the king then
was, in order that she might be introduced to him. Charles,
that he might test her alleged powers, determined to present
her to a company of his nobles, where no mark of dignity
tended to distinguish him from them; and it is asserted that
she immediately recognized him, and informed him of secrets
which he had endeavoured to conceal from every person.
She boldly engaged to accomplish the two objects of her
mission, and required that they should arm her with a con¬
secrated sword which lay in the church of St Catherine of
Fierbois ; and although she had never seen it, she accurately
described every particular concerning it. The manner in
which she acted inspired many with confidence; and cer¬
tain doctors of the church were appointed to examine into
the nature of her inspiration, and matrons to give proofs of
her virginity. The report which they gave was very favour¬
able ; but being next put into the hands of the parliament,
they treated her as frantic, and demanded that she should
show them a miracle. She answered, that although she had
not any at that time to present, she would soon accomplish
one at Orleans. At length being fully armed and mounted,
she was sent to Orleans along with the army destined for its
relief. Her exemplary enthusiasm reanimated the soldiery,
and the camp was soon freed from disorder and intemper¬
ance. Entering Orleans, she introduced a convoy; and
boldly attacking the English in their forts, she routed them
with great slaughter, and struck them with such a panic that
they were even obliged to raise the siege with precipitate
haste. The dignity of a superior mind and an exalted heroism
reigned through all her actions. Various other successes
followed in a short time, and the dismayed English every¬
where fled before the hand of a conquering enemy whom
they had but lately contemned. Joan now thinking it pro¬
per to perform her other promise of crowning the king at
Rheims, proceeded with him as he marched through the
kingdom, in order to receive submission of the towns, which
he did without any opposition. Arriving at Rheims, the keys
of the city were delivered to him ; and, entering the town,
he was anointed with the holy oil of Clovis, and crowned,
Joan standing by his side in full armour, and displaying her
consecrated banner. Charles filled with gratitude for her
important services, ennobled her family, and conferred upon
it the title of the Sys, with an adequate estate in hand.
The two objects of her mission being now accomplished,
Joan prepared to retire into the country; but Dunois, the
general, being sensible of her importance on account of her
pretended inspiration, endeavoured to persuade her to re¬
main in arms until the English should be fully driven from the
country ; which by his persuasions he effected. Advised by
him, she cast herself into Compiegne, then closely besieged
by the English and the Duke of Burgundy. Having there
made a sally upon the enemy, she drove them from their in-
trenchments; but being basely deserted by her followers,
she w7as taken prisoner. The English, with a malignant spirit
of revenge, resolved to show no mercy to their heroic cap¬
tive. The Duke of Bedford the regent, having ransomed
her from the captors, appointed a criminal prosecution against
her, upon the charges of employing sorcery and magic, and
of being impious. He was joined in the accusation by the
clergy, and by the university of Paris. Joan was carried in
irons before an ecclesiastical commission at Rouen, where
several capricious interrogatories were put to her during a
trial of about four months, to which she answered with
steadiness and gravity. Among several other questions, she
was interrogated why she had assisted at the coronation of
Charles with the standard in her hand. She boldly replied,
“ Because the person who shared in the danger had a right
400 ARC
Arch, to share in the glory.” Her defence was not so strong
concerning her pretended inspiration and visions, which were
the most dangerous points of the attack. She appealed to
the pope upon being accused on these grounds of impiety
and heresy, but her appeal was not allowed. At length she
was condemned of being a blasphemer and sorceress, and
accordingly delivered over to the power of the civil magis¬
trate. A view of the dreadful punishment that awaited her
at last overpowered her resolution, and she endeavoured to
escape it, by making a disavowal of her pretended revela¬
tions, and a full renunciation of her errors. Her sentence
was then changed into perpetual imprisonment; but this
punishment did not assuage the fury of her barbarous ene¬
mies. They craftily laid a man’s dress in her chamber;
and Joan, induced by the sight of an apparel in which she
had gained so much honour, put it on; and upon being
discovered, her enemies condemned her to the stake, inter¬
preting the action into a relapse of heresy. She suffered
her punishment in June 1431, at the market-place of Rouen,
with great firmness ; and even the English themselves be¬
held the scene with tears. Her unjust and cruel death was
an indelible stigma on the character of her prosecutors.
Charles did nothing towards avenging her cause; but ten
years afterwards contented himself with procuring the re¬
storation of her memory by the pope, and a reversion of the
process. She was styled in that act a “ martyr to her reli¬
gion, her country, and her king.” In their enthusiastic ad¬
miration, her countrymen were not so slow in honouring her
memory. Many marvellous stories were related by them
concerning her death. Some supposed that she was not ac¬
tually dead, and continually expected that, as formerly, she
would come, and at their head lead them on to victory. A
consistent and uniform judgment respecting the actions and
address of this personage cannot be made by posterity. That
she gave herself up to the influence of a heated fancy, and
that she was confident in the idea of her divine inspiration,
and that this notion was so improved by certain favourites
of Charles as to excite the emotions of the public, seems to
be the most probable supposition.
ARC
ARCADE, in Architecture, is used to denote any open- a
mg formed by an arch in the wall of a building. ade
ARCADIA, a very mountainous country in the centre Arch,
of Peloponnesus, bounded on the north by Achaia, east by
Argolis, west by Elis, and south by Messenia and Laconia.
Its greatest length was about 50 miles, and its breadth from
35 to 41 miles. The Alpheus and its tributaries were its
principal rivers. The Arcadians derived their origin from
the eponymous hero Areas; and they are called by the
Crreek vvliters autochthones, or aborigines. Their great tu¬
telary deity was Pan, who presided over rural affairs. The
Arcadians were a simple and frugal people, and especially
fond of music, which they cultivated with great success.
When the rest of Peloponnesus was conquered by the Do¬
rians, they maintained their independence. They were
originally governed by kings; but about the year 670 b.c.
they abolished monarchy, and their several cities—the most
important of which were Mantinea, Orchomenus, Tegea,
Pheneos, and Psophis—became independent republics. The
Arcadians joined the Achaean League, and finally submitted
to the Romans.
ARCESILAUS, a celebrated Greek philosopher, about
300 years before the Christian era, was born at Pitane, in
iEolis. He founded the New Academy, called also the Se¬
cond or Middle school. He was a man of great erudition,
and had many disciples. The middle school laid it down as
a principle, that we could know nothing, nor even assure
ourselves of the certainty of this position ; from whence
they inferred that we should affirm nothing, but always sus¬
pend our judgment. They held that a philosopher was able
to dispute upon every subject, and bring conviction with
him, even upon contrary sides of the same question; for there
are always reasons of equal force both in the affirmative and
negative of every argument. According to this doctrine,
neither our senses nor even our reason are to have any cre¬
dit ; and therefore, in common affairs, we are to conform
ourselves to received opinions. Arcesilaus died in his 76th
year in a fit of intoxication, and was succeeded by his dis¬
ciple Lacydes, who met a similar fate.
ARCH.
Arch de¬
fined.
History of
architec¬
ture con¬
nected
with
arches.
1. Arch, in Tduilding, is an artful disposition and adjust¬
ment of several stones or bricks, generally in a bow-like
form, by which their weight produces a mutual pressure
and abutment; so that they not only support each other,
and perform the office of an entire lintel, but may be ex¬
tended to any width, and made to carry the most enormous
weights.
2. In those mild climates which seem to have been the
first inhabited parts of this globe, mankind stood more in
need of shade from the sun than of shelter from the incle¬
mency of the weather. A very small addition to the shade
of the woods served them for a dwelling. Sticks laid across
from tree to tree, and covered with brushwood and leaves
formed the first houses in those delightful regions. As po¬
pulation and the arts improved, these huts were gradually
lefined into commodious dwellings. The materials were the
same, but more artfully put together. At last agriculture
led the inhabitants out of the woods into the open country.
The connection between the inhabitant and the soil became
now more constant and more interesting. The wish to pre¬
serve this connection was natural, and fixed establishments
followed of course. Durable buildings were more desirable
than those temporary and perishable cottages—stone was
substituted for timber.
But as these improved habitations were gradual refine¬
ments on the primitive hut, traces of its construction re¬
mained, even when the choice of more durable materials
made it in some measure inconvenient. Thus it happened
that while a plain building, intended for accommodation
only, consisted of walls, pierced with the necessary doors
and windows, an ornamented building had, superadded to
these essentials, columns, with the whole apparatus of en¬
tablature borrowed from the wooden building, of which they
had been essential parts, gradually rendered more suitable
to the purposes of accommodation and elegance.
3. 1 his view of ornamental architecture will go far to ac¬
count for some of the more general differences of national
style which may be observed in different parts of the world.
4 he Greeks borrowed many of their arts from their Asiatic
neighbours, who had cultivated them long before.
4. 1 he ancient Egyptian architecture seems to be a re¬
finement on the hut built of clay, or unburnt bricks, mixed
with straw—everything is massive.
o. The Arabian architecture seems a refinement on the
tent. A mosque is like a little camp, consisting of a num-
bei of little bell tents, stuck close together round a great
one. A caravansery is a court surrounded by a row of
S^Cq .eac^ having its own dome. The Greek church
o ot Sophia at Constantinople has imitated this in some
egree ; and the copies from it, which have been multi¬
plied in Russia as the sacred form for a Christian church,
have added to the original model of clustered tents in the
arch.
strictest manner. We are sometimes disposed to think
that the painted glass (a fashion brought from the East)
was an imitation of the painted hangings of the Arabs.
6. The Chinese architecture is an evident imitation of
a wooden building. Sir George Staunton says, that the
singular form of their roofs is a professed imitation of the
cover of a square tent.
In the stone buildings of the Greeks, the roofs were imi¬
tations of the wooden ones ; hence the lintels, flying cor¬
nices, ceilings in compartments, &c.
7. Ihe pediment of the Greeks seems to have suggested
the greatest improvement in the art of building. In erect¬
ing their small houses, they could hardly fail to observe
occasionally, that when two rafters were laid together
from the opposite walls, they would, by leaning on each
other, give mutual support,as in Plate XLVIII.fig. 1. Nor is
it unlikely that such a situation of stones as is represented
in fig. 2 would not unfrequently occur by accident to ma¬
sons. This could hardly fail of exciting a little attention
and reflection. It was a pretty obvious reflection, that
the stones A and C, by overhanging, leaned against the
intermediate stone B, and gave it some support, and that
B cannot get down without thrusting aside A and C, or
the piers which support them. This was an approach to
the theory of an arch; and if this be combined with the
observation of fig. 1, wre get the disposition represented in
fig. 3, having a perpendicular joint in the middle, and the
principle of the arch is completed. Observe that this is
quite different from the principle of the arrangement in
fig. 2. In that figure the stones act as wedges, and one
cannot get down without thrusting the rest aside. The
same principle obtains in fig. 4, consisting of five arch¬
stones ; but in fig. 3 the stones B and C support each other
by their mutual pressure (independent of their own
weight), arising from the tendency of each lateral pair to
fall outwards from the pier. This is the principle of the
arch, and would support the key-stone of fig. 4, although
each of its joints were perpendicular, by reason of the
great friction arising from the horizontal thrust exerted
by the adjoining stones.
This was a most important discovery in the art of build¬
ing ; for now a building of any width may be roofed with
stone.
8. We are disposed to give the Greeks the merit of this
discovery; for we observe arches in the most ancient
buildings of Greece, such as the temple of the sun at
Athens, and of Apollo at Didymos—not indeed as roofs
to any apartment, nor as parts of the ornamental design,
but concealed in the walls, covering drains ci other neces¬
sary openings ; and we have not found any real arches in
any monuments of ancient Persia or Egypt. Sir John
Chardin speaks of numerous and extensive subterranean
passages at Tchelminar, built of the most exquisite ma-
sonry, the joints so exact, and the stones so beautifully
dressed, that they look like one continued piece of polish¬
ed marble ; but he nowhere says that they are arched—a
circumstance which we think he would not have omitted:
no arched door or window is to be seen. Indeed one of
the tombs is said to be arch-roofed, but it is all of one
solid rock. No trace of an arch is to be seen in the ruins of
ancient Egypt; even a wide room is covered with a single
block of stone. In the pyramids, indeed, there are two gal¬
leries whose roofs consist of many pieces ; but their construc¬
tion puts it beyond doubt that the builder did not know what
an arch was ; for it is covered in the manner represented in
ii • *’ )♦' ^ every Projecting piece is more than balanced
behind, i et there are perfect arches, both circular and
pointed, in the pyramidal remains at Djebel-el-Berkel, the
ancient Napata, in Meroe, the cradle of Egyptian art. The
arched dome, however, seems to have arisen in Etruria,
VOL. m. ’
401
and originated in all probability from the employment of Arch,
the augurs, whose business it was to observe the flight of'—
Uiij Their stations for this purpose were templa, so
called a templando, on the summits of hills. To shel¬
ter such a person from the weather, and at the same time
allow him a full prospect of the country around him, no
building was so proper as a dome set on columns; which
accordingly is the figure of a temple in the most ancient
monuments of that country. We do not recollect a build¬
ing of this kind in Greece except that called the Lanthom
of Demosthenes, but this is covered by a single stone. In
the later monuments and coins of Italy or of Rome we com¬
monly find the Etruscan dome and the Grecian temple com¬
bined ; and the famous Pantheon was of this form, even in
its most ancient state.
9. It does not appear that the arch was considered as a
part of the ornamental architecture of the Greeks during
the time of their independency. It is even doubtful whe^
ther it was employed in roofing their temples. In none
of the ancient buildings where the roof is gone can there
be seen any rubbish of the vault or mark of the spring of
the arch. It is not unfrequent, however, after the Roman
conquests, and may be seen in Athens, Delos, Palmyra,
Balbeck, and other places. It is very frequent in the
magnificent buildings of Rome ; such as the Coliseum, the
baths of Diocletian, and the triumphal arches, where its
form is evidently made the object of attention. But its
chief employment was in bridges and aqueducts; and it
is in these works that its immense utility is the most con¬
spicuous : for by this happy contrivance a canal or a road
may be carried across any stream, where it would be al¬
most impossible to erect piers sufficiently near to each
other for carrying lintels. Arches have been executed
130 feet wide, and their execution demonstrates that they
may be made four times as wide.
10. As such stupendous arches are the greatest per¬
formances of the masonic art, so they are the most diffi¬
cult and delicate. When we reflect on the immense
quantity of materials thus suspended in the air, and com¬
pare this with the small cohesion which the firmest ce¬
ment can give to a building, we shall be convinced that it
is not by the force of the cement that they are kept to¬
gether ; they stand fast only in consequence of the proper
balance of all their parts. Therefore, in order to erect
them with a well-founded confidence of their durability,
this balance should be well understood and judiciously
enqfloyed. We doubt not but that this was understood
in some degree by the engineers of antiquity; but they
have left us none of their knowledge. They must have
had a great deal of mechanical knowledge before they
could erect the magnificent and beautiful buildings whose
ruins still enchant the world; but they kept it among
themselves. We know that the Dionysiacs of Ionia were
a great corporation of architects and engineers, who un¬
dertook and even monopolized the building of temples,
stadiums, and theatres, precise!}' as the fraternity of ma¬
sons in the middle ages monopolized the building of ca¬
thedrals and conventual churches. Indeed the Dionysiacs
resembled the mystical fraternity now called free-masons
in many important particulars. They allowed no strangers
to interfere in their employment; they recognised each
other by signs and tokens; they professed certain myste¬
rious doctrines, under the tuition and tutelage of Bac¬
chus, to whom they built a magnificent temple at Teos,
where they celebrated his mysteries as solemn festivals ;
and they called all other men profane because not admit¬
ted to these mysteries. But their chief mysteries and
most important secrets seem to be their mechanical and
mathematical sciences, or all that academical knowledge
which forms the regular education of a civil engineer.
3 E
402
A R
Arch. We know that the temples of the gods and the theatres
required an immense apparatus of machinery for the ce¬
lebration of some of their mysteries; and that the Diony¬
siacs contracted for those jobs, even at far distant places,
where they had not the privilege of building the edifice
which was to contain them. This is the most likely way
of explaining the very small quantity of mechanical know¬
ledge that is to be met with in the writings of the an¬
cients. Even Vitruvius does not appear to have been of
the fraternity, and speaks of the Greek architects in terms
of respect next to veneration. The Collegium Murario-
rum, or incorporation of masons at Rome, does not seem
to have shared the secrets ol the Dionysiacs.
11. The art of building arches has been most assidu¬
ously cultivated by the associated builders of the middle
ages of the Christian church, both Saracens and Christians,
and they seem to have indulged in it with fondness: they
multiplied and combined arches without end, placing them
in every possible situation.
12. Having studied this branch of the art of building
with so much attention, they were able to erect the most
magnificent buildings with materials which a Greek or
Roman architect could have made little or no use of.
There is infinitely more scientific skill displayed in a
Gothic cathedral than in all the buildings of Greece and
Rome. Indeed these last exhibit very little knowledge
of the mutual balance of arches, and are full .of gross
blunders in this respect; nor could they have resisted the
shock of time so long, had they not been almost solid
masses of stone, with no more cavity than was indispensa¬
bly necessary.
13. Anthemius and Isidorus, whom the Emperor Justi¬
nian had selected as the most eminent architects of Greece,
for building the celebrated church of St Sophia at Con¬
stantinople, seem to have known very little of this matter.
Anthemius had boasted to Justinian that he would outdo
the magnificence of the Roman Pantheon, for he would
hang a greater dome than it aloft in the air. Accord¬
ingly he attempted to raise it on the heads of four piers,
distant from each other about 115 feet, and about the same
height. He had probably seen the magnificent vault¬
ings of the temple of Mars the Avenger, and the temple
of Peace at Rome, the thrusts of which are withstood by
two masses of solid wall, which join the side walls of the
temple at right angles, and extend sidewise to a great dis¬
tance. It was evident that the walls of the temple could
not yield to the pressure of the vaulting without pushing
these immense buttresses along their foundations. He
therefore placed four buttresses to aid his piers. They
are almost solid masses of stone, extending at least ninety
feet from the piers to the north and to the south, form¬
ing as it were the side walls of the cross. They effectu¬
ally secured them from the thrusts of the two great arches
of the nave which support the dome; but there was no
such provision against the push of the great north and
south arches. Anthemius trusted for this to the half
dome which covered the semicircular east end of the
church, and occupied the whole eastern arch of the great
dome. But when the dome was finished, and had stood
a few months, it pushed the two eastern piers with their
buttresses from the perpendicular, making them lean to
the eastward, and the dome and half dome fell in. Isido¬
rus, who succeeded to the charge on the death of Anthe¬
mius, strengthened the piers on the east side by filling
up some hollows, and again raised the dome. But things
gave way before it was closed; and while they were build¬
ing in one part, it was falling in in another. The pillars
and walls of the eastern semicircular end were much shat¬
tered by this time. Isidorus seeing that they could give
no resistance to the push which was so evidently direct-
C H.
ed that way, erected some clumsy buttresses on the east Arch,
wall of the square which surrounded the whole Greek
cross, and was roofed in with it, forming a sort of cloister
round the whole. These buttresses, spanning over this
cloister, leaned against the piers of the dome, and thus
opposed the thrusts of the great north and south arches.
The dome was now turned for the third time, and many
contrivances were adopted for making it extremely light.
It was made offensively flat, and, except the ribs, was
roofed with pumice stone ; but, notwithstanding these pre¬
cautions, the arches settled so as to alarm the architects,
and they made all sure by filling up the whole from top to
bottom with arcades in three stories. The lowest arcade
was very lofty, supported by four noble marble columns,
and thus preserved in some measure the church in the
form of a Greek cross. The story above formed a gallery
for the women, and had six columns in front, so that
they did not bear fair on those below. The third story
was a dead wall filling up the arch, and pierced with three
rows of small, ill-shaped windows. In this unworkman¬
like shape it has stood till now, and is the oldest church
in the world; but it is an ugly mis-shapen mass, more re¬
sembling an overgrown potter’s kiln, surrounded with fur¬
naces pierced and patched, than a magnificent temple.
We have been thus particular in our account of it, because
this history of the building shows that the ancient archi¬
tects had acquired no distinct notions of the action of
arches. Almost any mason of our time would know,
that as the south arch would push the pier to the east¬
ward, while the east arch pushed it to the southward, the
buttress which was to withstand these thrusts must not
be placed on the south side of the pier, but on the south¬
east side, or that there must be an eastern as well as a
southern buttress.
14. No such blunders are to be seen in a Gothic cathe¬
dral. Some of them appear, to a careless spectator, to
be very massive and clumsy; but when judiciously ex¬
amined, they will be found very bold and light, being
pierced in every direction by arcades; and the walls are
divided into cells like a honeycomb, so that they are very
stiff, while they are very light.
15. About the middle, or rather towards the end, ofbrHooke’s
last century, when the Newtonian mathematics opened P™“Ple of
the road to true mechanical science, the construction ofau *
arches engrossed the attention of the first mathematicians.
The first hint of a principle that we have met with is Dr
Hooke’s assertion, that the figure into which a chain or
rope, perfectly flexible, will arrange itself when suspended
from two hooks, is, when inverted, the proper form for an
arch composed of stones of uniform weight. This he af¬
firmed on the principle, that the figure which a flexible
festoon of heavy bodies assumes, when suspended from
two points, is, when inverted, the proper form of an arch
of the same bodies, touching each other in the same
points ; because the force with which they mutually press
on each other in this last case are equal and opposite to
the forces with which they pull at each other in the case
of suspension.
This principle is strictly just, and may be extended to
every case which can be proposed. We recollect seeing
it proposed in very general terms in 1759, when plans
were forming for Blackfriars Bridge in London ; and since
it is perhaps equal in practical utility to the most elaborate
investigations of the mathematicians, our readers will not
be displeased with a more particular account of it in this
place.
16. Let ABC (fig. 6) be a parcel of magnets of any explainc
size and shape, and let us suppose that they adhere with
great force by any points of contact. They will compose
such a flexible festoon as we have been speaking of if
A R
Arch, suspended from the points A and C. If this figure be in-
^ verted, preserving the same points of contact, they will
remain in equilibrio. It will indeed be that kind of equi¬
librium which will admit of no disturbance, and which
may be called a tottering equilibrium. If the form be al¬
tered in the smallest degree, by varying the points of con¬
tact (which indeed are points in the figure of equilibration),
the magnets will no more recover their former position
than a needle, which we had made to stand on its point,
will regain its perpendicular position after it has been
disturbed.
But if we suppose planes hi, &c. drawn through
the points of mutual contact a, b, c, each bisecting the angle
formed by the lines that unite the adjoining contacts (fig,
for example, bisecting the angle formed by ab,b c), and if
we suppose that the pieces are changed for others of the
same weights, but having flat sides, which meet in the
planes de, fg, hi, &c., it is evident that we shall have an
arch of equilibration, and that the arch will have some sta¬
bility, or will bear a little change of form without tumbling
down: for it is plain that the equilibrium of the original
festoon obtained only in the points a, b, c, of contact,
where the pressures were perpendicular to the touching
surfaces; therefore, if the curve a, b, c, still passes through
the touching surfaces perpendicularly, the conditions that
are required for equilibrium still obtain. The case is
quite similar to that of the stability of a body resting on
a horizontal plane. If the perpendicular through the
centre of gravity falls within the base of the body, it will
not only stand, but it will require some force to push it
over. In the original festoon, if a small weight be added
in any part, it will change the form of the curve of equi¬
libration a little, by changing the points of mutual con¬
tact. This new curve will gradually separate from the
former curve as it recedes from A or C. In like manner,
when the festoon is set up as an arch, if a small weight be
laid on any part of it, it will bring the whole to the
ground, because the shifting of the points of contact will
be just the contrary to what it should be to suit the new
curve of equilibration ; but if the same weight be laid on
the same part of the arch now constructed with flat joints,
it will be sustained if the new curve of equilibration still
passes through the touching surfaces.
17. These conclusions, which are very obviously de-
ducible from the principle of the festoon, show us, without
any further discussion, that the longer the joints are, the
greater will be the stability of the arch, or that it will re¬
quire a greater force to break it down. Therefore it is of
the greatest importance to have the arch-stones as long as
economy will permit; and this was the great use of the
ribs and other apparent ornaments in the Gothic architec¬
ture. The great projections of those ribs augmented their
stiffness, and enabled them to support the unadorned com¬
partments of the roof, composed of very small stones, sel¬
dom above six inches thick. Many old bridges are still
remaining, which are strengthened in the same way by
ribs.
Having thus explained, in a very familiar manner, the
stability of an arch, we proceed to give the same popular
account of the general application of the principle.
ap- 18. Suppose it be required to ascertain the form of an
tHl' arch which shall have the span AB (fig. 7), and the height
1* 8, and which shall have a road-way of the dimensions
CDE above it. Let the figure ACDEB be inverted, so
as to form a figure AcrfeB. Let a chain of uniform
thickness be suspended from the points A and B, and let
it be of such a length that its lower point will hang at, or
rather a little below, fi corresponding to F. Divide AB
into a number of equal parts, in the points 1, 2, 3, &c.
and draw vertical lines, cutting the chain in the corre¬
sponding points 1, 2, 3, &c. Now take pieces of another Arch.
chain, and hang them on at the points 1, 2, 3, &c. of the   
chain A/B. This will alter the form of the curve. Cut
or trim these pieces of chain, till their lower ends all co¬
incide with the inverted road-way cde. The greater
lengths that are hung on in the vicinity of A and B will
pull down these points of the chain, and cause the middle
point f (which is less loaded) to rise a little, and will
bring it near to its proper height.
It is plain that this process will produce an arch of per¬
fect equilibration; but some further considerations are ne¬
cessary for making it exactly suit our purpose. It is an
arch of equilibration for a bridge that is so loaded that
the weight of the arch-stones is to the weight of the mat¬
ter with which the haunches and crown are loaded, as the
weight of the chain A/B is to the sum of the weights of
all the little bits of chain very nearly. But this propor¬
tion is not known beforehand ; we must therefore proceed
in the following manner:—Adapt to the curve produced
in this way a thickness of the arch-stones as great as are
thought sufficient to insure stability; then compute the
weight of the arch-stones, and the weight of the gravel or
rubbish with which the haunches are to be filled up to the
road-way. If the proportion of these two weights be the
same with the proportion of the weights of chain, we may
rest satisfied with the curve now found; but if different,
we can easily calculate how much must be added equally
to or taken from each appended bit of chain, in order to
make the two proportions equal. Having altered the ap¬
pended pieces accordingly, we shall get a new curve,
which may perhaps require a very small trimming of the
bits of chain to make them fit the road-way. This curve
will be very near to the curve wanted.
We have practised this method for an arch of 60 feet
span and 21 feet high, the arch-stones of which were only
two feet nine inches long. It was to be loaded with gra¬
vel and shivers. We made a previous computation, on the
supposition that the arch was to be nearly elliptical. The
distance between the points 1, 2, 3, &c. were adjusted, so
as to determine the proportion of the weights of chain
agreeable to the supposition. The curve differed consi¬
derably from an ellipse, making a considerable angle with
the verticals at the spring of the arch. The real propor¬
tion of the weights of chain, when all was trimmed so as
to suit the road-way, was considerably different from what
was expected. It was adjusted. The adjustment made
very little change in the curve. It would not have changed
it two inches in any part of the real arch. When the pro¬
cess was completed, we constructed the curve mathema¬
tically. It did not differ sensibly from this mechanical
construction. This was very agreeable information; for
it showed us that the first curve, formed by about two
hours’ labour, on a supposition considerably different from
the truth, would have been sufficiently exact for the pur¬
pose, being in no place three inches from the accurate
curve, and therefore far within the joints of the intended
arch-stones. Therefore this process, which any intelli¬
gent mason, though ignorant of mathematical science,
may go through with little trouble, will give a very pro¬
per form for an arch subject to any conditions.
19. The chief defect of the curve found in this way is
a want of elegance, because it does not spring at right
angles to the horizontal line; but this is the case with all
curves of equilibration, as we shall see by and by. It is
not material; for, in the very neighbourhood of the piers,
we may give it any form we please, because the masonry
is solid in that place ; nay, we apprehend that a deviation
from the curve of equilibration is proper. Ihe construc¬
tion of that curve supposes that the pressure on every
part of the arch is vertical; but gravel, earth, and rub-
404
A R C H.
Arch, bish, exert somewhat of a hydrostatical pressure laterally
in the act of settling, and retain it afterwards. This will
require some more curvature at the haunches of an arch
to balance it; but what this lateral pressure may be, can¬
not be deduced with confidence from any experiments that
we have seen. We are inclined to think, that if, instead
of dividing the horizontal line AB in the points 1, 2, 3,
&c. we divide the chain itself into equal parts, the curve
will approach nearer to the proper form.
Theory 20. After this familiar statement of the general principle,
founded on is now time consider the theory founded on it more
ci !LPnn' This theory aims at such an adjustment of the
position of the arch-stones to the load on every part of the
arch, that all shall remain in equilibrio, although the joints
be perfectly polished and without any cement. The whole
may be reduced to two problems. The first is to deter¬
mine the vertical pressure or load on every point of a line
of a given form, which will put that line in equilibrio.
The second is to determine the form of a curve which
shall be in equilibrio when loaded in its different points,
according to any given law.
The whole theory is deducible from one principle, which
will be found fully developed in the article Roof. It is this:
when an assemblage of beams or other pieces of solid
matter AB, BC, CD, DE, fig. 8, freely movable about its
angles as so many joints, is retained in equilibrium by the
joint effect of the pressures produced by the weight of its
parts, the thrust at any angle, if estimated in a horizon¬
tal direction, is the same throughout, and may be repre¬
sented by any horizontal line BT; and that if a vertical
line QS be drawn through T, the thrust exerted at any
angle D by the piece CD, in its own direction, will then
be represented by BR, drawn parallel to CD ; and in like
mapner, that the thrust in the direction ED is represent¬
ed by BS, &c.; and, lastly, that the vertical thrust or
loads at each angle B, C, D, by which all these other
pressures are excited, are represented by the portions
QC, CR, RS, of the vertical intercepted by those lines ;
that is, all these pressures are to the uniform horizontal
thrust as the lines which represent them are to BT. The
horizontal thrust, therefore, is a very proper unit, with
which we may compare all the others. Its magnitude is
easily deduced from the same proposition ; for QS is the
sum of all the vertical pressures of the angles, and there¬
fore represents the weight of the whole assemblage.
Iherefore as QS is to BT, so is the weight of the whole to
the horizontal thrust.
21. To accommodate this theory to the construction of
a curvilinear arch vault, let us first suppose the vault to be
polygonal, composed of the chords of the elementary
arches. Let AVE (fig. 12) be a curvilinear arch, of which
V is the vertex, and VA the vertical axis, which we shall
consider as the axis or abscissa of the curve, while any
horizontal line, such as HK, is an ordinate to the curve.
About any point C of the curve, as a centre, describe a
circle BED, cutting the curve in B and D. Draw the
equal chords CB, CD. Draw also the horizontal line CF,
cutting the circle in F. Describe a circle BCDQ passing
through B, C, D. Its centre O will be in a line COCA
which bisects the angle BCD; and C c, which touches
this circle in C, will bisect the angle bCd, formed by the
equal chords BC, CD. Draw CLP perpendicular to cb,
and DP perpendicular to CD, meeting CL in P. Through
L draw the tangent GLM, meeting CD in G, and the
vertical line CM in M. Draw the tangent Fa, cuttino-
the chords BC, CD, in b and d, and the tangent to the
circle BCDQ in c. Lastly, draw d N parallel to be.
From what will be demonstrated in the article Roof,
it appears that if BC, CD be two pieces of an equilibrat¬
ed heavy polygon, and if CF represent the horizontal
thrust in every angle of the polygon, C d and C b will Arch
severally represent the thrusts exerted by the pieces DC, v—
BC, and that bd, or CN, will represent the weight lying
on the angle BCD, by which those thrusts are balanced.
In the mean time the reader may, without that article,
understand the nature of the equilibrium in the following
manner. Produce C to o, so that C o may be equal to
C d. Draw bn to the vertical parallel to d C, and join no.
It is evident that bnoG is a parallelogram, and that
w C (= bd) = CN. Now the thrust or support of the
piece BC is exerted in the direction C b, while that of
DC is exerted in the direction Co. These two thrusts
are equivalent to the thrust in the diagonal C re ; and it
is with this compound thrust that the load or vertical
pressure CN is in immediate equilibrium.
22. Because 6CL, NCF are right angles, and FCL is
common to both, the angles 6CF and MCL are equal;
therefore the right-angled triangles 6CF and MCL are
similar. And since CF is equal to CL, C6 is equal to CM.
It is evident that the triangles GCM and t?CN are simi¬
lar. Therefore CG: Ce? = CM : CN — C 6 : C N. There¬
fore we have CN = —Cc?. But because CDP and
Hjr
CLG are right angles, and therefore equal, and the angle
GCP is common to the two triangles GCL, PCD, and CD
is equal to CL, we have CG equal to CP; therefore CN
C6 x Cd
CP ■
Also, since CDP is a right angle, DP
meets the diameter in Q, the opposite point of the circum¬
ference, and the angle DQC is equal to DCc or cC6 (be¬
cause 6Cc? is bisected by the tangent), that is, to PCQ
(because the right angles iCP, cCO are equal, and cDP
is common). Therefore PQ is equal to PC; and if PO
be drawn perpendicular to CQ, it will bisect it, and O is
the centre of the circle BCDQB.
Now let the points B and D continually approach to C
(by diminishing the radius of the small circle), and ulti¬
mately coincide with it. It is evident that the circle
BCDQ is ultimately the equicurve circle, and that PC
ultimately coincides with OC, the radius of curvature.
Also Cb X Cd becomes ultimately Cc2. Therefore CN,
the vertical load on any point of a curve of equilibration,
Cc2
Rad. Curv. ’
It is further evident that CF is to Cc as radius to the
secant of the elevation of the tangent above the horizon.
Therefore we have the load on any point of the curve al-
TlIpv
ways proportional to ^ ^ .
This load on every elementary arch of the wall is com¬
monly a quantity of solid matter incumbent on that ele¬
ment of the curve, and pressing it vertically ; and it may
be conceived as made up of a number of heavy lines
standing vertically on it. Thus, if the element Ee of the
curve were lying horizontally, a little parallelogram REer
standing perpendicularly on it would represent its load.
But as this element Ee has a sloping position, it is plain
that, in order to have the same quantity of heavy matter
pressing it vertically, the height of the parallelogram must
be increased till it meets in eg, the line R e drawn parallel
to the tangent EG. It is evident that the angle REg is
equal to the angle AEG. Therefore we have ER : Eg
= Rad. : Sec. Elev.
If therefore the arch is kept in equilibrio by the verti¬
cal pressure of a wall, we must have the height of the
wall above any point proportional to-S^C‘3,EleV' .
Rad. of Curv.
23. Corol. 1. If OS be drawn perpendicular to the Corollaries'
ARCH.
Irch. vertical CS, CS will be half the vertical chord of the
v.-v-w' gquicurve circle. The angle OCS is equal to cCF, that is,
to the angle of elevation. Therefore 1 : Sec. Elev. = CS :
CO, and the secant of elevation maybe expressed by—p-p,
CS
CO3
and its cube by ~—3. Therefore the height of wall is
. , + CO3 CO2 CO2
proporUonal to „r to or „r t0
Sec.2 of Elev.
Vert. Chord of Curve ’
Carol. 2. If we make the arch VC = z, the abscissa
VH = x, the ordinate HC = y, the radius osculi CO = r,
and the i vertical chord CS = s, the height of wall press-
• ■ • dz^ d?2
ing on any point is proportional to —; or to —y 0 , or
dot? + dif
sdy1
rdi/ ’ ^ sdy2 ’
Therefore, when the equation of the curve is
given, and the height of wall on any one point of it is also
given, we can determine it for any other point; for the
equation of the curve will always give us the relation of
dz, dx, dy, and the value of r or s. This may be illus¬
trated by an example or two. For this purpose it will
generally be most convenient to assume the height above
the vertex V for the unit of computation. The thickness
of the arch at the crown is commonly determined by other
circumstances. At the vertex the tangent to the arch is
horizontal, and therefore the cube of the secant is unity
or 1. Call the height of wall at the crown FI, and let the
radius of curvature in that point be R, and its half-chord
R (it being then coincident with the radius), and the height
on any other point h ; we have -1 : = FI: h, and
R rdy6
of the curve vgcf, resting on the circumference AVE,
will be greater in the same proportion, and the curve wilF
cut the horizontal line drawn through « in some point
nearer to v than c is. Hence it appears that a circular
arch cannot be put in equilibrio by building on it up to a
horizontal line, whatever be its span, or whatever be the
thickness at the crown. We have seen that when this
thickness is only j^th of the radius, an arch of 120 de¬
grees will be too much loaded at the flanks. This thick¬
ness is much too small for a bridge, being only J-th of
the span CM, whereas it should have been almost double
of this, to bear the inequalities of weight that may occa¬
sionally be on it. When the crown is made still thinner,
the outline is still more depressed before it rises again!
There is therefore a certain span, with a corresponding
thickness at the crown, which will deviate least of all from
a honzontal line. Fins is an arch of about 45 degrees,
the thickness at the crown being about one fourth of the
span, which is extravagantly great. It appears in general,
therefore, that the circle is not a curve suited to the pur¬
poses of a bridge or an arcade, which requires an outline
nearly horizontal.
Ex. 2. Let the curve be a parabola AVE (fig. 14), of
which V is the vertex, and DG the directrix. Draw the
diameters DCF, GVN, the tangents CK, VP, and the or¬
dinates VF and CN. It is well known that GV is to DC
as VP2 to CK2, or as CN2 to CK2. Also 2 GV is the ra¬
dius of the osculating circle at V, and 2 DC is one half of
the vertical chord of the osculating circle at C.
Therefore CN2 : CK2 (or dy2 ; dz2) = R : s; and s
dz2 dz2U
— Cc, or ^ — H X ~^2S. Therefore h — FI
X r-^r = II X = H. Therefore Cc = vV.
h = II x
Hrated 24. Ex. 1. Suppose the arch to be a segment of a circle,
^ xanN as in fig* 10, where AE is the diameter, and O the centre.
In this arch the curvature is the same throughout, or —
h =-U X
dz2
dy3
dz2
X A
r
dz2ll
The other formula gives
dy[<
X
S
— 1. Therefore 4 = H X
dz3
dr
or — FI X Cube Sec.
Elev.
This gives a very simple calculus. To the logarithm
of FI add thrice the logarithm of the secant of elevation.
Ihe sum is the logarithm of h.
It gives also a very simple construction. Draw the
vertical CS, cutting the horizontal diameter in S. Draw
ST, cutting the radius OC perpendicularly in T. Draw
the horizontal line Tz, cutting the vertical in z. Join zO.
Make Cu = Vv, and draw ux parallel to zO: Cc must be
made = Cx. The demonstration is evident.
It is very easy to see that if CV is an arch of 60°, and
r^th of VO, the points v and c will be on a level;
for the secant of CV is twice CO, and therefore Cc is
eight times Vv, which is-fth of VH.
The dotted line vgcf is drawn according to this calcu¬
lus or construction. It falls considerably below the hori¬
zontal line in the neighbourhood of c ; and then, passing
very obliquely through c, it rises rapidly to an immeasur¬
able height, because the vertical line through A is its
asymptote. Fhis must evidently be the case with every
curve which springs at right angles with a horizontal
Ime.
It is plain that if v\ be greater, all the other ordinates
It follows from this investigation, that the back or ex-
trados of a parabolic arch of equilibration must be paral¬
lel to the arch or soffit itself; or that the thickness of the
arch, estimated in a vertical direction, must be equal
throughout; or that the extrados is the same parabola
with the soffit or intrados.
We have selected these two examples merely for the
simplicity and perspicuity of the solutions, which have
been effected by means of elementary geometry only, in¬
stead of employing the analytical value of the radius of
dz3
the osculatory circle, viz. — — >0 , which would
405
Arch.
dyd2x — dxd2y
have involved us at last in the doctrine of second fluxions.
We have also preferred simplicity to elegance in the in¬
vestigation, because we wish to instruct the practical en¬
gineer who may not be a proficient in the higher mathe¬
matics.
25. The converse of the problem, namely, to find the To find the
form of the arch when the figure of the back of it is given, form of an
is the most usual question of the two, at least in cases a™11 when
which are most important and most difficult. Of these, ^ fAun,
perhaps, bridges are the chief. Here the necessity of a°Sg;*e^tA
road-way, of easy and regular ascent, confines us to an
outline nearly horizontal, to which the curve of the arch
must be adapted. This is the most difficult problem of
the two ; and we doubt whether it can be solved without
employing infinite approximating series instead of accu¬
rate values.
Let ave (fig. 9) be the intended outline or extrados of
the arch AVE, and let v Q be the common axis of both
curves. From c and C, the corresponding points, draw
the ordinates ch, CH. Let the thickness vV at the top
be a, the abscissa vh be = m, and VH = x, and let the
equal ordinates ch, CH, be y, and the arch VC be z.
406
Arch.
ARCH.
dz*
Then, by the general theorem, cC = -^3, r being the
radius of curvature. This, by the common rules, is
_ ‘fe* - This gives us
- dydl x — dxd2y & df
dyd^x
or —   
arch, the span of which is 100 feet, and the height 40, Arch,
which are nearly the dimensions of the middle arch
Blackfiiars Bridge in London.
dxdhy
s zz C X L
quently C z=
a h % a h -\r It1
)>
L^a h 2
: h +A2)‘
the general value of 3/ zz s x
(ct, h V 2 a h
~^+A+a/(2«^ + 42)
a + ^ + V/ 2 a x d2
X C ; where C is a constant quan-
dy2
tity, found by taking the real value of cC in V, the vertex
of the curve. But it is evident that it is also zza + x—u.
dyd2x — dxdhf ^ ,, _ C
Therefore a x — u zz ^3 X u _ ^ x
fluxion of
dy
If we now substitute the true value of u (which is
given because the extrados is supposed to be of a known
form), expressed in terms of y, the resulting equation will
contain nothing but x and y, with their first and second
fluxions, and known quantities. From this equation the
relation of x and y must be found by such methods as
seem best adapted to the equation of the extrados. _
Fortunately the process is more simple and easy in the
most common and useful case than we should expect from
this general rule; we mean the case where the extrados
is a straight line, especially when this is horizontal. In
this case u is equal to 0.
PI. XLIX. Ex. To find the form of the balanced arch AVL, hav-
tfg. 6. ing the horizontal line cv for its extrados.
Keeping the same notation, we have wzzo, and therefore
C a . cdx
a + * = ^ X fluxKmof^.
d dx C
Assume dy — — \ then — zz v, and X fluxion of
dx_ _ Cvdv that ■ a + x = Therefore adx
dy dx ^ dx
+ xdx zz Cvdv; and by taking the fluents, we have
, ,2 ax x? „ .
2 aa? + a? = O2; and w = */ £; * Consequent¬
ly, zz 'd^'dx — /'being —Taking the flu-
V2 ax + x2' v '
ent of this, we have y — \/ C x L (2 a 2 x
+ 2 \^2 ax -{- x2). But at the vertex, where x zz o,
we have y zz y'C X L (2 a). The corrected fluent is
^a-\-x + V 2 ax + x?
therefore y zz \/ C X L ^ •
It only remains to find the constant quantity C. This
we readily obtain by selecting some point of the extrados
where the values of x and y are given by particular cir¬
cumstances of the case. Thus, when the span 2 s and
height h of the arch are given, we have
0
2
4
6
8
10
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
6,000
6,035
6,144
6,324
6,580
6,914
7,330
7,571
7,834
8,120
8,430
8,766
9,168
9,517
9,934
y
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
10,381
10,858
11,368
11,911
12,489
13,106
13,761
14,457
15,196
15,980
16,811
17,693
18,627
19,617
20,665
y
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
21,774
22,948
24,190
25,505
26,894
28,364
29,919
31,563
33,299
35,135
37,075
39,126
41,293
43,581
46,000
and conse-
Therefore
r (a x V 2 a x + x?\
L\ a )
zz s X  -
)
26. As an example of the use of this formula, we sub¬
join a table calculated by Dr Hutton of Woolwich, for an
The figure for this proposition is exactly drawn accord¬
ing to these dimensions, that the reader may judge of it
as an object of sight. It is by no means deficient in
gracefulness, and is abundantly roomy for the passage of
craft; so that no objection can be offered against its be¬
ing adapted on account of its mechanical excellency.
"The reader will perhaps be surprised that we have Defects n|
made no mention of the celebrated Catenarean curve, the Cate-
which is commonly said to be the best form for an arch;nareatl
but a little reflection will convince him, that althoughcurve'
it is the only form for an arch consisting of stones of equal
weight, and touching each other only in single points, it
cannot suit an arch which must be filled up in the
haunches, in order to form a road-way. He will be more
surprised to hear, after this, that there is a certain thick¬
ness at the crown, which will put the Catenarea in equi-
librio, even with a horizontal road-way; but this thick¬
ness is so great as to make it unfit for a bridge, being such
that the pressure at the vertex is equal to the horizontal
thrust. This would have been about 37 feet in the
middle arch of Blackfriars Bridge. The only situation,
therefore, in which the Catenarean form would be proper,
is an arcade carrying a height of dead wall; but in this
situation it would be very ungraceful. Without troubling
the reader with the investigation, it is sufficient to inform
him, that in a Catenarean arch of equilibration the abscissa
VH is to the abscissa v h in the constant ratio of the ho¬
rizontal thrust to its excess above the pressure on the
vertex
27. Thus much will serve, we hope, to give the reader a
clear notion of this celebrated theory of the equilibrium
of arches, one of the most delicate and important appli¬
cations of mathematical science. Volumes have been
written on the subject, and it still occupies the attention
of mechanicians. But we beg leave to say, with great
deference to the eminent persons who have prosecuted
this theory, that their speculations have been of little
service, and are little attended to by the practitioner.
Nay, we may add, that Sir Christopher Wren, perhaps
the most accomplished architect that Europe has seen,
seems to have thought it of little value; for, among the
fragments which have been preserved of his studies, there
are to be seen some imperfect dissertations on this very
subject, in which he takes no notice of this theory, and
considers the balance of arches in quite another way.
These are collected by the author of the account of Sir
Christopher Wren’s family. This man’s great sagacit),
♦
*
ARCH.
407
,rch. and his great experience in building, and still more his
experience in the repairs of old and crazy fabrics, had
shown him many things very inconsistent with this theory,
which appears so specious and safe. The general facts
which occur in the failure of old arches are highly in¬
structive, and deserve the most careful attention of the
engineer; for it is in this state that their defects, and the
process of nature in their destruction, are most distinctly
seen. We venture to affirm, that a very great majority
of these facts are irreconcilable to the theory. The way
in which circular arches commonly fail, is by the sinking
of the crown and the rising of the flanks. It will be found
by calculation, that in most of the cases it ought to have
been just the contrary. But the clearest proof is, that
arches very rarely fail where their load differs most
remarkably from that which this theory allows. Semi¬
circular arches have stood the power of ages, as may
be seen in the bridges of ancient Rome, and in the nu¬
merous arcades which the ancient inhabitants have
erected. Now, all arches which spring perpendicularly
from the horizontal line require, by this theory, a load of
infinite height; and even to a considerable distance from
the springing of the arch, the load necessary for the theo¬
retical equilibrium is many times greater than what is
ever laid on those parts; yet a failure in the immediate
neighbourhood of the spring of an arch is a most rare phe¬
nomenon, if it ever was observed. Here is a most re¬
markable deviation from the theory; for, as is already ob¬
served, the load is frequently not the fourth part of what
the theory requires.
28. Many other facts might be adduced which show
great deviation from the legitimate results of the theory.
We hope to be excused, therefore, by the mathemati¬
cians for doubting of the justness of this theory. We do
not think it erroneous, but defective, leaving out circum¬
stances which we apprehend to be of great importance;
and we imagine that the defects of the theory have arisen
from the very anxiety of the mechanicians to make it per¬
fect. The arch-stones are supposed to be perfectly smooth
or polished, and not to be connected by any cement, and
therefore to sustain each other merely by the equilibrium
of their vertical pressure. The theory insures this equi¬
librium, and this only, leaving unnoticed any other causes
of mutual action.
The authors who have written on the subject say ex¬
pressly that an arch which thus sustains itself must be
stronger than another which would not; because when,
in imagination, we suppose both to acquire connection by
cement, the first preserves the influence of this connec¬
tion unimpaired; whereas in the other, part of the cohe¬
sion is wasted in counteracting the tendency of some
parts to break off from the rest by their want of equili¬
brium. This is a very specious argument, and would be
just, if the forces which are mutually exerted between
the parts of the arch in its settled state were merely ver¬
tical pressures, or, where different, were inconsiderable in
comparison with those which are really attended to in the
construction.
But this is by no means the case. The forms which
the uses for which arches are erected oblige us to adopt,
and the loads laid on the different points of the arch, fre¬
quently deviate considerably from what are necessary for
the equilibrium of vertical pressures. The varying load
on a bridge, when a great waggon passes along it, some¬
times bears a very sensible proportion to the weight of
nit point of the arch on which it rests. It is even very
(oubtful whether the pressures which are occasioned by
t le weight of the stuff employed for filling up the flanks
really act in a vertical direction, and in the proportion
w iich is supposed. We are pretty certain that this is not
the case with sand, gravel, fat mould, and many substan- Arch,
ces in very general use for this purpose. When this is
the case, the pressures sustained by the different parts of
the arch are often very inconsistent with the theory; a
part of the aich is overloaded and tends to fall in, but is
prevented by the cement. This part of the arch, there¬
fore, acts on the remoter parts by the intervention of the
parts between, employing those intermediate parts as a
kind of levers to break the arch in a remote part, just as
a lintel would be broken. We apprehend that a mathema¬
tician would be puzzled how to explain the stability of an
arch cut out of a solid and uniform mass of rock. His
theory considers the mutual thrusts of the arch-stones as
in the direction of the tangents to the arch. Why so ?
Because he supposes that all his polished joints are per¬
pendicular to those tangents. But in the present case he
has no existing joints ; and there seems to be nothing to
direct his imagination in the assumption of joints, which,
however, are absolutely necessary for employing his theo¬
ry, because, without a supposition of this kind, there seems
no conceiving any mutual abutment of the arch-stones.
Ask a common but intelligent mason, what notion he
forms of such an arch ? We apprehend that he will con¬
sider it as no arch, but as a lintel, which may be broken
like a wooden lintel, and which resists entirely by its
cohesion. He will not readily conceive that, by cutting
the under side of a stone lintel into an arched form, and
thus taking away more than half of its substance, he has
changed its nature of a lintel, or given it any additional
strength. Nor would there be any change made in the
way in which such a mass of stone would resist being
broken down, if nothing were done but forming the under
side into an arch. If the lintel be so laid on the piers
that it can be broken without its parts pushing the piers
aside (which will be the case if it lies on the piers with
horizontal joints), it will break like any other lintel; but
if the joints are directed downwards, and converging to a
point within the arch, the broken stone (suppose it broken
at the crown by an overload in that part) cannot be press¬
ed down without forcing the piers outwards. Now, in
this mode of acting, the mind cannot trace any thing of
the statical equilibrium that we have proceeded on in the
foregoing theory. The two parts of the broken lintel seem
to push the piers aside in the same manner that two raft¬
ers push outwards the walls of a house when their feet
are not held together by a tie-beam. If the piers cannot
be pushed aside (as when the arch abuts on two solid
rocks), nothing can press down the crown which does not
crush the stone.
This conclusion will be strictly true if the arch is of such
a form that a straight line drawn from the crown to the pier
lies wholly within the solid masonry. Thus, if the vault con¬
sist of two straight stones, as in Plate XL VIII. fig. 1, or if
it consist of several stones, as in Plate XLIX. fig. 7, dis¬
posed in two straight lines, no weight laid on the crown can
destroy it in any other way than by crushing it to powder.
29. But when straight lines cannot be drawn from the
overloaded part to the firm abutments through the solid
masonry, and when the cohesion of the parts is not able
to withstand the transverse strains, we must call the
principles of equilibrium to our aid; and, in order to em¬
ploy them with safety, we must consider how they are
modified by the excitement of the cohering forces.
The cohesion of the stones with each other by cement
or otherwise has in almost every situation a bad effect.
It enables an overload at the crown to break the arch
near the haunches, causing those parts to rise, and then
to spread outwards, just as a Mansarde or Kirb roof would
do if the truss-beam which connects the heads of the
lower rafters were sawn through. I his can be prevented
ARCH.
Process of
the break¬
ing of an
arch.
only by loading that part more than is requisite for equi¬
librium. It would be prudent to do this to a certain de¬
gree, because it is by this cohesion that the crown always
becomes the weakest part of the arch, and suffers more
by any occasional load.
We expect that it will be said in answer to all this,
that the cohesion given by the strongest cement that we
can employ, nay the cohesion of the stone itself, is a mere
nothing in comparison with the enormous thrusts that are
in a state of continual exertion in the different parts of an
arch. This is very true; but there is another force which
produces the same effect, and which increases nearly in
the proportion that those thrusts increase, because it
arises from them. This is the friction of the stones on
each other. In dry freestone this friction considerably
exceeds one half of the mutual pressure. The reflecting
reader will see that this produces the same effect, in the
case under consideration, that cohesion would do; for
while the arch is in the act of failing, the mutual pressure
of the arch-stones is acting with full force, and thus pro¬
duces a friction more than adequate to all the effects we
have been speaking of.
30. When these circumstances are considered, we ima¬
gine that it will appear that an arch, when exposed to a
great overload on the crown (or indeed on any part), di¬
vides of itself into a number of parts, each of which con¬
tains as many arch-stones as can be pierced (so to speak)
by one straight line, and that it may then be considered
as nearly in the same situation with a polygonal arch of
long stones abutting on each other like so many beams
in a Norman roof, but without their braces and ties. It
tends to break at all those angles; and it is not suffi¬
ciently resisted there, because the materials with which
the flanks are filled up have so little cohesion, that the
angle feels no load except what is immediately above
it; whereas it should be immediately loaded with all
the weight which is diffused over the adjoining side
of the polygon. This will be the case, even though
the curvilinear arch be perfectly equilibrated. We re¬
collect some circumstances in the failure of a consider¬
able arch, which may be worth mentioning. It had been
built of an exceedingly soft and friable stone, and the
arch-stones were too short. About a fortnight before it
fell, chips were observed to be dropping off from the joints
of the arch-stones, about ten feet on each side of the mid¬
dle, and also from another place on one side of the arch,
about twenty feet from its middle. The masons in the
neighbourhood prognosticated its speedy downfall, and
said that it would separate in those places where the chips
were breaking off. At length it fell; but it first split in
the middle, and about fifteen or sixteen feet on each side,
and also at the very springing of the arch. Immediately
before the fall a shivering or crackling noise was heard,
and a great many chips dropped down from the middle,
between the two places from whence they had dropped a
fortnight before. The joints opened above at those new
places above two inches, and in the middle of the arch the
joints opened below, and in about five minutes after this
the whole came down. Even this movement was plainly
distinguishable into two parts. The crown sunk a little,
and the haunches rose very sensibly, and in this state it
hung for about half a minute. The arch-stones of the
crown wrere hanging by their upper corners : when these
splintered off, the whole fell down.
We apprehend that the procedure of nature was some¬
what in this manner. Straight lines can be drawn within
the arch-stones from A (Plate XLIX. fig. 8) to B andD, and
from these points to C and E. Each of the portions ED,
DA, AB, BC, resist as if they were of one stone, composing
a polygonal vault ED ABC. When this is overloaded at A,
A can descend in no other way than by pushing the an-
gles B and D outwards, causing the portions BC, DE, to
turn round C and E. This motion must raise the points
B and D, and cause the arch-stones to press on each other
at their iwwer joints b and d. This produced the copious
splintering at those joints immediately preceding the total
downfall. The splintering which happened a fortnight
before arose from this circumstance, that the lines AB
and AD, along which the pressure of the overload was
propagated, were tangents to the soffit of the arch in the
points F, H, and G, and therefore the strain lay all on those
corners of the arch-stones, and splintered a little from off
them till the whole took a firmer oed. The subsequent
phenomena are evident consequences of this distribution
and modification of pressure, and can hardly be explained
in any other way, at least not on the theoretical principles
already set forth; for in this bridge the loads at B and D
were very considerably greater than what the equilibrium
required; and we think that the first observed splintering
at H, F, and G, was most instructive, showing that there
was an extraordinary pressure at the inner joints in those
places, which cannot be explained by the usual theory.
Not satisfied with this single observation after this way
of explaining it occurred to us, and not being able to find
any similar fact on record, the writer of this article got
some small models of arches executed in chalk, and sub¬
jected them to many trials, in hopes of collecting some
general laws of the internal workings of arches which
finally produce their downfall. He had the pleasure of
observing the above-mentioned circumstances take place
very regularly and uniformly when he overloaded the
models at A. The arch always broke at some place B
considerably beyond another point F, where the first chip¬
ping had been observed. This is a method of trial that
deserves the attention both of the speculatist and the
practitioner.
If these reflections are any thing like a just account of
the procedure of nature in the failure of an arch, it is
evident that the ingenious mathematical theory of equili¬
brated arches is of little value to the engineer. We ven¬
tured to say as much already, and we rested a good deal
on the authority of Sir Christopher Wren. He was a
good mathematician, and delighted in the application of
this science to the arts. He was a celebrated architect,
and his reports on the various works committed to his
charge show that he was in the continued habit of mak¬
ing this application. Several specimens remain of his
own methods of applying them. Ihe roof of the theatre
of Oxford, the roof of the cupola of St Paul s, and in par¬
ticular the mould on which he turned the inner dome of
that cathedral, are proofs of his having studied this theory
most attentively. He flourished at the very time that it
occupied the attention of the greatest mechanicians of
Europe; but there is nothing to be found among his pa¬
pers which shows that he had paid much regard to it.
On the contrary, when he has occasion to deliver his
opinion for the instruction of others, and to explain to the
dean and chapter of Westminster his operations in repair¬
ing that collegiate church, this great architect considers
an arch just as a sensible and sagacious mason would do,
and very much in the way that we have just now been
treating it. (See Account of the Family of Wren, p. 356.)
Supported therefore by such authority, we would recom¬
mend this way of considering an arch to the study of
the mathematician; and we would desire the experien¬
ced mason to think of the most efficacious methods for re¬
sisting this tendency of arches to rise in the flanks. Un¬
fortunately there seems to be no precise principle to point
out the place where this tendency is most remarkable.
31. We are therefore highly pleased with the ingenious
Arch.
A R
Arch, contrivance of Mr Mylne, the architect of Blackfriars
Bridge in London, by which he determines this point with
precision, by making it impossible for the overloaded arch
to spring in any other place. Having thus confined the
failure to a particular spot, he with equal art opposes a
resistance which he believes to be sufficient; and the
present condition of that noble bridge, which does not in
any place show the smallest change of shape, proves that
he was not mistaken. Looking on this work as the first,
or at least the second, specimen of masonic ingenuity that
is to be seen in the world, we imagine that our readers
will be pleased with a particular account of its most re¬
markable circumstances.
Construe- The span k a (fig. 1) of the middle arch is 100 feet,
tioii of and its height OV is 40, and the thickness KV of the
Brid re18 crown s*x feet seven inches. Its form is nearly ellip-
Pi XLIX, ^cai» Part AVZ being an arch of a circle whose
centre is C, and radius 56 feet, and the two lateral por¬
tions A A B and Z a E being arches described with a ra¬
dius of 35 feet nearly. The thickness of the pier at a 5
is 19 feet. The thickness of the arch increases from the
crown V to Y, where it is eight or nine feet. All the
arch-stones have their joints directed to the centres of
their curvature. The joints are all joggled, having a cu¬
bic foot of hard stone let half-way into each. By this
contrivance the joints cannot slide, nor can any weight
laid on the crown ever break the arch in that part if the
piers do not yield; for a straight line from the middle of
KV to the middle of the joint YI is contained within the
solid masonry, and does not even come near the inner
joints of the arch-stones; therefore the whole resists like
one stone, and can be only broken by crushing it. The
joint at Z is very nearly perpendicular to a line ZF drawn
to the outer edge of the foundation of the pier. By this
it was intended to take off all tendency of the pressure
on the joint d Z to overset the pier; for if we suppose,
according to the theory of equilibration, that this pres¬
sure is necessarily exerted perpendicularly to the joint,
its direction passes through the fulcrum at F, round which
it is thought that the pier must turn in the act of over¬
setting. This precaution was adopted in order to make
the arch quite independent of the adjoining arches; so
that although any of them should fall, this arch should
run no risk.
Still farther to secure the independence of the arch,
the following construction was practised to unite it into
one mass, which should rise all together. All below the
line a 5 is built of large blocks of Portland stone, dove¬
tailed with sound oak. Four places in each course are
interrupted by equal blocks of a hard stone called Kentish
rag, sunk half-way in each course. These act as joggles,
breaking the courses, and preventing them from sliding
laterally.
The portion a Y of the arch is joggled like the upper
part. The interior part is filled up with large blocks of
Kentish rag, forming a kind of coursed rubble-work, the
courses tending to the centres of the arch. The under
corner of each arch-stone projects over the one below it.
By this form it takes fast hold of the rubble-work behind
it. Above this rubble there is constructed the inverted
arch I e G of Portland stone.1 This arch shares the pres¬
sure of the two adjoining arches, along with the arch¬
stones in Y a and in G 6. Thus all tend together to com¬
press and keep down the rubble-work in the heart of this
part of the pier. This is a very useful precaution; for it
^ 409
often happens, that when the centres of the arches are Arch
struck before the piers are built up to their intended W ^
weights, the thrust of the arches squeezes the rubble-
work horizontally, after the mortar has set, but before it
has dried and acquired its utmost hardness. Its bond is
broken by this motion, and it is squeezed up, and never
acquires its former firmness. This is effectually prevented
by the pressure exerted by the back of the inverted arch.
Above this counter-arch is another mass of coursed
rubble, and all is covered by a horizontal course of large
blocks of Portland stone, abutting against the back of the
arch-stone ZI and its corresponding one in the adjoining
arch. This course connects the feet of the two arches,
preserves the rubble-work from too great compression'
and protects it from soaking water. This last circum¬
stance is important; for if the water which falls on the
road-way is not carried off in pipes, it soaks through the
gravel or other rubbish, rests on the mortar, and keeps it
continually wet and soft. It cannot escape through the
joints of good masonry, and therefore fills up this part
like a funnel.
Supposing the adjoining arch fallen, and all tumbled off
that is not withheld by its situation, there will still re¬
main in the pier a mass of about 3500 tons. The weight
of the portion VY is about 2000 tons. The directions of
the thrusts VY and YF are such, that it would require a
load of 4500 tons on VY to overturn the pier round F.
Ihis exceeds VY by 2500 tons—a weight incomparably
greater than any that can ever be laid on it.
Such is the ingenious construction of Mr Mylne. It
evidently proceeds on the principles recommended above—
principles which had occurred to his experience and sa¬
gacious mind during the course of his extensive practice.
We have seen attempts by other engineers to withstand
the horizontal thrusts of the arch by means of counter¬
arches inserted in the same manner as here, but extend¬
ing much farther over the main arch; but they did not
appear to be well calculated for producing this effect.
A counter-arch springing from any point between Y and
V has no tendency to hinder that point from rising by the
sinking of the crown; and such a counter-arch will not
resist the precisely horizontal thrust so well as the straight
course of Mr Mylne.
32. The great incorporation of architects who built the Origin of
cathedrals of Europe departed entirely from the styles of the Gothic
ancient Greece and Rome, and introduced another, inarches*
which arcades made the principal part. Not finding in
every place quarries from which blocks could be raised in
abundance of sufficient size for forming the far-projecting
cornices of the Greek orders, they relinquished those
proportions, and adopted a style of ornament which re¬
quired no such projections ; and having substituted arches
for the horizontal architrave or lintel, they were now able
to erect buildings of vast extent with spacious openings,
and all this with very small pieces of stone. The form
which had been adopted for a Christian temple occasioned
many intersections of vaultings, and multiplied the arches
exceedingly. Constant practice gave opportunities of
giving every possible variety of these intersections, and
taught the art of balancing arch against arch in every
variety of situation. An art so multifarious, and so much
out of the road of ordinary thought, could not but become
an object of fond study to the architects most eminent for
ingenuity and invention. Becoming thus the dupes of
1 We know from good authority that the counter-arch here spoken of, although originally intended, was never executed, because it
was not thought necessary. The notion was, however, excellent, and it has, we believe, been actually executed in the Strand Bridge.
>\ 0 rather think the joggling was also abandoned, and, as far as we can judge, was not likely to be of any use.
VOL. III. J ' 3 F
410
Arch-
ARCH.
their own ingenuity, they were fond of displaying it even
when not necessary. At last arches became their princi¬
pal ornament, and a wall or ceiling was not thought dress¬
ed out as it should be till filled full of mock arches, cross¬
ing and abutting on each other in every direction. In this
process in their ceilings they found that the projecting
mouldings, which we now call the Gothic tracery, form¬
ed the chief supports of the roofs. The plane surfaces
included between those ribs were commonly vaulted with
very small stones, seldom exceeding six or eight inches
in thickness. This tracery, therefore, was not a random
ornament. Every rib bad a position and direction that
was not only proper, but even necessary. Habituated to
this scientific arrangement of the mouldings, they did not
deviate from it when they ornamented a smooth surface
with mock arches; and in none of the highly ornamented
ancient buildings will we find any false positions.
33. This is by no means the case in many of the modern
imitations of Gothic architecture, even by our best archi¬
tects. Ignorant of the directing principle, or not attend¬
ing to it, in their stucco-work they please the unskilled
eye with pretty radiated figures; but in these we fie-
quently see such abutments of mouldings as would infal¬
libly break the arches, if these mouldings were really
performing their ancient office, and supporting a vaulting
of considerable extent. Nay, this began even before the
Gothic style was finally abandoned. Several instances
are to be found in the highly enriched vaultings of New
College and Christ Church in Oxford, in St George’s
Chapel at Windsor, and Henry VII.’s Chapel in West¬
minster.
We call the middle ages rude and barbarous; but
there was surely much knowledge in those who could
execute such magnificent and difficult works. The work¬
ing drafts which were necessary for such varieties of
oblique intersections must have required considerable
skill, and would at present occupy many very expensive
volumes of Masons Jewels, Carpenters Manuals, and the
like. All this knowledge was kept a profound secret by
the corporation, and on its breaking up we had all to learn
again.
34. There is no appearance, however, that those archi¬
tects had studied the theory of equilibrated arches. They
had adopted an arch which was very strong, and permit¬
ted considerable irregularities of pressure—we mean the
pointed arch. The very deep mouldings with which it
was ornamented made the arch-stones very long in pro¬
portion to the span of the arch. But they had studied
the mutual thrust of arches on each other with great care ;
and they contrived to make every invention for this pur¬
pose become an ornament, so that the eye required it as
a necessary part of the building. Thus we frequently
see small buildings having buttresses at the sides. These
are necessary in a large vaulted building, for withstand¬
ing the outward thrust of the vaulting; but they are use¬
less when we have a flat ceiling within. Pinnacles on
the heads of the buttresses are now considered as orna¬
ments, but originally they were put there to increase the
weight of the buttress: even the great tower in the centre
of a cathedral, which now constitutes its greatest orna¬
ment, is a load almost indispensably necessary, for ena¬
bling the four principal columns to withstand the com¬
bined thrust of the aisles, of the nave, and transepts. In
short, the more closely we examine the ornaments of this
architecture, the more shall we perceive that they are
essential parts, or derived from them by imitation; and
the more we consider the whole style of it, the more
clearly do we see that it is all deduced from the relish
for arcades, indulged in the extreme, and pushed to the
limit of possibility of execution.
Arch.
35. There is another species of arch which must not be
overlooked, namely, the Dome or Cupola, with all its
varieties, which include even the pyramidal steeple or£°™^’r
spire.
It is evident that the erection of a dome is also a scien¬
tific art, proceeding on the principles of equilibration,
and that these principles admit and require the same or
similar modifications, in consequence of the cohesion and
friction of the materials. At first sight, too, a dome ap¬
pears a more difficult piece of work than a plain arch;
but when we observe potters’ kilns, and glasshouse domes,
and cones of vast extent, erected by ordinary bricklayers,
and with materials vastly inferior in size to what can be
employed in common arches of equal extent, we must
conclude that the circumstance of curvature in the ho¬
rizontal direction, or the abutment of a circular base,
gives some assistance to the artist. Of this we have com¬
plete demonstration in the case of the cone. We know
that a vaulting in the form of a pent roof could not be
executed to any considerable extent, and would be ex¬
tremely hazardous, even in the smallest dimensions ; while
a cone of the greatest magnitude can be raised with very
small stones, provided only that we prevent the bottom
from flying out, by a hoop, or any similar contrivance.
36. When we think a little of the matter, we see plain¬
ly, that if the horizontal section be perfectly round, and
the joints be all directed to the axis, they all equally en¬
deavour to slide inwards, while no reason can be offered
why any individual stone should prevail. I hey are. all
wedges, and operate only as wedges. When we consider
any single course, therefore, we see that it cannot fall in,
even though it may be part of a curve which cannot stand
as a common arch; nay, we see that a dome may be con¬
structed having the convexity of the curve, by the revo¬
lution of which it is formed, turned towards the axis, so
that the outline is concave. We shall afterwards find
that this is a stronger dome by far than if the convexity
were outwards, as in a common arch. We see also that
a cone may be loaded on the top with the greatest
weight, without the smallest danger of forcing it down,
so long as the bottom course is firmly kept from bursting
outwards. The stone lanthorn on the top of St Paul s
cathedral in London weighs several hundred tons, and
is carried by a brick cone of 18 inches thick, with per¬
fect safety, as long as the bottom course is pi evented
from bursting outwards. The reason is evident : dhe
pressure on the top is propagated along the cone in the
direction of the slant side; and, so far from having any
tendency to break it in any part, it tends rather to pre¬
vent its being broken by any irregular pressure from fo¬
reign causes.
37. For the same reasons the octagonal pyramids, which Proper
form the spires of Gothic architecture, are abundantly construc-
firm, although very thin. The sides of the spire of Sabs-
bury cathedral are not eight inches thick after the octa- r‘a”Bids *
gon is fully formed. It is proper, however, to direct the
joints to the axis of the pyramid, and to make the cours¬
ing joints perpendicular to the slant side, because the
projecting mouldings which run along the angles are the
abutments on which the whole panel depends. A con¬
siderable art is necessary for supporting those panels or
sides of the octagon which spring from the angles of the
square tower. This is done by beginning a very narrow
pointed arch on the square tower at a great distance be¬
low the top; so that the legs of the arch being very long,
a straight line may be drawn from the top of the keystone
of the arch through the whole arch-stones of the legs.
By this disposition the thrusts arising from the weight of
these four panels are made to meet on the massive ma¬
sonry in the middle of the sides of the tower, at a great
ARCH.
411
Arch, distance below the springing of the spire. This part, be-
ing loaded with the great mass of perpendicular wall, is
fully able to withstand the horizontal thrust from the legs
of those arches. In many spires these thrusts are still
farther resisted by iron bars which cross the tower, and
are hooked into pieces of brass firmly bedded in the ma¬
sonry of the sides.
38. There is much nice balancing of this kind to be
observed in the highly ornamented open spires; such as
those of Brussels, Mecklin, Antwerp, &c. We have not
many of this sort in Britain. In those of great magni¬
tude, the judicious eye will discover, that parts, which a
common spectator would consider as mere ornaments, are
necessary for completing the balance of the whole. Tall
pinnacles, nay even pillars carrying entablatures and pin¬
nacles, are to be seen standing on the middle of the slen¬
der leg of an arch. On examination we find that this is
necessary, to prevent the arch from springing upwards in
that place by the pressure at the crown. The steeple of
the cathedral of Mecklin was the most elaborate piece of
architecture in this taste in the world, and was really a
wonder; but it was not calculated to withstand a bom¬
bardment, which destroyed it in 1578.
Such frequent examples of irregular and whimsical
buildings of this kind show that great liberties may be
taken with the principle of equilibration without risk, if
we take care to secure the base from being thrust out¬
wards. This may always be done by hoops, which can
be concealed in the masonry; whereas in common arches
these ties would be visible, and would olfend the eye.
39. It is now time to attend to the principle of equi¬
librium as it operates in a simple circular dome, and to
determine the thickness of the vaulting when the curve
is given, or the curve when the thickness is given. There¬
fore, let B 6 A (Plate XLIX. fig. 2) be the curve which pro¬
duces the dome by revolving round the vertical axis AD.
We shall suppose this curve to be drawn through the
middle of all the arch-stones, and that the coursing or hori¬
zontal joints are everywhere perpendicular to the curve.
We shall suppose (as is always the case) that the thickness
KL, HI, &c. of the arch-stones is very small in comparison
with the dimensions of the arch. If we consider any por¬
tion HA h of the dome, it is plain that it presses on the
course, of which HL is an arch-stone, in a direction b C
perpendicular to the joint HI, or in the direction of the
next superior element /3 6 of the curve. As we proceed
downwards, course after course, we see plainly that this
direction must change, because the weight of each course
is superadded to that of the portion above it, to complete
the pressure on the course below. Through B draw the
vertical line BCG, meeting [3 b, produced in C. We may
take Z> C to express the pressure of all that is above it, pro¬
pagated in this direction to the joint KL. We may also
suppose the weight of the course HL united in b, and
acting on the vertical. Let it be represented by b F. If
we form the parallelogram b FGC, the diagonal b G will
represent the direction and intensity of the whole pressure
on the joint KL. Thus it appears that this pressure is
continually changing its direction, and that the line, which
will always coincide with it, must be a curve concave
downward. If this be precisely the curve of the dome,
it will be an equilibrated vaulting; but so far from being
the strongest form, it is the weakest, and it is the limit
to an infinity of others, which are all stronger than it.
This will appear evident, if we suppose that b G does not
coincide with the curve A 5 B, but passes without it. As
we suppose the arch-stones to be exceedingly thin from
inside to outside, it is plain that this dome cannot stand,
and that the weight of the upper part will press it down,
and spring the vaulting outwards at the joint KL. But
let us suppose, on the other hand, that b G falls within Arch,
the curvilinear element b B. This evidently tends to push
the arch-stone inward towards the axis, and would cause
it to slide in, since the joints are supposed perfectly
smooth and slipping. But since this takes place equally
in every stone of this course, they must all abut on each
other in the vertical joints, squeezing them firmly toge¬
ther. Therefore, resolving the thrust b G into two, one
of which is perpendicular to the joint KL, and the other
parallel to it, we see that this last thrust is withstood by
the vertical joints all around, and there remains only the
thrust in the direction of the cuiwe. Such a dome must
therefore be firmer than an equilibrated dome, and can¬
not be so easily broken by overloading the upper part.
When the curve is concave upwards, as in the lower part
of the figure, the line b C always falls below b B, and the
point C below B. When the curve is concave downwards,
as in the upper part of the figure, b' C' passes above, or with¬
out b B. The curvature may be so abrupt, that even b’ G'
shall pass without b' B', and the point G' is above B'. It is
also evident that the force which thus binds the stones of a
horizontal course together, by pushing them towards the
axis, will be greater in flat domes than in those that are
more convex; that it will be still greater in a cone, and
greater still in a curve whose convexity is turned inwards;
for in this last case the line Z>G will deviate most remarkably
from the curve. Such a dome will stand (having polished
joints) if the curve springs from the base with any eleva¬
tion, however small; nay, since the friction of two pieces
of stone is not less than half of their mutual pressure,
such a dome will stand although the tangent to the curve
at the bottom should be horizontal, provided that the ho¬
rizontal thrust be double the weight of the dome, which
may easily be the case if it do not rise high.
40. Thus we see that the stability of a dome depends Stability of
on very different principles from that of a common arch,a dome de-
and is in general much greater. It differs also in another Pe.hds on
very important circumstance, viz. that it may be open in jj;ffergnt
the middle ; for the uppermost course, by tending equally from that
in every part to slide in toward the axis, presses all to-ofacorn-
gether in the vertical joints, and acts on the next course mon arch,
like the keystone of a common arch. Therefore an arch
of equilibration, which is the weakest of all, may be open
in the middle, and carry at top another building, such as
a lanthorn, if its weight do not exceed that of the circular
segment of the dome that is omitted. A greater load than
this would indeed break the dome, by causing it to spring
up in some of the lower courses; but this load may be in¬
creased if the curve is flatter than the curve of equilibra¬
tion : and any load whatever, which will not crush the
stones to powder, may be set on a truncate cone, or on a
dome formed by a curve that is convex toward the axis;
provided always that the foundation be effectually prevent¬
ed from flying out, either by a hoop, or by a sufficient mass
of solid pier on which it is set.
41. We have mentioned the many failures which hap¬
pened to the dome of St Sophia in Constantinople. We
imagine that the thrust of the great dome, bending the
eastern arch outwards as soon as the pier began to yield,
destroyed the half-dome which was leaning on it, and
thus almost in an instant took away the eastern abutment.
We think that this might have been prevented without
any change in the injudicious plan, if the dome had been
hooped with iron, as was practised by Michael Angelo in
the vastly more ponderous dome of St Peter’s at Home,
and by Sir Christopher Wren in the cone and the inner
dome of St Paul’s at London. The weight of the latter
considerably exceeds 3000 tons, and they occasion a hori¬
zontal thrust which is nearly half this quantity, the eleva¬
tion of the cone being about 60°. This being distributed
ARCH.
round the circumference, occasions a strain on the hoop
7
= 2 ^ 22 t^ie t^rust’ or near]y 238 tons. A square inch
of the worst iron, if well forged, will carry 24 tons with
perfect safety ; therefore a hoop of 7 inches broad and 1^
inch thick will completely secure this circle from bursting
outwards. It is, however, much more completely secur¬
ed ; for, besides a hoop at the base of very nearly these
dimensions, there are hoops in different courses of the
cone, which bind it into one mass, and cause it to press
on the piers in a direction exactly vertical. The only
thrusts which the piers sustain are those from the arches
of the body of the church and the transepts. These are
most judiciously directed to the entering angles of the
building, and are there resisted with insuperable force
by the whole lengths of the walls, and by four solid masses
of masonry in the corners. Whoever considers with at¬
tention and judgment the plan of this cathedral, will see
that the thrusts of these arches, and of the dome, are in¬
comparably better balanced than in St Peter’s church at
Rome. But to return from this sort of digression,
the friction of the joints and the cohesion of the cement.
An equilibrium, accompanied by some firm stability, pro- '
duced by the mutual pressure of the vertical joints, may
hyVdx? -}- dy2 ^ d2x
be expressed by the ^ or
hy Vdx1 -f- djft _ dx dt_^ t js somg variable
\fhyVdx>+dy2 dxt
positive quantity, which increases when x increases. This
last equation will also express the equilibrated dome, if t
be a constant quantity, because in this case — is = 0.
Since a firm stability requires that
hydx V dx2 + dy2
J' hy s/dx1 + dy1
shall be greater than d2x, and CG must be greater than
CB; hence we learn that figures of too great curva¬
ture, whose sides descend too rapidly, are improper. Also,
since stability requires that we have ^<,j2 + thJ_
d2x
the curves t]ie thrust b C, exerted by all the courses above HILK,
proper for an(j ^g force j or the weight of that course, be every-
domes. w^grg coincident with b B, the element of the curve, we
shall have an equilibrated dome: if it falls within it, we
have a dome which will bear a greater load ; and if it falls
without it, the dome will break at the joint. We must
endeavour to get analytical expressions of these conditions.
Therefore draw the ordinates b d b", BDB", C d C". Let
the tangents at b and b" meet the axis in M, and make
MO, MP, each equal to be, and complete the parallelogram
MONP, and draw OQ, perpendicular to the axis, and pro¬
duce b F, cutting the ordinates in E and e.1 It is plain
that MN is to MO as the weight of the arch HAS to the
thrust bC which it exerts on the joint KL (this thrust
being propagated through the course HILK) ; and that
MQ, or its equal b e, or d d, may represent the weight of
the half HA.
Let AD be called x, and DB be called ?/. Then be=dx,
and eC = dy (because 6 C is in the direction of the ele¬
ment j3 b). It is also plain that if we make dy constant,
BC is the second fluxion of x, or BC = cPx, and be and
6E may be considered as equal, and taken indiscriminate¬
ly for dx. We have also bC — V dx1 + dy2. Let h be the
depth or thickness HI of the arch-stones. Then hVdx? -j- dy2
will represent the trapezium HL; and since the circum¬
ference of each course increases in the proportion of the
radius y, hyVdx2 + dy? will express the whole course.
If f be taken to represent the sum or aggregate of the quan¬
tities annexed to it, the formula will be analogous to the
fluent of a fluxion, and J hyVdx? + dy2 will represent the
whole mass, and also the weight of the vaulting, down
to the joint HI. Therefore we have this proportion,
bV,
f hyVdx2 + dy2 : hyVdx? + dy2 :
— bd: CG, = dx : CG.
be
b e : CG,
Therefore 06 = ^"+^
Jhy V/dx? -f- dy2
If the curvature of the dome be precisely such as puts
it in equilibrium, but without any mutual pressure in the
vertical joints, this value of CG must be equal to CB or
to d?x, the point G coinciding with B. This condition
will be expressed by the equation^-^jj^
hyVdx? -f dy2 <px
or, more conveniently, by jhys/d^^df-di'
form gives only a tottering equilibrium, independent of
Arch.
XVUIIlt;. JJUL l/U ICLU11J1 XAV/111 txno ovxi. 1/ WJ. p   
Theory of 42. We have seen that if b G, the thrust compounded of greater than J hy V dx? + dy2, we learn that the upper
part of the dome must not be made very heavy. This,
by diminishing the proportion of i F to & C, diminishes the
angle CiG, and may set the point G above B, which will
infallibly spring the dome in that place. W e see here
also, that the algebraic analysis expresses that peculiarity
of dome-vaulting, viz. that the weight of the upper part
may even be suppressed.  
hy V dx? + dy2 _ d?x , dt
The fluent of the equation ^ +T
is most easily found: it is I./Xy v7dr + ihf = L<fr +
L*, where L is the hyperbolic logarithm of the quantity
annexed to it. If we consider dy as constant, and cor¬
rect the fluent so as to make it nothing at the vertex, it
may be expressed thus, L; f hy s/dx1 4~ dy2 L « \>dx
f hy s/dx2 + dy2 T dx
— L % + L *. This gives us L ^ - L dyt
, fhy*Sdx? + dy2 _ dx
and therefore     
This last equation will easily give us the depth of
vaulting, or thickness h of the arch, when the cuive is
. hy \/dx? + dy2 _ dtdx + td?x
given. For its fluxion is ^ “ yy >
^ adldx + cttd-x_ ;g ap expressed in known
and h = ydy >Jfaf+~dy2'
quantities; for we may put in place of ^ any power or
function of * or of y, and thus convert the expression
into another, which will be applicable to all sorts of
curves- dt
Instead of the second member ^ + 7> we might em-
ploy where p is some number greater than unity.
This will evidently give a dome having stability, because
the original formula ^^gi^will then be greater
7 paxv~ld?x
than d?x.
This will give h —
Each of
= t-. But this cases
ydyv V dx? + dif
these forms has its advantages when applied to particular
ad?x
Each of them also gives h =
ydy V dx? + dy2
when the curvature is such as is in precise equilibrium.
* The letters e and d are wanting in the plate; e ought to be at the intersection of 6 E and C c", and d at that of AD and C cT.
ARCH.
413
Arch. And, lastly, if A be constant, that is, if the vaulting be of
■’V-"*' uniform thickness, we obtain the form of the curve, be¬
cause then the relation of cPx to dx and to dy is given.
The chief use of this analysis is to discover what
curves are improper for domes, or what portions of given
curves may be employed with safety. Domes are gene¬
rally built for ornament, and we see that there is great
room for indulging our fancy in the choice. All curves
which are concave outwards will give domes of great firm¬
ness : they are also beautiful. The Gothic dome, whose
outline is an undulated curve, may be made abundantly
firm, especially if the upper part be convex and the lower
concave outwards.
The chief difficulty in the case of this analysis arises
from the necessity of expressing the weight of the incum¬
bent part, or fhy Vdoc1 -)- dy2. This requires the mea¬
surement of the conoidal surface, which, in most cases,
can be had only by approximation by means of infinite
series. We cannot expect that the generality of prac¬
tical builders are familiar with this branch of mathematics,
and therefore will not engage in it here; but content
ourselves with giving such instances as can be understood
by such as have that moderate mathematical knowledge
which every man should possess who takes the name of
engineer.
The surface of any circular portion of a sphere is very
easily had, being equal to the circle described with a ra¬
dius equal to the chord of half the arch. This radius is
evidently -Vdofi-^-dy2.
In order to discover what portion of a hemisphere may
be employed (for it is evident that we cannot employ the
whole) when the thickness of the vaulting is uniform, we
may recur to the equation or formula hydxVd.xr dy2
-'fhyVdxP-^rdy2. Let a be the radius of the hemi¬
sphere. We have dx~ — and d-x — 7-fSub-
Vcd—y* («2—/)!
stituting these values in the formula, we obtain the equa-
_ cPvdv
tion a2—y2 — f , -• We easily obtain the fluent of
v a2—y1
the second member = a3—aVa2—if, and?/=«V/—| + \/f*
Therefore, if the radius of the sphere be 1, the half
Dome of
St Peter’s
at Rome.
breadth of the dome must not exceed V—\ or
0*786, and the height will be *618. The arch from the
vertex is about 51° 49'. Much more of the hemisphere
cannot stand, even though aided by the cement, and by
the friction of the coursing joints. This last circumstance,
by giving connection to the upper parts, causes the whole
to press more vertically on the course below, and thus
diminishes the outward thrust; but it at the same time
diminishes the mutual abutment of the vertical joints,
which is a great cause of firmness in the vaulting. A
Gothic dome, of which the upper part is a portion of a
sphere not exceeding 45° from the vertex, and the lower
part is concave outwards, will be very strong, and not un¬
graceful.
43. But the public taste has long rejected this form, and
seems rather to select more elevated domes than this por¬
tion of a sphere, because a dome, when seen from a small
distance, always appears flatter than it really is. The
dome of St Peter’s is nearly an ellipsoid externally, of
which the longer axis is perpendicular to the horizon. It
is very ingeniously constructed. It springs from the base
perpendicularly, and is very thick in this part. After
rising about 50 feet, the vaulting separates into two thin
vaultings, which gradually separate from each other.
These two shells are connected together by thin parti- Arch,
tions, which are very artificially dovetailed in both, and
thus form a covering which is extremely stiff, while it is
very light. Its great stiffness was necessary for enabling
the crown of the dome to carry the elegant stone lanthorn
with safety. It is a wonderful performance and has not
its equal in the world ; but it is an enormous load in com¬
parison with the dome of St Paul’s, and this even inde¬
pendent of the difference of size. If they were of equal
dimensions, it would be at least five times as heavy, and
is not so firm by its gravity; but as it is connected in
every part by iron bars (lodged in the solid masonry, and
well secured from the weather by having lead melted all
around them), it bids fair to last for ages if the founda¬
tions do not fail.
If a circle be described round a centre, placed anywhere
in the transverse axis AC (Plate XLVIII. fig. 11) of an
ellipse, so as to touch the ellipse in the extremities B, b
of an ordinate, it will touch it internally, and the circular
arch B a A will be wholly within the elliptical arch BAA.
Therefore, if an elliptical and a spherical vaulting spring
from the same base, at the same angle with the horizon,
the spherical vaulting will be within the elliptical, will be
flatter and lighter, and therefore the weight of the next
course below will bear a greater proportion to the thrust
in the direction of the curve; therefore the spherical
vaulting will have more stability. On the contrary, and
for similar reasons, an oblate elliptical vaulting is prefer¬
able to a spherical vaulting springing with the same in¬
clination to the horizon. (Fig. 13.)
44. Persuaded that what has been said on the subject Dimen-
convinces the reader that a vaulting perfectly equilibrated sions of
throughout is by no means the best form, provided that J.he best
the base is secured from separating, we think it u0116068**^,1,^0 1
sary to give the investigation of that form, which has a
considerable intricacy, and shall content ourselves with
merely giving its dimensions. The thickness is supposed
uniform. The numbers in the first column of the table
express the portion of the axis counted from the vertex,
and those of the second column are the lengths of the
ordinates.
The curve delineated in fig. 15 is formed according to
these dimensions, and appears destitute of gracefulness,
because its curvature changes abruptly at a little distance
from the vertex, so that it has some appearance of being
made up of different curves pieced together. But if the
middle be occupied by a lanthorn of equal or of smaller
weight, this defect will cease, and the whole will be ele¬
gant, nearly resembling the exterior dome of St Paul’s in
London.
45. It is not a small advantage of dome-vaulting, thatitAdvan-
is lighter than any that can cover the same area. If, tages of
moreover, it be spherical, it will admit considerable varie-^om.®.'
ties of figure by combining different spheres. Thus, a
dome may begin from its base as a portion of a large
hemisphere, and may be broken off at any horizontal
414
Arch.
Effects of
cement
and fric¬
tion in
dome¬
vaulting.
The iron
bridge at
Sunder¬
land de¬
scribed.
ARCH.
course, and then a similar or a greater portion of a small¬
er sphere may spring from this course as a base. It also
bears being intersected by cylindrical vaultings in every
direction, and the intersections are exact circles, and al¬
ways have a pleasing effect. It also springs most grace¬
fully from the heads of small piers, or from the corners
of rooms of any polygonal shape; and the arches formed
by its intersections with the walls are always circular and
graceful, forming very handsome spandrels in every posi¬
tion. For these reasons Sir Christopher Wren employed
it in all his vaultings, and he has exhibited many beauti¬
ful varieties in the transepts and the aisles of St Paul s,
which are highly worthy of the observation of architects.
Nothing can be more graceful than the vaultings at the
ends of the north and south transepts, especially as fur¬
nished off in the fine inside view published by Gwynn and
Wale.
46. The connection of the parts arising from cement and
from friction has a great effect on dome-vaulting. In the
same way as in common arches and cylindrical vaulting, it
enables an overload on one place to break the dome in a
distant place. But the resistance to this effect is much
greater in dome-vaulting, because it operates all round
the overloaded part. Hence it happens that domes are
much less shattered by partial violence, such as the fall¬
ing of a bomb or the like. Large holes may be broken in
them without much affecting the rest; but, on the other
hand, it greatly diminishes the strength which should be
derived from the mutual pressure in the vertical joints.
Friction prevents the sliding in of the arch-stones, which
produces this mutual pressure in the vertical joints, except
in the very highest courses, and even there it greatly di¬
minishes it. These causes make a great change in the
form which gives the greatest strength ; and as their laws
of action are as yet but very imperfectly understood, it is
perhaps impossible, in the present state of our knowledge,
to determine this form with tolerable precision. We see
plainly, however, that it allows a greater deviation from
the best form than the other kind of vaulting, and domes
may be made to rise perpendicular to the horizon at the
base, although of no great thickness; a thing which must
not be attempted in a plain arch. The immense addition
of strength which may be derived from hooping largely
compensates for all defects; and there are hardly any
bounds to the extent to which a very thin dome-vaulting
may be carried when it is hooped or framed in the direc¬
tion of the horizontal courses. The roof of the Halle du
Bled at Paris is but a foot thick, and its diameter is more
than 200, yet it appears to have abundant strength. It
is, on the whole, a noble specimen of architecture.
47. We must not conclude this article without taking
notice of that magnificent and elegant arch erected in
cast iron at Wearmouth, near Sunderland, in the county
of Durham. The inventor and architect was Rowland
Burden, Esq.
This arch (of which a view is given at the article Bridge)
is a segment of a circle whose diameter is about 444 feet.
The span or chord of the arch is 236 feet, and its versed
sine or spring is 34 feet. It springs at the elevation of
60 feet from the surface of the river at low water, so that
vessels of 200 or perhaps 300 tons burden may pass under
it in the middle of the stream, and even 50 feet on each
side of it.
The sweep of the arch consists of a series of frames of
cast iron, which abut on each other, in the same manner
as the voussoirs of a stone arch. One of these frames or
blocks (as we shall call them in future) is represented in
Plate XLIX. fig. 3, as seen in front. It is cast in one piece,
and consists of three pieces or arms BC, BC, BC, the middle
one of which is two feet long, the upper being somewhat Arch,
more, and the lower somewhat less, because their extiemi-'v-^~v^
ties are bounded by the radius drawn from the centie of the
arch. These arms are four inches square, and are con¬
nected by other pieces KL, of such length that the whole
length of the block is five feet in the direction of the
radius. Each arm has a flat groove on each side, which
is expressed by the darker shading, three inches broad
and three fourths of an inch deep. A section of this
block, through the middle of KL, is represented by the
light-shaded part BBB, in which the grooves are more
distinctly perceived. These grooves are intended for re¬
ceiving flat bars of malleable iron, which are employed for
connecting the different blocks with each other. Fig. 4
represents two blocks united in this manner. For this
purpose each arm has two square bolt-holes. The ends
of the arms being nicely trimmed off, so that the three
ends abut equally close on the ends of the next block ; and
the bars of hammered iron being also nicely fitted to their
grooves, so as to fill them completely, and have their bolt¬
holes exactly corresponding to those in the blocks; they
are put together in such a manner that the joints or meet¬
ings of the malleable bars may fall on the middle between
the bolt-holes in the arms. Flat-headed bolts of wrought
iron are then put through, and keys or forelocks are driven
through the bolt-tails, and thus all is firmly wedged to¬
gether, binding each arm between two bars of wrought
iron. These bars are of such length as to connect seve¬
ral blocks.
In this manner a series of about 125 blocks are joined
together, so as to form the precise curve that is intended.
This series may be called a rib, and it stands in a vertical
plane. The arch consists of six of these ribs, distant from
each other five feet. These ribs are connected together
so as to form an arch of 32 feet in breadth, in the follow¬
ing manner.
Fig. 5 represents one of the bridles or cross pieces
which connect the different ribs, as it appears when view¬
ed from below. It is a hollow pipe of cast iron four
inches in diameter, and has at each end two projecting
shoulders, pierced with a bolt-hole near their extremities,
so that the distance between the bolt-holes in the shoul¬
ders of one end is equal to the distance between the holes
in the arms of the blocks, or the holes in the wrought iron
bars. In the middle of the upper and of the under side of
each end may be observed a square prominence, more
lightly shaded than the rest. These projections also ad¬
vance a little beyond the flat of the shoulders, forming be¬
tween them a shallow notch about an inch deep, which
receives the iron of the arms, where they abut on each
other, and thus give an additional firmness to the joint.
The manner in which the arms are thus grasped by these
notches in the bridles is more distinctly seen in fig. 4,
at the letter H, in the middle of the upper rail.
The rib having been all trimmed and put together, so
as to form the exact curve, the bolts are all taken out,
and the horizontal bridles are then set on in their places,
and the bolts are again put in and made fast by the fore¬
locks. The bolts now pass through the shoulders of the
bridles, through the wrought iron bars, and through the
cast iron arm that is between them, and the forelocks
bind all fast together. The manner in which this connec¬
tion is completed is distinctly seen in fig. 4, which shows
in perspective a double block in front, and a single block
behind it. The abutting joints of the two front blocks are
at the letters E, E, E; the holes in the shoulders of the
horizontal cross pieces are at H.
48. This construction is beautifully simple, and very
judicious. A vast addition of strength and of stiffness is
procured by lodging the wrought iron bars in grooves
ARCH.
Arcb.
formed in the cast iron rails; and for this purpose it is of
' great importance to make the wrought iron bars fill the
grooves completely, and even to be so tight as to require
the force of the forelocks to draw them home to the bot¬
tom of the grooves. There can be no doubt but that this
arch is able to withstand an enormous pressure, as long
as the abutments from which it springs do not yield. Of
this there is hardly any risk, because they are masses of
rock, faced with about four or five yards (in some places
only) of solid block masonry. The mutual thrusts of the
frames are all in the direction of the rails, so that no part
bears any transverse strain. We can hardly conceive any
force that can overcome the strength of those arms by
pressure or crushing them. The manner in which the
frames are connected into one rib effectually secures the
abutting joints from slipping; and the accuracy with which
the whole can be executed secures us against any warp¬
ing or deviation of a rib from the vertical plane.
But when we consider the prodigious span of this arch,
and reflect that it is only five feet thick, it should seem
that the most perfect equilibration is indispensably neces¬
sary. It is but like a film, and must be so supple, that an
overload on any part must have a great tendency to bend
it, and to cause it to rise in a distant part; and this effect
is increased by the very firmness with which the -whole
sticks together. The overloaded part acts on a distant
part, tending to break it with all the energy of a long
lever. This can be prevented only by means of the stiff¬
ness of the distant part. It is very true, the arch cannot
break in the extrados except by tearing asunder the
wrought iron bars which connect the blocks along the up¬
per rail, and each of these requires more than a hundred
tons to tear it asunder; yet an overload of five tons on any
rib at its middle will produce this strain at twenty feet
from the sides, supposing the sides held firm in their po¬
sition. It were desirable, therefore, that something were
done to stiffen the arch at the sides, by the manner of
filling up the spandrels or space between the arch and
the road-way. This is filled up in a manner that is ex¬
tremely light and pleasing to the eye, namely, by large
cast iron circles, which touch the extrados of the arch and
touch the road-way. The road-way rests on them as on
so many hoops, while they rest on the back of the arch,
and also touch each other laterally. We cannot think
that this contributes to the strength of the arch ; for these
hoops will be easily compressed at the points of contact,
and, changing their shape, will oppose very little resist¬
ance. We think that this part of the arch might have
been greatly stiffened and strengthened by connecting it
with the road-way by trussed frames, in the same way
that a judicious carpenter would have framed a roof. If
a strong cast iron pillar had been made to rest on the
arch at about 20 feet from the impost, and been placed in
the direction of a radius, the top of this pillar might have
been connected by a diagonal bar of wrought iron with
the impost of the arch, and with the crown of the arch
by another string or bar of the same materials. These
two ties would cause the radial pillar to press strongly on
the back of the arch, and they must be torn asunder be¬
fore it could bend in that place in the smallest degree.
Supposing them of the same dimensions as the bars in the
arms, their position would give them near ten times the
force for resisting the strain produced by an overload on
the crown.
This beautiful arch contains only 260 tons of iron, of
which about 55 are wrought iron. The superstructure is
of wood, planked over a top. This floor is covered with
a coating of chalk and tar, on which are laid the materials
for the carriage road, consisting of marl, limestone, and
gravel, with foot-ways of flag-stones at the sides. The
weight of the whole did not exceed 1000 tons, whereas
t ic lightest stone arch which could have been erected
would have weighed 15,000. It was turned on a very
light but stiff scaffolding, most judiciously constructed for
the preservation of its form, and for allowing an uninter¬
rupted passage for the numerous ships and small craft
which frequent the busy harbour of Sunderland. The
mode of framing the arch was so simple and easy that it
was put up in ten days, without an accident; and when
all was finished, and the scaffolding removed, the arch did
not sensibly change its form. The whole work was exe¬
cuted in three years, and cost about L.26,0OO.
Appendix.
49. The excellence of the preceding article, written by
the late Dr John Robison, Professor of Natural Philosophy
in the University of Edinburgh, for the Supplement to
the third edition of this work, may be inferred from the
fact, that almost every later writer on mechanics has
spoken of it with approbation, and borrowed more or less
from it. (See Gregory’s Mechanics, book i. chap. 6 ; Hut¬
ton’s Tracts, vol. i., Bridges; Whewell’s Mechanics, art.
72, &c.) There is however one part of the article, viz.
the purely mathematical part, which must have been
quite unintelligible as it originally appeared, because of
its numerous typographical errors. These are here cor¬
rected, we believe for the first time. Even with this ad¬
vantage, we fear it has rather a forbidding aspect to the
student of modern mathematics, because of the very
complicated diagram (see Plate XLVIIT. fig. 12) from which
the differential equation of the equilibrated arch has
been deduced. We shall therefore, as an appendix,
treat of the equilibrated polygon and equilibrated arch
upon the general principles of statics, and employ in this
investigation only the most simple geometrical figures.
The theory of the equilibrated arch cannot be delivered
without employing the principles of the differential and
integral calculus; but we shall endeavour to pass from
the finite equation of the equilibrated polygon to the
differential equation of the arch by the shortest and most
direct road.
Equilibrated Polygon.
50. In Plate XLIX. fig. 9,let ABCDED'C'B'A' be a poly¬
gon formed by beams or rods AB, BC, CD, DE, &c. of any
length, movable about the points B, C, D, E, &c. as joints,
and forming an equilibrium in a vertical plane by the
mutual thrusts at the joints and by the weight of the
beams, the extreme sides of the polygon being supposed
supported or attached to fixed points. Let AB, BC,
CD, be any three consecutive sides of the polygon: pro¬
duce AB, DC, the extreme sides, until they meet in H.
The beam BC is kept in its position by the thrusts of the
adjoining beams AB, CD, in the directions BH, CH,
and its own weight, which is equivalent to pressures or
loads on the joints B, C, acting in a vertical direction.
Let G be the point in BC, which is the centre of gravity
of weights proportional to loads at B and C. By the
principles of statics, the directions of these forces must
pass through the same point; therefore G must be in a
vertical line passing through H.
51. Draw BL, CK, perpendicular to the vertical H G.
Let <p, cp', <p", denote the angles which the lines AB, BC,
CD, in their order, make with any horizontal line in the
plane of the polygon ; then
p = angle HBL, p' - GBL = GCK, = HCK:
also let w denote the load on the joint B, and w' the load
on the joint C.
416
ARCH.
Arch.
By the nature of the centre of gravity,
u>: w' — CG : BG = CK : BL,
1 1 _ HG hg
BL : CK “ BL : CK :
HL GL
therefore w \ w' —
HG XXJLJ VX-
Now —— — —r = tan. <p — tan. ©
^ BL “ BL BL y
xxvx vxx, HK , t
and ^ = -7^? — qk = tan- 9 ~ tan- ? ?
HG _ GK
CK “ CK
hence it appears that
w vf — tan. <p — tan. <p': tan. <p' — tan. f".
If uf' denote the load on the next joint D, and <p'" the
angle which the line DE makes with the horizontal plane,
it will appear in the same way that
vf : w" = tan. f' — tan. <p": tan. <p" — tan. <p"',
and so on throughout the whole polygon: whence we
have this important proposition:
The vertical pressures on any two joints of the polygon,
whether adjoining or remote, are to one another as the dif¬
ferences of the tangents of the angles which the sides about
the joints make with the plane of the horizon.
52. From this proposition we may infer, that if p, p' de¬
note the angles which any two adjoining sides of the
polygon make with the horizontal plane, and w the load
on the joint at their intersection, then,
w — ^ (tan. p — tan.  (A) ;
and in this formula, C denotes some constant quantity,
which is the same for all the angles of the polygon. This
is the general equation of the equilibrated polygon; and
it shows that the loads at the joints depend entirely on
the angles which the beams make with the horizontal
plane, and are independent of the lengths of the beams
themselves.
Equilibrated Arch.
53. We shall next investigate the differential equation
of an equilibrated arch, deducing it from the finite equa¬
tion of the equilibrated polygon.
Let us suppose an equilibrated polygon of a very great
number of sides (fig- lO)? and that a curve ABC passes
through all the joints: the sides of the polygon will then
be chords in the curve; and as the number of these may
be conceived to be greater than any assigned number, and
each shorter than any given line, they may be regarded
as elements of the curve, and as constituting it.
54. Let us suppose the curve ABC formed in this man¬
ner to be the intrados of an arch of a bridge, and that the
extrados is the line MDN, which may be curved or
straight. Let AC be the span, or greatest horizontal
width of the arch, and BH, which bisects AC at right
angles, its rise or height; also let BD be the thickness of
the arch of the crown : draw a straight line EDF perpen¬
dicular to DH, and draw AE, CF perpendicular to EF.
Let Vp be any indefinitely small part of the intrados
ABC. Draw PHQ perpendicular to the horizontal line
EF, meeting the extrados in R, and rp parallel to RP;
also draw PK perpendicular to DH, meeting rp in q, and
PT touching the intrados in p; and, referring the two
curves to the same axes DE, let us put
x = DQ the common abscissa,
y — PQ the ordinate of the intrados,
v — RQ the ordinate of the extrados,
p — angle TPK made by the tangent and horizontal linePK,
c’— DB the given value of y at the crown,
d'— AE the given value of y at either haunch.
Then, because Yp is a differential of the arc BP, we
have Yq = dx, and pq = dy.
55. The load on the arc BP is the gravitating matter
between it and DR, tne arc of tne extrados immediately ( Arch,
over it. This is expressed by the area BDRP; there-
fore the load on Yp, the differential of the arc, is (y — v)dx,
the differential of that area.
We have put f to denote the angle which a tangent at
P makes with any horizontal line ; similarly, let <p denote
the angle which a line touching the curve at p makes
with a horizontal line. If now the curve be considered
as a polygon of an infinite number of infinitely short sides,
and the lines which touch the curve at P and p as the pro¬
longations of two adjoining sides, then, by formula (A),
sect. 52, the vertical pressure at their intersection will be
C (tan. p — tan. <pj. But these infinitely short touching
lines may be regarded as forming Yp, the differential of
the curve, the load on which we have found to be
(y — v)dx; and, moreover, tan. <p — tan. p' = rf(tan. <p),
the differential of the trigonometrical tangent of p; there¬
fore, the relation between the intrados and extrados will
be expressed by this equation,
C c?(tan. <p) = (y — v)dx.
Now in all curves, tan. f and making dx constant,
(/(tan. <p) = let us, to make the members of the
equation homogeneous, put c2 instead of C, which is al¬
ways positive, and the above equation becomes
dx
= (y — v)dx ;
•(B).
and hence
d?y y _ v
dx? <? <?
This differential equation, which is of the second order,
and linear, or of the first degree, comprehends in it the
whole theory of the equilibrated arch. We may now de¬
duce from it the resolution of two problems.
Prob. 1. Having given the form of the intrados ABC,
to find that of the extrados.
Prob. 2. Having given the nature of the extrados, to
determine the intrados.
56. The first problem is easy, and may be resolved by
the differential calculus.
Ex. Let the intrados ABC be a segment of a circle
whose centre is O. Draw PO to the centre. Let angle
POB, and a = PO the radius of the circle ; then,
x — DO = PK = a sin. <p,
y — PQ — BD + BK = c'+a (1 — cos. <p),
dxzz. a cos. <p dtp, dy — a sin. <pd<p,
dv sin. © . _ d?y d<p
dx cos. p r dx cos/cp
cPy _ 1 _ sec.3 p
dx2 a cos.3 p a
Now, by formula (B),
y — v _ d?y _ sec.3 p
c2 dx? a
therefore y — v — sec.3 p.
But when * = 0, then v— y —c', p = 0, and sec. p = 1;
(?
therefore d — - and (? — ad ; hence we have
a
v — y — d sec.3 p.
This shows that the vertical line between the intrados
and extrados is always proportional to the cube of the
secant of the angle which the radius OP makes with the
perpendicular; a conclusion which agrees with section 25
of the preceding article.
57. The second problem, viz. having given the nature
ARCH.
of the extrados, to find that of the intrados, is the more im- ( )
portant of the two, and more difficult. Its solution xe- x c ( —£ n *. 1
quires the integral calculus ; but the difficulty is no great- y—be^-^Ve c+H)eV Je c^dx—e c J ecXdx\.
er than that of finding the area of a curve whose equa¬
tion is given. This can always be accomplished, it not in
finite terms, at least by infinite series. We shall now give
a general solution of the problem. . . 7
Lao-range has shown (Theorie des Fonctions Analy-
tiques, chap, viii.) that the integration of the equation
d'2y
dy?
To determine the arbitrary constants b and b\ we must
consider that a tangent to the intrados at the vertex is
perpendicular to the vertical DH; therefore, when ;r=:0,
then 0 ; but from the equation just found we get
dx
-£ = x.
(where X denotes an explicit function of the variable x),
can always be accomplished when two particular integrals
of this other equation, viz.
d*y y_ - 0
dx1 (? ~~ ’
X —£
are known. Now y — ye and y — qe c are such inte¬
grals (p and q being arbitrary constants, and e=: 2-7182818,
the number whose Napierian logarithm is unity), as may
be proved by differentiation; therefore, following La¬
grange, to integrate the equation (B), viz.
dry y _ v
we assume
X_ —X_
yzzpec-\-qe c
for the complete integral equation; but now p and 9 aie
to be considered as functions of the variable x. lo de¬
termine these, we differentiate, and get
± = l{pe‘-qe ‘}+e^£+‘
dq
dx'
-dp .
ej+e
ax
^=0,
ax
md then we have
dy If -
dx c j
Again, by differentiating, we find
<Py ij -7I
^ = y-yIK‘+V ■q+cC dx]
= 2!+I{c7^_e“7j}.
(?— c l dx dx)
This result, compared with equation (B), gives
1 f Ldp dq\ v
cl dx dx) c-
From this and the equation
-dp , dq  
ecA--\-e c  0,
dx dx
we obtain ^putting X = —
dp _c ~
c X,
dx 2
dq _ c
i=-2etX’
Since p and q are indeterminate functions of x, we may
assume that
^jL = -{be^—b'e +%\e\fe ^Xdx + e “fe^Xdx}.
Now, when «=0, then =1, and e ^ — 1; and by hypo¬
thesis the integrals f ecXdx,fe cXdx in this particu¬
lar case vanish; therefore, when a?=0, the last equation
becomes 0=6— b', so that b'=b. But again, in the gene¬
ral equation (C), when a;=0, then y=d; therefore _we
have also c'=26 and b=\c'. On the whole, the equation
of the extrados is
(D)
^ _ L ee q-e e c Xdx—e CJec Xrfx j-;
the integrals being taken so as to vanish when a;=0.
We have thus brought the solution to depend on the in¬
tegration of the two differentials
£. ——
ec Xdx, e c Xdx,
which in fact will only differ in their sign, because the
branches of the extrados on opposite sides of the vertical
are exactly alike, and therefore the substitution of x
for + x will not change the sign of u nor of X. Now this
integration can always be effected by known methods,
therefore the second problem may be regarded as com¬
pletely resolved.
57. Example. Let us suppose that the extrados is a ho¬
rizontal straight line EF.
The line FT being supposed to touch the curve, let us
as before put
d = DB, c" = EA, s — DE,
x = DQ, y = FQ, 9 = angle TPK.
In this case « = 0 and X = 0, and the equation of the
curve is simply
y=!{*'+*7}.
p — ^Je cXdx-\-b; q— — ^j'ecXdx-\-b
Here b and b' are arbitrary constants, and the integrals
are supposed to be taken so as to vanish when x=0 rru''
complete integral equation is now
vol. m.
This case of the general problem has been resolved in
sect. 25; the equation of the curve is, however, here
given under a different form. We shall now deduce from
ft a formula for logarithmic calculation.
In all curves, tan. <p in the present case
Let ^ be such an angle that
— X
e7 = tan. (45° + £ then e 7 = tan. (45 — £ ^).
Hence, by the arithmetic of sines (Algebra, sect. 244,
(K) and sect. 240, (C) No. 1),
*_ -£ 1 _ 2
ec-j-e <•■ =
The -
ec — e c —
' cos.(45° + ^<//) cos. (4o°-
sin. 4 
cos.(45° + cos.(45°-
cos.-4/
_2sin.-4/_
COS.-vJ/
3 Gr
-i+)
=2 sec. \j/
2tan.4/
418 ARC
Arch. Also, by the theory of logarithms (Algebra, sect, xix.),
~^racr~ ^ ^ = tan’ 2 "'J')
— 10.
From these expressions we obtain the relation of the
three principal elements of the curve, viz. <p, x, y, as fol¬
lows :
x. , tan
- ^g. e = log. —
ARC
Bridge, for which a table of corresponding values of x and
y has been given, sect. 26. Here the span is 100 feet,v
the height or rise forty feet, and the thickness at the
crown six feet; and first, let it be required to find the or¬
dinate y, when xzz20 feet; we have now
x 20
5=50, 6'= 6, c"= 46, *=20, - = —.
Arch.
tan. 4/ = — tan. a>.
c
•(1)
y
;|log. tan. (450 + l>4/)—lo|...(2)
d sec. 4/ (3)
log. e
d
cos^
But before these formulae can be applied, the value of
c must be known. To find this, let a denote the value of
^when x — s and y — d'\ then equations (3) and (2)
become
c" =
cos. a
c
log. e
From these we obtain
d
-j^log. tan. (45° + -|a) — 10
cos. a =
log. e
.(4)
.(5)
log. tan. (45°—10
These formulae determine c, and this known, the values
of * and y corresponding to any proposed value of p may
be readily found from formulae (1) (2) and (3).
58. We may also determine y directly from * without
c
<p by eliminating    by formulae (2) and (5); we have
log. e
then, to determine y from *, these formulae,
d
d'
•O)
log.tan.(45° -j- 10+~ ^ log.tan.(45° + \od)—10 (b)
d / ^
* cos. 4/ v 7
1. As an example, let us take the case of Blackfriars
Logarithmic Calculation.
d- 6 0-7781512
c"=46 1-6627578
cos. (a=82° 30' 19") 9-1153934
log. tan. (45° + ia=860 15'9"-5)—10=1-1837773
To 10-0000000
addf{} X 1.1837773 = 0-4735109
tan. (45° + £4'=710 25' 18") 10-4735109
cos. (4'=52° 50' 36")  9-7810344
y = —^-T =9-9338 feet  0-9971168
J cos. 4/
The greater part of the above calculation serves for all
the values of *, and need not be repeated in constructing
a table of the ordinates.
2. Let it be required to find y when *=32 feet.
To 10-0000000
add X 1-1837773=  0-7576175
tan. (45° +^=80° 5' 18") 10-7576175
d=6  0-7781512
cos. (4/= 70° lO'36")  9-5303431
#= 17-6933 feet  1-2478081
In this way may all the numbers in the table of seel.
26. be computed with greater expedition than by the for¬
mula given there.
The value of <p to each value of * may be found from
formulae (5) and (1) of last article. (j. r.) (w. w.)
Arch, Triumphal, a monumental structure erected in
commemoration of a victory or other memorable historical
event
These originated in ancient times in the military triumphs
of the Romans, with whom it was customary to adorn the
gate by which a victorious general entered the city with
trophies and representations of the conquest he had achieved.
These temporary memorials soon gave place to more endur¬
ing monuments of stone and marble. The triumphal arch
(Arcus triumphalis) was built across some one of the prin¬
cipal streets, and consisted either of a single large archway
or of a central one with two smaller ones on each side, com¬
municating generally with the larger passage. Sometimes
there were two arches of equal height side by side. Both
faces of the arch and the sides of the passages were orna¬
mented with trophies and sculptures. Above the facades, sup¬
ported on columns, was an entablature surmounted by an attic
crowned with figures, and bearing the inscription on its front.
The most celebrated surviving monuments of this descrip¬
tion are the Arch of Augustus at Rimini, and another at
Susa (at the foot of Mount Cenis), the arches of Trajan at
Beneventum and Ancona, of Titus, Drusus, Septimius Se-
verus, Gallienus, and Constantine, at Rome. Of these the
arch of Titus is the oldest and the finest specimen of this
kind of structure. It commemorates his conquest of Judaea,
and is adorned with highly-finished sculptures, represent¬
ing the triumphal procession of the trophies of Jerusalem.
The arch of Constantine, however, is the most perfect in
preservation of all the ancient Roman arches.
Remains of Roman arches are also to be seen in France,
Spain, Greece, Istria, Dalmatia, and Egypt. See Orange,
Rheims, Merida, &c.
In modern times structures of this kind have been erected
in Italy, as that of king Alphonso at Naples ; and at Berlin,
at the entrance of the royal palace. The capital of France,
however, possesses more of them than any other modern
city. Of these the most worthy of mention are the arches
of the Fortes St Denis and St Martin, erected in 1673 and
1674 to commemorate the victories of Louis XIV., and the
Arc du Carrousel, begun in 1806, and finished in 1809, in
honour of the armies of France. This graceful monument,
which forms the western entrance to the Tuileries, consists
of three arches, the total height of the structure being 47
feet, and its breadth 55. 1 he two principal faces are adorned
ARC
Arch by eight Corinthian columns in Languedoc marble, sur-
I! mounted by statues. The structure is crowned by a bronze
Archaeo- equestrian group (taken from Venice), consisting of a cha-
l°Zy- riot drawn by four horses, guided by the allegorical figures of
Victory and Peace. The marble bas-reliefs were executed
by the I^est sculptors of the imperial epoch. But the colossal
Arc d Etoile, at the extremity of the Avenue des Champs Ely-
sees, is the grandest monument of the kind erected in modern
times. It commemorates the victories of Napoleon and his
armies, and was begun in 1806, but not completed till after
the Revolution of 1830. Its form is that of a parallelo¬
gram, its height and its breadth about 150 feet. It consists
of three arches, the height of the central one being 95 feet,
and that of the lateral arches 52. Its eastern and western
fronts are adorned by colossal allegorical groups in relief;
above them are bas-reliefs representing some of the most
striking scenes in the imperial wars. The frieze which runs
all round the structure is of the same description. The
attic is adorned with bucklers inscribed with the names of
victories. The interior of the arch is likewise inscribed
with the names of Buonaparte and his generals. A stair
inside conducts to the top of the building.
The arch at Hyde-Park Corner, surmounted by the co¬
lossal equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington, and
the Cumberland Gate, are the only representatives of this
kind of structure in our country.
Arch, from the Greek ap^ds, a prefix of many English
words, used to signify chief, or of the first rank.
ARCHAEOLOGY, from dp^atos ancient, and Adyos a
description. The term Archceology, like that of Antiqui¬
ties, has been employed, until a very recent period, in a
sense so restricted and arbitrary, as strikingly to contrast
with the latitude admissible according to the original deri¬
vation of the word. Where any attempt has been made to
assign precise limits, it has most frequently been reserved
as the exclusive designation of Greek and Roman antiqui¬
ties, though its fitness for the most comprehensive definition
in relation to all which pertains to the past has not escaped
the attention of scientific writers; and it is even employed
by Dr Pritchard, on several occasions, as nearly synony¬
mous with palaeontology. In this use of it, however, he has
not been followed, and the term is now universally adopted
to designate the science which deduces history from the re¬
lics of the past. So comprehensive a subject necessarily
admits of great subdivision, and some of the most important
branches of the study will be found treated of under the
heads of Egyptian, Etruscan, Assyrian, Mexican, Indian,
Greek, and Roman antiquities.
The aspiration of the human mind after some knowledge
of the mysteries of the future is not more innate or uni¬
versal than the desire to recover the secrets of the past.
The question Whence? no less than that of Whither? is
found to give shape to the mythic legends of the rude bar¬
barian, and to constitute an important element in the
poetry and mythology which are the beginnings of every
nation’s oral and written history. With the progress of
society the value of such indices of the past becomes ap¬
parent, and we accordingly find abundant traces of an
archaeological spirit in the literature of every civilized nation.
The influence of the same spirit no less invariably marks
every epoch of great progress. The revival of arts and
letters in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries was alike
signalized by a renewed appreciation of Greek and Roman
models ; and while the progress of opinion in the fifteenth
century was accompanied by an abandonment of medieval for
classic art, the tendency of Europe in our own day, amid
many elements of progress, has been singularly consenta¬
neous in the return to medieval art, and the attempt to attain
to higher excellence than has yet been achieved, by a more
perfect development of the ideal of the middle ages.
ARC 419
It is mainly owing to the successful labours of the geolo- Archseo-
gist that archaeology has been so extended as to embrace the
entire range of human history, and has at length been de-
veloped as a systematic science, by which the intelligent in¬
vestigator is enabled to pursue his researches among records
long preceding all written annals; and thereby to recover
chapters in the history of nations heretofore deemed irre¬
coverable. The geologist, with no aid from written records,
follows out his inquiries through successive periods in the
history of the preadamite world, and reveals to us the cha¬
racter of the living beings which animated those long-past
epochs of the globe. Beginning with the first traces oflife
in the primary fossiliferous strata, the geologist passes on
from system to system, revealing a wondrous process of de¬
velopment, and disclosing to us marvellous revelations of
long extinct being, until at length in the latest diluvial
formations he points to the remains of animals identical
with existing species, and even to traces of human art—the
evidences of the close of geological, and the beginning of
archaeological periods. Here, at least, archaeological science
ought to be ready to take up the narrative at the close of
those geological chapters ; and with a minuteness of detail,
and a certainty as to conclusions, unknown to the elder science.
Such, however, has not been the case until very recently.
The British geologist, pausing at the dawn of the historic or
human period, turned to the archaeologist for the remaining
chapters of the history of life on our globe, and received for
answer a record of Roman traces but meagrely supplementing
the minuter details of recorded events. Nearly the same was
the case with all historic antiquity, with the single exception
of the wonderful monuments of Egypt, which still preserve to
us the records of a civilization going back nearly to the emer¬
gence of our globe from the waters of the Mosaic deluge.
The traces of the primitive arts and civilization of the
aborigines of Europe were long familiar to the antiquary, be¬
fore any intelligent conception was formed of their value as
historic records. The interpretation of these is mainly due to
the successful labours of the archaeologists and ethnologists
of Denmark and Sweden, added to the spirited co-opera¬
tion of zealous British coadjutors. By these investigators
the remains of primitive art have been brought under a sys¬
tematic classification, and thus the desultory and often mis¬
directed labours of the antiquary have given place to re¬
searches characterized by a scientific accuracy in no degree
inferior to that of the most careful palaeontologist.
This system of Primitive Archaeology is arranged into
three great divisions, entitled the Stone, the Bronze, and
the Iron periods, warranted alike by evidence, and by its
practical convenience. The Stone Period, as the name im¬
plies, is that in which the rude aboriginal arts, which the
commonest necessities of man call into operation, are as¬
sumed to have been employed entirely on such natural ma¬
terials as stone, horn, bone, &c. The Bronze Period is that
era of progress in which the metallurgic arts appear to have
been introduced and slowly developed ; and the Iron Period
is that of matured metallurgic arts, and the accompanying
progress consequent on the degree of civilization which is the
necessary concomitant of such a state of things. All these
periods embrace eras of national history concerning which
no contemporary written records exist, and in relation to
most of which, and especially to those of the first two periods,
nearly as little is known from any other source as of the
Palaeozoic or Carboniferous periods of the geologist. It
need not, therefore, excite surprise that the process of his¬
toric induction pursued on this basis has been called in
question by historical writers of very high standing, but
w hose exclusive labours on the records of periods admitting
of documentary evidence and charter-proof render them
little disposed to sympathize in a course of induction in re¬
lation to human history, such as has in the hands of the
420 ARCH iEO LOG Y.
Archa;o- geologist revealed so much in relation to more ancient life.
logy- By these the system of archaeological periods has been as-
sailed as a visionary and illusive theory, without foundation
in truth. That it is no baseless theory, however, is suffi¬
ciently manifest from the fact that no primitive and barbar¬
ous people has been met with in modern times, cut off from
intercourse with civilized nations, among whom any know¬
ledge of the metallurgic arts exist; and no partially civilized
people, when similarly isolated, appears to have acquired the
art of smelting and working the iron ore.
The Esquimaux, the Red Indians of America, and the
whole widely-scattered races of the Polynesian Islands,
were, when first discovered, without any knowledge of the
metals, and supplied all their wants by means of imple¬
ments and weapons of stone, shell, bone, or wood. The
civilized Mexicans and Aztecs, on the contrary, when first
visited by the Spaniards, in the fifteenth century, were fa¬
miliar with the working of copper as well as gold; though
totally ignorant of iron, and also retaining for common pur¬
poses many of the primitive stone weapons and implements.
Greece passed from its bronze to its iron age within the
period embraced in its literary history; and the mastery of
the art of working the intractable iron ore is traceable with
tolerable clearness in the early history of Rome, not very
long before it came in contact with the transalpine barba¬
rians. Among most of these Germanic and Celtic tribes,
iron appears to have been already known when they first
came in contact with the aggressive civilization of the south,
and from one of them, the Norici (in whose country, in the
Austrian valleys of the Danube, this metal is still wrought
with the highest skill), we have reason to believe that the
Romans acquired the art of making steel.
If history is only to begin, as that of our own country has
been made to do, with the date of the first collision with in¬
vading Rome, then, no doubt, Stone and Bronze periods are
as useless and meaningless as are the Eocene and Miocene
periods, to the geologist who assigns the Mosaic deluge as
the source of the earliest phenomena of his science. To
those, however, who are willing to follow inductive reason¬
ing to its legitimate conclusions, it must be apparent that it
is no visionary theory, but a system founded in well-esta¬
blished truth, which arranges the archaeological records of
primitive history, and the remains of human art, into Stone,
Bronze, and Iron periods. There is only one important
distinction to be made in the use of such materials as a
basis of inductive reasoning, and of those with which the
palaeontologist deals. The geological formations, with their
included organic remains, obey a natural and unvarying
order, and however widely apart similar formations may be
found, they are assumed to be of contemporaneous origin.
But, geologically speaking, the entire history of the human
race is embraced in one period ; while in the works of art,
which form the basis of archaeological induction, a new ele¬
ment—that of mind, or the reasoning faculty, along with the
imitative and social arts—is introduced, and greatly com¬
plicates its subdivisions. The Stone period of Britain or
Denmark is precisely analogous to that of the Polynesian
Islands. So closely do their tools and weapons resemble
each other, that it requires a practised eye to distinguish the
stone axe or flint lance-head found in an ancient British
barrow, from implements brought by some recent voyager
from the islands of the Southern Ocean. The inference is
manifestly legitimate, that in these South Sea Islanders we
have examples of a people in the same primitive stage as
were the aborigines of Europe during its Stone period. Chro¬
nologically, however, the Stone periods of the north of Eu¬
rope and of the Pacific are probably separated by upwards
of two thousand years. In like manner, the Bronze age of
Mexico was still undisturbed by all later elements, when first
brought into contact with the matured civilization of Europe
in the fifteenth century, while the close of that of Britain Archaeo-
preceded the first century of our era. The same rule is ap- logy-
plicable to the primitive archaeology of all countries; and a
fertile source of error and misconception has already had its
rise in the assumption, that because Greece and Italy, Ger¬
many, Gaul, Scandinavia, and Britain, have all had their pri¬
mitive Stone and Bronze periods, therefore, the whole must
have been contemporaneous. It cannot, therefore, be too
strongly enforced as one of the most essential points of va¬
riance in the reasoning of the geologist and the archaeologist,
that the eras of the latter, though synonymous, are not ne¬
cessarily synchronous, like those of the former; but that, on
the contrary, nearly all the phenomena which pertain to the
natural history of man, and to the historic development of
the race, may be witnessed in their various stages in con¬
temporary races of our own day: from the rudimentary
barbarism, and the absence of all arts essential to the first
dawn of civilization, to the state of greatest advancement
in the knowledge and employment of such arts.
Some progress has already been made in an approxima¬
tion to certain chronological data of much importance, rela¬
tive to such primitive periods of the history of nations. Geo¬
logical evidence of changes occurring within the historic
period supplies somewhat of this important clue, when accom¬
panied with the traces of human art; and while by the in¬
telligent observation of such remains in the superficial strata,
mingling with the fossil evidences of extinct and familiar
species of animal life, the link is supplied by which man takes
his place in the unbroken chain of creative existence sweep¬
ing backward into so remote a past, the evidences of ma¬
tured art pertaining to periods unrecorded by history supply
the later links of the same chain, and reunite the present
with all former ages.
The system of primitive archaeology which is found appli¬
cable to British antiquities, so closely corresponds in all its
essential features to that of Europe prior to the era of au¬
thentic history, that the purpose of such an abstract as this
will be most conveniently accomplished by presenting its lead¬
ing points as examples of the whole ; illustrating these in
passing, by the analogous remains discovered in other coun¬
tries. The evidences we possess of the various acquirements
and degrees of civilization of the aborigines of Great Britain
are derived from their ancient dwellings and sepulchres, from
cromlechs, barrows, and cairns, and from the weapons, im¬
plements, personal ornaments, and pottery found inclosed in
these. Valuable additions to our information are also sup¬
plied by means of such chance discoveries as agricultural,
mining, and building operations frequently lead to ; such as
the stranded whales found in the alluvial valley of the Forth,
many feet above the level of high water, and distant several
miles from the present bed of the river. Along with these
gigantic cetacean remains lay the proofs of contemporaneous
population in the rude harpoons made of deer’s horn ; while
the historical evidence relating to the locality, as well as
the distinct remains of Roman military roads, combine to
prove the era of local upheaval, apparently indicated by
the geological phenomena, to have long preceded the dawn
of the period of definite history, or the beginning of the
Christian era.
By evidence such as this, a starting point is gained from
whence we may confidently deduce the colonization of the
British Islands, and of the north of Europe, at a very remote
period; certainly many centuries prior to that in which our
island first figures in history. The researches of the ethno¬
logist add to our knowledge of this unrecorded period, by
disclosing some of the physical characteristics of the abori¬
ginal races, derived from the human remains found in the
most ancient sepulchres, accompanied by the rudest evi¬
dences of art; and the researches of Nillson, Eschricht, and
other continental ethnologists, when brought into comparison
ARC H JE
Archaeo- with those which have been made in the British Isles, dis-
l°gy- close remarkable points of resemblance in cranial conforma-
^ tion essentially different from those of any of the predomi¬
nant races now inhabiting Europe.
The immense number of weapons and implements of stone
already found in this and other countries, since attention
has been more generally directed to the subject, proves that
the period which they characterize must have been of very
long duration. In various of the museums of Britain, and still
more in those of Ireland, very large collections of such have
been accumulated in a few years, while in the famous Chris-
tiansborg palace at Copenhagen the specimens of stone
weapons and implements alone number nearly 4000. For
the details of those relics, as well as the distinguishing cha¬
racteristics of the various classes of sepulchres, the weems,
or subterranean dwellings, the monolithic and megalithic mo¬
numents, &c.,of this primitive period, the student who wishes
to pursue the subject more minutely, must refer to the works
of Hoare, Douglas, Worsaae, Ackerman, Roach Smith,
Wright, Wilson, and others, as well as to the journals and
transactions of the various archaeological societies.
The period to which the whole of those primitive remains
must be referred was unquestionably one of complete bar¬
barism ; as is sufficiently apparent from its correspondence to
that which the intercourse with European voyagers is bring¬
ing to a close among the islands of the Pacific. The sub¬
terranean dwellings termed weems (Gaelic Uamhah, a cave),
or “ Piet’s houses,” have been frequently found, apparently
in the state in which they must have been abandoned by
their original occupants; and from these we learn that their
principal aliments must have been shell-fish and Crustacea,
derived from the neighbouring sea-beach, along with the
chance products of the chase. The large accumulations of
the common shell-fish of our coasts found in some of these
subterranean dwellings is remarkable, though with such re¬
mains have also been repeatedly found the stone quern or
hand-mill, as well as the ruder corn-crusher or pestle and
mortar ; supplying the important evidence, that the primi¬
tive nomade bad not been altogether ignorant of the value
of the cereal grains.
The source of change in Britain, and throughout Europe,
from this rude state of barbarism, is clearly traceable to the
introduction of metals, and the discovery of the art of smelt¬
ing ores. Gold was probably the earliest metal wrought,
both from its attractive appearance, its superficial deposits,
and the condition in which it is frequently found rendering
its working an easy process. Tin also, in the south of Bri¬
tain, was wrought at the very dawn of history ; and, with
the copper which abounds in the same district of country,
supplied the elements of the new and important compound
metal, bronze.
It was long assumed by all historians and antiquaries, that
the beautiful bronze swords, spear-heads, shields, torques,
armillae, &c., so frequently discovered, were mere relics
of foreign conquest or barter; and they were variously as¬
signed to Egyptian, Phoenician, Roman, or Danish origin.
But this gratuitous assumption has been disproved by the
repeated discovery of the moulds for making such, as well as
of the refuse castings, and even of beds of charcoal, scoria1,
and other indications of metallurgy, on the sites where they
have been found. It has not escaped notice, however, that
the transition appears to be an abrupt one from stone to
bronze, an alloy requiring skill and experience for its use;
and that few examples are recorded of the discovery of copper
tools or weapons, though copper is a metal so easily wrought
as to have been in use among the Red Indians of America.
The inference from this fact, is one which all elements of
probability tend to confirm, viz., that the metallurgic arts
of the north of Europe are derived from a foreign source,
whether by conquest or traffic, and that in the beautiful
O L O G Y. 421
bronze relics so abundant, especially in the British Islands and Archaeo-
in Denmark, we see the fruits of that experience which the logy-
more ancient civilization of Egypt and Phoenicia had diffused.
The direct intercourse between the countries on the Medi¬
terranean, and the Cassiterides, or Tin Islandsas the only
known parts of the British Islands are called in the earliest
allusions which are made to them by Herodotus, Aristotle,
and Polybius,—abundantly accounts for the introduction of
such knowledge to the native Britons at a very remote pe¬
riod. Phoenician and Carthagenian merchant ships traded to
Cornwall, centuries before the white cliffs of Albion were
first seen from the Roman war-galleys. Greece, also, not
improbably, proved a mediator in this all-important transfer.
It has not escaped attention, that the forms of weapons, and
especially of the beautiful “ leaf-shaped sword,” as figured
on the most ancient painted Greek vases, closely correspond
to the most characteristic relics of the Bronze period in the
north of Europe and the British Isles.
During the later Iron Period the era of authentic his¬
tory begins. There is no room for doubt that, whatever
impetus the Roman invasion may have given to the working
of the metals in Britain, iron was known prior to the land¬
ing of Julius Caesar. Within this archaeological period,
however, the examples of Roman art, and the influences of
Roman civilization begin to play a prominent part. To this
period succeed the Saxon and Scandinavian eras of inva¬
sion, with no less characteristic peculiarities of art-workman¬
ship, as well as of sepulchral rites and social usages. In these
later periods, definite history comes to the aid of archaeolo¬
gical induction, while those intermediate elements of histo¬
rical re-edification, the inscriptions on stone and metal, and
the numismatic series of chronological records, all unite to
complete a picture of the past replete with important ele¬
ments for the historian.
The connection between archaeology and geology has
been indicated, but that between archaeology and ethnology
is of much more practical value, and is every day being
brought into clearer view. By the investigation of the tombs
of ancient races, and the elucidation of their sepulchral
rites, remarkable traces of unsuspected national affinities are
brought to light; while a still more obvious correspondence
of arts in certain stages of society, among races separated
alike by time and by space, reveals a uniformity in the ope¬
ration of certain human instincts, when developed under
nearly similar circumstances, such as goes far to supply a
new argument in proof of the unity of the human race.
The self-evident truths confirmatory of the principles upon
which this system of primitive archaeology is based, may be
thus briefly summed up :—Man, in a savage state, is, to a
great extent, an isolated being; co-operation for mutual and
remote advantage, except in war and the chase, is scarcely
possible, and hence, experience at best but slowly adds to the
common stock of knowledge. In this primitive stage of so¬
ciety, the implements and weapons which necessity renders
indispensable, are invariably supplied from the sources at
hand; and the element of time being of little moment, the
rude manufacturer slowly fashions his stone axe or hammer,
or his lance of flint, with an expenditure of labour such as,
with the appliances of civilization, would suffice for the manu¬
facture of hundreds of such implements.
The discovery of the metallurgic arts, by diminishing la¬
bour, and supplying a material more susceptible of varied
forms as well as of ornamentation, and also one originating
co-operation by means of the new wants it calls into being,
inevitably leads to social progress. The new material, more¬
over, being limited in supply, and found only in a few loca¬
lities, soon leads to barter, and thence to a regular trade ;
and thus the first steps towards a division of labour and mu¬
tual co-operation are made. So long, however, as the metal
is copper or bronze, the limited supply must greatly restrict
422 ARC
Archaeo- this social progress, while the facilities for working it admit
logy, of that isolation so natural to man in a rude state ; and these,
added to the frequent discovery of copper, in its natural
condition much more nearly resembling a ductile metal than
the ironstone, abundantly account for its use having pre¬
ceded that of the more abundant metal.
Great experience must have been acquired in the earlier
metallurgy before the iron ore was attempted to be wrought.
In this, co-operation was indispensable; but that once se¬
cured, and the first difficulties overcome, the other results
appear inevitable. The supply is unbounded, widely dif¬
fused, and procurable without excessive labour. I he ma¬
terial elements of civilization were thereby acquired, and all
succeeding progress might be said to depend on the capa¬
city of the race.
The process of research and inductive reasoning thus ap¬
plied by the archaeologist to the traces of primitive art, and
the daw n of civilization, as well as to the remains of classic
art, is no less applicable to all periods. 1 he songs and le¬
gends of the peasantry, the half-obliterated traces of an¬
cient manners, the fragments of older languages, the relics of
obsolete art,—all these are parts of what has been fitly styled
“ unwritten history,” and furnish the means of recovering
many records of past periods, which must remain for ever a
blank to those who will recognize none but written or mo¬
numental evidence.
Proceeding to the investigation of this later, and, in most
of the higher requirements of history, this more important
branch of historical evidence, the archaeologist has still his
own special departments of investigation. Tracing the va¬
rious alphabets in their gradual development, through Phoe¬
nician, Greek, Roman, and other sources, and the changing
forms which followed under the influences of Byzantine and
medieval art, a complete system of palaeography, has been
deduced, calculated to prove an important auxiliary in the
investigation of monumental and written documents. Palaeo-
graphy has its own rules of criticism, supplying an element
of chronological classification altogether independent of style
in works of art, or of internal evidence in graven or written
inscriptions, and a test of genuineness often invaluable to
the historian.
Heraldry is another element of criticism by which archaeo¬
logy provides trustworthy canons of criticism in relation to
written and unwritten medieval records. The seals and
matrices, sepulchral sculptures, and engraved brasses, along
with an extensive class of the decorations of ecclesiastical
and domestic architecture, all supply evidence by means of
which names and dates, with confirmatory collateral evidence
of various kinds, are frequently recoverable. From the
same sources also the changing costume of successive pe¬
riods can be traced, and thus a new light be thrown on the
manners and customs of past ages. The enthusiastic de¬
votee is indeed apt at times to attach an undue importance
to such auxiliary branches of study, but it is a still greater
excess to pronounce them valueless, and to reject the use¬
ful aids they are capable of affording.
No less important are the illustrations of history, and the
guides in the right course of research, which numismatics
supply, both in relation to early and medieval times. But
on this and other sections into which the study of antiqui¬
ties is divided, the requisite information will be found under
the several heads of research. On many of these points
the historian and the archaeologist necessarily occupy the
same field ; and, indeed, when that primitive period where¬
in archaeology deals with the whole elements of our know¬
ledge regarding it, as a branch of inductive science and not
of critical history, is past, the student of antiquities becomes
to a great extent the pioneer of the historian. He deals
with the raw materials: the charters, deeds, wills, grants of
land, of privileges or immunities, the royal, monastic, and
ARC
baronial accounts of expenditure, and the like trustworthy Archaism
documents; by means of their palaeography, seals, illumina- II
tions, and other evidence, he fixes their dates, traces out Archangel
the genealogical relationships of their authors, and in various
ways prepares and sifts the evidence which is to be employed
anew by the historian in revivifying the past. Architecture
and all departments of the fine arts, in like manner, supply
much evidence which, when investigated and systematized by
a similar process, adds valuable materials to the stock of the
historian, and furnishes new sources for the illumination of
former ages. Such is a sketch of the comprehensive investi¬
gations embraced under the name of archaeology, which, car¬
ried on by many independent labourers, and in widely varied
fields of research, have contributed important chapters to the
book of human history, and revivified ages long buried in
oblivion, or at best but dimly seen through distorting media
of myth and fable. (D- w—^.)
ARCHAISM, (from apxcuos, ancient), the use of an anti¬
quated word or form of expression.
ARCHANGEL, an angel occupying an exalted rank
among the spiritual intelligences. The Jewish writers place
the archangels in the eighth rank of the celestial hierarchy.
Archangel, a government of European Russia, lying
between Eat. 61. and 71. N. and Long. 29. and 68. E.
It is bounded on the north by the White Sea and Arctic
Ocean, on the west by Finland and Olonetz, on the south
by Vologda, and on the east by the Ural Mountains. It
comprehends also the islands of Nova-Zembla, Waigatz, and
some others. Its area is estimated at 322,500 square miles,
and its population in 1846 was calculated to amount to
253,000. The climate is for most part of the year intensely
cold. That part of Archangel which lies within the arctic
circle has a very desolate and sterile aspect, presenting little
to the eye but extensive plains of sand and moss. 1 he win¬
ter is long and severe ; and even in summer the soil is frozen
at a little depth below the surface. The rivers are closed
in September, and scarcely thawed before July. South of
the arctic circle the greater part is covered with immense
forests, part with extensive lakes and morasses, and part af¬
fords excellent pasturage for cattle. Flere the spring is moist,
with cold, frosty nights; the summer, a succession of long
foggy days; the autumn moist; and the rivers are closed from
October to April. The northern districts are incapable of
being cultivated, and the inhabitants support themselves by
fishing and the chase. In the southern districts considerable
quantities of hemp and flax are raised, but grain crops are little
attended to, and the bark of trees is mixed with corn to eke
out the scanty products of the harvest. The principal wealth
of the government consists in its immense forests, that fur¬
nish materials for ship-building, which is carried on to a con¬
siderable extent. Their horses and cattle are diminutive, ex¬
cept in the district of Kholmogory, where excellent cattle are
reared. The preparation of pitch and tar is an active branch
of industry; and in the districts around Archangel coarse
linens are manufactured to a considerable extent, as well as
cordage, mats, leather, tallow, turpentine, and potash. This
government is divided into eight circles, viz.: Archangel,
Chenkursk, Mezen, Cola, Onega, Pinega, Kholmogory, and
Kem. Its chief rivers are the Onega, Pinega, Dwina, Mezen,
Petshora, and Ousa. The population was originally Finnish,
but it is now chiefly Russian, with some Samoides and Lap¬
landers.
Archangel, a city of Russia, capital of the govern¬
ment and circle of the same name. It is situated on the
right bank of the river Dwina, 35 miles from its mouth, in
Lat. 64. 32. 8. N. Long. 40. 33. E. The entrance to the
Dwina was discovered by the English navigator Richard
Chancellor in 1553, when in quest of a north-eastern pas¬
sage to China. The city of Archangel was founded in 1584,
and derived its name from the convent of St Michael the
ARC
ARC
423
Arch- Archangel. It soon became the first trading port of Russia,
bishop. anci continued to be so till the rise of St Petersburg, when
its commercial importance declined. In 1762 it received
the same immunities as St Petersburg; and since that time
it has been gradually recovering its former prosperity. Ex¬
cept the bazaar, which is an immense edifice, its buildings
are almost entirely constructed of wood. It is the seat of
an archbishop, and of a civil and military governor; has one
Protestant and ten Greek churches ; an ecclesiastical semi¬
nary with nine professors; a gymnasium ; academies for na¬
vigation and engineering; and a naval hospital. The manu¬
factures consist of linen, leather, canvass, cordage, mats,
and sugar, and there are several breweries. Archangel is
indebted for its prosperity principally to its situation on the
Dwina, which is united by canals with the Volga on the one
side, and with the Neva on the other, by which means it is
the mart of a large extent of territory, some articles being
transported thither even from Siberia. Its traffic varies con¬
siderably in different years, being much influenced by the
demand for corn in England and other parts of Europe. Its
principal exports are grain, flax, hemp, timber, linseed, iron,
mats, tar, and tallow: its imports are chiefly colonial pro¬
duce, woollens, cottons, and hardware. In 1847, the value
of its exports was L. 1,410,880. The value of its imports is
always much less than that of its exports. Its harbour is at
the island of Solembolsk, about a mile below the town, and
is open only from July to September. A bar at the mouth of
the Dwina, with only from 13 to 14^ feet of water, obliges
vessels of greater draught to load and unload by means
of lighters outside the bar. About twelve miles below the
town, there is a government dockyard with slips for build¬
ing vessels, and also some warehouses belonging to mer¬
chants in the city. The best season of their year is from
the middle of July to the middle of August, before which time
fogs and high winds prevail. After that period the nights be¬
come cold; and in September it is usually very stormy. There
the shortest day has only 3 hours 12 minutes, the longest 21
hours 48 minutes.
ARCHBISHOP, the name of a church dignitary of the
first class. Archbishops were not known in the East till
about the year 320 ; and though there were some soon after
this who had the title, yet that was only a personal honour,
by which the bishops of considerable cities were distin¬
guished. It was not till of late that archbishops became
metropolitans, and had suffragans under them. Athanasius
appears to be the first who used the title Archbishop, which
he gave occasionally to his predecessor; Gregory Nazian-
zen, in like manner, gave it to Athanasius; not that either
of them was entitled to any jurisdiction, or even any prece¬
dence, in virtue of it. Among the Latins, Isidore Hispa-
lensis is the first that speaks of archbishops. He distin¬
guishes four orders or degrees in the ecclesiastical hierarchy,
viz., patriarchs, archbishops, metropolitans, and bishops.
The archbishop, besides the inspection of the bishops and
inferior clergy in the province over which he presides, ex¬
ercises episcopal jurisdiction in his own diocese. He is
guardian of the spiritualities of any vacant see in his pro¬
vince, as the king is of the temporalities, and exercises
ecclesiastical jurisdiction in it. He is entitled to present by
lapse to all the ecclesiastical livings in the disposal of his
diocesan bishop, if not filled within six months. Upon con¬
secrating a bishop, he was authorized to name a clerk or
chaplain, to be provided for by such bishop ; in lieu of which
it is now usual to accept an option. He is said to be en¬
throned when vested in the archbishopric, whereas bishops
are said to be installed.
The ecclesiastical government of England is divided into
two provinces, viz., Canterbury and York. Canterbury has
the following suffragan bishoprics appertaining to it; St
Asaph, Bangor, Bath and Wells, Bristol, Chichester, Lich-
Archdea-
field and Coventry, St Davids, Ely, Exeter, Gloucester, Archcham-
Hereford, Llandaff, Lincoln, London, Norwich, Oxford, berlain
Peterborough, Rochester, Salisbury, Winchester, and Wor¬
cester. To York appertain the bishoprics of Carlisle, Ches¬
ter, Durham, Ripon, and Manchester; to which may be v
added the bishopric of Sodor and Man, whose bishop is not
a lord of parliament.
Till the year 1152, the archbishop of Canterbury had ju¬
risdiction over Ireland as well as England, and was styled a
•patriarch, and sometimes alterius orbispapa, and orbis Bri-
tannici pontifex. Matters were done and recorded in his
name thus,—Anno pontificatus nostri primo, &c. The first
archbishop of Canterbury was Austin, appointed by King
Ethelbert on his conversion to Christianity, about the year
598. He was also legatus natus. He even enjoyed some
special marks of royalty; as to be patron of a bishopric,
which he was of Rochester; and to make knights, coin
moneys, &c. The archbishop is still the first peer of Eng¬
land, and the next to the royal family, having precedence
of all dukes and all great officers of the crown. It is his
privilege, by custom, to crown the kings and queens of this
kingdom. He may retain and qualify eight chaplains, where¬
as a duke is allowed by statute only six. He has by com¬
mon law, the power of probate of wills and testaments, and
granting letters of administration. He may also grant li¬
censes and dispensations in all cases formerly sued for in the
court of Rome, and not repugnant to the law of God. He
accordingly issues special licenses to marry, to hold two liv¬
ings, &c., and he exercises the right of conferring degrees.
He also holds several courts of judicature; as court of
arches, court of audience, prerogative court, and court of
peculiars.
The archbishop of York has the like rights in his province
as the archbishop of Canterbury. He has precedence of all
dukes not of the royal blood, and of all officers of state ex¬
cept the lord high chancellor. He has also the rights of a
count palatine over Hexharqshire. The first archbishop of
York was Paulinus, appointed by Pope Gregory about the
year 622. He had formerly jurisdiction over all the bishops
of Scotland ; but in the year 1470 Pope Sextus IV. created
the bishop of St Andrews archbishop and metropolitan of all
Scotland.
Scotland, whilst episcopacy prevailed in that country, had
two archbishoprics, St Andrews and Glasgow, the former
of which was accounted the metropolitan, and, even before
it arrived at the dignity of an archbishopric, resisted with
great spirit all the attempts of the archbishops of York in
England to become the metropolitans of Scotland. The
sees of Argyll, Galloway, and the Isles, were suffragans to
Glasgow; all the others in the kingdom to St Andrews.
Before the passing of 3d and 4th William IV., c. 37, and
4th and 5th William IV., c. 90, Ireland had four archbishop¬
rics, viz., Armagh, Dublin, Cashel, and Tuam. By these
statutes they were reduced to two, Armagh and Dublin, the
diocese of Tuam being united to that of Armagh, and the
diocese of Cashel to that of Dublin. The archbishop of
Armagh is primate of all Ireland.
ARCHCHAMBERLAIN, an officer of the German em¬
pire, much the same with the great chamberlain in England.
The elector of Brandenburg was appointed by the golden
bull archchamberlain of the empire.
ARCHCHANCELLOR, a high officer, who in ancient
times presided over the secretaries of the court. Under the
first two races of the kings of France, when their territories
were divided into Germany, Italy, and Arles, there were
three archchancellors ; and hence the three archchancellors
formerly in Germany—who were the archbishops of Mentz,
Pnlnonp nnfl I vpvps
ARCHDEACON, an ecclesiastical dignitary or officer,
next to a bishop, whose jurisdiction extends either over tie
424 ARC
Arch- whole diocese or only a part of it. Archdeacons are ap-
dcacon pointed by their respective bishops, and by § 27, 3d and 4th
\rchelaus ^ct'> c. 27, they must have been six full years in priests’ or-
.rc eaus. ders. rpiie;r duty is to visit their archdeaconries from time
^ to time; to see that the churches and chancel are kept in
repair, and everything done conformably to the canons, and
to receive from the churchwardens representations of any
matters of public scandal.
The visitation of the archdeacon may be held yearly, but
is imperative every third year. The income attached to the
office is very inconsiderable, but it is generally held by per¬
sons who are possessed of benefices and other preferments in
the church. There were formerly 60 archdeacons in England
and Wales, but by 6th and 7th Will. IV., c. 97, seven new
archdeaconries were established.
Archdejcon’s Court is the lowest court in the ecclesias¬
tical polity. It is held, in the archdeacon’s absence, before
a judge appointed by himself, and called his official; and its
jurisdiction is sometimes in concurrence with, sometimes in
exclusion of, the bishop’s court of the diocese. But, by sta¬
tute 24th Henry VIII., c. 12, there lies an appeal from this
court to that of the bishop. By the act of V ill. IV., above
cited, it is now, however, enacted that all archdeacons
throughout England and Wales shall enjoy full and equal
jurisdiction within their several archdeaconries.
ARCHDUKE, a title peculiar to the imperial house of
Austria, all the sons of which are archdukes, and the daugh-
ARCHELAUS, a celebrated Greek philosopher,born pro¬
bably at Miletus about470 b.C. He succeeded his master An¬
axagoras in the school which he had founded at Lampsacus,
from whence he afterwards removed to Athens. He was the
last representative of the Ionian school, between which and
the more practical philosophy that followed, his teaching
formed a link of transition. Ilis speculations were chiefly,
but not exclusively physical, on which account he received
the name of the Physician (6 ^wo-ikos), in contradistinction
to his contemporaries the Sophists, and his illustrious dis¬
ciple Socrates. His opinions were, for the most part repro¬
ductions of the ideas of Anaxagoras. The following are
some of the peculiar physical doctrines ascribed to him. He
taught that there was a double principle of all things, namely,
the expansion and condensation of the air, which he regarded
as infinite. Heat, according to him, was in continual mo¬
tion ; cold was ever at rest. The earth, which was placed
in the midst of the universe, had no motion. It originally
resembled a wet marsh, but was afterwards dried up; and
its figure, he said, was not flat but spherical, which he deduced
from the fact that the sun does not become visible at the
same time in all places. The sea he regarded as the over¬
flowing of the waters contained within the earth. Animals
were produced from the heat of the earth, and even men
were formed in the same manner. All animals have a soul,
which was born with them, but the capacities of which vary
according to the structure of the organs of the body in which
it resides. In morals he showed his approximation to the So¬
phists, by teaching that right and wrong are founded not in
nature but on custom.
Archeraus, king of Macedonia, was the natural son of
Perdiccas, and ascended the throne after murdering his
younger brother, the legitimate heir. His bloody usurpa¬
tion, however, was followed by a reign devoted to the im¬
provement of his kingdom and the patronage of the fine arts.
He was assassinated b.C. 400 by one of his courtiers.
Archelaus, the son of Herod the Great, was declared
king of Judrea the second year after the birth of Christ. The
dispute with his brother Antipas regarding the succession
was referred to the decision of Augustus, who awarded to
Archelaus half his father’s territory. His brief reign was
marked by great cruelty; as an instance of which is recorded
ARC
his putting to death 3000 persons who had been concerned Archelaus
in a religious outbreak. On fresh complaints exhibited 1!
against him by the Jews, Augustus banished him to Vienne Archery,
in Gaul, a.d. 6, where he died.
Archelaus, the opponent of Sylla, in his wars against
Mithridates. He afterwards went over to the Romans, who
respected his military talents.
Archelaus, the son of Apollonius, one of the greatest
sculptors of antiquity, was a native of Ionia, and is thought
to have lived in the time of the Emperor Claudius. He ex¬
ecuted in marble the apotheosis of Homer. Kircher, Span-
heim, and several other learned antiquaries have given a
description of his work. It is now in the British Museum,
having been purchased in 1819 for L.1000.
ARCHENA, a town of Murcia, in Spain. It is situated
on the river Segura, at the eastern extremity of the delicious
valley of Ricote, and is celebrated for its thermal springs.
The waters retain a uniform heat of 112° Fahr. These
springs are much resorted to, though the situation is most
melancholy, and the accommodation for invalids very bad.
ARCHENHOLZ, Johann Wilhelm Von, is best
known by his “History of the Seven-Years-War,” and “Life
of Gustaf Vasa.” Both are works of high authority. He
likewise wrote a work on “ England and Italy,” which was
also well received. He was born at Danzig in 1745, and
died in 1812.
ARCHERY, the art or exercise of shooting with a bow
and arrow. The word is formed of arcus, a bow ; whence
arcuarius, and even arquis and arquites, as they are also
denominated in the corrupt state of the Latin tongue. The
bow was anciently one of the principal implements of war,
and the expertness of the archers often decided the fate of
battles and of empires. In this island archery was greatly
encouraged in former times, many statutes being made for
its advancement; and the English archers became the best
in Europe.
The Artillery Company of London, though they have
long disused the weapon, are the remains of the ancient
fraternity of bowmen or archers. Artillery (artillerie) is
a French term signifying archery, as the king's howyer is
in that language styled artillier du roy ; and from that na¬
tion the English seem to have learnt at least the cross-bow
archery. We therefore find that William the Conqueror had
a considerable number of bowmen in his army at the battle oPia’ vo 'VL
Hastings, when no mention is made of such troops on the
side of Harold; and it is supposed that these Norman archers
shot with the arbalest or cross-bow, in which formerly the
arrow, termed in French a quadrel, and in English a bolt,
was placed in a groove.
Of the time when shooting with the long-bow first began
among the English, at which exercise they afterwards be¬
came so expert, there appear no certain accounts. Their
chronicles do not mention the use of archery as expressly
applied to the cross-bow or the long-bow till the death of
Richard I., who was killed by an arrow at the siege of Li¬
moges in Guienne, which Hemmingford mentions as having
issued from a cross-bow. After this event, which happened in
1199, there appear not upon record any notices of archery
for nearly 150 years, when an order was issued by Edward
III., in the 15th year of his reign, to the sheriffs of most of
the English counties, for providing 500 white bows and 500
bundles of arrows, for the intended war against France.
Similar orders are repeated in the following years ; with this
difference only, that the sheriff of Gloucestershire is directed
to furnish 500 painted bows, as well as the same number of
white. In the famous battle of Cressy, which was fought
in the year 1346, our chroniclers state that we had 2800
archers, who were opposed to about the same number of the
French. The statement that the bows of the French, or
rather their strings, were damaged by a shower of rain which
ARCHERY.
425
Archery, fell a short time before the engagement, seems to prove that
v'—v—by this time we used the long-bow, while the French archers
shot with the arbalest; for the long-bow, when unstrung,
may be conveniently covered, so as to prevent the rain’s in¬
juring it; whereas, from the form of the arbalest it cannot
he conveniently sheltered from the weather.
At the above-mentioned battle the English ascribed their
victory chiefly to the archers. The battle of Poictiers was
fought in 1356, and gained by the same means.
Sometimes the archers obtained great victories without
even the least assistance from the men-at-arms; as particularly
1 lenry’s the decisive victory over the Scots at Homildon in 1402. In
Hist. vol. v. that bloody battle the men-at-arms did not strike a stroke,
l>. 463. but were mere spectators of the valour and victory of the
archers. The French historian, Philip de Comines, agrees
with our own writers in asserting that the English archers
excelled those of every other nation ; and Sir John Fortes-
cue says again and again, “ that the might of the realme of
England standyth upon archers.” The superior dexterity of
their archers gave the English a great advantage over both
the French and the Scots. The French depended chiefly
on their men-at-arms, and the Scots on their pikemen ; but
the ranks of both were often thinned and thrown into disor¬
der by flights of arrows before they could reach their ene¬
mies.
James I. of Scotland, who had seen and admired the dex¬
terity of the English archers, and who was himself an excel¬
lent archer, endeavoured to revive the exercise of archery
among his own subjects, by whom it had been too much
neglected. With this view he procured the following law to
be made in his first parliament, in 1424, immediately after
his return to Scotland : “ That all men might busk thame
to be archares fra the be 12 years of age ; and that at ilk ten
punds worth of land thair be made bow markes, and spe-
ciallie near paroche kirks, quhairn upon halie dayis men may
cum, and at the leist schute thryse about, and have usage of
archarie ; and whasa usis not archarie, the laird of the land
sal rais of him a wedder; and gift' the laird raisis not the said
pane, the king’s shiref, or his ministers, sal rais it to the king.”
But his death prevented the effectual execution of this law.
There is no act of parliament of Henry V. in relation to
archery, and all the orders of Rymer till the battle of Agin-
court relate to great guns, from which he seems at first to
have expected more considerable advantage than from the
training of bowmen. This sort of artillery, however, from
its unwieldiness, from bad and narrow roads, and from other
causes, was as yet but of little use in military operations.
This king therefore ascribes his victory at Agincourt to the
archers, and directs the sheriffs of many counties to pluck
from every goose six wing-feathers for the purpose of improv-
ing arrows, which are to be paid for by the king.
In 1421, though the French had been defeated both at
Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt, by the English archers,
yet they still continued the use of the cross-bow; for
which reason Henry V., as duke of Normandy, confirms
the charters and privileges of the balistarii, who had been
long established as a fraternity in his city of Rouen.
In the fifth of Edward IV. an act passed, that every
Englishman, and Irishman dwelling with Englishmen, shall
have an English bow of his own height, which is directed
to be made of yew, wych, hazel, ash, or awburne, or any
other reasonable tree, according to their power. The next
chapter also directs that butts shall be made in every
township, which the inhabitants are obliged to shoot up
and down every feast day, under the penalty of a half¬
penny when they shall omit this exercise.
In the 14th year, however, of this same king, it appears
by Rymer’s Feeder a, that 1000 archers were to be sent to
the duke of Burgundy, whose pay is settled at sixpence a
day, which was a considerable sum in those times, when
YOL. m.
the value of money was so much higher than it is at pre- Archery,
sent. This circumstance seems to prove very strongly
the great estimation in which archers were still held. In
the same year Edward, preparing for a war with France,
directs the sheriffs to procure bows and arrows, “ as most
specially requisite and necessary.”
On the war taking place with Scotland, eight years
after this, Edward provides both ordnance and archers;
so that though the use of artillery, as we now term it,
was then gaining ground, yet that of the bow and arrow
was not neglected.
Richard III., by his attention to archery, was able to
send 1000 bowmen to the duke of Bretagne ; and he avail¬
ed himself of the same troops at the battle of Bosworth.
During the reign of Henry VII., however, there appears
no order relative to gunpowder or artillery; while, on the
other hand, in 1488, he directs a large levy of archers to
be sent to Brittany, and that they shall be reviewed be¬
fore they embark. In the 19th year of his reign, the
same king forbids the use of the cross-bow, because “ the
long-bow had been much used in this realm, whereby
honour and victory had been gotten against outward
enemies, the realm greatly defended, and much more the
dread of all Christian princes, by reason of the same.”
During the reign of Henry VIII. several statutes were
made for the promotion of archery. The 8th Eliz. c. 10, re¬
gulates the price of bows ; and the 13th Eliz. c. 14, enacts
that bow-staves shall be brought into the realm from the
Hans Towns and the eastward; so that archery still con¬
tinued to be an object of attention in the legislature.
In Rymer’s Fcedera there is neither statute nor procla¬
mation of James I. on this head; but it appears, by Dr
Birch’s life of his son (Prince Henry), that at eight years
of age he learned to shoot both with the bow and gun,
while at the same time this prince had in his establish¬
ment an officer who was styled bow-bearer. The king
granted a second charter to the Artillery Company, by
which the powers they had received from Henry VIII.
were considerably extended.
Charles I. appears, from the dedication of a treatise
entitled The Bowmans Glory, to have been himself an
archer; and in the eighth year of his reign he issued a
commission to the chancellor, lord mayor, and several of
the privy council, to prevent the fields near London being
so inclosed as to “ interrupt the necessary and profitable
exercise of shootingas also to lower the mounds where
they prevented the view from one mark to another.
Catharine of Portugal, queen to Charles II., seems to
have been much pleased with the sight at least of this
exercise ; for in 1676, by the contributions of Sir Edward
Hungerford and others, a silver badge for the marshal of
the fraternity was made, weighing 25 ounces, and repre¬
senting an archer drawing the long-bow (in the proper
manner) to his ear, with the following inscription: Re-
gince Catharines Sagittarii. The supporters are two bow¬
men, with the arms of England and Portugal. In 1682
there was a most magnificent cavalcade and entertainment
given by the Finsbury archers, when they bestowed the
titles of “ Duke of Shoreditch,” “ Marquis of Islington,”
&c. upon the most deserving. Charles II. was present
upon this occasion.
So late as the year 1753 targets were erected in the
Finsbury fields during the Easter and Whitsun holydays,
when the best shooter was styled captain for the ensuing
year, and the second lieutenant.
Before the introduction of fire-arms the enemy could
only be struck at a distance by slings, the bow used by
the ancients, or the cross-bow; to all which the Eng¬
lish long-bow was infinitely superior. As for slings, they
never have been used in the more northern parts of Eu-
3 H
426 ARCHERY.
Archery, rope by armies in the field; nor does their use indeed In Scotland, also, little less attention, though apparent- Archery.
^ t v ' seem to have been at all convenient or extensively ly not with equal success, was shown to the encourage- v ^
practicable, for two principal reasons: in the first place, ment of the art. In both kingdoms it was provided that
slingers cannot advance in a compact body, on account the importers of merchandise should be obliged, along
of the space to be occupied by this weapon in its rota- with their articles of commerce, to import a certain pro-
tory motion ; in the next place, the weight of the stones portion of bows, bow-staves, and shafts for arrows. In
to be carried must necessarily impede the slingers greatly both every person was enjoined to hold himself provided
in their movements. The bow of the ancients, again, in bows and arrows, and was prescribed the frequent use
as represented in all their reliefs, was a mere toy com- of archery. In both a restraint w-as imposed uP°o the
pared with that of our ancestors; it was therefore chiefly exercise of other games and sports, lest they should inter-
used by the Parthians, whose attacks, like those of the fere with the use of the bow; for it was intended that
present Arabs, were desultory. As for the cross-bow, people should be made expert in the use of it as a mih-
it is of a most inconvenient form for carriage, even with tary weapon, by habituating them to the familiar exercise
the modern improvements ; and, in case of rain, could of it as an instrument of amusement. As there was no ma-
not easily be secured from the weather. After the first terial difference between the activity and bodily strengt
shot, moreover, it could not be recharged under a con- of the two people, it might be supposed that the English
siderable time, whilst the bolts were also heavy and and Scots wielded the bow with no unequal vigour and
cumbersome. The English long-bow, on the other hand, dexterity; but, from undoubted historical monuments, it
together with the quiver of arrows, was easily carried by appears that the former had the superiority, of which
the archer, as easily secured from the rain, and recharged one instance has been already nariated. By the regula-
almost instantaneously. It is not therefore extraordinary, tions prescribed in their statute-book for the practice of
that troops who solely used this most effectual weapon archery, we find that the English shot a very long bow,
should generally obtain the victory, even when opposed those who were arrived at their full growth and maturity
to much more numerous armies. being prohibited from shooting at any maik that was not
It may be urged, that these losses having been experi- distant upwards of 220 yards,
enced by our enemies, must have induced them to prac- In the use of the bow, great dexterity as well as strength
tise the same mode of warfare. But it is thought that seems to have been requisite. Though we hear of arrows
the long-bow was not commonly used even in England at Chevy Chase which were a yard long, yet it is by no
till the time of Edward III., when the victory at Cressy means to be supposed that the whole band made use of
sufficiently proclaimed the superiority of that weapon. It such, or could draw them to the head. The regulation of
required, however, so much training before the archer the Irish statute of Edward IV., viz. that the bow should
could be expert, that we must not be surprised if, soon not exceed the height of the man, is allowed by archers
afterwards, this military exercise was much neglected, as to have been well considered; and as the arrow should be
appears by the preambles of several ancient statutes, half the length of the bow, this would give an arrow of a
While the military tenures subsisted, the sovereign could yard in length to those only who were six feet high. A
only call upon his tenants during war, who therefore at- strong man of this size in the present times cannot easily-
tended with the weapons they had been used to, and draw above 27 inches, if the bow is of a proper strength
which required no previous practice. On the other hand, to do execution at a considerable distance. At the same
the English archers were obliged by acts of parliament, time it must be admitted, that as our ancestors vyeie ob-
even in&time of peace, to erect butts in every parish, and liged by some of the old statutes to begin shooting with
to shoot on every Sunday and holyday, after repairing per- the long-bow at the age of seven, they might have ac-
haps to these butts from a considerable distance ; while quired a greater sleight in this exercise than their descend-
the expense of at least a yew bow is represented as being ants, though the latter should be allowed to be of equal
a charge to which they were scarcely equal. The kings strength. £ • j j
and parliaments of this country having thus compelled As the shooting with the long-bow was first mtioduced
the inhabitants to such training, the English armies had, in England, and practised almost exclusively for y
it should seem, the same advantage over their enemies as two centuries, so it has occasioned a peculiar method of
the exclusive use of fire-arms would give us at present. drawing the arrow to the ear and not to the breast. 1 at
It appears, also, by what has been already stated, that this is contrary to the usage of the ancients is very dear
the long-bow continued to be in estimation for more than from their reliefs, and from the tradition of the Amazons
two centuries after gunpowder was introduced, which pro- cutting off one of their paps, as it occasioned an impedi-
bably arose from muskets being very cumbersome and un- ment to their shooting. I he Finsbury archer is there-
wieldy. It is well known that rapid movements are gene- fore represented in this attitude of drawing to the ear,
rally decisive of the campaign; and for such the archers both in the Bowman s Glory and in the silver badge
were particularly adapted, because, as they could not be given by Catharine to the Artillery Company,
annoyed at the same distance by the weapons of the As to the distance to which an arrow can be shot from
enemy, they had scarcely any occasion for armour. The a long-bow with the best elevation of 45 degrees, that
flower of ancient armies likewise was the cavalry, against must necessarily depend much both upon the strength
which the long-bow never failed to prevail; and hence and sleight of the archer; but in general the distance was
the great number of French nobility who were prisoners reckoned from eleven to twelve score yards. I he butts
at Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt; for being dismount- for exercise, as above noticed, were directed to be distant
ed, if not wounded, whilst they were also clad in heavy upwards of 220 yards. Ihere is indeed a tradition, that
armour, they could not make their escape. The same an attorney of Wigan in Lancashire, named Leigh, shot
reason accounts for the English obtaining these signal a mile in three flights; but the same tradition states that
victories with so inferior numbers; for the nobility and he placed himself in a very particular attitude, which
gentry thus becoming prisoners, the other parts of the cannot be used commonly in this exercise. According
French army made little or no resistance. No wonder, to Neade, an archer might shoot six arrows in the time
therefore, that in England the greatest anxiety was shown of charging and discharging one musket,
to promote the exercise of this most important weapon, The archers consider an arrow of from 20 to 24 drop
and that so many statutes were made for that purpose. weight to be the best for flight or hitting a mark at a con-
ARCHERY.
Archery, siderable distance, and that yew is the best material of
which they can be made. As to the feathers, that of a
goose is preferred: it is also wished that the bird should
be two or three years old, and that the feather may drop
of itself. Two out of three feathers in an arrow are com¬
monly white, being plucked from the gander; but the
third is generally brown or gray, being taken from the
goose, and, from this difference in point of colour, informs
the archer when the arrow is properly placed. From this
most distinguished part, therefore, the whole arrow some¬
times receives its name: and this, by the by, affords an
explanation of the gray-goose wing in the ballad of Chevy
Chase. Arrows were armed anciently with flint or metal
heads, latterly with heads of iron: of these there were
various forms and denominations. By an act of parlia¬
ment made the 7th of Henry IV. it was enacted, That
for the future all the heads for arrows and quarrels should
be well boiled or brased, and hardened at the points with
steel; and that every arrow-head or quarrel should have
the mark of the maker: workmen disobeying this order
were to be fined and imprisoned at the king’s will, and
the arrow-heads or quarrels to be forfeited to the crown.
Grose on Arrows were reckoned by sheaves, a sheaf consisting
Ancient 0f 24 arrows. They were carried in a quiver, called also
Armour. an arrmv-case, which served for the magazine ; arrows for
immediate use were worn in the girdle. In ancient times
phials of quicklime, or rather combustible matter, for
burning houses or ships, were fixed on the heads of ar¬
rows, and shot from long-bows. This has been also prac¬
tised since the use of gunpowder. Neade says he has
known by experience that an archer may shoot an ounce
of fireworks upon an arrow twelve score yards. Arrows
with wildfire, and arrows for fireworks, are mentioned
among the stores at Newhaven and Berwick in the 1st of
Edward VI.
The force with which an arrow strikes an object at a
moderate distance may be conceived from the account
given by King Edward VI. in his journal; wherein he says,
that 100 archers of his guard shot before him two arrows
each, and afterwards altogether ; and that they shot at an
inch board, which some pierced quite through and struck
into the other board ; divers pierced it quite through with
the heads of their arrows, the board being well-seasoned
timber: their distance from the mark is not mentioned.
To protect our archers from the attacks of the enemy’s
horse, they carried long stakes pointed at both ends :
these they planted in the earth, sloping before them. In
the first of Edward VI., 350 of these were in the stores of
the town of Berwick, under the article of archers’ stakes :
there were also at the same time eight bundles of archers’
stakes in Pontefract castle.
To prevent the bowstring from striking the left arm,
the arm is covered with a piece of smooth leather, fasten¬
ed on the outside of the arm—this is called a bracer ; and
to guard the fingers from being cut by the bowstring,
archers wore shooting gloves. Chaucer, in his prologue to
the Canterbury Tales, thus describes an archer of his day:
And he was cladde in cote and hode of grene.
A shefe of peacock arwes bright and kene
Under his belt he hare ful thriftily.
Wei coude he dresse his takel yemanly:
His arwes drouped not with fetheres lowe.
And in his bond he bare a mighty bowe.
A not-hed hadde he, with a broune visage.
Of wood-craft coude he wel alle the usage.
Upon his arme he bare a gaie bracer.
And by his side a swerd and a bokeler,
And on that other side a gaie daggere,
Harneised wel, and sharpe as point of spere:
A Cristofre on his brest of silver shene.
An home he bare, the baudrik was of grene.
A forster was he sothely as I gesse.
427
Though archery continued to be encouraged by the Archery,
king and legislature for more than two centuries after the
first knowledge of the effects of gunpowder, yet by the
latter end of the reign of Henry VIII. it seems to have
been partly considered as a pastime. Arthur, the elder
brother of Henry, is said to have been fond of this exer¬
cise, insomuch that a good shooter was styled Prince
Arthur. We are also informed that he pitched his tent
at Mile-End in order to be present at this recreation, and
that Henry his brother also attended. When the latter
afterwards became king, he gave a prize at Windsor to
those who should excel in this exercise; and a capital shot
having been made, Henry said to Barlow (one of his
guards), “ If you still win, you shall be duke over all
archers.” Barlow therefore having succeeded, and living
in Shoreditch, was created duke thereof. Upon another
occasion Henry and the queen were met by 200 archers
on Shooter’s hill, which probably took its name from their
assembling near it to shoot at marks. This king likewise
gave the first charter to the Artillery Company, in the
29th year of his reign, by which they are permitted to
wear dresses of any colour except purple and scarlet—to
shoot not only at marks, but birds, if not pheasants or
herons, and within two miles of the royal palaces. They
are also enjoined by the same charter not to wear furs of
a greater price than those of the marten. The most ma¬
terial privilege, however, is that of indemnification for
murder, if any person passing between the shooter and
the mark is killed, provided the archers have first called
out fast.
The following description of an archer, his bow, and
accoutrements, is given in a MS. written in the time of
Queen Elizabeth. “ Captains and officers should be skilful
of that most noble weapon, and to see that their soldiers
according to their draught and strength have good bowes,
well nocked, well strynged, every strynge whippe in their
nocke, and in the myddes rubbed with wax, braser and
shuting glove, some spare strynges trymed as aforesaid,
every man one shefe of arrows, with a case of leather de¬
fensible against the rayne, and in the same fower and
twentie arrowes, whereof eight of them should be lighter
than the residue, to gall or astoyne the enemye with the
hailshot of light arrows, before they shall come within the
danger of the harquebuss shot. Let every man have a
brigandine, or a little cote of plate, a skull or hufkyn, a
mawle of leade of five foote in lengthe, and a pike, and
the same hanging by his girdle, with a hook and a dagger;
being thus furnished, teach them by musters to marche,
shoote, and retire, keepinge their faces upon the enemy’s.
Sumtyme put them into great nowmbers, as to battell ap-
parteyneth, and thus use them often times practised, till
they be perfecte ; ffor those men in battel ne skirmish can
not be spared. None other weapon maye compare with
the same noble weapon.”
The long-bow, as already observed, maintained its place
in our armies long after the invention of fire-arms; nor
have there been wanting experienced soldiers who were
advocates for its continuance, and who in many cases
even preferred it to the harquebuss or musket. King
Charles I. twice granted special commissions under the
great seal for enforcing the use of the long-bow. The
first was in the 4th year of his reign; but this was revok¬
ed by proclamation four years afterwards, on account of
divers extortions and abuses committed under sanction
thereof. The second, anno 1633, in the ninth year of his
reign, to William Neade and his son, also named William,
wherein the former is styled an ancient archer, who had
presented to the king a warlike invention for uniting the
use of the pike and bow, seen and approved by him and
his council of war; whereof his majesty had granted them
428
ARCHERY.
Archery, a commission to teach and exercise his loving subjects in
the said invention, which he particularly recommended
the chief officers of his trained bands to learn and prac¬
tise ; and the justices and other chief magistrates through¬
out England are therein enjoined to use every means in
their power to assist Neade, his son, and all persons au¬
thorized by them, in the furtherance, propagation, and
practice of this useful invention. Both the commissions
and proclamation are printed at large in Rymer. At the
breaking out of the civil war, the earl of Essex issued a
precept, dated in November 1643, for stirring up all well-
affected people towards the raising of a company of archers
for the service of the king and parliament.
There are several societies of archers in England ; but
the most noted society of this kind now existing is
The Royal Company of Archers, the Kings Body
Guard for Scotland. The ancient records of this com¬
pany having been destroyed by fire about the end of the
16th century, no authentic traces of its institution now
remain; but, from entries found in some of the old national
records, this company must be of great antiquity. It is
believed that the Royal Company owes its origin to the
commissioners appointed in the reign of James I. of Scot¬
land for enforcing and overseeing the exercise of archery
in different counties. These commissioners, who were
men of rank and power, picked out from among the better
classes under their cognizance, the most expert bowmen,
formed them into a company, and upon perilous occasions
they attended the king as his chief body guard; and in
that situation they always distinguished themselves for
their loyalty, courage, and skill in archery. The rank of
King’s Body Guard for Scotland was from tradition un¬
derstood to be vested in the Royal Company, and they
accordingly claimed the honour of acting as body guard
to his majesty King George IV. on the occasion of his
visit to Scotland in 1822. His majesty was graciously
pleased to recognise their claim, and the Royal Com¬
pany were thus established as the King’s Body Guard
for Scotland. They attended his majesty at court and
on all state occasions during his residence in Scotland,
and accompanied him on his visit to Hopetoun House,
from whence he embarked for London. The captain-
general has since been appointed gold stick for Scotland,
and the Royal Company now forms part of the household.
It appears from the minutes of the Royal Company now
extant, that an act of the privy council of Scotland was
passed in 1677, conferring on them the name and title of
“ His Majesty’s Company of Archers,” and granting a
sum of money for a piece of plate to be shot for in that
year as a prize; but no permanent king’s prize was estab¬
lished until 1788, when his majesty George III., as a mark
of his royal patronage and favour, was pleased to grant a
sum of money to be shot for annually, to be named the
king’s prize, and to become the property of the winner.
The gainer is bound to purchase a piece of plate, on
which must be inscribed the king’s arms, and the date
when the prize was gained.
During the revolution in 1688 the Royal Company
were opposed to the principles then espoused; and for
many years they had to forego their public parades, and
the company in consequence had nearly been annihilated.
On the accession of Queen Anne, however, their former
splendour was revived; and in the year 1 /03 a royal char¬
ter was granted, confirming all their former rights and
privileges, and conferring others upon them.
Thus the Royal Company continued to flourish for a
number of years; but their attachment to the family of
Stuart was the cause at various times of a temporary
prosperity and decline. These unhappy differences hav¬
ing long since terminated, the Royal Company, which con¬
sists of the principal nobility and gentry of Scotland, are AnJiery.
now more prosperous, and perhaps more dexterous in the ' y-
art of archery, than at any former period in their history.
The prizes belonging to this Royal Company, and
which are annually shot for, are, ls£, A silver ariow, given
by the town of Musselburgh, which appears to have been
shot for as early as the year 1603. The victor in this, as
in the other prizes, except the king’s prize, has the cus¬
tody of it for a year, then returns it with a medal append¬
ed, on which are engraved any motto and device which
the gainer’s fancy dictates. 2rf, A silver arrow, given by
the town of Peebles A. d. 1626. 3c?, A silver arrow, given
by the city of Edinburgh a. d. 1709. kih, A silver arrow,
given by the town of Selkirk, which was shot for in 1819,
after an interval of 144 years, bth, A silver punch bowl,
made of Scotish silver, at the expense of the company,
a. d. 1720, to which a gold medal has annually been at¬
tached. This prize can only be gained by three consecu¬
tive ends ; and if not won during the summer, it is shot for
as an ordinary prize at the end of the season. §th, A gold
medal, made of pagodas, being part of the money paid by
Tippoo Sultan at the treaty of Seringapatam, and presented
to the Royal Company by Major James Spens. lih. An
elegant silver vase and gold medal, presented by General
John Earl of Hopetoun, in commemoration of the visit of
George IV. to Scotland in 1822, called the royal commemo-
ration prize, and which is shot for on the king s birth-day
annually. These prizes are all shot for at the distance
of 180 yards. There is another prize, which was given
by Sir George Mackenzie of Coul, Bart., to the Royal
Company, to be shot for at the distance of 200 yards, and
is called the “ Saint Andrew prize.” These prizes are
shot for at rovers, and, with the exception of the silver
bowl, are gained by the person who counts the greatest
number of points in a given number of ends.
Besides the above, there is another prize shot for, at the
distance of 100 yards, being an elegant silver bugle-horn,
presented to the Royal Company by one of the general
officers, Sir Henry Jardine, Knt., and was shot for on 9th
April 1830 for the first time.
There are also two prizes contended for at butts, or point
blank distance, being 100 feet. The first is called the
goose. The ancient manner of shooting for this prize
was, by building a living goose in a turf-butt, having the
head only exposed to view; and the archer who first hit
the head was entitled to have the goose as his reward,
and bore the title of Captain Goose for the season. This
barbarous custom has long since been laid aside; and in
place of the goose’s head a small glass globe is put into
the butt, of about an inch in diameter, and the archer who
breaks this is declared victor, and is entertained by the
company at dinner. He wears a medal which was^ pre¬
sented by Major Spens, also made of Tippoo Sultan’s pa¬
godas. The other butt prize is a gold medal, which is
shot for on the last Saturday of January, February, and
March, annually, and is gained by him who counts the
greatest number of points in the three days shooting.
The affairs of the Royal Company are managed by a
council, consisting of seven, who are chosen annually at a
general meeting of the members. The council are vested
with the power of receiving or rejecting candidates for
admission, and of appointing the officers of the company,
civil and military.
The Royal Company consists of about 500 members.
There are weekly meetings of members at Edinburgh, in
the Meadows, when they exercise themselves in shooting
at butts and rovers; and in the adjoining ground they have
a handsome building called Archer's Hall, erected within
these 50 years, where they dine, and hold their elections
and other meetings relative to the business of the company.
AEG
The field uniform of the Royal Company is of dark-green
cloth, faced with black braiding, with a narrow stripe of crim¬
son velvet in the centre. The hat is of the same colour,
with a handsome medallion in front, and a plume of black
feathers.
The Royal Company have two standards, which are very
old. The first of these bears on one side Mars and Venus,
encircled in a wreath of thistles, with this motto, “ In peace
and war.” On the other side is a yew-tree, with two men
dressed and equipped as archers, encircled as the former;
motto, “ Dat gloria vires.” The other standard displays on
one side a lion rampant, gules on a field or, encircled with
a wreath ; on the top a thistle and crown ; motto, “ Nemo
me impune lacessit.” On the reverse side St Andrew on
the Cross, on a field argent; at the top a crown; motto,
“ Dulce pro patria periculum.”
His late Majesty King William IV. presented the Royal
Company of Archers, his Body Guard for Scotland, with new
colours. The one combines both the old ones, with the
words, “The Royal Company of Archers;” and the other
bears the Royal Arms of Scotland, with the words, “King’s
Body Guard for Scotland.” His Majesty also expressly con¬
firmed the appointment of the Royal Company to be “ the
King’s Body Guard for Scotland.”
A RCHES Court. See Court of Arches.
ARCHETYPE (dp^eniTros), the original model of a work
ot art. Among minters it is used for the standard weight
by which the others are adjusted. The archetypal world, in
the language of Plato, means the world as it existed in the
Divine mind before the visible creation.
ARCHE US (from apxy), a term employed by Basil Va¬
lentine, Paracelsus, and Van Helmont, to denote the regu¬
lative and conservative principle of the animal world, ex¬
pressed in modern language by the word vital force.
ARCHIACOLYTHUS (from dp^os and aKoXovOof), the
chief of the acolythi. See Acolyte.
ARCHIATER (dpytarpos), properly the chief physician
of a prince, or a superintendent over subordinate physicians.
ARCHIDAPIFER (from dp^ds, and dapifer), or chief
sewer, was a great officer of the empire. This office belonged
to the elector of Bavaria, though claimed by the palatine of
the Rhine.
ARCH ID ON A, a city of Andalucia in Spain, on a small
stream which flows into the river Guadalorza, in the pro¬
vince of Granada. It is a well-built town, with one church,
five monasteries, the ruins of an extensive Moorish castle,
and 7611 inhabitants, chiefly engaged in the manufacture
of linen and olive oil.
ARCHIGALLUS, in Antiquity, the chief of the Galli,
or priests of the goddess Cybele.
ARCHIGERONTES (from dp^ds, and yepwv, old), in
Antiquity, the chiefs or masters of the several companies of
artificers at Alexandria. Some have mistaken the archi-
gerontes for the archpriests appointed to take the confession
ot those who were condemned to the mines.
ARCHIL, Archilla, Rocella, Orsielle, is a whitish
moss which grows upon rocks, in the Canary and Cape de
V erde Islands, and yields a rich purple tincture, fugitive in¬
deed, but extremely beautiful, It is produced from various
lichens, Rocella tinctoria, R. lecanora, Lichen tartarea,
Ij. parella, Variolaria orcina, V. dealhata, &c. This weed
is imported to us as it is gathered. Those who prepare it
for the use of the dyer grind it between stones, so as to
thoroughly bruise, but not to reduce it into powder; and
then moisten it occasionally with a strong spirit of urine, or
urine itself mixed with quicklime. In a few days it acquires
a purplish red, and at length a blue colour. In the first it
is called Archil; in the latter, Lacmus or Litmus.
A RC HI LOCH I AN, a term in poetry applied to the verse
of which Archilochus was the inventor ; consisting of seven
arc
429
feet, of which the first four are ordinarily dactyles, though
sometimes spondees ; the last three trochees.
ARCHILOCHUS, a famous Greek poet and musician,
was, according to Herodotus, contemporary with Candaules
and Gyges,Jungs of Lydia, who flourished about the 14th
Olympiad, <24 years before Christ. He was born at Paros,
one of the Cyclades. His father Telesicles was a man of
high rank, and was chosen by his countrymen to consult the
oracle at Delphi concerning the sending of a colony to Tha-
sos. He is said, however, to have sullied his birth by an
ignoble marriage with a slave called Enipo, of which alliance
our poet-musician was the fruit. Archilochus showed an
early genius and attachment to poetry and music; but dis¬
gust with his country and the conduct of Lycambes, who
had promised him one of his daughters, induced him to emi¬
grate to Thasos. In a battle against the Thracians of the
continent, the young poet lost his buckler, though he saved
his life by the help of his heels. “ It is much easier,” said
he, “ to get a new buckler than a new existence.”
According to Plutarch, there was no bard of antiquity by
whom the two arts of poetry and music were so much ad¬
vanced as by Archilochus. To him is attributed particularly
the sudden transition from one rhythm to another of a differ¬
ent kind, and the manner of accompanying those irregular
measures upon the lyre. Heroic poetry, in hexameter verse,
seems to have been solely in use among the more ancient
poets and musicians ; and the transition from one rhythm to
another, which lyric poetry required, was unknown to them;
so that if Archilochus were the first author of this mixture,
he might with propriety be styled the Inventor of Lyric
Poetry. To him is likewise ascribed the composition of the
first iambic poetry in Greece, and the invention of Epodes.
One of his hymns, written in honour of Hercules, brought
him the acclamations of all Greece; for he sung it in full
assembly at the Olympic games, and had the satisfaction of
receiving from the judges the crown of victory consecrated
to real merit. This hymn or ode was afterwards sung in
honour of every victor at Olympia who had no poet to cele¬
brate his particular exploits.
Archilochus was slain by one Calondas or Corax, of the
island of Naxos; who, though he did it in fight according
to the laws of war, was driven out of the temple of Delphi,
by command of the oracle, for having deprived of life a man
consecrated to the Muses.
The names of Homer and Archilochus were revered and
celebrated in Greece, as the two most excellent poets the
nation had ever produced. This appears from an epigram
in the Anthology; and from Cicero, who ranks Archilochus
with poets of the first class, and in his Epistles tells us that
the grammarian Aristophanes, the most rigid and scrupulous
critic of his time, used to say that the longest poem of Archi¬
lochus always appeared to him the most excellent. Some
fragments of his poems have been preserved. These may
be seen in the Poetce Lyrici Greed, published by Th. Bergk,
p. 467-500.
ARCHIMAGUS, the high priest of the Persian Magi or
worshippers of fire. Darius Hystaspes took upon himself
the dignity of Archimagus; for Porphyry tells us he ordered
that after his death, among the other titles, it should be
engraven on his monument that he had been Master of the
Magi. This seems to have been the reason that the kings
of Persia were ever afterwards considered to be of the sacer¬
dotal tribe, and were always initiated into the sacred order
of the Magi before their coronation.
ARCHIMANDRITE (from pavlpa, a convent), a name
applied in the Greek Church to the superior (or abbot) of a
convent, especially of the first order, such as that of Mount
Athos. In ancient times it was of wider application, being
sometimes applied to archbishops.
ARCHIMEDES, the most celebrated of the ancient ma-
430 A R C
Archi- thematicians, was born at Syracuse in Sicily, about the year
niedes. 287 before the Christian era. Hiero, king of Syracuse,
v—v—deemed it an honour to have this philosopher for his rela¬
tive and friend. History does not inform us by whom he was
instructed in the rudiments of literature, but he flourished
about 50 years after Euclid. It is reported that he was in¬
debted to Egypt for much of his knowledge ; but other ac¬
counts indicate that he conferred more knowledge than he
received from that celebrated nation; and, in particular,
Diodorus mentions that Egypt was indebted to him for the
invention of the screw-pump for drawing off water : and the
same author narrates that he was the inventor of several
other useful machines, which conveyed his fame to every
quarter of the globe. The following passage from Livy
proves that he was celebrated both for the invention of war¬
like machines, and also for his accurate observation of the
heavenly bodies: “Unicus spectator cceli siderumque, mi-
rabilior tamen inventor ac machinator bellicorum tormento"
rum,” &c. lib. xxiv. cap. 34. It appears also that, in Cicero s
time, his skill in solving problems had become proverbial.
In a letter to Atticus, he informs him that he is now freed
from a difficulty, which he termed an Archimeden problem,
Ep. xiii. 28.
Vitruvius mentions a fact which proves Archimedes s
knowledge in the doctrine of specific gravity. Hiero, the
king, having given a certain quantity of gold wherewith to
make a golden crown, and suspecting that the workmen had
stolen part of the gold and substituted silver in its stead, he
applied to Archimedes to employ his ingenuity in detecting
the fraud. Ruminating upon this subject when he was in
the bath, he observed that he dislodged a quantity of wa¬
ter corresponding to the bulk of his own body; and in¬
stantly quitting the bath with all the eagerness natural to
an inventive mind upon a new discovery, he ran into the
street naked, crying, EvprjKa! Evpr/Ka! / have found it ! I
have found it! Then taking one mass of gold and another
of silver, each equal in weight to the crown, he carefully
observed the quantity of fluid which they alternately dis¬
placed when introduced in the same vessel full of water.
Next he ascertained how much water was displaced by the
crown when put into the same vessel full of water; and, upon
comparing the three quantities together, he ascertained the
exact proportions of gold and silver of which the crown was
composed.
Archimedes’s knowledge of the mechanical powers is fa¬
miliar to every one. His celebrated saying with regard to
the power of the lever has been often repeated, “ Give me
a place to stand upon (irov cttw), and I will move the earth.’
In order to show Hiero the effect of mechanical powers, it is
said that by means of ropes and pulleys he drew towards him
a galley which lay on the shore manned and loaded. The dis¬
plays of his mechanical skill at the siege of Syracuse, men¬
tioned by Marcellus,were long deemed incredible, until the
subsequent improvements in mechanics had demonstrated
their practicability. He harassed the vessels of the besiegers,
both when they approached and kept at a distance from the
city. When they approached, he sunk them by means of long
and huge beams of wood ; or, by means of grappling hooks
placed at the extremity of levers, he hoisted up the vessels
into the air, and dashed them to pieces either against the
walls or the rocks. When the enemy kept at a distance, he
employed machines which threw from the walls such a quan¬
tity of stones as shattered and destroyed their vessels. In
short, his mechanical genius supplied strength and courage
to the city, and filled the Romans with astonishment and
terror. The account of Archimedes's instrument for burn¬
ing ships at a great distance by means of the rays of the sun
was deemed fabulous and impossible, until Buffon invented
and framed a burning glass, composed of a multitude of plane
mirrors, capable of setting fire to wood at the distance of 200
ARC
Archi-
medes-
Screw
Archi-
mimus.
feet, of melting lead and tin at 120 feet, and silver at the
distance of 50 feet. . . Screw
But, however eminent for mechanical invention, he uas pr0pejjer
still more eminent for the investigation of abstract truths, n
and the deduction of conclusive demonstrations in pure geo¬
metry. Plutarch also mentions that Archimedes himself
esteemed mechanical inventions greatly inferior in value to
those speculations which convey irresistible conviction to
the mind. His geometrical works afford numerous proofs
of his success in this field of science. It is reported that
he was often so deeply engaged in mathematical specula¬
tions, as both to neglect his food and the care of his person ;
and at the bath he would sometimes draw geometrical figures
in the ashes, and sometimes upon his own body after he was
anointed according to the custom of that time. He valued
himself so much upon the discovery of the ratio between
the sphere and the containing cylinder, that he ordered his
friends to place upon his tomb a cylinder containing a sphere,
with an inscription explanatory of its nature and use.
When Syracuse was taken by storm, Archimedes, igno¬
rant of the fact, was run through the body by a soldier,
while engaged in drawing a geometrical figure upon the
sand. As Marcellus had given express orders that both his
person and his house should be held sacred, this appears to
have happened through ignorance, and therefore removes
a great part of the odium from the Roman name. I his
event happened in the 142d Olympiad, or 212 years before
the Christian era. Marcellus, in the midst of his triumph,
lamented the death of Archimedes, conferred upon him an
honourable burial, and took his surviving relations under his
protection; but greater honour was conferred upon him
when the philosopher of Arpinum, 140 years after, went in
search of his long-neglected tomb. “ I diligently sought,”
says Cicero, “ to discover the sepulchre of Archimedes,
which the Syracusans had totally neglected, and suffered to
be overgrown with thorns and briers. Recollecting some
verses said to be inscribed on the tomb, which mentioned
that on the top was placed a sphere with a cylinder, I looked
around me upon every object at the Agrigen tine gate, the
common receptacle of the dead. At last I observed a little
column which just rose above the thorns, upon which was
placed the figure of a sphere and cylinder. This, said I
to the Syracusan nobles who were with me, c this must, I
think, be what I am seeking.’ Several persons were imme¬
diately employed to clear aw'ay the weeds and lay open the
spot. As soon as a passage was opened, we drew near, and
found on the opposite base the inscription, with nearly half
the latter part of the verses worn away. Thus would this
most famous and once most learned city of Greece have re¬
mained a stranger to the tomb of one of its most ingenious
citizens, had it not been discovered by a man of Arpmum.”
The following works of this celebrated mathematician
have escaped the wreck of time: 1. On the Sphere and
Cylinder : 2. On the Dimension of the Circle, or the Pro¬
portion between the Diameter and the Circumference. 3.
On Obtuse Conoids and Spheroids: 4. On Spiral Lines:
5. On the Quadrature of the Parabola : 6. On Equipon¬
derants and Centres of Gravity : 7. On Bodies floating on
Fluids : 8. The Arenarius : 9. Lemmata ; but the genu¬
ineness of this last has been doubted.
The existing works of Archimedes were printed at Basle,
in a folio volume, Greek and Latin, in 1544. This is the
editio princeps. Another edition was printed at Paris in
1615. The most complete and best is that of Torelli, printed
at Oxford in 1792, folio. There is a French translation of
his works by M. Peyrard ; and an English translation of the
Arenarius, by G. Anderson, London, 1784.
Akchimedes-Screw Propeller. See Steam Navi¬
gation.
ARCHIMIMUS, in Antiquity, the chief mimic actor or
ARC
Archin us pantomime, who sometimes at funeral processions repre-
II sented the character of the deceased, by imitating his voice
Architect ancj gestures. Suet. Vesp. 19.
ARCHINUS of Ccele in Attica, an eminent statesman
who assisted Thrasybulus and Anytus in expelling the thirty
tyrants from Athens, in b.c. 403. It was by his advice that
the Cadmean or Ionic alphabet was introduced into all pub¬
lic documents in the same year. From an allusion in Plato,
Dionysius of Halicarnassus and others have fallen into the
mistake of attributing to Archinus a funeral oration.—See
Plato, Menex. p. 403; Dion. Hal. De adm. vi dicend. in
Demosth. p. 178.
ARCHIPELAGO, called by the Turks Ak degniz, the
white sea, to distinguish it from Cara degniz, the black
sea, is generally applied to that part of the Mediterranean
extending from European T urkey and Greece on the west,
to Asia Minor on the east, and stretching southward to the
island of Candia.
The name Archipelago was unknown to the ancients,
and is generally supposed to be a corruption of Atyatov ttc-
Aayos, by which name, the derivation of which is uncertain,
it was known to the Greeks. (See TEgean Sea.) The
ancients divided it into (1.) Mare Thracium, the northern
part, extending southward to the northern coast of Euboea;
(2.) Mare Myrtoum, the south-western part, washing the
shores of Attica and Argolis; (3.) Mare Icarium, the
south-eastern part, extending along the coasts of Caria
and Ionia.
The navigation of this sea is rendered difficult by the
many islands and rocks with which it abounds, and by the
frequent occurrence of sudden squalls, especially about the
equinoxes; but it has a great number of safe and commo¬
dious gulfs and bays. Besides the Cyclades and Sporades,
which are the two principal groups of smaller islands, it
contains Euboea, Samos, Chios, Lesbos, Lemnos, Imbros,
Samothrace, &c. All these islands are mountainous, and
many of them are of volcanic formation ; while others are
almost entirely composed of pure white marble, for which
Paros, one of the Cyclades, in particular, is so celebrated.
The larger islands have some very fertile and well-watered
valleys and plains. The principal productions are wheat,
wine, oil, mastic, figs, raisins, honey, wax, cotton, and silk.
The inhabitants are much engaged in fishing; and the co¬
ral and sponge fishery are actively prosecuted among the
Sporades. Manufactures are at a very low ebb ; almost the
only branch carried on being that of cotton-weaving. The
climate is mild and salubrious; the heats of summer being
tempered by the sea breezes, while the winters are less
severe than on the neighbouring mainland. The men
are hardy, well-built, and handsome; and the women are
noted for their beauty. The islands of the archipelago
are considered to belong partly to Europe and partly to
Asia. At present the Cyclades form a portion of the Greek
kingdom, while most of the other islands are subject to
Turkey.
The name Archipelago, which was primarily given to the
./Egean Sea, is now applied to various other seas which con¬
tain numerous islands, as the Eastern Archipelago, Carib¬
bean Archipelago, &c.
ARCHISYNAGOGUS, the chief of the synagogue, the
title of an officer among the Jews, who presided in their
synagogues and assemblies. The number of these officers
was not fixed, nor the same in all places, there being 70 in
some, and in others only one.
ARCHITECT (Latin Architectus, Greek ’Ap^treKrwv
arc 431
from the primitive words a/p^, the beginning, origin, or cam?. Architect.
and revxo), to contrive, construct, build), an originator, a con- . '
triver of structures; one who designs and executes works of
architecture. An architect is either civil, naval, or military.
To a avil architect the term is applied simply, without the
qualifying adjective, and to the others with the distinctive ad-
jective prefixed. Architecture requires of its professor that
he be both a man of science and an artist. He has to study
it as a useful science and as a decorative art; the former
requiring a more than ordinary knowledge of all that natu¬
ral philosophy teaches, together with a technical acquaint¬
ance with the mechanical arts used in building; and the
latter a fine perception of what is competent to produce
pleasing effects, and in what manner they may be combined
to produce grandeur and beauty. It often happens, and
particularly on the Continent, where indeed they do not
generally profess to be otherwise, that architects are totally
devoid of all technical knowledge of the details of their pro¬
fession, in which case a surveyor or supervisor is required to
carry the architect’s designs into execution. Such architects
are little better than mere draughtsmen. In this country
there is a large class of persons called surveyors, most of
whom are in fact mere measurers. They too assume the
office and distinction of architects, and are frequently em¬
ployed as such. Country builders, again, who are for the
most part simply carpenters, masons, or plasterers, are not
unfrequently allowed to execute their own designs, the re¬
sult of which passes with the vulgar for architecture, and
their authors are also called architects. Vitruvius, who,
whatever may be his merits as an historian of architecture,
certainly well understood what an architect should be, re¬
quires him to be versed in almost every branch of science
and art that was taught at the time he wrote.
Very few names of the architects cf antiquity most de¬
serving of celebrity have descended to us through authentic
channels. Vitruvius was himself so obscure as not to be
mentioned, or in any way referred to, by any ancient author
whose works remain to the present time. Of the authors of
the splendid architectural monuments of Egypt and India
we know absolutely nothing. It is indeed but with diffi¬
culty and uncertainty that we can indicate the architects of
the middle ages, the inventors and perfecters of that mag¬
nificent and beautiful style which, in the absence of a better
generic name, has been called Gothic. They were mostly
ecclesiastics,—frequently bishops and abbots.
When learning began to extend itself beyond the cloister,
and science and the liberal arts were allowed to shed their
influence on the minds of men, their application to useful
and agreeable purposes became the occupation or profession
of distinct classes. 1 hese had, of course, to derive reason¬
able emolument from their respective professions, and it was
generally made in the shape of fees. Fees, however, could
not be well determined in some professions, and among them
in that of architecture. At first the architect was paid so
much for a design, and a salary as supervisor or surveyor
of its execution ; but the established custom in this country
now is, that the architect shall be paid a commission of five
per cent, on the cost of the structure he is engaged to de¬
sign and execute. For this he makes the design ; an esti¬
mate of the expense, if required; a specification of every¬
thing required to be done by the builder, by contract or
otherwise ; with working drawings, and drawings of details.
He superintends the execution of the structure, and mea¬
sures and values the whole of the work if necessary, when
completed, to check the builder’s accounts, (w. h—G.)
432
ARCHITECTURE.
History.
The term Architecture is derived from the name of
its professor, Architect. It is the art of contriving and
constructing buildings; and the thing produced is by
metonymy called by the name of the art which produces
it, as the art itself is named from its professor. Ihe
word is directly from the Latin architectura, irregularly
formed from the deponent verb architector, which is itselt
from the Greek substantive agx/rsxrwv, Latinized archi¬
tector, architecto, and architectus ; all of which are used by
Latin authors. A more regular but less relevant deriva¬
tion of the Latin words architectus and architectura is
found in the substitution of the participles of the verb tego,
to cover, &c. for the derivative of the Greek r£u%ai, to
build i •
When architecture is spoken of simply, without a quali¬
fying adjective, the designing and building civil and religi¬
ous edifices, such as palaces, mansions, theatres, churches,
courts, bridges, &c. is intended; and it is called civil, to
distinguish it from naval and military architecture. A -
though every description of building may thus have the
term applied to it, it is by common consent restricted to
such edifices as display symmetrical arrangement m the
general design and fitting proportions in its parts, with a
certain degree of enrichment effected by means of cor¬
nices, blocking courses, and quoins, or by pillared, colum¬
nar, or arcaded arrangements. Architecture may indeed be
said to bear the same analogy to building, that literature
does to language. A plain brick wall covered in the
nary way with bricks on their edges is not architectural, be¬
cause it is poor, rude, and unadorned: it produces no pleas¬
ing effect, and is such as a totally uninstructed workman
would construct merely to answer the purpose required of
it. As man, however, is endowed by nature with a taste
for beauty and elegance, mere rugged utility does not de¬
light him ; as he becomes civilized, he seeks to embellish
whatever he produces, that it may give him positive in¬
stead of negative pleasure, by presenting to his sense of
vision what his mind may dwell on with complacency ;
and he is thus disposed to avail himself of the dispositions
and decorations which constitute architecture. It may be
asked, what standard of beauty there is in this art, on which
taste may be formed; though it must be obvious, that, like
other children of the imagination, such as poetry and music,
no other can be assigned than such compositions and modes
of arrangement as by their harmony and simplicity attract
the attention of the rudest mind, which is pleased without
being conscious why, and of the most learned or practised,
which discovers in them those proportions and peculiari¬
ties of form which always produce the most pleasing im¬
pressions, and appear to be dictated by nature. Painting
and sculpture have, to a certain extent, their originals in
the external works of nature, so that the most uncultured
taste may be gratified, or otherwise, with them, as they give
faithful or unfaithful representations; music is more artifi¬
cial, and the taste must be cultivated to judge of and enjoy
its higher productions; but architecture is purely conven¬
tional, requiring a knowledge of its system, and a mind in¬
formed as to the principles on which it depends for beauty,
even to its appreciation.1 . ... ,
As it is necessary, in erecting a new edifice where an
old one has stood, to remove all that was falsely construct¬
ed and insecure, if not entirely to clear out the founda- History,
tions • so it is at this time necessary, in writing a treatise V—
on architecture, to show the false grounds on which the
old system is founded, and remove the false impressions
which it has generally induced.
The earliest extant author on the subject is Vitruvius,
who, being ignorant of any other than his native architec¬
ture, which was Roman, and generally derived from the
Greek, concocted or adopted a silly fable about the 01 ig111
of building, and pretends to trace from it the invention of
what are called “ the orders” by the Greeks ; giving, how¬
ever, to each a separate fable of its own. He professes
to give the proportions, arrangements, and disposition of
the architectural works of the latter people, and the rules
by which they were composed. He describes with con¬
siderable minuteness various species of temples and other
edifices of both the Greeks and Romans, and endeavours to
give reasons for almost every thing connected with them.
His account of the advance of man from a state of savage
wildness to civilization, the discovery and acquisition of
fire, and progress in the art of building, made by the ear y
fathers of the human race, is only surpassed in absurdity
by his stories of the invention and proportioning of the
various columnar ordinances of which the ancients made
use ; if we except perhaps the fact, that this crude system
has been received and propagated throughout the civi¬
lized world ever since the resuscitation of the work four
centuries ago. How could a man, who evidently knew
nothing of the early history of the world, of the Celtic
monuments, or of the history and architecture ot Egypt
and the East, be supposed capable of describing the in¬
ventions and advances in knowledge ot the human race t
Nor is this all: How can Vitruvius be received as an
authority, when it is found that he does not correctly de¬
scribe any existing edifice in either Greece or Italy, and
that no example of ancient architecture, either Greek or
Roman, is in perfect accordance with his laws ? I his we
shall show in its proper place, and proceed now to take a
view of the rise, progress, and history of our subject, with¬
out reference to the popular system, which is based on such
fallacious ground. , „ . . ^ .
Although it is very probable that men built houses toOngm and
shelter themselves from the inclemencies of the weather history «,i
sneiter tnemseives num ^ ^ . ar(.hitec-
before they constructed temples to the divinity, yet it
, • n i 1 oarltr mctrivv
must be obvious to all who have studied the early histoiy
of the human race in connection with its antiquities, and
have considered the analogies afforded by the lude and
simple nations of the world at the present time, and parti¬
cularly by those who occupied the western side ot the
Americas on the discovery of those continents, that
though the art of building may have originated in the per¬
sonal wants of man, the science of architecture was the
result of his devotional feelings and tendencies. In Egypt
and in India, in Greece and in Italy, in Gaul and in Bri¬
tain, in Mexico and in Peru, structures connected with
the worship of the divinity existed, and still exist, of the
earliest date, or rather of dates beyond the range of posi¬
tive chronological information; some evincing a greater and
others a less advance in taste and refinement, but all re¬
taining some analogy, bearing upon the same point, and
tending to what may be called architectural arrangement.
edizione novissima, tomo iii. p- 25.)
ARCHITECTUR E.
History. bTone of those countries, however, nor any other with
which we are acquainted, present any tiling intended for
the personal accommodation of man in the early ages ; nor
is there any thing in the sacred structures that could for
a moment induce the idea, that the dispositions of archi¬
tecture arose in the construction and composition of do¬
mestic buildings. Everything leads rather to the belief that
devotion and superstition were the originators, carriers on,
and, it may be almost said, perfecters of the science.
The modern tent and marquee may be assumed as the
representatives of the earliest habitations of man ; at first
perhaps covered with branches, then with the bark of trees,
and, in a more advanced state, with the skins of animals.
It would not be till men began to congregate in towns
and cities for mutual defence from the aggressions of each
other, that any thing more permanent than such tent-like
habitations would be thought necessary, or even conveni¬
ent, as most of the tribes, if not all, were nomadic. In
what manner the cities were fortified, whether by being
surrounded with brick walls, or with defences of earth
or mud, as the forts in India are at the present day, is
not for us here to inquire; but we have no reason to
suppose that the houses within them were better than
the hovels of the inhabitants of such places in the East
now', if they were indeed so good. The rude New Zea¬
landers are found to fortify their villages very respectably,
although their habitations are mere huts; and the ancient
Mexicans and Peruvians are reported by their discove¬
rers and conquerors to have made their towns or cities
very secure by means of walls and other defences, and to
have had considerable structures dedicated to the divinity,
while their houses were of a mean and unpretending de¬
scription. It is probable that timber was principally used
in the ruder ages by men in the construction of their per¬
manent habitations, for such is the material employed by
the South Sea islanders to whom we have referred ; and
more particularly by the simpler and less savage tribes
inhabiting the Friendly and Society Islands of the same
hemisphere, who, moreover, thatch their houses with the
large leaves of the cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees. This
supposition is supported, too, by the general tenor of the
Mosaic history, and by the command w'hich the Israelites
received to burn with fire cities whose inhabitants were
given to idolatry, which would not have been an efficient
mode of destruction if such materials had been employed
in building them as were then used in temples; for simi¬
lar commands enjoined them to “ overthrow their altars and
break their pillars.” Deut. chap. xii. and xiii. Jericho, also,
and Hazor, were burnt by Joshua. Even so late as the esta¬
blishment of the kingdom of Israel in the person of David,
that monarch is represented to have built himself “ a house
of cedar. There is indeed no reason whatever for sup¬
posing that the dispositions of architecture were employed
for domestic purposes till a comparatively late period;
and at no time in the history of the human race has the
art of building been rendered so subservient to the comfort
and convenience of man in civilized communities, as it is at
the present day. To that assertion the remains of Hercu¬
laneum and Pompeii, for their age, give the most decisive
and satisfactory evidence; and since their time the fact will
not be disputed.
If what we understand by the term architecture did not
originate in, or grow out of, the mode of building which
men employed in the construction of their own habita¬
tions, our next object must be to discover, whether it can
be deduced from the mode they adopted in arranging
and constructing edifices for the worship of the divinity.
433
n„P f- eailiest intelligible record in existence makes fre- History,
quent mention of the building of altars, but without
mp es. The first act of Noah on coming out of the ark,
was to build an altar ; Abraham built altars at various
tunes and in various places; Isaac and Jacob built altars,
and the latter is the first said to have set up a stone un¬
der the circumstances detailed in the 28th chapter of
Genesis On awaking after his remarkable dream, he
said, Surely the Lord is in this place”—“ this is none
other but the house of God”—he “ took the stone that
he had put for his pillows, and set it up for a pillar and
poured oil upon the top of it, and he called the name of
that place Bethel;” and then dedicating it to the Deity
he said, “ and this stone which I have set for a pillar
shall be God’s house.” Jacob set up a stone again on
which to ratify his agreement with Laban in the most
sacred manner. In many other parts of the Old Testa¬
ment, stones, or pillars as they are called in some places,
were set up as witnesses and memorials of sacred eno-ao-e-
ments. In the covenant at Shechem (Josh. xxiv. 26,
et seq.), Joshua “ took a stone and set it up there under an
oak that was by the sanctuary of the Lord. And Joshua
said unto all the people, Behold, this stone shall be a
witness unto us, for it hath heard all the words of the
Lord.” After the battle with the Philistines at Mizpeh,
in which the Israelites were conquerors, Samuel, who had
prayed for their success, “ took a stone and set it up between
Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name of it Eben-ezer,
saying, Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.” 1 Sam. vii!
12. I he analogy between these stones and the crom¬
lechs of the ancient Celtic nations is too clear not to be
observed. “ It is remarkable,” says General Vallancey,
in his Collectanea de Rebus Ilibernicis, “ that all the an¬
cient altais found in Ireland, and now distinguished by
the name of cromlechs, or sloping stones, were originally
called Bothal, or the House of God; and they seem to be
of the same species as those mentioned in the book of
Genesis, called by the Hebrews Bethel, which has the
same signification as the Irish Bothal.”1 Of these cromlechs Plate LI.
there are three kinds, the single upright stone or pillar;
the same, with another stone laid on it crosswise; and
two upright stones with a third placed on them, like an
entablature on two columns; and this third kind, to dis¬
tinguish it from the other two, has been called by the
Greek descriptive name trilithon. It is evident, moreover,
from the sacred text, that it was customary to offer sacri¬
fices by these pillars or cromlechs ; for on the return of the
ark from Philistia (1 Sam. vi. 14, 15), the kine drew the
cart on which it was placed into a field “ where there was
a great stone; and they (the people) clave the wood of the
cart and offered the kine for a burnt-offering to the Lord,”
having placed the ark on the stone. Now the sacrificial
stone or altar at Stonehenge is immediately before the
great trilithon which forms the end of the hypcethral
temple within the external peribolus, and that temple it¬
self is doubtless of the same species as those which Moses
built at Mount Sinai, and directed the people to construct
on their arrival in the promised land (Exod. xxiv. 4, and
Deut. xxvii. 2-6), which they afterwards did under the
command of Joshua, the stones or cromlechs being multi¬
plied for special purposes. Moses and Joshua set up
twelve stones (probably trilithons), because of the num¬
ber of the tribes: at Stonehenge there were five. Strabo,
speaking of the temples of the Egyptians, describes the
most ancient as being of vast extent, but of rude work¬
manship, without elegance, without grace, and without
embellishment of any sort. What could this have been
3 i
vol. in.
1 Coll, de Iteb. Hil. tom. ii. p. 211.
434
History.
ARCHITECTURE.
but the same simple combination of sacred stones which,
we have found, was the earliest species of temple on re¬
cord, and one of which we may presume to be the earliest,
in manner if not in date, in existence? Indeed, late tra¬
vellers have discovered, at Amada in Nubia, about halt-
way between the first and second cataracts of the Nile,
a temple which consists of square piers supporting plain
squared blocks of stone, which form a simple entablature,
occupying the mid-distance between the ruder Celtic
structure and the finished Egyptian columnar arrange¬
ment The Egyptians had made considerable advances
on the rude model to which the Greek geographer refers,
when the Israelites escaped from them, having already
fallen into polytheism and idolatry; and changes in fait
inducing changes in form, their temples might no longer
retain their monotheistic simplicity, but must be arrange
with more complexity to suit the purposes of a complex
religion. Lucian and Herodotus both say that the mos
ancient of the Egyptian temples had no statues or image
in them; but the express command given to the israe -
ites by Moses, in the passage just referred to ni Heu-
teronomy, that the stones to be set up, and the altar to
be made, should be of whole stones, and that no non
tool should be used upon them, warrants the supposition
that it was to prevent them from doing what then late
masters were then accustomed to do—carve the altar am
piers or pillars with images, and so fall into idolatry; an
may be admitted as a proof that the Egyptians had al¬
ready made the advances in architecture which we have
presumed: indeed we shall find that they had actually
arrived at the splendid results which the ancient capital
of Egypt even at this day presents. One of the col-
leagues of Denon, in a dissertation on the antiquity of
Thebes, in the great work of the French Institute on the
Antiquities of Egypt, says, “ Let us add to all these con¬
siderations (that all the historians and philosophers of
Greece and Rome agree in assigning the highest antiquity
to the Egyptians) that most of the edifices of Ihebes
bear incontestable marks of great age. This is a fact not
of a nature to produce a strong impression on those who
have not seen the monuments themselves, but it helps to
carry conviction to the minds of those who have been
able, in the places where they exist, to compare the edi¬
fices of ancient Egypt with each other.”1 He goes on to
speak of the causes of their preservation, and concludes
with this passage:—“ It may be remarked, moreovei,
that most of the ancient edifices of Thebes are composed
of the ruins of other monuments which had perhaps them¬
selves become ruined by age.” . T
But Strabo and Herodotus agree in saying that the In¬
dian caverns or excavations were justly presumed to e
more ancient than the temples of Egypt; and a learned
modern antiquary (the Rev. Mr Maurice) asserts that
they were made by the Celtae. Now the architectural
arrangement of these excavations, and of Hindoo archi¬
tecture generally, very much resembles that of the early
Egyptian works. This coincidence strengthens the sup¬
position that they had a common origin, and that indeed the
forms of architecture originated in the simple combinations
which we see in what are called the Celtic or Druidical re¬
mains ; and it is not doubted that they originated in devo¬
tional feelings. , . ^ ,
In assuming Stonehenge to be the oldest architectural
monument (in manner, it may be, rather than in the date
of its execution), we do not pretend to lower the antiquity
of any other, but to put this beyond them all; believing it
to be a specimen of primeval columnar architecture, which
led the way, as one of the numerous gradations, some of
which may have left no traces on the face of the earth,
from the monolithic cromlech to the Parthenon of Athens,
the Pantheon of Rome, and the Minster of York. It is
not a sufficient argument against this assumption, that
such structures are not found existing in the East at
the present time; for they were doubtless swept away to
make room for more ornate edifices, as the custom was,
in the same sacred places, and to furnish materials for
them; as the latter have in many cases been as com¬
pletely obliterated from the face of the earth, with the
cities to which they belonged. A specimen of the next
step in advance exists in the temple at Amada; and, as
we shall have occasion to show, it seems to demonstrate
the truth of our position, by some of its square piers hav¬
ing been sculptured into cylinders, which exhibit the
simplest form of the Greek Doric column.
This, however, is not the generally received opinion.
It is thought that the trunks of trees used in the con¬
struction of human habitations first suggested the idea of
columns; and that the lintels, transverse beams, wall-
plates, and rafters, first furnished that of an entablature.
Neither authentic history nor analogy appear to us to
bear this out; for the most ancient architectural remains,
in various places, accord less with the arrangements con¬
sequent on such an origin than those which are more mo¬
dern ; and it requires a great stretch of fancy to imagine
the derivation of the Titanic structures of Thebes, Fses-
tum, and Selinus, from the posts of a woodman s hut.
But the inquiry, being more curious than instructive, is
not worth pursuing further; for indeed no useful result
could arise from its determination.
Such being the case, we now proceed to trace the pro¬
gress of the science from its earliest regular formations,
of which we have sufficient and authentic information,
down to the present day. , . , , .-i T
Indian chronology being so vague and undefined, and the Indian
connection of the Hindoos with the civilized nations about »ec
the Mediterranean Sea having been so much restricted
in the earlier ages that we can get little assistance fiom
the Greek historians on the subject, the date ot their
architectural monuments can be determined only by ana¬
logy. That, however, is an uncertain guide, especially
in the circumstances in which we are placed, without
proper delineations, and indeed without any work that
Lives a competent idea of them. Though we have held
India so long, and by a so much more honourable tenure
than the French did Egypt, if we were now to be dis¬
possessed we should leave nothing, and we should certain y
retain nothing, to show to our credit that we had ever held
it. Such an undertaking as the great work of the Trench
Institute on the Architectural Antiquities of Egypt is far
beyond the means of individuals; the constitution of our
government appears to preclude the application of funds
from the public purse to such purposes; and the East
India Company, from whom perhaps something of the
kind on the archaeology of India might have been expect¬
ed, have, it would appear, occupations of more interest
to them than the advancement of science and art. It
may be generally stated, that, in its leading forms and
more obvious features, Hindoo architecture strongly re¬
sembles Egyptian, and may be considered as of the same
family with it. ... , ^
No nation that ever existed within the annals of the Egyptiai
human race has left structures that, in extent, magnifi-ardntec-
cence, and grandeur, can vie with those of ancient Egypt.
We have the authority of historians for believing that
1 Description de VEgypte, tome i. p- 432.
ARCHITECTURE. 435
History, there were others in the same country which no longer
exist, that must have surpassed those which do remain;
and they speak also of the cities of Assyria, as unparal¬
leled in the extent and splendour of their edifices, whose
sites, even, are not now determinable. I he pyramids,
however, mausoleums of a nation—and the temples, mo¬
numents of human folly—speak more strongly than any
historian can, and compel our belief of what they have
been by what they are; whereas the others do not exist
but in name. Nineveh and Babylon were—but Thebes
and Memphis still remain. It is strange, indeed, that a
people who displayed such energies in the construction
of tombs, pyramids, and temples, should have left no work
of any description that could be applied to any really
useful purpose. Denon, speaking of Thebes, says, “ Still
temples—nothing but temples—not a vestige of the hun¬
dred gates, so celebrated in history; no walls, quays,
bridges, baths, or theatres; not a single edifice of public
utility or convenience. Notwithstanding all the pains I
took in the research, I could find nothing but temples,
walls covered with obscure emblems, and hieroglyphics
which attested the ascendency of the priesthood, who
still seemed to reign over the mighty ruins, and whose
empire constantly haunted my imagination.”1 Champollion,
however, in his late researches, speaks of the remains of
quays, and calls some of the structures palaces instead of
temples; but as the former exist only in connection with the
latter, they can hardly be considered as any thing more
than mere embankments; and the regal and hierarchical
offices having been so closely connected in the economy
of ancient Egypt, it is of little or no consequence to our
position whether the same edifices be called palaces or
temples. Diodorus Siculus says, in one place, that
“ Busiris,” believed to be one of the Pharaohs who per¬
secuted Israel, “ built that great city which the Egyp¬
tians call Heliopolis and the Greeks Thebes, and adorned
it with stately public buildings and magnificent temples,
with rich revenuesand that “ he built all the private
houses, some four, and others five stories high.”2 Shortly
after, speaking of Memphis, to account for the splendour
with which the Egyptians built their tombs, and the com¬
parative meanness of their houses, the same author says,
“ They call the houses of the living inns, because they
stay in them but a little while ; but the sepulchres of the
dead they call everlasting habitations, because they abide
in the grave to infinite generations. Therefore they are
not very curious in the building of their houses; but in
beautifying their sepulchres they leave nothing undone
that can be thought of.” Strabo also speaks of a splendid
dwelling which was erected for the priests at Heliopolis,
but that probably was one of the sacred palaces just re¬
ferred to ; for none of the ancient writers describe the do¬
mestic structures of the Egyptians, from personal know¬
ledge of them, as being worthy of any notice; and that
assertion of Strabo is too loose and unsupported by con¬
temporary authority or analogy to deserve confidence of
itself. To the statement of Diodorus, that private houses
were built to four and five stories high, we can give no
credence whatever; for the construction of edifices in
tiers or stories was very imperfectly understood even in
his time, which was many centuries after the destruction
even of Thebes ; and none of the existing remains of that
city give the slightest indication of a second story, or in¬
deed of aptitude to construct one, except the rude land¬
ings in some of the propylaea. Herodotus says that the
Egyptians were the first who erected altars, shrines, and
temples; but of their private houses he says nothing; History,
neither does he describe any of the temples as they ex-
isted in his time in Egypt; so that he in fact affords no
assistance in determining the comparative antiquity of the
various architectural structures which remain to the pre¬
sent time in that country. Indeed the ancient historians
and topographers speak for the most part so widely of
dates and dimensions, that they are, at the best, most un¬
satisfactory, if not fallacious, guides; and in the present
case, that of Egypt, the style of architecture is so uni¬
form, or so imperfectly understood, that no argument can
with safety be drawn from it, as there may in other cases.
In Hamilton’s JEgyptiaca, the author says, with reference
to this question: “ In Egyptian architecture there is an
uniformity of structure, both in the ornaments and in the
masses, which, if unassisted by other circumstances, re¬
duces us to mere conjecture; and that not only for the
difference of a century or two, but perhaps for a thousand
years.”3 Again : “ The monuments of antiquity in Upper
Egypt present a very uniform appearance; and his first
impressions incline the traveller to attribute them to the
same or nearly the same epoch. The plans and disposi¬
tions of the temples bear throughout a great resemblance
to one another. The same character of hieroglyphics,
the same forms of the divinity, bearing the same symbols
and worshipped in the same manner, are sculptured on
their walls from Hermopolis to Philse. They are built of
the same species of stone; very little difference is dis¬
cernible in the degrees of excellence of workmanship, or
the quality of the materials; and where human force has
not been evidently employed to destroy the buildings, they
are all in the same state of preservation or decay.”4 But
we are fortunately now about to be rid of that difficulty
by the erudition and industry of those learned men who
have given their attention to the hieroglyphic literature
of the Egyptians. M. Champollion professes to have de¬
termined the date of every monument of antiquity in that
country which is inscribed, by the inscriptions, which he
has qualified himself to read. As yet, however, we are
not in possession of the whole result of his discoveries.
Hypogea, or spea, being caves formed by excavation, are
of earlier date than any existing structures. Internally
they present square piers, which were left to support the
superincumbent mass of mountain or rock when their
magnitude rendered it necessary. These were originally
tombs ; and the cave of Machpelah, of which Abraham
made the purchase as a burying-place for his family, was,
doubtless, one of that kind. Oratories or chapels were
afterwards made in the same manner, but, it would ap¬
pear, not until columnar architecture had come into use;
for their entrances are generally sculptured into the re¬
semblance of the front of a rude portico, or an actual por¬
tico or pronaos is constructed before them. Many such
are found on the banks of the Nile, in its course through
Nubia and Egypt. At Ibrim, which the Greeks call
Primis, in the former country, there are several of these
cavern temples, the earliest of which, according to M.
Champollion, bears date of the reign of one of the Pha¬
raohs, who was contemporaneous with Abraham, or his
son Isaac, or about eighteen centuries before Christ; _ the
latest is of the time of llhameses Sethos, the Sesostris of
Greek history. To some of the cavern tombs and temples
in Upper Egypt M. Champollion accords even a still
higher degree of antiquity. The earliest columnar struc¬
tures which are found within the same range of country
do not appear to bear a higher date than that of the
* Voyage dans la Basse et la Haute Egypte, p. 176. Par V. Denon. 3 JEgyptiaca, by Wm. Hamilton, Esq. F. S. A. Part I. p -60.
* Diod. Sic. lib. i. cap. iv. 4 Ibid. p. 18.
436
ARCHITECTURE.
History, earliest kings or Pharaohs of the eighteenth dynasty of that the Ptolemies and the Caesars only restored in Nubia History.
Manetho, which began about the time of the Jewish pa- what the Persians had destroyed, and rebuilt temples where v'—
triarch Abraham, and ended with the Pharaoh from whom they had formerly stood, and dedicated them to the same
his descendants escaped under the conduct of Moses, gods.
The temple at Amada, to which we have already referred, Of the arrangements of an Egyptian temple we shall
is of the time of Moeris, who was contemporary with the speak when we come to treat of Egyptian architecture as
patriarch Jacob, and consists of twelve square piers or a style. In construction the Egyptians appear to have
pillars, and four columns, which possess the form and cha
racter of the Greek Doric, and may it is suggested, be
called protodoric. The same intention, if it may be so
called, is found in others of the early monuments, but in
none so perfect as in this, as almost all the structures of
ancient Egypt were either destroyed or seriously damag¬
ed by the Persians at the time of their invasion under
Cambyses; and they are supposed not to have ascended
the Nile much above Psalcis or Dakke, but to have turned
off’ by the way across the desert to Ethiopia, so that the
temple at Amada, which is considerably above Dakke,
escaped.
Of all the Pharaohs, Sesostris, the first of the nineteenth
used wrought stones at a very early period: this probably
was induced by the still earlier habit of excavating rocks
to form tombs; for the walls in their oldest structures are
composed of rectangularly cut blocks in parallel courses;
whereas we shall find that the most ancient specimens of
walling in Greece and Italy are not so. In the Pharaonic
monuments, besides walls built in parallel courses of
wrought stone, we find squared piers also; and frequently,
in the same structure with them, the peculiarly formed
tumescent column with a bulbous capital or head, covered
with an abacus or square tablet, corresponding with the
size of the piers, and warranting the supposition that that
species of column is a mere refinement on the simple
dynasty, was the most distinguished for the great and ex- square pillar. What dictated its singular form must re-
tensive works he executed in architecture. Most of the main matter of speculation. The cylindrical column with
existing ruins in Egypt, anterior to the Persian invasion, are a bell-shaped capital was the next advance, and that also
attributed to that monarch by M. Champollion. The im- is found in the same structures, though not in the simplest
mense ruins at Thebes, which have been called the Mem- and earliest of them, in which piers occur. Terminal or
nonium and the tomb of Osymandyas, and are popularly Caryatic figures are common in those early works, not
called Medinet Abou, are considered by the same inquirer absolutely supporting an entablature, but placed before
to be those of the Palatial Temple of Rhameses the Great, piers which do so, and having the appearance of doing
or Sesostris, and which he therefore calls the Rhamesseion, it themselves when seen in front Bold, massive, rectan-
the ruins at Luxor being those of the Memnonium; that gular architraves extend from pier to pier and from co¬
edifice or series of edifices having been constructed by Ame- lumn to column, and are generally surmounted externally
nophis Memnon, of the eighteenth dynasty, one of the good by a deep coved coping, or cornice, with a large corded
and beneficent princes by whom the children of Israel were and torus-formed moulding intervening. I his masks the
protected during their sojourn in Egypt. The magnificent
structure at the village of Carnack, within the same city,
appears however to excel all the rest in extent and
grandeur, and is at least their equal in antiquity. It is
ends of the stones which are placed transversely on the
architraves to form the ceiling internally, the whole be¬
ing flushed square on the top, and forming a flat terrace
or floor. The pyramidal form of the moles or propylaea,
generally known as the temple of Carnack, but it has peculiar to Egyptian temples, may have been suggested
been distinguished as that of Jupiter Ammon. It bears by the pyramids, as neither that form nor those adjuncts
inscribed the name of Thothmosis II., the predecessor to a temple appear to have been used before the period
of Amenophis Memnon. From the existing remains of at which it is supposed the former were constructed.
Thebes, and the relations of historians combined, that The grandeur and dignity inherent to that form would in¬
city may be assumed to have attained its highest degree deed hardly be suspected till its appearance in the pyra-
of splendour in the time of Sesostris; few of the ruins it mids themselves; and certainly the impression of its ef-
presents being of later date than the time of that monarch, feet must have been strong, to induce men to seek it in a
This being admitted, and we believe it can hardly be de- truncated pyramid under a very acute angle, as in the
nied, it must be admitted also that the practice of archi- propylaea, relying on the tendency of its outline alone. It
tecture, and of the allied mechanical arts, were already was gradually, too, that this tendency was generally ap-
well understood; for the composition of the monuments plied, for in the earliest Pharaonic structures the vertical
displays an exquisite combination of simplicitly and har- outline is most common, except in the propylaea, where
mony, which produce the finest effects of beauty and gran- they exist; and in the structures of the Ptolemies the
deur; while their construction is the apparent result of per- inclined outline pervades everything. rIhe monolithic
fection in the use of mechanical powers. Ail the Pharao- obelisk is of Egyptian origin also. Its tapering form may
nic monuments, indeed, throughout Egypt and Nubia, are be the consequence of the impression the pyramidal ten-
wenders of science and art. The structures of Ombos, dency had occasioned, though perhaps the object itself is
Apollinopolis Magna, and Latopolis, between Thebes and the representative of the single stone by which religious
the cataract, M. Champoliion determines to be generally feeling appears first to have expressed itself. Obelisks
of the age of the Ptolemies, and some even of the Roman were set up by the Egyptians, sometimes in the courts or
dominion ; those, however, which are of comparatively mo- atria of their temples, and sometimes before the entrances
dern date are evidently restorations; others, probably of to them.
the earliest ages, having occupied the same sites. In- Of all the architectural works of the Egyptians, how-
deed M. Champollion asserts generally that the Ptolemies, ever, none have excited so much the wonder and curiosity
and the Ethiopian Ergamenes himself, only rebuilt tern- of men as the pyramids themselves ; not in consequence of
pies where they had already stood in the times of the any particular beauty in their composition, or ingenuity in
Pharaohs, and to the same divinities that had always been their construction, but simply because of their immense
worshipped there ; and he remarks, that the religious sys- magnitude, and unknown use, and antiquity. Denon makes
tem of this people was such a complete whole, so connected the following observation on his first visit to the great py-
in all its parts, and fixed from time immemorial in so ab- ramid of Gizeh, at Memphis. “ If we reflect upon these
solute and precise a manner, that the dominion of the pyramids, we shall be inclined to think the pride that
Greeks and of the Romans did not produce any innovation; constructed them greater even than these masses them-
ARCHITECTURE.
437
History, selves, and shall scarcely know whether to reprobate most tecture before referred to, unless every examnle exhi
the insolent tyranny which commanded, or the stupid ser- biting that tendency were itself referred to a date noste
vihty of the people which executed, the undertaking, rior to that assigned to Cheops and Cephron which can*
None but sacerdotal despots would ever have undertaken not be done in accordance with the assertions of M
them, and none but a stupid fanatical people would ever Champollion as to the structures of Thebes Elenhantina*
have built them....The most honourable reason that can and Nubia generally. ’ ^ ’
be assigned for their erection is the emulation of man to From its immense size, the dimensions of the great nv
excel the works of nature in immensity and duration, and ramid of Gizeh, at Memphis, are variously given by the
in this project he has not been altogether unsuccessful, various persons who have measured it. M. Nouet who
The mountains near the pyramids are not so high, and was of the French commission in Egypt, and had perhaps
have suffered more from time than the pyramids them- the best means of ascertaining the truth, states its base' to
selves.”1 But Memphis itself was of late foundation in com- be a square whose side is 716 French or 768 English feet
parison with other cities on the Nile. According to Pro- in length, which is about the extent of the great square
fessor Heeren,2 civilization descended by the Nile from of Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields in London; and its^height 421
Ethiopia with the caste of priests who brought with them French or 452 English feet, or about one-third as high
the worship of Ammon, Osiris, and Phtha (the Jupiter, again as St Paul’s cathedral. It is built in regular cours'es
Bacchus, and Vulcan of the Greeks), and “ the spread of or layers of stone, which vary in thickness from two to
this worship, which was always connected with temples, three feet, each receding from the one below it to the
affords the most evident vestiges of the spread of the number of 202; though even this is variously stated from
caste itself; and those vestiges, combined with the records that number to 260, as indeed the height is given by
of the Egyptians, lead us to the conclusion that this caste various modern travellers at from 444 to 625 feet. And
was a tribe which migrated from the south, above Meroe, the ancient writers differ as widely, both among them-
in Ethiopia, and, by the establishment of inland colonies selves and with the moderns. On the top course the area
around the temples founded by them, gradually extended is about 10 English feet square, though it is believed to
and made the worship of their gods the dominant religion have been originally two courses higher, which would
in Egypt. Proofs of the accuracy of this theory,” he as- bring it to the smallest that in regular gradation it could
serts, “ may be deduced from monuments and express be. It is a solid mass of stone, with the exception of a
testimonies concerning the origin of Thebes and Ammon narrow corridor leading to a small chamber in its centre;
from Meroe ; that it might indeed have been inferred and a larger ascending corridor or gallery, from about half
from the preservation of the worship of Ammon in this the distance of the first to another larger chamber at a
last place.” The same author goes on to say, that “ Thebes considerable distance, vertically above the former, in
was, if not the most, one of the most, ancient cities which there is a single granite sarcophagus, not more than
of Egyptand that “ Memphis and other cities of the large enough for one body, putting the intention of the
vale of the Nile are knowm to have been founded from structure clearly beyond doubt. The other pyramids dif-
Thebes.” Now Thebes exists to the present time in the fer from that of Cheops (as the largest is called) in size,
ruins of her magnificent temples, the works of the Pha- and slightly in form and mode of construction, some having
raohs, but without the vestige of a pyramid, so that it the angles of the steps or courses of stone worked away
may be concluded that none was ever built there; and to an inclined plane, and some not diminishing in a right
Memphis may be said to exist in the everlasting pyramids line. One of the middle-sized pyramids is unlike all the
of Gizeh and Saccharah, which occupy two of its extre- rest, in being neither smooth nor in small steps, but in six
mities; but no indication remains of the existence of a large benches or stages, apparently of equal height, and di¬
temple of any kind: indeed the exact site of the city minishing gradually. But the circumstance which most dis-
cannot be determined except by the pyramids. Flerodo- tinguishes it is, that it is constructed of rude unshapen
tus, however, speaks of temples at Memphis, particularly blocks of stone, cemented together with a very large pro¬
of that of Vulcan or Phtha; but certainly no vestige of portion of mortar. Another is of unburnt brick, and has
such has existed for a long period of time within that vi- consequently become ruinous and mis-shapen,
cinity. Memphis was a great and ancient capital, and The famous labyrinth, of which Herodotus speaks as
why should it not retain some evidence of the existence having been built by the twelve kings of Egypt, beyond
of temples in it? But Thebes was a greater and more an- the lake Mceris, is believed by Denon, after examination
cient capital, and indeed the metropolis of all Egypt; and of the described site, to be little better than fabulous, and
why has it no pyramids ? These things are equally un- that the historian was imposed on by the priests, from
accountable and inexplicable, affording groundwork for whom he derived most of his information. He says, in-
almost any theory, but giving perfect support to none, deed, that he saw and examined it himself; but his de-
Mr Hamilton, in his JEgyptiaca, before quoted, places scription is so vague, that an architect who should endea-
Memphis considerably further south, where some ruins vour to make a design from it, would be greatly embarrass-
have been discovered which may be thought to give a ed. As we can therefore derive no information from it
colour to his supposition. But the ruins are of very in- with regard to architecture, it need not be further dis-
considerable extent, and are all prostrate, so that nothing cussed here. It has been suggested as probable, and in-
can be positively determined by them; and the statement deed the opinion has been maintained, that the pyramids
of Pliny as to the relative distances of the Nile and the stand over immense substructures; that their areas are
city from the pyramids of Gizeh being proved to be cor- occupied by chambers, in which maybe found the arcana
rect in the one, may be admitted in the other. If Hero- of Egyptian lore, of which they are the depositories. If
dotus s account of the building of the pyramids be receiv- it really be so, may not the labyrinths just referred to
ed, they are of comparatively modern date, the oldest hav- have been under the pyramid, which the historian says
ing been constructed several generations after the time was constructed at the point where the labyrinth termi-
of Sesostris, under whom Thebes attained its highest nates, instead of near it? His expression is so ambiguous,
degree of splendour; but this would leave unaccounted that it leaves room for a suggestion of the kind,
for the tendency to pyramidal forms in Egyptian archi- Of the domestic architecture of the Egyptians we have
History.
' Voyage dans la Basse et la Haute Egypte, p. 77. Par V. Denon.
2 Manual cf Ancient History, p. 58.
architecture.
438
History, no knowledge whatever. The statements of the ancient
writers on the subject have been already mentioned ; but
supposing them to be more explicit, and more in confor¬
mity with probability, than they really are, without exist¬
ing remains we could form but a very imperfect idea ot
what it was. Reasoning from analogy, and the slight in¬
formation of historians, we should conclude that the habi¬
tations of the Egyptians were of a very unpretending de¬
scription. The already quoted statement of Diodorus
Siculus, that “ they are not very curious in the building
of their houses,” even in his time, after their long inter¬
course with Greece, and their more recent connection
with luxurious Rome; added to the fact, that no indica¬
tions of domestic structures exist in any part of the coun¬
try, and that the presumed habitations of the priests, in
authors of the great French work we have so often allud¬
ed to. That the Persian style, though very different in
particulars, does bear a relation to the Egyptian family,
however, is very evident. Sir Robert Ker Porter in his
travels in the East, says that the first impression he re¬
ceived in his first walk among the rums of Persepohs was,
that “ in mass and in detail they bore a strong resem¬
blance to the architectural taste of Egypt. 2 Neverthe¬
less, there is a strong probability that the Persian is itself
an original style, and that the resemblance is merely for¬
tuitous, similar results arising from the same causes, as in
E<rypt and India; for the eastern parts of that country
are believed to have been the earliest seat of the human
race. Professor Heeren says of Persia, “ it cannot be
try, and that the ^ed tobitaUo^ of tne pr~
the climate and the salubrity of the atmosp > nothinsr but a few fragments, probably of dynasties
it must be admitted, warrant the conclusion. w^cl rulef in Media properly o^alledf immediately
No style of architecture of which we have any know- which rul d m i ^^a p the ]e of archi_
ledge is so well qualified to produce impressive e ec s P m ^ drived ’though indeed we know of no re-
the mind as the Egyptian. The mere assump urn • f eari[ier date than tho0se which are properly called
forms, however, is not sufficient to produce it effects t0 know nothing of Bac-
and drawing is more incompetent to convey _ ^ ^ tria. it may> and probably does, rival Elora, Salsette, and
authors'of* the°great worTof thefench Institute on the the banks of the Nile, in primitive specimens of arch,tec-
antiquities of Egypt bear testimony in strong language. tute- -.e pgtorieal nor archffiological informa-
^E^jrnas-«sv;eiaf8,,wWchr
ourselves received from actual views and presen con . i„ architecture, or the progress it
but far indeed are they from giving satisfactory i eas o ^ bg received as evidence of the general assimi-
to^egretht^much^of the^eauty of the orig^af was lost lain of its style of design with .ha, which was common
in its8 geometrical representation on paper; for what ,n t0 *e “e'™8'toId by Lucian, built in the
execution was light and graceful, often in the geome E„yptian style; but their country retains no memorials of
drawings appeared heavy and inelegant. _ ^ &JP . A_._y._v *  k.. vrUlrvi, WP mio-ht. confirm or
Historv.
• which the Nile offered a ready mode ot con- nu *=> b- | Mexicans and
some species were brought down the river from &.f e -hitecture^of ^ and
Persian,
Assyrian,
and Phoe¬
nician
architec¬
ture.
The materials used in the construction of the Egyptian
architectural monuments are, for the most part, granite,
breccia, sandstone, and unburnt brick. The granite was
principally supplied by the quarries at Elephantina and
Syene, for which the Nile ottered a ready mode of con¬
veyance ; some species were brought down the river fi om
Ethiopia, but we do not find that the materials were at
any time brought from any other foreign country. It may
be remarked, too, that in the earliest structures the com¬
mon gres or sandstone is principally employed. Excepting
the obelisks and some few of the propylsea, all the temples
at Thebes are of that material. In Lower Egypt, on the
contrary, and in the works of later date generally, almost
every thing is constructed of granite.
Herodotus informs us that the ancient Persians had
neither statues, temples, nor altars; and Diodorus Siculus
affirms that the palaces of Persepolis and Susa were not
built till after the conquest of Egypt by Cambyses, and
that they were constructed by architects of that nation.
In this case, as in that of India, we are at a great loss for
evidence. The Persepolitan remains, though frequently
visited and slightly sketched, have not been explored and
its ancient architecture by which we might confirm or
correct his information. Doubtless Carthage and the
other colonies of Phoenicia followed their parent country
in this particular.
As far as we can judge from the trifling documents we
_ . - • r* j  :_wx4. A/I/^vTr»anc nnn
Peruvians, it was of a rude but massive character, and may
be thought also to resemble the early architecture ol In¬
dia, Egypt, and Persia more than we can see any reason
for, except in the tendency of the mind of man to the
same result when he is placed under similar circum¬
stances. An impression to this effect appears to have
been made on Humboldt, who, when speaking of a pyra¬
midal mass of ancient Mexico, says, “ It is impossible to
read the descriptions which Herodotus and Diodorus
Siculus have left us of the temple of Jupiter Belus, without
being struck with the resemblance of that Babylonian
monument to the teocullis of Anahuac.
It is an illustration of the fact that the wants and fan¬
cies of man lead him to nearly the same results as he be¬
comes civilized, without communication and consequent
imitation, that the plans given by Sir William Chambers,
S— by^suchmen as ^“eveC™Te JSese public and private buddings, might be taken.
Description de VEgypte, vol. i. p- 292. , .
Travels in Georgia, Persia, <£■<?. by Sir It. K. Porter, vol. . 7 •
3 Manual of Ancient History, p. 26.
* Humboldt’s Personal Narrative, vol. i. p 82.
ARCHITECTURE. 439
History, at the first glance, for either Hindoo, Greek, Roman, or
Moresco—of course not considering magnitude of parts,
but general forms and arrangements. Indeed, the remark
may be extended beyond the mere plans; for all have, to
a certain extent, insulated columns placed equidistant, and
crowned with an entablature ; and the general effect of many
Chinese buildings is altogether Moorish.
Jewish Architecture was not likely to flourish among the shep-
architec- herd tribes of Israel. It is in agricultural and commercial
ture' countries, such as Egypt and Greece, that its noblest
works are produced, and not among the nomades of Ara¬
bia and Palestine. Saul, the first king of Israel, appears
to have had no settled place of abode ; and the most sa¬
cred ceremonies of the Jewish religion were performed at
Gilgal, where was the temple of unhewn stones set up
by Joshua on taking possession of the promised land, and
making a covenant between God and the people, until
the building of the temple at Jerusalem in the place ren¬
dered holy by Abraham’s great sacrifice. Saul himself
was confirmed in the kingdom at Gilgal, and there the
nation swore allegiance to him with sacrifices to the Al¬
mighty ; but as yet nothing existed there in which to per¬
form the rites, except the ancient Celtic structure to which
we have alluded. Joshua also set up an altar in Mount
Ebal, and in long after times a splendid temple was erected
in one of the two neighbouring mounts, Ebal or Gerizim,
where the Samaritans worshipped. Like his predecessor on
the throne, David appears to have been but indifferently
lodged till towards the end of his reign, when he is said to
have built himself a house ; and until the temple was built
in the following reign, the ark of the covenant was never in
a fixed place;—it was at one time in a private house, at
another in captivity among the Philistines; and, indeed,
King David expressed his shame that he had a house of
cedar, whilst the ark of the Lord still dwelt in a tent.
These things, and the fact that Solomon sent to Tyre for
workmen, and indeed for an architect also, are, we think,
conclusive evidence, that in whatever state architecture
was among the Jews from the building of the temple at
Jerusalem, it was very low before that time ; and from the
descriptions we have of that edifice itself in the Bible, it
appears to have exhibited a greater degree of barbaric
splendour than of classic elegance. From mere descrip¬
tion, however, it is impossible to understand an unknown
species of building, as many things we shall have occasion
to refer to will clearly prove.
Few things have occasioned controversies more amus¬
ing, from the singularity of some assumptions, and the ab¬
solute futility of them all, than the style and manner in
which Solomon’s temple was built. Villalpanda, a Spanish
Jesuit, appended to a commentary which he wrote on the
prophecies of Ezekiel, a long dissertation on the first and
second temples of Jerusalem, in which he insists that the
theory and practice of permanent architecture commenced
with the building of that temple by Solomon—that with
it, “ the orders,” which, he says, are falsely attributed to
the Greeks, came into existence—that indeed the design
(from a passage in the first book of the Chronicles), per¬
fect in all its details, was given to David, drawn by the
hand of God ! He moreover pretends to show, that the
proportions assigned by Vitruvius to the different orders
accord exactly with the descriptions given of the temple
of Solomon; and accuses Callimachus of usurping the ho¬
nour of inventing the Corinthian capital, which could not
belong to him, as it was of divine origin, and had been
executed in the temple at Jerusalem centuries before he
was born. Some learned, and in some respects sensible
men, have attempted to support this theory; and others
have thought it worth while to controvert it, by proving
that the architect and the principal workmen were all History-
either Egyptians or Phoenicians, and that consequently thev--^~v~^/
edifice must have been in the Egyptian style. A learned
architect of the present day has endeavoured to show that
it was in the Greek style, and that its form, proportions,
and distribution, were not dissimilar to those of the
temple of Ceres at Eleusis. As the Phoenicians, who
were principally employed by Solomon, themselves built
in the Egyptian manner, we think the probability is great
that it was in the Egyptian or Phoenician style, as far as
the Jewish ceremonial would permit; and certainly the
descriptions of its distribution accord better with that of
an Egyptian than of a Grecian temple. The pillars of
Jachim and Boaz, which are said to have been set up be¬
fore the temple, correspond exactly in relative situation
with the obelisks in temples at Thebes. Clemens of Alex¬
andria, too, gives a description of an Egyptian temple very
much like that of the Jewish ; and the palm-leaves, roses,
fruits, and flowers, in the latter, are very common in ex¬
isting specimens of the former, whereas in the Greek re¬
mains of early date no such things are to be found.
Whether the Jews in after-times possessed a national
style of architecture or not, we cannot tell: there is no
reason, however, for supposing that they did; for their
monotheistic structure at Jerusalem was not repeated in
other places, as the temples of the heathen divinities were
among the Greeks and Romans, by which they might
have acquired a peculiar mode of composition and com¬
bination. The non-existence of a national Jewish style
of architecture tends also to strengthen our position, that
architecture did not originate in the disposition and de¬
coration of buildings for domestic purposes, of which the
Jews must, when settled, have made as much use as
other nations; and a multiplicity of religious edifices, in
the construction of which they might have acquired one,
was forbidden by their code.
In various parts of Greece and Italy, specimens of rude Pelaegic
walling are found of such remote antiquity that they are, arch‘tec-
as by common consent, referred to the fabulous ages, and, tiue‘
for want of a more distinctive term, are called Cyclopaean.
Now it appears, from the concurring evidence and opi¬
nions of most antiquaries, that a people who have been
called Pelasgi, or sailors, migrated from Asia Minor, or
the coast of Syria, at a very early period, and possessed
themselves of various countries, some of which were un¬
occupied, and others inhabited by Celtic tribes. Mr
Godfrey Higgins says that the Pelasgi were Canaanites,
and being a hardy sea-faring race, they soon subdued the
Celtic inhabitants of Delphi in Greece, or of Cuma in
Italy, who, from their first quitting the parent hive, never
had occasion for an offensive weapon, except against wild
beasts; and that they were the people who settled Car¬
thage, Spain, and Ireland. Bishop Marsh has proved the
Pelasgi to be Dorians, Dr Clarke has proved the Etrusci
to be Phoenicians, and Gallaeus has proved the Dorians to
be Phoenicians. Thus, says Mr Higgins, the Pelasgi, the
Etrusci, and the Phoenicians, are all proved to be the
same. According to Professor Heeren, also, who affixes
dates to the various migrations, the Pelasgi were of
Asiatic origin. “ Their first arrival in the Peloponnesus
was under Inachus, about 1800 years b. c. ; and accord¬
ing to their own traditions,” he says, “ they made their
first appearance in this quarter as uncultivated savages.
They must, however, at an early period, have made some
progress towards civilization, since the most ancient states,
Argos and Sicyon, owed their origin to them; and to
them, perhaps with great probability, are attributed the
remains of those most ancient monuments generally
termed Cyclopic.”1 He adds, that the Hellenes, a people
1 Manual of Ancient History, p. 119.
2 The Celtic Druids, c. vi. § 29, p. 259.
440 ARCHITECTURE.
History, of Asiatic origin also, expelled the Pelasgi from almost
V*-' every part of Greece, about 300 years after their first
occupation of it; the latter keeping their footing only in
Arcadia and in the land of Dodona, whilst some of them
migrated to Italy, and others to Crete and various islands.
The arrival of the Egyptian and Phoenician colonies in
Greece, Professor Heeren thinks, was between 1600 and
1400 b. c.
The connection of Greece and Italy with each other,
and with Egypt and Phoenicia, is thus made evident. The
Cyclopaean structures, however, were the works of the
rude Pelasgi before that connection took place, except as
far as it existed in their having a common origin. They
occupied, either simultaneously or consecutively, both
Greece and Italy; and this accounts for the sameness
of that peculiar and original mode of structure which, we
have said, is found in both countries, though no evidence
exists of its ever having been practised elsewhere. If, in¬
deed, the things in question were the work of the earlier
Celtic inhabitants, a still more remote date must be as¬
signed them than they could derive from the Pelasgi;
and this is the opinion of Mr Higgins, supported, he
contends, by the suffrages of Dodwell, Clarke, and others,
who say that the doorway called the Gate of the Lions,
in the Acropolis of Mycenae, is built exactly like the
remains of Stonehenge. The most ancient specimen
of Cyclopic walling is found at Tyrinthus, near My-
Plate LI. cenae. It is composed of huge masses of rock roughly
Fig. 14. hewn and piled up together, with the interstices at the
angles filled up by small stones, but without mortar or
cement of any kind. The next species is in stones of va¬
rious sizes also, shaped polygonally, and fitted with nicety
one to another, but not laid in courses. Specimens of
this are found at lulis and Delphi, as well as at the places
already mentioned, in Greece, and in various parts of
Italy, particularly at Cossa, a town of the Volsci. This
also was constructed without mortar. The mode of build¬
ing walls, which took the place of that, is not called Cyclo-
Fig. 16. paean ; it is in parallel courses of rectangular stones, of un¬
equal size, but of the same height. This is common in
the Phocian cities, and in some parts of Boeotia and Ar-
golis. To that succeeded the mode most common in, and
which was chiefly confined to, Attica. It consists of hori¬
zontal courses of masonry, not always of the same height,
but composed of rectangular stones.
Grecian The oldest existing structure in Greece of regular form
architec- is of far superior construction to the Cyclopaean walling,
tare. and must be referred to the Egyptian or Phoenician co¬
lonists. It is at Mycenae, and consists of two subterra¬
nean chambers, one of which is much larger than the
other. The outer and larger one is of circular form, and
is entered by a huge doorway at the end of a long ave¬
nue of colossal walls, built in nearly parallel courses of
rectangular stones, roughly hewn, however, and laid with¬
out mortar. Its external effect is that of an excavation,
though the structure of the front is evident; and inter¬
nally it assumes the form of an immense lime-kiln; its
vertical section being of a somewhat conical form, under
nearly parabolic curves, like a pointed, or what is vulgarly
called a Gothic arch. The construction of this edifice
was thought to afford clear evidence that the Greeks
were acquainted with the properties of the arch; but
in the most material point this was destroyed on finding
that it consisted of parallel projecting courses of stone in
horizontal layers, in the manner called by our workmen
battering, or more correctly perhaps corbelling. It proves,
however, that its architect understood the principle of the
arch in its horizontal position ; for Mr Cockerell has dis¬
covered, by excavations above it, that the diminishing rings
of which the dome is composed are complete in them¬
selves for withstanding outward pressure ; the joints of the History,
stones being partly wrought radiating, and partly ren-
dered so by wedges of small stones driven tightly into
them behind. The apex is formed, not by a key-stone,
for the construction does not admit of such, but bj a
covering stone, which is merely laid on the course imme¬
diately below it. It may be added, that internally the
lower projecting angles of the stones are worked off to
follow the general outline. Though this is the largest
and most perfect, its internal diameter at the base being
48 feet 6 inches, and its height from the floor to the co¬
vering stone 45 feet, yet edifices exhibiting similar struc¬
ture are found in many other places in Greece itself, in
Egypt, in Sicily, and in Italy. They all however tend to
prove, that the principle of the construction of the verti¬
cal arch was unknown at the time of their erection in all
those countries ; and their erection is as evidently of the
most remote antiquity, perhaps of the presumed era of
Daedalus, to whom some have assigned many of them, as
well as the discovery of so much of the principle of the
arch as is exhibited in the arrangement of the horizontal
rings or layers in the Mycenaean monument. Neither
could the mechanical powers have been unknown to their
constructors. In the edifice which we have described,
and which is thought by some to be the Treasury of Atreus,
or the Tomb of his son Agamemnon, mentioned by Pau-
sanias as existing among the ruins of Mycenae in his time,
the inner lintel of the doorway is 27 feet in length, 16 feet
deep, and nearly 4 feet thick, weighing, it is computed,
upwards of 130 tons ; and the lintel of the Gate of the
Lions in the Acropolis of the same city, is, from its im¬
mense magnitude, also strongly illustrative of the great
mechanical skill of the people of those times. As the
treasury of Atreus at present exists, it exhibits nothing
like an attempt at decoration, except that the doorway is,
on the outside, sunk in two faces all round, as if to harmo¬
nize with some architectural composition ; and the inte¬
rior of the edifice may be supposed to have been lined,
probably with plates of metal, like the tower of Acrisius,
as bronze nails for attaching them to the vault still re¬
main. Some sculptured fragments of marble which have
been found among the ruins of the fallen parts and the
rubbish which chokes up the entrance, together with in¬
dications on the external front of the edifice that it was
cased, have led to an ingenious attempt at restoration,
upon the supposition that the fragments were parts of a
frontispiece. The fact that such frontispieces were some¬
times carved, and sometimes constructed, in connection
with the entrances of excavated tombs and other spea in
Egypt and Nubia, gives a degree of probability to the
idea that it would not otherwise have ; for the fragments
do not resemble the earliest existing specimens of Greek
architectural forms; though indeed these latter may be
traced to Persepolis, and Ibrim in Nubia, according to
several ingenious antiquaries and architects. In curious
accordance with this Mycenaean structure is the ancient
monument at New Grange, near Drogheda, in Ireland.
Ruder in every respect than the former, in form, con¬
struction, and mode of access, it bears such a striking
similarity to it, that it is almost impossible to be supposed
the effect of mere chance. The opinion of Mr Godfrey
Higgins, that the Pelasgi, who peopled many of the coun¬
tries on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, peopled
Ireland also, appears to be supported by this coincidence
between the so-called Treasury of Atreus, or Tomb of
Agamemnon, in the Peloponnesus, and the monument at
New Grange in Ireland.
We know of no columnar edifice in Greece, or else- piate Li.
where in the Grecian style, of earlier date than the ruin- Fig. io.
ed temple at Corinth, which is in the plainest and sim-
ARCHITECTURE.
History, plest form of what has been called the Doric Order,
though it would be more correctly designated the Doric
Style ; for the term Order is objectionable, because it sup¬
poses- rules and limitations to what in its best times was
subjected to neither. As, however, it is the term best
understood, we shall not hesitate to continue it. It is dif¬
ficult, if not impossible, to ascertain where and in what
manner the Doric order originated. The example we have
referred to, though the earliest, does not differ in its lead¬
ing features and characteristics from the more perfect
specimens of later date ; and it bears no direct and easy
analogy to any species of columnar arrangement of other
countries and earlier times. The story of Vitruvius, even
supposing it rational, does not coincide with the Greek
style of Doric at all, but, if with any thing, with the Ro¬
man examples of it, which at the best are mean and in¬
elegant deteriorations of the simple and beautiful original.
This author says that “ Dorus, the son of Hellenus and of
the nymph Orseis, king of Achaia and of all the Pelopon¬
nesus, having formerly built a temple to Juno in the an¬
cient city of Argos, this temple was found by chance
to be in that manner which we call Doric.”1 In another
place he deduces the arrangements of this same order
from those of a primitive log-hut in the first place, through
all the refinements of carpentry, leaving nothing to chance,
but settling with the utmost precision what, in the latter,
suggested the various parts of the former. Chance in
one case, and experience in another, however, are not
enough for this author ; but he also tells us that the Doric
column was modelled by the Grecian colonists in Asia
Minor, on the proportions of the male human figure, and
was made six diameters in height, because a man was found
to be six times the length of his foot; and that eventual
improvements occasioned the column to be made one dia¬
meter more, or seven instead of six. “ Thus the Doric
column was first adapted to edifices, having the propor¬
tions, strength, and beauty of the body of a man !” The
earliest examples of this order, however, are those which
least agree with the primitive forms and proportions of
Vitruvius; the columns at Corinth hardly exceed four
diameters in height, while in later examples they gradu¬
ally extend, till, in the temple of Minerva on the promon¬
tory of Sunium, the columns are nearly six diameters, be¬
ing one of the tallest specimens of pure Greek origin ever
executed. If the trunks of trees used in the structure of
tents suggested the first idea of columns, and of the Doric
in particular, as many contend, how is it that the earli¬
est specimens discovered are the most massive ? For the
merest saplings would have formed the wooden proto¬
columns, and necessarily, when imitated in stone, they
would not have been made more bulky than the less tena¬
cious nature of the material required; much less would
the slender wooden architrave have been magnified into
the ponderous entablature of the primitive permanent ar¬
chitectural structures of all nations. In the construction
of edifices with the trunks of trees, and timber generally,
then, we do not find the origin of Doric architecture. If
we have recourse to Egypt, the mother of the arts and
sciences, we shall indeed find many things even in the
more ancient structures which may have furnished an idea
of the Doric arrangements to the fertile imagination of a
Greek, fhe later works of that country cannot be trust¬
ed for originality, as they may themselves have been in¬
fluenced by Greek examples; but we hardly dare assert
that the Doric order was suggested by any thing in Egyp¬
tian architecture, though in making such assertion we
should be supported by the opinions of many competent
judges. The temple at Amada in Nubia can hardly be History,
positively assumed as an example of the proto-Doric,
though it may of the proto-columnar. Nevertheless, the piate LL
example is striking, as it certainly possesses the Doric
character. The broad square abacus, and the cylindrical
or even conoidal tendency of the shaft, marked as it is, as
if for fluting, with the plain, simple, and massive epistyle
or architrave superimposed, are all in accordance with
the Hellenic columnar ordinance; still there is nothing
to connect that rude model with the positive and some¬
what formally arranged example at Corinth with which
we began. It must be remembered, however, that two
connecting links between Egyptian and Greek architec¬
ture are lost; Lower Egypt, with its splendid capital
Memphis, and Phoenicia; through which latter the learn¬
ing and taste of the inhabitants of the former country ap¬
pear to have taken their course; but of neither of these
do we possess architectural remains that bear on the sub¬
ject in question. In the Pharaonic structures of Thebes
we find both the tumescent and the cylindrical columns;
and an amalgamation and modification of the two would
easily produce the Doric column, or something very much
like it, which may have been executed in those places, and
so transferred to Greece. Of the triglyphs, the most dis¬
tinguishing part of the Doric entablature, there are manv
indications in the early works of Upper Egypt; and in the
structures of the Ptolemies they are still more evident;
though it may be objected that, in these, those indications
were borrowed from the Greeks after the Macedonian con¬
quest. But it must be borne in mind that the Egyptian na¬
tion did not change its character, religion, or usages by the
change of its governors ; and the Egyptians were, through
the whole period of their existence as a nation, an origi¬
nating and not an imitative people; whereas the Greeks
seized on a beauty wherever they found one, and made it
their own by improving it. The forms and arrangement,
too, of many of the Greek mouldings, and the manner of
carving to enrich them, are common in the earliest ornate
works of the Egyptians; and such things are as strong
evidence of community of origin, as the existence of simi¬
lar words having the same meaning in different languages
is of theirs. We may be asked, why the Greeks cannot
be allowed to have originated that beautiful style of ar¬
chitecture which they brought to the perfection it displays
in their works ? To which we think it a sufficient answer,
that it would be against the common course of events if it
were so. In Egypt we can trace a progress from the ruder
to the more advanced, and, with trifling discrepancies, to
the most perfect; but in Greece, the earliest specimen of
columnar architecture that presents itself displays almost
all the qualities and perfections which are found in works
of periods when learning and civility were at their acme in
that country. We cannot find in Greece a stepping-stone
from the Celtic or Pelasgic Gate of the Lions of Mycenm, to
the Doric columns at Corinth, and hardly to the Fane of
Minerva in the Acropolis of Athens; and have therefore to
seek the gradations among the people with whom we have
seen they were connected, and whose country furnishes
them in a great measure, if not entirely. Differences in
climate and in political constitution, as well as in forms
of religion, account sufficiently for the differences between
the arrangements of the religious structures of the Greeks
and those of Egypt. At the present day we find, that
though they may be built in the same style, and for the
worship of the same divinity, there is a wide difference be¬
tween a church in Italy and a church in England, and a
still greater between a church in the former country and
3 K
VOL. in.
1 Vitruvius, lib. i. cap. i.
442 ARCHITECTUR E.
History, one in Scotland. The model, however, of the Greek
temple is found in many places in Egypt, generally placed
as a chapel or aedicula, subsidiary to, and in connection
with, the larger structures, as well as in the earlier Nubian
temples themselves.
None other than the Doric style or order was used in
Greece till after the Macedonian conquest, about which
period that beautiful and graceful variety called the Ionic
was brought into use. It is as difficult to determine its origin
as that of the Doric. Vitruvius says that the Ionian colo¬
nists, on building a temple to Diana, wished to find some
new manner that was beautiful; and by the method which
they had pursued with the Doric, proportioning the column
after a man, they gave to this the delicacy of the female
figure; in the first place by making the diameter of the
column one eighth of its height, then by putting a base^ to
it in twisted cords, like the sandals of a woman, and foiming
the capital with volutes, like the hair which hangs on both
sides of her face. To crown all, he says that they chan¬
nelled or fluted the column, to resemble the folds of female
garments, by which it would appear that Vitruvius did
not know that the Greeks never executed the Doric order
without fluting the columns. “ Thus,” he goes on to say,
“ they invented these two species of columns, imitating in
the one the naked simplicity and dignity of a man, and in
the other the delicacy and the ornaments of a woman.” It
can hardly be doubted that the voluted or Ionic order did
originate in Ionia, at least we know of no earlier ex¬
amples of it than those which exist there; and it does
not appear to have been known to the European Greeks,
and certainly was not practised by them, till after the pe¬
riod we have indicated. It probably took its rise from
some peculiarities in Persian architecture; though many
believe that the Ionic order had a much earlier origin, de¬
riving it from Egypt, where, it is true, many indications
are found of its volutes in the spiral enrichments of capi¬
tals ; but it must be observed that they are in edifices
now ascertained to be of the age of the Ptolemies, and
consequently later than the structures which exhibit the
voluted order in Ionia and its islands. We think, too,
that many persons are influenced in assigning a higher
degree of antiquity to this style than facts will bear out,
by their respect for the authority of Vitruvius; though
Mr Gwilt (his latest translator into English) confesses
that “ upon his authority in matters of historical research
not much reliance is to be placed.”1 We are willing to
admit that much may be adduced in support of the opinion,
that this style was known and used in Greece even before
the age of Pericles ; specimens of it having been found in
connection with sculpture, certainly less perfect, and there¬
fore presumed to be of earlier date, than the works of
Phidias and his pupils and compeers.
It is no less difficult to determine the origin of what is
called the Corinthian order. The not inelegant tradi¬
tionary tale by Vitruvius of the invention of its capital, is
the only reason of the name it bears. His account of
the origin of this third species of columnar composition
is more summary, and not less absurd, than that of the pre¬
ceding. He says that it was arranged “ to represent the
delicacy of a young girl whose age renders her figure
more pleasing and more susceptible of ornaments which
may enhance her natural beauty.” With much more
reason might the Doric be called the Corinthian order;
for, as we have stated, at Corinth there exists the oldest
example of that style ; whereas there is nothing, either in
ruins or authentic record, to prove that the latter was ever
known in that city. Columns with foliated capitals are
not of very early date in Greece ; earlier examples exist in History.
Asia Minor, and foliage adorns the capitals of columns in /
some of the Pharaonic monuments of Egypt; not arranged,
indeed, as in the later Corinthian capital, which by pos¬
sibility may have been the result of some such accident
as Vitruvius relates of Callimachus and the basket on the
grave of the Corinthian virgin. The interior of the temple
of Apollo Didymaeus at Miletus in Ionia exhibits the
earliest example of the acanthus leaf arranged round the
drum of a capital in a single row, surmounted by the
favourite honeysuckle; but that edifice was constructed
about a century before Callimachus is understood to have
lived. The only perfect columnar example in Greece it- Plate I.VI.
self of this species of foliated capital is of later date than, Cigs. 1, 2,
and is a great improvement on, that of Miletus; it is the
beautifur little structure called the Choragic monument
of Lysicrates at Athens. Specimens are less uncommon
in Greece of square or antae capitals, enriched with foli¬
age, than of circular or columnar capitals; but they are
almost invariably found to have belonged to the interior
of buildings, and not to have been used externally. In
considering Greek architecture, it is necessary to bear in
mind that it ceases almost immediately after the subjec¬
tion of Greece to the Roman power; for there are many
edifices in that country in the style of columnar arrange¬
ment of which we are now speaking besides those re¬
ferred to, but they belong to Roman and not to Greek
architecture. The earliest of them perhaps, and certainly
the least influenced by Roman taste, is the structure called
the Tower of the Winds, or of Andronicus Cyrrhestes, at
Athens. A spurious example of Greek Doric, evidently
executed under the Roman domination, may be referred
to here ; it is that of the Agora, or Doric portico, as it is
sometimes distinguished, in the same city.
Besides the three species of columnar arrangement we
have enumerated, the Greeks employed another in which
statues of women occupied the place of columns. I he
reason of this too Vitruvius furnishes in a story which is,
as usual, totally unsupported by history or analogy; but
the consequence of it is, that such figures are called
Caryatides; and the arrangement has been called by
some the Caryatic order. The use of representations of
the human and other figures with or instead of columns
is, however, common in the structures of Egypt and In¬
dia ; and to the former the Greeks were doubtless indebt¬
ed for the idea, though they appear to have restricted
its application to human female figures. Mr Gwilt in¬
fers, from various facts connected with the worship of
Diana Caryatis, “ that the statues called Caryatides were
originally applied to or used about the temples of Diana;
and instead of representing captives or persons in a state
of ignominy (as the Vitruvian story goes), were in fact
nothing more than the figures of the virgins who celebrat¬
ed the worship of that goddess.”2
The only architectural works of the Greeks that re¬
main to us of any consequence, besides temples, pro-
pvla^, and Choragic monuments, are theaties ; but these
latter do not retain any thing connected with architec¬
tural decoration to make them interesting, except to the
architect and antiquary. They are generally situated on
the side of a hill, and were rather excavated or carved
out in the earth or rock, than built; except the prosce¬
nium and parascenium, which being at the lower part, in
front, and requiring elevation, must of necessity be built;
but very little of the constructed portions in any case ex¬
ists. It does not appear that the theatres afforded any
provision for sheltering the spectators, or indeed the ac-
1 Gwilt’s Chambers's Civil Architecture, p. 30.
2 Ibid. p. 57.
ARCHITECTURE. 443
History, tors, from rain, except perhaps a covered cyrtostylar co-
lonnade within the upper boundary wall, which, even when
it existed, was of necessity very narrow and small for so
large a number of people as were generally assembled ;
for the theatres were calculated to hold from five to fifteen
and even twenty thousand persons. This, to say the least
ofit, must have subjected the public to great inconve¬
niences, even in so fine a climate as that of Greece; for
they were unsheltered from the sun at all times, and effec¬
tually debarred from a favourite amusement in wet weather. ‘
No remains exist of the domestic structures of the
Greeks; and we are too well aware, from the example of
others, of the futility of following mere descriptions on
the subject, to attempt it here ; especially as the most ex¬
plicit are those of Vitruvius, whom we know to have been
ignorant of the arrangement of Greek temples, by those
of them which exist, and may therefore reasonably sus¬
pect of ignorance with regard to things of which we have
no remains. It may be taken for granted that the houses
of the Greeks were less extensive than those of the
Homans, as they were a poorer and less luxurious peo¬
ple ; and we shall be able to determine those of the lat¬
ter nation with great exactitude, from the actual remains
of Roman towns and country mansions. The exquisite
beauty of form and decoration which pervades every ar¬
ticle of Greek origin, whether coins, medallions, vases,
implements of war or husbandry, or even the meanest ar¬
ticle of domestic or personal use of which we have speci¬
mens or representations, is evidence of the fine taste with
which the mansions of the Greeks were furnished. How¬
ever, ignorance of the use of the arch, inferior carpentry,
the absence of glass, and ignorance of the use of chimneys,
were disadvantages which the Greeks laboured under in the
construction and convenient arrangement of their houses,
that no degree of taste and elegance could completely
countervail.
In the construction of their edifices, the Greeks sel¬
dom, if ever, had recourse to foreign materials ; the stone
used in their temples being almost invariably from the
nearest convenient quarries, which supplied it of suffi¬
ciently good quality. The structures of Athens are built
of marble from the quarries of Pentelicus, and those of
Agrigentum of a fossil conglomerate which the place it¬
self furnishes.
Invention We have taken it for granted that the Greeks were ig-
ot the arch.norant of the properties of the arch, having too high an
opinion of their good sense to think that they could be
acquainted with so admirable and useful an expedient, and
never use it; and no instance of its adaptation occurs in
the construction of Greek edifices before the connection
of Greece with Rome took place. Whether its invention
should be referred to Italy or not is another question. If
the great sewer at Rome called the Cloaca Maxima was
constructed in the time of Tarquinius Priscus, it must be
conceded that the properties of the arch were known and
the arch applied in that country at an earlier period than we
know the principle to have been understood and applied
elsewhere ; for neither Egypt nor Greece, nor any of the
Grecian colonies, can furnish evidence that it was known
to either Egyptians or Grecians till a long time after the
period referred to, and when it may have been communi¬
cated from Italy. But it is contended that the Cloaca
Maxima, as it now exists, is a work of much more recent
date, and that it may have succeeded the sewer con¬
structed by the first Tarquinius, who was moreover himself
a Greek. If the first part of the objection be correct, the
evidence in favour of Italy is destroyed, as far as that
work is concerned; the second is fallacious, because it is History,
not necessary that the monarch should have brought thev'»v-™''
knowledge with him; though indeed he might have ac¬
quired it in Etruria, or it might have existed in Rome be¬
fore his arrival there. Most writers on the subject are of
opinion that the principle of the arch was not known, in
Europe at least, nor to the nations of Western Asia and
Africa, till after the Macedonian conquest, about which
time it may have been invented, or acquired from some
of the eastern nations who were visited by the conque¬
rors. To these suggestions the objections hold that the
arch was not applied in Egypt in the architectural works
which remain of the Ptolemies, nor is it found in the Per¬
sian and Indian monuments which date beyond that pe¬
riod. The author of the Munimenta Antiqua, after a
comprehensive review of all the authorities and examples
on the subject, gives it as his own opinion that “ Sicily
was the country where this noble kind of ornament first
appeared, and that Archimedes was the inventor of it.”1
The evidence appears, we think, generally stronger in fa¬
vour of its Italian origin; but to whomsoever the inven¬
tion may be attributed, and whensoever it was made, the
Romans wrere the first to make extensive practical use of
it; and by its means they succeeded in doing what their
predecessors in civilization never effected. It enabled
them to carry secure and permanent roads across wide
and rapid rivers, and to make a comparatively frail and
fragile material, such as brick, more extensively useful
than the finest marbles were in the hands of the Greeks
without that principle. To the Greeks, however, the Ro¬
mans were indebted for their knowledge of the more po¬
lished forms of columnar architecture; for, before the
conquest of Greece, the structures of Rome appear to
have been rude and inelegant. The few specimens of
architecture which exist of date anterior to that period
evidently resemble the works of the ancient Etrurians,
who, though they had made considerable advances on
the architecture of their Pelasgic ancestors, were far in¬
ferior in taste and refinement to the Greeks; yet it is to
that people we are inclined to attribute the invention of
the arch, from whom the Romans acquired their know¬
ledge of its use, and that degree of civilization which
they possessed before the epoch referred to. It may be
presumed that the Etrurians had also originated the style
of columnar architecture which Vitruvius describes and
calls Tuscan; but as no example of it exists, at least no¬
thing that answers his description of it, we cannot tell posi¬
tively what it really was ; for, as we have before remarked,
descriptions without a model, of architecture particularly,
are quite unintelligible, as far as understanding a new
style goes. Whatever then was the style of architecture
in Rome before the conquest of Greece, it was either ex¬
ploded by the superior merit and beauty of what the Ro¬
mans found in that country, or combined with it, though
frequently the combination tended to destroy the beauty
of both. In the porticoes of the temple of Antoninus and
Faustina, and of the Pantheon, at Rome, the chaste sim¬
plicity of a Greek columnar composition is preserved;
and in the magnificent dome of the latter edifice, and in
the long extended aqueduct, it is fully equalled. But the
triumphal arch of the Romans, a hybrid composed of co¬
lumns and arches, is devoid alike of simplicity and har¬
mony, indeed of every quality which constitutes beauty in
architecture.
In the transference of Greek columnar architecture to
Rome, a great change was effected, independently of those tur& Lt
combinations. The less refined taste of the Romans
‘ Munim. Antiq. by Edward King, Esq. F. R. S. and S. A. vol. ii. p. 2G8.
444 ARCHITECTURE.
History, could not appreciate the simple grandeur and dignified
\r***'/ beauty of the Doric, as it existed in Greece. The)'' appear
to have moulded it on what we suppose their own Tuscan to
have been ; and the result was the mean and characterless
ordinance exemplified in the lowest story of the theatre of
Marcellus at Rome, and in the temple at Cora, between
30 and 40 miles south of that city. Not less inferior to
the Athenian examples of the Ionic order, than the Doric
of Cora is to the Doric of Athens, are the mean and taste¬
less deteriorations of them in the Roman temples of
Manly Fortune and Concord. It was different, however,
with the foliated Corinthian, which became to the Romans
what the Doric had been to the Greeks—their national
style. But though they borrowed the style, they did not
copy the Greek examples. In Rome the Corinthian
order assumed a new and not less beautiful form and
character, and was varied to a wonderful extent, but with¬
out losing its original and distinctive features. The ex¬
ample of the temple of Vesta at Tivoli differs from that
of the temple of Jupiter Stator in Rome, as much as
the latter does from the ordinance of the choragic monu¬
ment of Lysicrates at Athens; and all three are among the
most beautiful examples of the Corinthian order in exist¬
ence—if indeed they are not pre-eminently so—and yet
they do not possess a single proportion in common. It
must be confessed, moreover, that if the Romans had not
good taste enough to admire the Doric and Ionic models
of Greece, they had too much to be fond of their own, for
they seldom used them. Both at home and abroad, in all
their conquests and colonies, wherever they built, they
employed the Corinthian order. Corinthian edifices were
raised in Iberia and in Gaul, in Istria and in Greece, in
Syria and in Egypt; and to the present day Nismes,1 Pola,
Athens, Palmyra, and the banks of the Nile, alike attest
the fondness of the Romans for that peculiar style. We
cannot agree with the generally received opinion, that
Greek architects were employed by the Romans after the
connection between the two countries took place; for the
difference between the Greek and Roman styles of archi¬
tecture is not merely in the preference given to one over
another peculiar mode of columnar arrangement and com¬
position, but a different taste pervades even the details:
though the mouldings are the same, they differ more in
spirit and character than do those of Greece and Egypt,
which certainly would not have been the case if Roman
architecture had been the work of Greek architects. In¬
deed, were it not for historical evidence, which cannot
absolutely be refuted, an examination and comparison of
the architectural monuments of the two countries wrould
lead an architect to the conclusion, that the Corinthian
order had its origin in Italy, and that the almost solitary
perfect example of it in Greece was the result of an acci¬
dental communication with that country, modified by Greek
taste ; or that the foliated style was common to both, with¬
out either being indebted to the other for it. The Ro¬
mans conquered Egypt as well as Greece, but we do not
find that they adopted any of the peculiarities of Egyptian
architecture. They carried away indeed the obelisks and
many of the sculptures of Egypt, as trophies of their con¬
quests or as ornaments of their city; but they neither made
obelisks nor constructed temples to Egyptian divinities in
the Egyptian style. If, however, Greek architects were
employed by the Romans, they must have made their
taste and mode of design conform to those of their con¬
querors much more readily than we can imagine they
would as the civilized slaves of barbarian masters; and it
is too clear to be disputed, that the Roman architecture
is a style essentially distinct from the Greek. This is
elucidated by the fact that many of the minor works of
sculpture in connection with architecture, such as candela¬
bra, vases, and various articles of household furniture dis¬
covered at the villa of Adrian, near Tivoli, and at Her¬
culaneum and Pompeii, are fashioned and ornamented in
the Greek style, while others are as decidedly Roman in
those particulars; rendering it evident that such things
were either imported from Greece, or that Greek artists
and artisans were employed in Italy, who retained their
own national taste and modes of design. It is probable,
nevertheless,that both the architects and the artists,natives
of Rome, qualified their own less elegant productions by
reference to Greek models; but that the Romans derived
their architecture entirely from the Greeks, may certainly
be disputed.
Half the extent and magnificence of the architectural
works of the Romans is attributable to their knowledge and
use of the arch, which enabled them, as we have already
intimated, to make small parallelopipedons of burnt earth
more extensively applicable to useful purposes than any
other material could be, from the greater cost of provid¬
ing and preparing it; whereas brick can, in almost every
place, be made on the spot in which it is wanted. There
is a very false notion abroad as to the richness of the ma¬
terials used for building in Rome, induced by the inflated
accounts of travellers and poets, who attempt to disguise
their ignorance, while they display it by filling Rome
with what it never contained—marble temples, palaces,
and baths. The truth is, that Rome was built, not of
marble, nor even of stone, but of brick; for in compari¬
son to the quantity of brick, it may be safely asserted that
there is more stone in London than there was in imperial
Rome. Almost all the structures of the Romans indeed
were of brick—their aqueducts, their palaces, their villas,
their baths, and their temples. Of the present remains, it
is only a few columns and their entablatures that are of
marble or granite, and two or three buildings of Traver¬
tine stone;—all the rest are brick. The Colosseum, the
Mausoleum of Adrian, the Tunnel Sewer, the Temple of
Manly Fortune, and the ancient bridges on the Tiber, are
of Travertine stone; the remaining columns of the more
splendid temples, the internal columns and their accessories
of the Pantheon, the exterior of the imperial arches, and
the cenotaphial columns of Trajan and of Antonine, are
of marble: but the Imperial Mount of the Palatine, which
holds the ruins of the Palace of the Caesars, is but one
mass of brick; the Pantheon, except its portico and in¬
ternal columns, &c., is of brick; the Temples of Peace, of
Venus and Rome, and of Minerva Medica, are of brick;
and so, for the most part, were the walls of others, though
they may have been faced with marble or freestone. The
Baths of Titus, of Caracalla, and of Diocletian, are of
brick; the city walls are of brick; so are the extensive
remains of the splendid villa of Adrian, and those of
History.
1 Bordeaux did. A century and a half ago there existed at Bordeaux very considerable remains of a most interesting Roman
edifice, of which no authentic record is preserved but a slight sketch by Perrault, the architect of the great front of the Louvre, who
delineated it a few years before its destruction by the government, and who termed it one of the most magnificent and most entire of
the Roman monuments then remaining in France. The editor of the new edition of Stuart’s Athens, speaking of this, says, “ on this
occasion the reflection presents itself, that while the Turks are reprobated for appropriating the columns of ancient Athens, in their
haste to raise a wall to defend their town from the predatory Albanians, here, in the vaunted age of Louis XIV. (in his kingdom
and under his government, may be added) the finest production of ancient architecture in France was more recklessly demolished to
make place for the fortifications of Bordeaux, deliberately constructed by Vauban ; and no architect, either of the city or government,
has preserved for posterity the details of so noble a monument.” (Antiquities of Athens, new edition, vol. iii. p. 120.)
ARCHITECTURE.
445
History, the villa of Mecsenas at Tivoli; the palaces of the Roman
emperors and patricians at Baiae and in other parts of
Italy; and so, it may be said, are the remains of Hercu¬
laneum and Pompeii, for the houses in those cities are
generally built of alternate double courses of brick, and
courses of stone or lava. In most cases, at Rome and in
the provinces, stucco formed the surface which received
the decorations. From the above enumeration, it will ap¬
pear how much more variously the Romans built than any
of their predecessors in civilization did. In Egypt we find no
indications of edifices of real utility or convenience, nothing
but temples and tombs,—and in Greece there is but a small
addition to this list; but in Rome are found specimens of
almost every variety of structure that men in civilized
communities require. Much of this also may be attributed
to the knowledge they possessed of the properties of the
arch, which may be considered among the most admirable
and useful discoveries ever made in the practical applica¬
tions of mechanical science. It entered into the composi¬
tion of every structure, and made the rudest and cheapest
material of more real value than the most costly. It not
only superseded the use of long stone beams, but was
constantly used in places where indeed joists of wood
would have been much more convenient, giving support
to the opinion that even the Romans were not skilled in
the application of timber to their edifices ; though, on the
contrary, it is difficult to understand how Rome could
become subject to such a dreadful conflagration as that
which occurred in the reign of Nero, if timber had not
been employed in the ordinary houses of the city to a
much greater extent than would appear from existing re¬
mains. The domestic structures of Herculaneum and Pom¬
peii were evidently never very susceptible of fire, from the
small quantity of timber required in their construction;
and discoveries which are made from time to time, of por¬
tions of the ordinary houses of ancient Rome, under the
pavements of the modern city, evince that they were very
similar to them in almost every particular. The infrequency
of stairs, and the meanness of those which exist leading to
upper apartments in the houses of those cities, induce the
belief that the Romans seldom built above the ground story,
and that their skill in carpentry was not very great; other¬
wise they would more frequently have had recourse to so
easy and convenient a mode of extending room as upper
stories offer. There are, however, other things which tend
to prove that carpentry was well understood by the Ro¬
mans ; and the most remarkable is the bridge that Trajan
built over the Danube, the piers of which are said by Dion
Cassius to have been 150 feet high and 170 feet apart.
Now, whether the bridge itself consisted of a wooden plat¬
form, as there is much reason to believe, or was of stone
arches, as the historian intimates, the skill which con¬
structed centring for the latter, or laid the platform from
pier to pier in the former case, of that immense extent,
was amazing; nevertheless, such skill in carpentry is not
evinced by the remains of the civic and domestic struc¬
tures of the Romans, in which arching in all its varieties
was used where carpentry would have been better. Of
their joinery we know nothing; but it does not appear,
from the last-quoted mode of ascertaining such things, to
nave been much practised by them—mosaic pavements
supplying the place of flooring, and stucco that of wain¬
scoting : the luxury of windows being unknown, their
fittings were not required; and doors, it would appear,
were uncommon, except externally—the internal door¬
ways being most probably covered with something equi¬
valent to the quilted leather mats suspended from the
lintel, which are used instead of swinging doors at the
entrances of the churches in Italy at the present time.
Although the Romans did not use marble to the extent
that has been supposed, yet they were extremely luxurious History,
in the use of costly stones. Marbles of every variety,
and fiom all parts, were used in Rome ; and columns were
made of Egyptian and other granites, and porphyry. In
Greece, and the Grecian colonies which were conquered
by Rome, the edifices of the Romans might be distin¬
guished by the foreign marbles used in them, if the style
of their execution were not sufficient otherwise to deter¬
mine them.
The mingling of columnar and arcaded arrangements in
the same composition appears to have been the grand
cause of the deterioration of Roman architecture. It oc¬
casioned unequal and inordinately distended intercolum-
niations and broken entablatures: these a vitiated taste
repeated, where the necessity that had first occasioned
them did not exist; and harmony and simplicity being
thus destroyed, the practice went on deteriorating until
it was made to produce such monstrous combinations
as the Palace of Diocletian at Spalatro, and the Temple
of Pallas, or ruins of the Forum of Nerva in Rome, pre¬
sent. It was indeed a fall from the grandeur, harmony,
and noble simplicity of the interior of the Pantheon in
its pristine state, to the hall or xystum of the baths of
Diocletian, which now exists as the church of Santa
Maria degli Angeli, with its straggling columns and bro¬
ken and imperfect entablature ; or from the temple of Ju¬
piter Stator to that of Concord or the arch of Septimius
Severus.
Architecture as a fine art was already extinct among the
Romans when the seat of empire was transferred to Con¬
stantinople ; so that, however great were the extent and
splendour of the edifices, we cannot suppose them to have
possessed any of those qualities which give to the Parthenon
at Athens, and to the interior of the Pantheon at Rome, the
charm they possess; unless the Greeks had recourse to the
monuments of their own country, and used them as founts
from which to draw matter for the composition of the edi¬
fices of their new capital. This, indeed, is possible, for
there appears to have been, even in Rome, at and after
the time of Constantine, a recurrence to the ancient sim¬
plicity, though, truly, without any of that beauty and
elegance of form in the details, and of proportion in the
general arrangement, which constitute half the merit of
works of architecture. The change of religion which
took place under Constantine led to the destruction or
destitution of many of the noblest structures in Rome.
The ancient Christian basilicas are for the most part con¬
structed of the ruins of the more ancient Pagan temples,
baths,and mausoleums; and in them a much greater degree
of simplicity, and consequent beauty, pervades the colum¬
nar arrangements than existed perhaps in some of the
previous combinations of the same materials. Frequently,
however, the collocation of various parts was most unapt;
and gross inconsistencies were recurred to, to get rid of
the difficulty of combining discordant fragments. Some¬
times it was necessary to make up with new, what was
wanting of old materials, whose forms were rudely imi¬
tated.
In those countries which received the Christian re-Gothic
ligion from Rome, but which did not contain mines of01-
architectural material in temples, amphitheatres, and pa.architec-
laces, as Italy did, and indeed in the other parts of Italyture'
itself which did not contain them as Rome did, churches
were constructed in imitation of those of the metropolis
of the Christian world. These, being the work of a semi-
barbarous and unpolished people, were of necessity rude
and clumsy. Hence arose the Gothic architecture of the
middle ages, and not from any previously existing style
of architecture among the northern nations who overran
Italy and subverted the Roman power. The rude Celtic
446
ARCHITECTURE.
History, monuments were the only specimens of architecture they
'•‘''T''’*'' possessed, and the performance of their unhallowed rites
appears to have been long transferred even from them to
the groves, or it may be that the stone circles and temples
themselves were called groves. This, however, is of but
little consequence to our purpose. The fact is indisput¬
able, that nothing existed among those nations that could
have given rise to the rude style of architecture referred
to, which was indeed introduced to them by the Christian
religion in the manner we have stated. It will be found
in what are called the Saxon and Norman styles of this
country, and to a greater or less extent in all the coun¬
tries of Europe in which the Romans had been masters,
and particularly in those which adhered to the Roman
communion in the great division of the churches. Ihe
general forms and modes of arrangement peculiar to Ro¬
man architecture may be traced throughout; in some
specimens they are more, and in others less obvious, but
the leading features are the same. This is more evident
in Italy than elsewhere. In the early Roman basilicas and
churches, some of which are of the Constantinian age, and
which were constructed with the matter and in the man¬
ner related, the first divergencies occur; in those which
are later they are still greater, and distance of time and
place appears still to have increased them, till what may
be called a new style was formed, having peculiarities of
its own, but yet more clearly deducible from its origin
than Roman is from Greek or Greek from Egyptian. As
might be expected, this style was not the same in all the
countries which practised it; it was derived, in them all,
from the same source as we have shown, but was mate¬
rially influenced by the habits, manners, and state of civi¬
lization in which the various nations wrere, and much too
by their means of communication with Rome. This, with
strict propriety, may be called Gothic architecture, as it
was partly induced by the Gothic invasions of Italy, and
was most generally practised by the nations to whom that
term may with equal propriety be applied. It arose in
the fourth century, and was subverted in the twelfth by
the invention or introduction of the pointed arch, which
marks a new era, and was destined to give birth to a new
style in architecture. Where, when, and with whom the
pointed form originated, has been more discussed and dis¬
puted than the discovery of the properties of the arch it¬
self. Some have contended that it was suggested by the
intersections of semicircular arches, as they were employ¬
ed in ornamenting the fronts of edifices in the preceding
style; some, that groined arches of the same form gave
the idea; others have referred it to the interlacing of the
branches of trees when planted in parallel rows,—to an
imitation of wicker-work,—to a figure used on conventual
seals,—to the principle of the pyramid,—to Noah’s Ark,
—to chance. Its invention has been accorded to almost
every nation, civilized and uncivilized. It has been claim¬
ed by Germans for Germany, by Frenchmen for France,
by Scotsmen for Scotland, and by Englishmen for Eng¬
land. Italians have not directly laid claim to the honour
for themselves, but it has been given them by others.
Such a mass of conflicting opinions, almost all supported
by some show of reason, and more or less by evidence,
may be called a proof of the impossibility of determining
the question, and therefore we shall not attempt it. There
is one striking fact, however, which has been too much
overlooked by many of the theorists in the discussion of
the question ; it is, that the pointed arch made its appear¬
ance almost at the same moment of time in all the civi¬
lized countries of Europe. This is proved by the contro¬
versies of those who, more patriotically than philosophi¬
cally, claim its invention for their respective nations; for
none of them can produce genuine specimens of it before
a certain period, to which they can all reach. Now, if it History,
had been invented in any of the European nations, that
one would certainly have been able to show specimens of
it of a date considerably anterior to some of the others;
for though it might by chance have been soon communi¬
cated to any one of them, the improbability is great that
it would immediately have reached them all, and have been
at once adopted by all, to the subversion of their previously
practised forms of construction. The infrequent and im¬
perfect modes of communication between the different
countries of Europe at the period referred to, furnish an¬
other reason why it is not probable that a discovery of
the kind should travel rapidly from one to another. Con¬
sidering these things, and particularly the fact of the al¬
most simultaneous introduction of the pointed arch to the
various nations of Europe, as it appears by their monu¬
ments immediately after the first crusade, in which they
all bore a part, connected with existing evidence that it
was commonly used in the East at and anterior to that
period, it seems to be the most rational theory, that a
knowledge of it was acquired by the crusaders in the
Holy Land, and brought home to their respective coun¬
tries by them. This, indeed, is the opinion of many of
those who have written on the subject; and without con¬
tending that the evidence in its favour is quite conclu¬
sive, we think it more satisfactory than any other. In
Europe there are found rude approaches to the pointed
form in some of the earlier Gothic structures; but wo
believe it may be safely asserted, that nothing can be
indicated of a date beyond that of the first crusade, ap¬
proaching the simple but perfect lancet arch, which, it
is not denied, came into use immediately after that pe¬
riod ; whereas tolerably well authenticated examples of
it are found in the East, of sufficient antiquity to in¬
duce the opinion that it was at that time imported from
thence. It is, moreover, indisputable that the Saracenic
or Mahometan nations do use, and have used, the point¬
ed arch; but they were never known to adopt any Eu¬
ropean custom or invention of any kind till very lately
How then can they be supposed to have availed them¬
selves so readily as they must have done, if it be of Eu¬
ropean origin, of so unlikely a thing to attract a Mos¬
lem’s attention, as the peculiar form and structure of an
arch ? and when and where in Europe had they an oppor¬
tunity of contemplating it until long after it is known to
have been in common use among them ? With what na¬
tion of the East, and in what manner, the pointed arch ori¬
ginated, are points equally difficult to solve. We have
not been able to discover that the properties of the arch
were known to the Egyptians or to the Greeks, and there
is no evidence to show that they were known to the Per¬
sians or to the Indians of ancient times ; but structures are
found in the countries of those nations in which chambers
are domed, and apertures headed in the form of a pointed
arch, produced, however, by battering or corbelling over,
and not by arched structure. It is not improbable, there¬
fore, that such things being before the eyes of men, when
the properties of the arch became known that form would be
repeated upon it, and the result would be the lancet arch,—
the prototype, the germ of the style. The pointed arch, on
its introduction into Europe, does not appear to have been
accompanied by its ordinary accessories in after-time; its
light clustered pillars—its mullions, foliations or featherings,
and graceful tracery—these resulted from its adoption : so
that whether the arch itself was invented in Europe, or im¬
ported tfom the East, to the European nations must be as¬
signed the credit of educing the beautiful style of architec¬
ture whose distinguishing feature it is.
It may be doubted whether Venice was not the parent
of the style, for very early specimens of the pointed arch
A R C H I T
History, are certainly found there, in private houses as well as in
''-''V-''-' the basilica of St Mark. In the former they are gene¬
rally of the ogee or contrasted form, in windows formed by
columns or mullions, with, in certain places, approaches to
foliations and tracery; and in the basilica the lancet arch
is not uncommon. The commercial connection of that city
with the eastern nations may easily account for its presence
there, even before the first crusade; and Venice is known
to have been one of the thoroughfares from the other
parts of Europe to the Holy Land. But the peculiar
mode of arrangement in the Venetian style does not ap¬
pear to have been adopted north of the Alps; so that,
however original it may be, it can hardly be considered
the progenetrix of the school, or the model on which it was
formed.
Before proceeding further with this subject, it is neces¬
sary to determine by what name to call the style whose
progress we have yet to contemplate. There would be
no greater propriety in calling it Saracenic because its dis¬
tinctive feature originated in the East, even if that point
were conceded, than in calling all architectural combina¬
tions which derive their character from the use of co¬
lumns in them by the name of the nation in whose works
we find columns first used, and from whom the idea of
them may have been acquired. Neither can it with any
degree of fitness be called Gothic: that term, we have
seen, applies to the style that preceded it, and was first
given to the pointed-arch style opprobriously, during the
offuscation of good taste that succeeded its subversion.
In Italy it had never taken root, as in the countries north
of the Alps—the ancient Roman monuments having con¬
tinued to influence the national architecture, it would ap¬
pear, throughout the middle ages; for the ecclesiastical
structures of that country, though rude, were never so
rude as they were in other places, and a better style had
so far formed itself before the introduction of the pointed
arch, that it was hardly received there. Indeed, whatever
edifices of merit Italy possesses in its manner, are, with
hardly an exception, by German architects, few Italians
having ever qualified themselves to practise it. When,
therefore, what has been called “ the revival of architec¬
ture” took place in the fifteenth century, under Brunel¬
leschi and his successors, the rude structures of their own
country, the precursors and contemporaries of our Saxon
and Norman edifices, were called Gothic; but the style
of which the pointed arch is the characteristic feature,
was always distinguished as the German manner, Maniera
Tedesca. The disgrace of applying the opprobrious term
Gothic to it attaches itself to an Englishman, Sir Henry
Wotton. It was continued by Evelyn, who applied it
more directly; and the authority of Sir Christopher Wren
finally settled its application. Its injustice is, however,
rendered very obvious, by comparing the front of Pisa
Plate Cathedral, the best example, perhaps, of Gothic, or merely
LXX. deteriorated Roman architecture, with that of York Minster,
which holds an almost equal rank in the style of which it is
an exemplar. The presence of the pointed arch, on the
singular oriental-looking cupola of the former, shows it to be
one of the latest edifices in its style, overtaken by that be¬
fore it was completely finished. Within the present century
a better taste has been formed, in this country particu¬
larly, and has led to the appreciation of that, which is, in¬
deed, our national style; and within that period many
attempts have been made to explode the universally-de¬
cried, unjust, and totally irrelevant appellation, but with¬
out effect. Sir Christopher Wren himself attempted to
change it to Saracenic, believing that not merely the arch,
but the style generally, was borrowed from the Saracens.
It was, however, too late—he had already used the other.
Dr Stukely wished to call it Arabian. Some writers called
E C T U R E. 447
it Italian, others German, otiiers Norman or French, History,
others British, and many have contended for the exclu-
sive term English ; and to this last the Society of Anti¬
quaries lent its influence, but with equal inefficiency, for
the term Gothic still prevails. Mr Britton, than whom
perhaps no man possesses an equal right to affix an appel¬
lation to the pointed-arch style, from the splendid services
he has done it in the publication of his Cathedral and Ar¬
chitectural Antiquities, wishes to introduce a term which
is not at all unlikely to succeed, as it is equally appro¬
priate and independent of national feeling and hypothetic
origin. He calls it Christian architecture. This, as a
generic term, would admit each nation possessing speci¬
mens of it to distinguish its own species or style; and as
the varieties of Hellenic architecture are known by the
names of the tribes or nations who are presumed to"have
originated them—Dorian, Ionian, and Corinthian—so might
Christian architecture be English or British, German,
French, &c. for each has its peculiarities. These species
would again individually admit of classification, according
to the changes each underwent in the course of its career.
One strong objection, however, in our view of the case,
lies to Mr Britton’s distinctive appellation. It is, that
“ Christian” applies as well, if not better, to the real
Gothic style—that which arose on the extinction of Roman
architecture, and was subverted by the introduction of
the pointed arch, and which, indeed, owed its diffusion
and progress, if not its origin, to the Christian religion.
We are therefore still left to seek an appellation; and, in
the absence of a better, will use the term Pointed, which
is not only distinctive, but descriptive ; and it has, too, the
merit of being general, so that it may mark the genus,
while the national species and their varieties may be dis¬
tinguished by their peculiarities as before.
The Pointed Arch was a graft on the Gothic architec¬
ture of northern Europe, as the circular arch of the Ro¬
mans had been on the columnar ordinances of the Greeks ;
but with a widely different result. The amalgamation in
the latter case destroyed the beauty of both the stock
and the scion; while in the former the stock lent itself to
the modifying influence of its parasitical nursling, gradu¬
ally gave up its heavy, dull, and cheerless forms, and was
eventually lost in its beautiful offspring, as the unlovely
caterpillar is in the gay and graceful butterfly.
We have seen that architecture had its origin in reli¬
gious feelings and observances—that its noblest monu¬
ments among the pagan nations of antiquity were temples
to the divinity—that the rude nations of the north in the
middle ages devoted their energies, after their conversion
to Christianity, to the construction of edifices for the
worship of the Almighty; and we find, again, that the
most extensive and most splendid structures raised by the
same people, when the light of learning had begun to
shine upon them, and a new and more beautiful style of
architecture was introduced, were dedicated to the same
purpose. In addition, however, many, hardly less mag¬
nificent, and not less beautiful, were raised for the pur¬
poses of education, and became the nurseries of science
and literature. Kings and nobles also employed architec¬
ture in the composition, arrangement, and decoration of
their palaces and castles; but still, for domestic purposes,
its aid was hardly required beyond the carving grotesque
ornaments on the wooden fronts of houses in towns.
When the practice of building houses in stories com¬
menced cannot be correctly ascertained; but it appears to
have arisen during the middle ages. We frequently, in¬
deed, find an apparent equivalent for the term story used
by the ancient writers, both sacred and profane; but it
must have reference to something else—some peculiarity
of which we are not aware; for none of the ancient re*
ARCHITECTURE.
448
History, mains, whether of public or private structures, give rea-
son to believe that it was a common practice even among
the Romans; much less was it likely to be so among the
eastern nations, with whom the practice is not very gene¬
ral, nor is it carried to great extent even at the present
day. Indeed, without considerable proficiency in the art
of construction, it is hardly practicable to build in stories
with such slight materials as were used by the Romans in
their domestic edifices; and their remains do not evince
the requisite degree of proficiency. We find, however,
in the oldest existing works of the middle ages, and par¬
ticularly in some of the secular structures of Venice which
are among them, a degree of intelligence evinced in that
respect far surpassing any thing in those of the ancients.
Possibly the skill was principally acquired in that city
from the necessity of making artificial foundations, which
consequently required a superstructure not unnecessarily
cumbrous; and again, to make slight walls sufficiently
strong, they must be skilfully bonded in themselves, and
bound together, which could only be done by means of a
material possessing considerable length and great fibrous
tenacity—whence framed floors of timber. These, by
their strength, their obvious utility and convenience, add¬
ed to the want of space which existed in a thriving and
populous community on a very restricted spot of dry
land, superinduced, in the second place, the building of
additional stories, which would soon be imitated in other
places. But in what manner soever the improvement
took place, the fact is certain that the acquisition was
made; and we find it applied in all the works of the Euro¬
pean nations, both ecclesiastical and civil, from the ninth
and tenth centuries downwards. The combination of
masonry and carpentry in building tended greatly to the
advancement of both ; for, it being required at times to
make them act independently of each other, additional
science and art were necessary, as the proportions must
be retained that were given to similar works in which they
co-operated. Hence the wondrous skill evinced in the
vaulted roofs and ceilings, in the towers and lofty spires,
of some of our Pointed cathedrals for the one, and the
splendid piece of construction in the roof of Westminster
Hall for the other. To this point Sir William Chambers,
who was no depreciator of the merits of the Romans in
architecture, says, “ In the constructive part of architec¬
ture the ancients do not seem to have been great profi¬
cients f’1 then having referred many of what he calls the
“ deformities observable in Grecian buildings” to want of
skill in construction, he continues, “ neither were the Ro¬
mans much more skilful; the precepts of Vitruvius and
Pliny on that subject are imperfect, sometimes erroneous,
and the strength or duration of their structures is more
owing to the quantity and goodness of their materials
than to any great art in putting them together. It is not,
therefore, from any of the ancient works that much infor¬
mation can be obtained in that branch of the art. To
those usually called Gothic architects we are indebted for
the first considerable improvement in construction. There
is a lightness in their works, an art and boldness of execu¬
tion, to which the ancients never arrived, and which the
moderns comprehend and imitate with difficulty. Eng¬
land contains many magnificent specimens of this species
of architecture, equally admirable for tbe art with which
they are built, the taste and ingenuity with which they are
composed.” To this Mr Gwilt, in his new edition of Sir
William’s work, adds in a note, “ there is more construc¬
tive skill shown in Salisbury, and others of our cathedrals,
than in all the works of the ancients put together.”
Pointed architecture took root and grew with the great- History,
est vigour in Germany and Great Britain, and in those
provinces, principally, of France which were connected
with England; but in this country its course is the most
marked, and its advances are the most easily traceable.
We find in various portions of the same edifice, according
to the period of its construction, exemplifications of the
style, from the ingrafting of the simple lancet arch on the
Norman or Gothic piers in the time of Henry II. to the
highly enriched groinings and ramified traceries of the
age of Henry VII.; but the changes are so gradual, and
are so finely blended, that the one in advance appears natu¬
rally to result from that which comes before it. Whether
the nations of the Continent, then, borrowed from us, or
were themselves originators, it is very clear that we did
not borrow; for our structures bear the strongest pos¬
sible marks of originality, as the advances can be traced
from one thing to another on them; and such is not so com¬
pletely the case with theirs. Moreover, the latest manner,
and certainly not the least beautiful, the Corinthian order
of Pointed architecture, is almost peculiar to this country.
Neither Germany nor France can produce edifices in the
style of St George’s Chapel at Windsor, King’s College
Chapel at Cambridge, and Henry VII.’s Chapel at West¬
minster. The structures of Scotland in the Pointed style
so much resemble those of England, that they must be
considered of the same school; Roslin Chapel is one of
the few specimens which indicate a connection with the
Continent. Ireland contains but few examples in any
degree of perfection, and they are, of course, of the Eng¬
lish school. The German school was next in merit to the
English in the practice of Pointed architecture. In the
extent and magnificence of its attempts, perhaps, that
country excelled; but few of the great structures in Ger¬
many were ever completed. In regularity, however, they
have generally an advantage over those of England, being
mostly in the same manner throughout, as far as they
were carried; whereas few of the greater edifices of this
country were begun and completed without considerable
variations in the style. But the Germans were never so
successful in the splendour and beauty of their interiors as
the English; indeed in that particular our Pointed struc¬
tures are strikingly superior to every other: nor is their
ornament generally so effective as ours. The Flemish
style of Pointed architecture is hardly a variety of the
German, but may be classed with it through the whole
course of its history. Italy, we have said, possesses but
few structures in the Pointed style, and they are for the
most part the work of German architects, which their
appearance indeed bespeaks. Milan cathedral, or “ the
Duomo,” as it is called, is the most renowned edifice in
the style that Italy contains; but it has few beauties in
the eyes of those who are accustomed to the models of
Great Britain, France, and Germany. The Patriarchal
Church of St Mark at Venice is a genus per se. It
was constructed by a Constantinopolitan architect in the
ninth or tenth century, and may be a specimen of the ar¬
chitecture of the Byzantine capital at that time. The few
examples in Sicily of the pointed arch may be attributed
to the Norman conquerors of that island; and so indeed
may most of those which are found in the continental
part of the same kingdom. Although France contains
many fine specimens of Pointed architecture, it can hardly
be considered indigenous to that country. On the Ger¬
man frontier they resemble the German style; and in the
provinces which were formerly connected with England
they are different, and more like the English styles: cer-
1 Gwilt’s Chambers's Civ. Arch. p. 128.
ARCHIT
History, tain it is, that after their connection with this country
was broken off', its practice fell into disuse, and nothing
of consequence in it was posteriorly produced in any of
them. This fact is an argument against the presumption
that England was indebted to Normandy and Norman
architects for its improvements in Pointed architecture ;
it tends rather to prove the opposite. It must be con¬
fessed, moreover, that there is an air of cumbrous mas¬
siveness in the Pointed style of Normandy which renders
it peculiar, and perhaps marks its more close relationship
with the earlier Norman Gothic. Like the German
examples, too, those of France are generally inferior in in¬
ternal richness and beauty to those of England. Pointed
architecture in Spain never acquired that degree of con¬
sistency and elegance which might justify us in speaking
of the Spanish specimens of it as forming a style. The
edifices in Spain of the ages of Pointed architecture are
more in accordance with the Moorish than with the Euro¬
pean manner, and may perhaps be more correctly con¬
sidered as an off-shoot of the former than of the latter.
Though not in the Pointed style, the Moorish or Saracenic
structures in Spain may be referred to here. They are
in a very peculiar manner, which, it would appear, their
authors brought with them from the East. Probably it
grew out of some of the earlier styles of architecture, as
the Gothic and Pointed did out of the Roman, and was not
the result of design. The really distinctive feature of the
Saracenic style is the horse-shoe arch, which is the greater
segment of an ellipsis, nearly, on a conjugate chord. The
columns from which the arches are sprung are slender,
and the superincumbent masses are broad and heavy,
giving an air of the intermingling of Chinese and Egyp¬
tian, both of which this style may be said to assimilate.
The enrichments of Saracenic architecture are very much
confined to flat surfaces, the walls being sculptured all
over with monotonous ornaments, which produce an effect
very similar to that produced by the hieroglyphics on the
flat surfaces of the Egyptian temples, and possibly were
derived from them. The most distinguished monument
of this style in Spain is the Alhamra at Granada. The
most distinguished specimen of Pointed architecture in
Portugal is the church of the convent of Batalha, which
was constructed by an Irish architect, who appears to
have modified the style of his own country (the English),
by the manner of the country itself, which is nearly that
of Spain.
What the expansive dome is to Roman architecture, the
graceful spire is to Pointed. Bell-towers appear to have
been added to Christian churches at a very early period;
but it is much to be doubted whether the pyramidal pin¬
nacle or spire was ever used before the introduction of
the pointed arch, though one or two doubtful examples
exist. These, certainly the earliest specimens of it, are
simple cones, whose vertical bisection would be nearly an
equilateral triangle : the angle at the apex was gradually
made less, and as it diminished the altitude was increased,
till at length resulted an object even more beautiful than
an Egyptian obelisk, which would of itself indeed be a
sufficient warranty for the appellation we have given to the
style that it crowns. The spire was at first round, solid,
and unornamented ; it then became polygonal, and finally
octagonal, though there are examples of square spires.
They are sometimes plainly ribbed, sometimes crocheted,
and in some instances pierced; and in the finer examples are
almost invariably surmounted by a rich finial in the style of
ornament peculiar to the time of its execution. In some
cases the whole structure is a pyramis or spire, but most
commonly the spire rests on a rectangular and upright tower.
The Rev. W. L. Bowles has suggested that the spire was
at first built on the bell-tower as a beacon or land mark
VOL. in.
E C T U R E. 449
for the guidance of the traveller and the distant parish- History,
toner; and adduces as evidence, the fact, that in the hillv^—v—'
parts of England spires are hardly to be found except in
modern churches. The old village church on a hill has a
plain square tower, merely consisting of about two cubes,
which can be seen at the greatest distance the nature of
the country will allow any object to be distinguished;
whereas in the level parts of the country, where a low'
tower would be lost amidst the foliage of its own church¬
yard, and be completely indistinguishable at a very short
distance, spires are their almost invariable accompani¬
ment. It may be added, that the tapering spire is almost
unknown in Italy, and in France it is frequent only in
Normandy; but in no part of the Continent is it so com¬
mon as it is in this country.
We have already given our reasons for thinking that
the pointed arch originated in the East; but whether it did
or did not, it has been very extensively used in various
parts of Asia, and nowhere in more sumptuous edifices,
or to such effect, as by the Mohammedan conquerors of
India in various parts of that country.
The opening of the Italian school of architecture on Italian
the resuscitated dogmas of Vitruvius was the signal for school of
the extinction of that of the beautiful Pointed style. For-architec'
tunately, however, its effects were a full century in reach-tlire■
ing this country, and during that period many of our
most elegant structures came into being; and many of
those of earlier date which had been commenced before,
or during the wars of the Roses, and left unfinished, were
completed. The first indication we have of the pre¬
sence of the Cinquecentist, the real Goth, is in the tomb
of Henry VII., which was executed by Torregiano, an
Italian artist, who, it would appear, was obliged to have
some respect to the style of the edifice in which his work
was to rest; but his preconceived ideas of propriety and
beauty were too strong to allow him to omit the cha¬
racteristics of his school, and the result is a strange mix¬
ture of both. From that time the Pointed style was
rapidly deteriorated, being overborne by the devices of
Italy. On the Continent the latter were already predo¬
minant, for during the whole of the fifteenth century the
current had been setting from Italy over every part of
Europe which received its religion from Rome; and this
country was only the last to be overwhelmed by it. Be¬
fore quitting the part of the subject having reference to
our national style of architecture, it may be well to con¬
trovert the absurd but too prevalent idea, that we are in¬
debted to foreigners, and particularly Italians, for the ex¬
cellence of our ancient works. After what has been al¬
ready said, perhaps it may be unnecessary to do so here,
seeing that we have described our specimens of the Point¬
ed style as being not only fully equal in composition, con¬
struction, and execution to those of any other country,
but as being absolutely in a different manner, having
peculiarities which no other nation has ever equalled in
beauty and elegance. But, to put the case in a clear point
of view: If foreigners were employed to design and ex¬
ecute for us, it is not less strange that they should sur¬
pass their own works at home, than that they should make
inventions and improvements for us (or let them be call¬
ed mere variations) which were not in turn executed in
their own countries. We know very well that works of
architecture and sculpture which have been executed by
foreigners ,in>this country, since the explosion of Pointed
architecture, are in the style of Italy or France, and not
according to the manner prevalent in this country at the
time of their execution. Moreover, for one whole cen¬
tury this nation alone adhered to the Pointed style, dur¬
ing which works were produced, that, for originality, exu¬
berance of fancy, and beauty, spirit, and excellence of ex-
450
History.
ARCHITECTURE.
ecution, have been seldom equalled and never surpassed;
while all the architects, artists, and workmen of the Con¬
tinent were rendered totally unable to assist us by the
change which had taken place in their practice. If this
required proof, it is proved in the case of Torregiano
just referred to, who sculptured Henry VII. s tomb, and
in that of Hans Holbein, who designed architectural works
for us in the classical manner; and if the Torregianos
and Holbeins had been employed during the 15th century,
would they not have done the same ?
If the architecture of Italy never fell away so much
from the more classic style of Imperial Rome as that of
the northern nations did, neither did the Italians ever
possess that more than equivalent, whose splendid course
we have last noticed. Whilst the Pointed style was al¬
most exclusively known and practised in Germany, r ranee,
and the British Islands, the Italians were gradually im¬
proving on their Gothic style; yet the improvement was
more evinced in their secular than in their ecclesiastical
structures. Florence, Bologna, Ferrara, Venice, and many
other cities of Italy, contain palaces and mansions of the
twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, which tor
simplicity and classical beauty far excel most of those in
the same and other places of the three subsecutive cen¬
turies. The contemporary churches, however, do not ex¬
hibit the same degree of improvement, forming, as it were,
an anomaly in the history of architecture; a change in it
being first developed in secular structures, and then ap¬
plied to those devoted to the worship of the divinity ; for
many of the churches of the fifteenth century are in this,
which maybe called the early Italian style, or Trecento, as
that which followed it is known as the Cinquecento.1 Cir¬
cular arches, and plain continuous horizontal cornices, and
pilasters but slightly projected, with simple but generally
tasteful and elegant enrichments of foliage and carved
mouldings, are the most striking characteristics of the Tre¬
cento ; but columns, and the arrangements depending on
them, except as collocated with pilasters, are very infre¬
quent in it. In various parts of Italy, and particularly in
Venice and some of the Venetian cities, this style pro¬
duced many of its best works, both secular and ecclesias¬
tical, even during the fifteenth century ; but it gradually
gave way to, though in some instances its influence may
be traced even when it had been overborne by, the new
style.
The first step taken towards the reformation of archi¬
tecture was by Filippo Brunelleschi, a Florentine archi¬
tect, who was employed to finish the cathedral or duomo
of his native city early in the 15th century ; a work which
had been commenced more than a century before on the
design of Arnolpho, a Florentine also, but which still re¬
quired the cupola when its completion was intrusted to
Brunelleschi. The edifice is in the Italian Gothic style,
slightly modified by what we have termed the Trecento,
which his superior taste and talent induced him to at¬
tempt to supersede, and bring the world back to the clas¬
sic style of ancient Rome. The construction of the cupola
gained him great reputation and the confidence of the pub¬
lic, which he employed to advance his favourite scheme.
To use the words of an Italian writer on the subject,
“ On the example of so wise and skilled a man, other
architects afterwards devoted themselves to free architec¬
ture of the monstrosities introduced by barbarism and ex¬
cessive license, and to restore it to its primitive simplicity
and dignity.”2 But to what did they have recourse to ef¬
fect this ? Did they examine and study the remains of
antiquity in Greece and Rome, in Italy and elsewhere ?
No * they referred to the writings of an obscure Latin
author, who professed to give the principles and practice
of architecture among the Greeks and Romans, but paid
no more attention to the existing architectural works of
those nations than if they had never been, although one
could hardly walk the streets of any of the old cities in
the south of Italy without seeing Rpman edifices, whilst
Rome and its vicinity was, as it still is, full of them. ^ All
the use, however, that these self-called “ restorers of
architecture made of the works of the ancients, was to use
them as lay-figures, or frame-work, to model on, according
to the proportions and directions given by \ itruvius ; and
the effect was formality and mannerism in those who ad¬
hered to the dogmas of the school, and wild grotesqueness
in those who allowed themselves to wander from them,
whilst simplicity, and its consequence good taste, were
effectually banished from the works of them all.
It will be necessary here, perhaps,' before we advance
further in our remarks on the Italian school, to disabuse
the public mind as to the merit of the works of Vitruvius,
whose anilities have so long passed for authorities, that a
writer would be suspected of prejudice who spoke of them
slightingly without adducing reason and evidence to prove
them valueless ; except, indeed, as records of the architec¬
tural practice, and the opinions and acquirements of an ar¬
chitect of a distant age. It is of very little consequence
that Vitruvius is only known by his own writings, but that
mention of him by a contemporary or other ancient author
would probably determine the age in which he lived.
From several things he mentions, and his inscription or
dedication to the “ Imperator Caesar, it has been con¬
cluded that he lived in the time of Augustus ; but certain¬
ly without sufficient reason; for if the man he speaks of
as the son of Masinissa had been the son of the celebrat¬
ed Numidian of that name, in the course of nature neither
he nor Vitruvius could have lived to the time of Augustus.
But he addresses an emperor who succeeded his father
an emperor, and speaks of a temple of Augustus; so that
he must have been a contemporary of some period of the
empire. If that period had been the Augustan, he would,
doubtless, have made some reference to some of the
many distinguished men of that age, or have been refei-
red to by some of them if he had himself been at all
known or distinguished as his admirers insist he was;
neither of which is the case; and, moreover, his language
is not that of an educated man of the Augustan age.
This, however, does not affect the merit of his work as
a treatise on architecture; but his fables about the ori¬
gin of building, the invention of the orders, and the ar¬
rangements which grew out of certain modes of construc¬
tion, do so ; by proving his total ignorance not only of
the architectural works of the more ancient eastern na¬
tions, but of those of Greece itself, which he professes to
describe. Now his classical taste, in consequence of his
knowledge of antiquity, is vaunted by Perrault, one of
his commentators, and given by him as a reason why Vi¬
truvius was not much employed by the whimsical Romans
in their love of variety, to which he would not administer.
How far his knowledge of antiquity, that is, according to
himself, of the works of the Greeks, extended, may be
readily determined by comparing the designs of Greek
structures, made by Perrault and others, according to
the directions of Vitruvius, with the Greek structures
i Cinauecento means literally^ hundred, but it is used as a contraction for fifteen hundred, or rather for one thousand Jive hundred,
bv the ETo" the century in which the revival of architecture, of which we are about to speak, took place, and the manner
consequent is so designated. Trecento would he three hundred, or the third, for the thirteenth century,
a j4g Fab. c % Ditegni. di A. Palladio da O. B. Scamozzi, tomo i. p. 4.
A R C H I T
History, themselves as they exist at the present time, and are
faithfully delineated in various modern works, but espe¬
cially in Stuart and Revett’s Antiquities of Athens. It
is indeed not less strange than true, that not a single ex¬
ample of Greek architecture will bear out a single rule
which Vitruvius prescribes, professedly on its authority;
and not an existing edifice, or fragment of an edifice, in
form or proportion, is in perfect accordance with any law
of that author, nor indeed are they generally referable to
the principles he lays down. Examples might be cited
almost to infinity in support of this statement, and to
prove the inutility of a work consisting of mere descrip¬
tions without delineations, even if it were otherwise cor¬
rect. The latter may certainly be supplied from the an¬
cient remains when they exist; but to a man in posses¬
sion of the specimens, descriptions and directions for
their composition are quite unnecessary. Even Sir Wil¬
liam Chambers, a distinguished disciple of the Italian or
Vitruvian school, speaks very lightly of the advantage to
be gained from the study of the Vitruvian principles of
construction ; and Mr Gwilt, in the introductory treatises
to and notes on Sir William Chambers’s work, has done
much to undermine the authority, by exposing the absur¬
dities and fallacies of the Magnus Apollo of pseudo-classi¬
cal architecture. A student would acquire as correct a
knowledge of history and geography from the Seven
Champions of Christendom and Gulliver’s Travels, as of
architecture from the text of Vitruvius 1
The adoption of the Vitruvian laws by the Italian archi¬
tects of the 15th century led to the formation of the
“ Five Orders.” It will have been observed that, in
speaking of the course of Greek and Roman architecture,
the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian styles were mentioned.
Vitruvius describes, in addition to these, another, which
he calls Tuscan—possibly a style of columnar arrange¬
ment peculiar to Italy, and most likely of Etrurian ori¬
gin ; but, in the absence of delineations, the Cinquecentists
could only apply the proportions he laid down for it, to
what appeared to approximate them in the ancient re¬
mains ; and hence arose a fourth, or “ the Tuscan Order.”
It is, however, a mere modification of the Roman debase¬
ment of the Doric, and may be considered, in its present
form, as of purely modern Italian origin. The same
“ Revivers,” on looking among the ruins of ancient Rome
for the forms of their Vitruvian orders, found specimens
of a foliated ordinance, which the bad taste of the Ro¬
mans had compounded of the foliated and voluted styles of
the Greeks. This was seized upon as a fifth style, sub¬
jected to certain rules and proportions, and called “ the
Composite Order.” The very poor Roman specimens of
Doric and Ionic fitted themselves without much difficulty
to the Vitruvian laws ; but the examples Rome afforded of
the Corinthian were less tractable, and being as various
as they are generally beautiful, they were all passed over,
and their places supplied by a mere changeling—an epitome
of the Vitruvian theory. Thus we have the “ Five Orders”
of the Italo-Vitruvian school, and in this manner they
are arranged: First, the Tuscan, of which there is no re¬
cognised example of antiquity, but which owes its form
to the descriptions of Vitruvius and the fancies of the re¬
vivers ; second, the Doric, a poor and tasteless arrangement
of the general features of the style on a Roman model;
third, the Ionic, which is almost as great a debasement of
the Grecian originals, and was produced in the same
manner as the last-mentioned; fourth, the Corinthian, a
something totally unlike the ancient examples of both
Greece and Rome in beauty and spirit; fifth, the
Composite, an inelegant variety of the Corinthian, or a
hybrid mixture of the horned or angular-ionic volutes,
with a deep necking of the foliage of the preceding order.
E C T U R E. 451
The first to publish this system was Leon Battista Al- History,
berti, a pupil of Brunelleschi. He has been followed by
many others, the most distinguished of whom are, Pal¬
ladio, Vignola, Scamozzi, Serlio, and De Lorme, archi¬
tects; and Barbaro, a Venetian prelate, and an esteemed
translator of, and commentator on, Vitruvius. None ot
these, it must be understood, agreed with any other of
them, but each took his own view of the meaning of
their common preceptor; and yet none of their produc¬
tions evince the slightest approach to the elegance of
form and beauty of proportion which distinguish the
classic models of the columnar architecture of antiquity.
Palladio and Serlio were the first to publish delineations
and admeasurements of the Roman architectural remains
in Italy; but the total absence of verisimilitude to the
originals, and, in many cases, the absolute misrepresen¬
tations, in both works, prove how incompetent the au¬
thors were to appreciate their merits; and the exagge¬
ration of their defects proves with equal clearness the
general bad taste of the school in which they are masters.
The worst qualities of the Roman school of architecture
were embraced and perpetuated by the Cinquecento.
The inharmonious and unpleasing combinations which
arose out of the collocation of arches with columnar ordi¬
nances became the characteristics of the Italian : unequal
intercolumniations, broken entablatures, and stylobates,
enter alike into the productions of the best and of the worst
of the Cinquecento architects. The style of this school
is marked, too, by the constant attachment of columns
and their accessories to the fronts or elevations of build¬
ings ; by the infrequency of their use in insulated (their
natural) positions to form porticoes and colonnades; by
the thinness or want of breadth in the smaller members
of their entablatures, and the bad proportion of the larger
parts, into which they are divided, to one another; by
the general want of that degree of enrichment which
fluting imparts to columns; by the too great projection
of pilasters, and the inconsistent practice of diminishing,
and sometimes fluting them; by the use of circular and
twisted pediments, and the habit of making breaks in
them to suit the broken ordinance they may crown; and
by various other inconsistencies and deformities, which
will be rendered more evident when we come to treat of
the style in detail. The merit of the Italian school con¬
sists in the adaptation and collocation of the prolate hemi-
spheroidal cupola, which appears to have grown out of
its opposite in the Roman works during the Gothic ages,
as we find it in the early cathedrals; though it is highly
probable that the idea was brought from the East, in the
forms exhibited by the cupolas of St Marks at Venice,
and of Pisa Cathedral. A very noble style of Palatial
architecture also was practised by many of the Italian
architects. It consists of the use of a grand crowning
cornice, running in one unbroken line, unsurmounted by
an attic, or any thing of the kind, superimposing a broad,
lofty, and generally well-proportioned front, made into
graceful compartments, but not storied, by massive block¬
ing courses and other things, which are at the disposal of
the judicious architect. Not unfrequently, however, the
faults of the school interfere to injure a composition of
this kind; for, to produce variety in the decorations of the
windows, some of them have been made like doors, with
distyle arrangements of columns, surmounted by alterna¬
tions of circular and angular pediments, and sometimes
with all the vagaries which deform the front of an Italian
church. It is indeed the ecclesiastical architecture of
the school in which its faults are most rife and its
merits most rare. An Italian church possesses nothing
of the stern simplicity and imposing grandeur of an
Egyptian sacred structure—nothing of the harmonious
452
ARCHITECTURE.
History, beauty and classic dignity of a Grecian fane—nothing
-^^v^-^of the ornate and attractive elegance of a Roman temple
— and nothing truly of the glittering grace and capti¬
vating harmony of a Pointed cathedral. No other style
of architecture presents so great a contrast, in any
two species of its productions, as the Italian does, in
one of its ordinary church fronts, with the front of
a nobleman’s mansion or palazzo, in the manner already
referred to; and in no city of Italy is the contrast so
strong, by the egregiousness of the examples it contains
of both, as Rome. The stately portico is hardly known in
Italian architecture ; and in the rare cases in which insulated
columns are found, they are for the most part so meagre
in themselves, and so thinly set, according to the Vitru-
vian laws, that the effect produced by them is poor and
wretched in the extreme. This applies most particular¬
ly to Italy itself: in some other countries, and especially
in this, those architects who have been of the Italian
school have generally preferred the proportions and ar¬
rangements which they found in the Roman examples of
antiquity, to those laid down by their Italian masters.
Still, Italian church architecture boasts the cupola,—cer¬
tainly its redeeming feature; and the architects of Italy
must have full credit for the use they have made of it, both
internally and externally. Perhaps no two edifices display
more, and in a greater degree, both the merits and de-
LXIV fects of the school which produced them, than the Far-
LXV. and nese palace and the basilica of St Peter in Rome. The
LXVI. principal front of the former edifice is exquisite in its pro¬
portions, but frittered in its details. It has an immense
crowning cornice, whose general effect is surpassingly
grand; but the mouldings are too much projected, and its
vertical parts wTant the breadth which the blocking courses
possess. The lowest of its three tiers of windows is cha¬
racterized by the most charming simplicity and good
taste in almost every particular; but the other two are
crowded with sins against both those qualities, in the
dressings of the windows. The cortile and back front,
though both very differently arranged from the front, and
from each other, are not less filled with contrarieties ; and
so of the structure throughout. The front of St Peter’s
is not more distinguished by its magnitude than by its
littleness and deformity. It contains the materials of a
noble octaprostyle, and consists of an attached tetrastyle.
It is divided into three unequal stories, within the height
of the columns, whose entablature is surmounted by a
vrindowed attic. In length it is frittered into a multitude
of compartments, between which not the slightest har¬
mony is maintained; while tawdriness and poverty are
the distinguishing characteristics of its detail. A total
absence of every thing which produces grandeur and
beauty in architecture, marks, indeed, the whole of the
exterior of the edifice, except the glorious cupola, than
which architecture never produced a more noble and
magnificent object. Internally, the structure is open to
similar praise and similar dispraise. Gorgeousness in
matter and meanness in manner characterize the interior
of St Peter’s, except the sublime concave which is formed
by its redeeming feature without.
The Cinquecento architects of Italy were exceeding man¬
nerists : but besides the manner of the school, each had
his own peculiarities ; so that there exists in their w'orks
what may almost be called monotonous variety. Brunel¬
leschi’s designs are distinguished by a degree of sim¬
plicity and comparative good taste, which causes regret
that he had not referred more to the remains of antiquity
in Italy, and sought out those of Greece, and less to the
dogmas of Vitruvius ; for then his works would have been
more elegant than they are, and the school he founded
would have done him much more honour than it does.
The works of Bramante possess a more classical character History,
than those of any other architect of the school. Bra-
mante’s design for St Peter’s was preferred by Pope
Julius II. to a great many others by the most esteemed
men of the time. He it was who suggested the cu¬
pola ; but, unfortunately, after his death men of less taste
and talent were allowed to alter the design, and the
edifice has icsulted very differently from what it would
have done had Bramante been adhered to. This we
judge from his works generally, and not from any positive
knowledge of the design, which indeed does not exist.
The elder Sangallo was far inferior to his contemporary
and rival Bramante, and his works are full of the faults
of the school. Michel Angelo Buonaroti was a man of
great genius, but of coarse taste in architecture; and to
him may be attributed many of the coarser qualities of the
Italian style. His principal works are the buildings of the
Capitol, and the College della Sapienza in Rome, and the
Laurentian Library at Florence; and these are all dis¬
tinguished for their singular want of architectural beauty
and propriety in every particular. Michel Angelo was
the Uante of Italian painting, but the Berni of its ar¬
chitecture. Raffaelle, too, had a very bad style in ar¬
chitecture, and so indeed had almost all the painters
who professed to be architects also. They generally car¬
ried to extremes all the faults of the school. Sansovino
and Sanmichele were men of considerable talent: their
works display more originality and less servility than
those of most of their contemporaries. Peruzzi was less
employed than many who had not half his merit: his
productions are with reason considered among the most
classical of the Italian school. Vignola had a more correct
taste than perhaps any other Italian architect of the 16th
century: his works are indeed distinguishable by their su¬
periority in harmony of composition and in general beauty
of detail. Palladio very much affected the study of the an¬
tique, but his works do not indicate any appreciation of its
beauties. He appears to have been very well qualified
by nature for an architect, but spoiled by education. He
did not look at the remains of antiquity with his own
eyes, nut with those of Vitruvius and Alberti, and lie
seems to have been too much influenced by the admired
works of some of his predecessors. Palladio made greater
use of insulated columns than the Italian architects ge¬
nerally, but his ordinances are deficient in every quality
that produces beauty; his porticoes may be Vitruvian,
but they certainly are not classic; and all his works
evince that he studied the Colosseum, the Theatre of
Marcellus, and the Triumphal Arches, more than the co¬
lumns of Jupiter Stator and Mars Ultor, the Temple of
Antoninus and Faustina, the Pantheon, the Portico at
Assisi, and the other classic models, which he drew, but
clearly did not appreciate. His columns upon columns,
his attached and clustered columns, his stilted post-like
columns, his broken entablatures, his numberless pilasters,
straggling and unequal intercolumniations, inappropriate
and inelegant ornaments, circular pediments and the like,
are blemishes too numerous and too great to be passed
over because of occasional elegance of proportion and
beauty of detail. Scamozzi did not improve on the style
of his master, which, however, he very much affected.
Indeed the term Palladian has long been in general use
throughout the civilized world for beautiful and excellent
in architecture, so that it cannot be wondered at that
Palladio’s pupils and successors should imitate him; nor
is it surprising that they did not surpass, or even equal
him, for they were taught to look to his works as the ne.
plus ultra of excellence. Giacomo della Porta, a con- '
temporary of Palladio, followed Michel Angelo in several (j?
of his works, and imbibed much of his mannei’, on which
ARCHITECTURE.
453
History.
Influence
of the Ita-
1 ian school.
he certainly improved; but still his own is far from being
good; Della Porta was much employed in Rome ; and it
fell to him, in conjunction with Domenico Fontana, to put
the cupola on St Peter’s. Fontana’s style of architecture
is not particularly distinguished for its good or bad quali¬
ties ; he obtained more reputation as an engineer than as
an architect, having been engaged in removing and setting
up most of the obelisks which give so much interest to the
architectural scenery of Rome. The Lunghi, father, son,
and grandson, the Rainaldi, Maderno, Borromini, Bernini,
Carlo Fontana, Fuga, Vanvitelli, and many others in the
course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, carried
the peculiarities of the Italian school to the greatest extremes.
Of those enumerated, Bernini was perhaps the least offen¬
sive, and Borromini the most extravagant; but throughout
that period, except in extreme cases, individual manner is less
distinguishable, and that of the school more strongly marked.
It may be gathered from the preceding remarks, that the
secular architecture of the Italian school is generally pre¬
ferable to the ecclesiastical, and that the architects of the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were generally superior to
those who followed them. In Italy the school has not yet
ceased to exist, nor indeed has its style ceased to be studied.
Designs are still made by the students of the various acade¬
mies in the manner of the Cinquecento, and on the models
with which the country abounds. The precepts of Vitru¬
vius are yet inculcated, and the works of the men whose
names we have mentioned are looked up to as master works
of architecture in the country which contains the Roman
Pantheon and the Greek Neptunium, besides the power of
referring to the more exquisite works of Greece herself.
In the fifteenth century such was the reverence of men
for the revived works of ancient literature and science, that
the profession of the Italians, that they had restored ancient
classical architecture on the precepts of an architect of the
Augustan age, was sufficient to open the way for them all
over civilized Europe. In the course of that and the fol¬
lowing century Italian architecture was adopted and Italian
architects employed in France, Spain, Germany, Great Bri¬
tain, and their respective dependencies; and now, in the
nineteenth century, Vitruvius and Palladio are as predomi¬
nant on the shores of the Baltic as on those of the Medi¬
terranean Sea; though in this country and in some parts of
the Continent their influence is considerably diminished since
the time of Inigo Jones and Claude Perrault. It has been
already remarked, too, that the Cinquecento was later in
gaining a footing here than on the Continent, in consequence
of the existence of a beautiful national style of architecture,
which our ancestors do not appear to have been induced to
resign to the barbarian innovators of the South, as readily as
the interjacent nations were to give up theirs; for which
indeed the reason exists in the greater attractions of ours,
and the consequent greater difficulty of inducing the nation
to part with it. The French, though they received the
Vitruvian architecture from the Italians, were patriotic
enough, as soon as they had acquired its principles, to con¬
fine the practice of it almost entirely to native architects,
in whose hands it assumed a different character from that
which it possessed in Italy, and became what may be called
the French style of Cinquecento. Its ecclesiastical struc¬
tures are less faulty than are those of the corresponding
period in Italy, but its secular edifices are as far inferior to
those of that country. The grand palatial style, which is
exemplified in the Farnese palace in Rome, never found its
way into France; but instead, there arose that monstrous
and peculiarly French manner, of which the well-known
palaces of the Tuilleries and Luxembourg are egregious History,
examples. In the age of Louis XIV. the French appear to ^ — /^m">
have ieverted to the Italian manner in a certain degree;
for the palace of Versailles includes almost all the extra¬
vagancies of that school in its worst period, and contains
moreover architectural deformities which Italy never equal¬
led till it imitated them. They consist in the style of en¬
richment which is distinguished by the name of that monarch
in whose reign it had its origin, and of whose gross taste
and vulgar mind it is an apt emblem. The same period
produced one of the most classical architects of the French
school—its Palladio or Inigo Jones, Perrault, whose design
for the buildings of the Louvre was preferred to that of
Bernini, though indeed the preference was no compliment
to the one nor discredit to the other, considering to whom
the decision was of necessity referred. The Hotel des In-
valides is of the same age: it exhibits the graces of the
Italian cupola, surmounting a composition which includes
more than all the faults of St Peter’s in Rome. The church
of Sainte Genevieve, or the Pantheon, a work of the fol¬
lowing reign, was intended to be in the ancient Roman
style, and of Roman magnificence; but it is rather papally
than imperially so. Ancient Rome was regarded in the
columnar ordinance, but modern Rome in the architectural
composition. In it the ecclesiastical style of the Cinque¬
cento is commingled with the simple beauties of Roman
architecture, almost indeed to the destruction of the latter:
to this structure also there is a handsome cupola. Of late
years the works of the ancients have been studied by the
architects of France, greatly to the amelioration of their
style ; as yet, however, they are but imperfectly acquainted
with the peculiarities of the Greek, and many of them still
appear to retain their devotion to Vitruvius and the fifteenth
century. Spain servilely received the Italo-Vitruvian archi¬
tecture, and to the present day knows no other. Less pa¬
triotic than the F rench, the Spaniards have for their greatest
works employed the architects of France and Italy. The
Escurial, though the work of a native architect,1 does little
credit to Spanish art. The Italian Revival was the means
of extinguishing the Pointed style of architecture in Ger¬
many, and certainly without affording it an equivalent. Ita¬
lian architects were employed in Germany, and Germans
acquired their manner; but they did not improve it, nor did
they make it productive of so many good effects as the Ita¬
lians themselves did. The change in religion which su¬
pervened the change in architecture in so large a part of
Germany, may have tended to prevent the latter from ac¬
quiring that degree of exuberance there which it did in
Italy; but even in Catholic Germany the splendid Pointed
cathedrals have never given way to modifications of the
pseudo-classic St Peter's. In the use of Cinquecento archi¬
tecture for secular structures, it may be truly said that the
Germans have not excelled the Italians ; nor, on the other
hand, have they equalled them in the absurdities and extra¬
vagancies which are so frequently observable in the works of
someof the latter. The Germans also have lately turned their
attention to the works of the ancients, and the fruit of it is
already evident in many parts of the country, and most par¬
ticularly in Prussia : still, however, they appear to have yet
to learn the right use of the Greek models, and a proper
sense of the exquisite perfection of their detail; as well
as to emancipate themselves from many of the trammels
of the Vitruvian school. The northern continental na¬
tions have been dependent on Germany, France, or Italy
for their architecture, and can produce nothing that gives
them a claim to our consideration in such a review as the
1 It has been sometimes erroneously attributed to a Frenchman. The work was begun by Juan Bautista de Toledo in 1563, and com¬
pleted by his pupil Juan de Herrera in 1587.—Description del Escorial por Francisco de los Santos; Viage de Espana por Antonio Ponz ;
\ aria Cornmensuracion de Juan de Arfe; Laborde, Itin. Descrip, de C Espagne, t. iii.; Townsend’s Spain.—Ed.
454 A R C H I T
History, present. St Petersburg is exclusively the work of ar-
chitects of the nations just enumerated, and presents a
mass of the merest common-places of Italian architecture,
in structures calculated by their extent, like Versailles, the
Escurial and St Peter’s, to impose on the vulgar eye.
We have already more than once had occasion to refer
incidentally to the introduction of Cinquecento architec¬
ture into Britain; and in noticing it more particularly,
and tracing its course, we are saved the trouble of keep¬
ing up a distinction between the different parts of our
triple nation, because, at the time it actually crossed the
channel, the amalgamation of the kingdoms had taken
place by the union of their crowns on the head of the
Scotish sovereign.
English ar- When the Pointed style received its deathblow in Eng-
chitecture. lantl5 in the reign of Henry VIII., it did not immediately
cease to exist; nor was it immediately succeeded by the
Italian when it became extinct. It was gradually de¬
clining through all the 16th century, during the latter
part of which period, what has been called the Elizabethan
style became somewhat permanent. It consists of a singu¬
lar admixture of the Italian orders, with many peculiari¬
ties of the Pointed style, and in many examples the latter
appears predominant. With such difficulty, indeed, did
that fascinating manner give up its hold on the minds of
men in this country, that the cinquecentists appear to have
relinquished the hope of effecting its destruction,—unfor¬
tunately, however, not until the injury was done; and for
some time we were left without a style of any kind, unless
that may be called by the name which marks the edifices
of the reign of James I., and of which the oldest parts of St
James’s palace are a specimen.
The destruction of the Pointed style has been referred
by some to the change in religion which took place under
the Tudor line of English monarchs; but such was cer¬
tainly not the case. It was the “ Reformation” of architec¬
ture in Italy, and not that of religion in Great Britain, that
effected it; and it may be doubted whether the change
would not have taken place sooner in this country, if its
connection with Italy had not been so materially affected
by the moral change here, and so delayed that of architec¬
ture; for it was Germany and France that supplied us with
architectural reformers during the reigns of Henry VIII.
and his children, and not Italy, whose professors might
possibly have obtained more credit than their disciples did.
So dilatory were we, indeed, in the cultivation of the
Italian style, that the first professor of it who was actual¬
ly employed on edifices in this country came hither from
Denmark! It is true, he was an Englishman; but so little
hope did he appear to have of success at home, that he
accepted an invitation from the king of that country, when
he was at Venice, whither he had gone to study painting ;
but becoming enamoured of architecture, as he saw it in
the works of Palladio, he had made that his study instead,
and had already acquired considerable reputation in that
city, when Christian IV. of Denmark invited him to his
court to occupy the post of his first architect. A train of
circumstances, to which we need not here advert, brought
him to England a few years after James I. came to the Eng¬
lish crown, and he was appointed architect at first to the
queen, and subsequently to Henry prince of Wales. But
he does not appear in consequence to have then obtained
employment; for after the death of the prince, he went
again to Italy, where he remained till the office of survey¬
or general, which had been promised him in reversion, fell
vacant. This was the celebrated Inigo Jones, who has
been called the English Palladio ; and indeed he succeed¬
ed so well in acquiring the peculiar manner of that archi¬
tect, that he richly deserves whatever credit the appella¬
tion conveys. It is unfortunate, however, for his own re-
E C T U R E.
putation, that he had not looked beyond Palladio and their History,
common preceptor Vitruvius, to the models the latter pre-
tends to describe; in which case he might have been the
means of restoring, or at least of introducing, to his own
country, the truly classical architecture of the ancients.
But instead of that he brought nothing home but Italian
rules and Italian prejudices. Jones commenced the truly
Gothic custom of thrusting Cinquecento fittings into our
Pointed cathedrals, by putting up an Italian screen in that
of Winchester; and he barbarized the ancient cathedral
of St Paul in London, by repairing it according to his
notions of Pointed architecture, for it was in that style,
and affixed to it an Italian front. Fortunately the great
fire supervened, and made room for the present magnifi¬
cent structure, by clearing away that early specimen of
pseudo-classic taste. Of the Palladian style, however,
it must be confessed Jones was a complete master. He
designed a royal palace which was to have been built at
Whitehall, in a manner as far superior to those of Versailles
and the Escurial, as the works of Palladio are to those of
Borromini. The only part of Jones’s design ever exe¬
cuted is the structure called the Banqueting-House, whose
exterior is an epitome of many of the faults, and most of
the beauties, of the Palladian school. It rises boldly from
the ground with a broad, simple, and nearly continuous
basement or stereobate, and the various compartments of
its principal front are beautifully proportioned; but the
circular pediments to the windows, the attached unfluted
columns, with broken entablatures and stylobates, the attic
and balustrade, though they be the materials of Palla¬
dian, it may be confidently denied that they are consist¬
ent with classical architecture. Another well-known work
of this architect is the Italo-Vitruvian Tuscan church of
St Paul, Covent-Garden, whose eastern portico is well-
proportioned in general, but grossly deformed in detail.
Architecture was in abeyance in this country, again,
from the troublous times of Charles I. till the restoration
of the monarchy in the person of his son, whose French
taste would have completely Gallicized the architecture,
as well as the manners and morals, of the nation, if the
resplendent genius of Sir Christopher Wren had not been
present to avert the infliction, or rather to modify it; for
it cannot be denied that the influence of the French man¬
ner had an effect on the architecture of this country from
that period down to the middle of the last century. In¬
deed Wren himself only knew the style he practised from
books and the structures of France, except the few that
existed of Inigo Jones in this country; and, in conse¬
quence of his visit to France, the peculiarities of the
French style are obvious in many of his less esteemed
works. Fortunately, however, he was proof against the
grosser peculiarities of the Cinquecento, whether in the
books of the Italians or in the edifices ot the French;
and his own productions evince that he had imbibed
much of the spirit of the antique monuments of Italy,
which he could have known only from engravings, and
those very imperfect ones. The field that was opened to
his genius by the great fire of London in 1666, and its re¬
sult, are equally well known. It is true that the general
offuscation of taste and feeling with regard to the Pointed
style extended even to him. Wren was guilty of many
offences in that respect, besides giving authority to the
opprobrious term Gothic; and in no case more so than in
the construction of the towers to Westminster Abbey,
which are a lasting proof of his ignorance of its most ob¬
vious principles. Nevertheless, to the influence of our
beautiful native style on his mind, architecture is indebt¬
ed for some of its most charming works. If Wren had not
been accustomed to contemplate the graceful and elegant
pyramids or spires of his native country, he would never
ARCHITECTURE.
455
Plate
LXIY.
History, have originated the tapering steeple, in the composition
^v^of which with the materials of Italian architecture he
still stands as unrivalled as he was original. Witness the
steeples of Bow Church and St Bride’s in London, the
former of which is hardly surpassed in grace and elegance
by the Pointed spires themselves. It must remain a con¬
stant subject of regret that this great head of the English
school of Cinquecento architecture did not know the re¬
mains of ancient Greece and Rome from personal obser¬
vation. With his splendid genius and fine taste, if he had
not been imposed on by the specious pretence of the Italo-
Vitruvian school, his works would have been models
for imitation and study, as they are objects of admi¬
ration : as it was, he avoided many of the faults of that
school, and improved on many of its beauties. Without
knowing the Greek style at all, and knowing the Roman
only through imperfect mediums; without, indeed, ever
having seen an example of either; whenever he has varied
from the Italian practice, it has been towards the propor¬
tions and peculiarities of the Greek! The great west front
of St Paul’s, though it is said to be imitated from that of
St Peter’s in Rome, or rather from what it was proposed
to be, with the two towers to form its wings, is a much
finer, a more imposing, and more classical specimen of ar¬
chitecture than its prototype ; for the advantage the latter
should have in being of columns in one height is lost en¬
tirely in their poverty and in the miserable arrangement of
the whole front; whereas that of St Paul’s is in two noble
pseudo-prostyle and recessed porticoes, with the columns
fluted, and generally conceived and executed in much
better taste than those of St Peter’s. The entablatures,
though massive, are finely proportioned, and sufficiently
ornate to be elegant; they are, too, quite continuous, and
the upper one is surmounted by a noble pediment, whose
pyramidal form gives at the same time dignity and a finish¬
ed appearance to the whole front. The coupling of the
columns, however, and the putting of one columnar ordi¬
nance over another, can only be defended by the practice
of the Italian school; though, in the present case, both are
rendered less offensive by the judicious management of
the architect. Nothing shows more strikingly the supe¬
riority of St Paul’s to St Peter’s, as an architectural com¬
position, than a parallel of their flanks. The great mag¬
nitude of the latter may strike the vulgar eye with admi¬
ration in the contrast; but the rudest taste must appre¬
ciate the surpassing merit of the former in the form and
arrangement of the cupola, and the noble peristyle with
its unbroken entablature and stylobate, out of which it
rises, when compared with the sharper form and depressed
substructure of that of St Peter’s. The superiority of
St Paul’s in the composition of the main body of the edi¬
fice is not less in degree, though perhaps less obvious,
than in the superstructure. In the one it is broken and
frittered, and in the other almost perfectly continuous, in
broad, bold, and effective masses.
The history of the works of Sir Christopher Wren is
the history of the architecture of the period in this coun¬
try ; and as it must be admitted that he was not so suc¬
cessful in the composition of the architecture of secular
structures as of ecclesiastical, it will follow that our se¬
cular edifices of that time are of inferior merit. If it
were not indeed an historical fact, it would hardly be
credited, that Chelsea College, the old College of Physi¬
cians in London, and the halls of some of the city com¬
panies, are by the architect of Bow Church and St Paul’s.
The style introduced by Sir John Vanbrugh, who may
be said to have succeeded Sir Christopher Wren in the
direction of architecture in England, was distinguished by
massiveness unsuited to the style in which he built, which
was of course Italian. It was, however, free from the va¬
garies and extravagancies which characterize that, style History,
generally in other countries at the same period, but was
certainly more suited to the soberer character of ecclesi¬
astical than of secular structures, whereas his principal
works weie noblemen s mansions. Vanbrugh’s faults were
geneially those of Michel Angelo: he was a painter’s ar¬
chitect, and did not understand beauty of proportion and
detail so well as the pictorial arrangement of lights and
shadows ; to produce which in the Cinquecento it is almost
necessary to part with all the higher beauties of architec¬
ture. Hawksmoor added to the style of his master that
noble ornament in which Italian works are so very deficient
—a prostyle portico. His compositions are marked by
severe simplicity, and only want to be absolved from a few
faults and enriched with a few elegancies to be among the
best of modern times. Not the least distinguished archi¬
tect of the same age (the first half of the 18th century)
was the Earl of Burlington, w ho was a passionate admirer
of the style of Palladio and Inigo Jones. Many of the
edifices erected by Kent are believed to be from the de¬
signs of that amiable nobleman, who, with considerable
talent, was, however, a somewhat bigoted devotee to
Vitruvius and the Cinquecento generally, as well as to Pal¬
ladio in particular; for he has frequently used columns
representing half-barked trees, in conformity with the silly
tales of Vitruvius, and the sillier wdiims of his disciples.
The portal of his own house in Piccadilly, and that of the
King’s Mews, are special examples of this bad taste, and
of other faults of the school besides. Lord Burlington
built for himself at Chiswdck a villa on the model of the
Villa Capra, or Rotonda, near Vicenza—a structure which
has been called the masterpiece of Palladio. In form and
proportion it is certainly elegant, but its details strongly
exhibit the poverty of Italian columnar architecture, when
unaided by the frittering which is its bane, and almost its
sole dependence for effect. Gibbs was a contemporary
of the same period. He too, like Hawksmoor, had imbibed
a taste for the classic prostyle portico, which he evinced
in St Martin’s church in London; but that he also was in
the trammels of the Italian school is no less evident, in
the same structure, to a considerable extent, and still
more so in the church of St Mary in the Strand, which is
a bad specimen of architecture, and a favourable one of
its style. During the following half-century (the latter
half of the 18th) Sir William Chambers and Sir Robert
Taylor were the most distinguished architects of this
country. They were both men of talent and genius, who
had availed themselves of the remains of Roman antiquity
to good purpose; for as yet those of Greece were either
unknown or unappreciated; and the former of them has
left us, in the Strand front of Somerset House in London,
perhaps the best specimen of its style in existence. Other
parts of the same edifice, however, are far from deserving
the same degree of praise: indeed, as an architectural
composition, the river front is altogether inferior in merit
to the other, though of much greater pretence. The inner
fronts to the great quadrangle, though exhibiting good
parts, are, as a whole, not above mediocrity. An air of
littleness pervades them; and the general effect of the
fronts themselves is made still worse by the little clock
towers and cupolas by which they are surmounted; and
to this may be added the infinity of ill-arranged chimneys,
which impart an air of meanness and confusion that no¬
thing can excuse. While Sir William Chambers and a
few others were applying the best qualities of Italian ar¬
chitecture, indeed improving its general character, and, it
may be said, making an English style of it, there were
many structures raised in various parts of the country in
a manner hardly superior to that of the time of James I ;
structures in which all the meanness and poverty of the
456 ARCHITECTURE.
History. Cinquecento are put forth, without any of its elegance of is due the honour of opening the temple of Greek architec- History,
proportion, or that degree of effectiveness which men of tural art,—of drawing away the veil ot ignorance which
talent contrived to give it. During the same period, too, obscured the beauties it contains,—and ot snatching from
the seeds of a revolution were sown, which has almost perdition, and consequent oblivion, the noble relics of an-
succeeded in ejecting the Italian style and its derivative cient architecture which bear the impress of the Grecian
from this country, without perhaps having as yet fur- mind. Not only indeed were we the first to open the
nished a complete equivalent. mine, but by us it has been principally worked ; for among
In the year 1748 James Stuart and Nicholas Revett, the numerous publications which now exist on the Hel-
two painters pursuing their studies in Rome, having lenic remains, by far the greatest number, and indisput-
moreover paid some attention to architecture, issued ably the most correct, are by our countrymen, and were
“ Proposals for publishing an accurate description of the brought out in this country. It required, however, a
Antiquities of Athens, &c." These proposals met with generation for the effects of ignorance and prejudice in
general approbation, and in consequence they determin- some, and imperfect knowledge in others, to wear away,
ed on prosecuting their plan ; but various hinderances before the beneficial effects of the Greek style could be
prevented their arrival in Athens till March 1751, when obvious in our structures. The works of the Adams,
they commenced measuring and delineating the architec- who were contemporaries of and immediate successors to
tural monuments of that city and its environs. In this Sir William Chambers, evince a taste for the beauties of
work Messrs Stuart and Revett were unremittingly em- Greek architecture, but a very imperfect knowledge in-
ployed (as far as their own exertions went, for they deed of the means of reproducing them. The architects
were frequently interrupted by the Turks) for several who have had the direction of our principal works during
years, so that they did not reach England with the re- the first quarter of this century had the disadvantage of
suit of their labours until 1755; and, by a series of al- being pupils of those who were themselves, as we have
most unaccountable delays, the first volume of their work shown, incompetent to appreciate the Greek style ; and
did not appear until the year 1762. Sixteen years more at a time too when the state of Europe shut up all access
expired before the second issued from the press; and to the remains of Greece and Rome ; so that no great
the third was not published until 1794, being nearly improvement could perhaps be expected from them,
fifty years from the time the work was first announced! When they shall have passed away, it is to be hoped that
Avarice and envy had induced a Frenchman of the name we shall find a new class, some of whom, indeed, are al-
of Le Roy, who was at Rome when our countrymen is- ready before the world, who, having received their edu-
sued their proposals, to forestall them with the public, cation since peace has opened the Continent, are prepared
and rob them of the profit and reputation they were so by the actual contemplation and study of the works of
hardly labouring to earn. This man went to Athens, Egypt, Greece, Rome, and Italy, in all their varieties, to
and in a very short time collected some loose mate- form new and pleasing combinations of their beauties,
rials, with which he published at Paris, in 1758, a work adapted to our wants,—to produce what may equal, if not
which he called Les Ruines des plus beaux Monumens surpass them all The structures of Egypt may show
de la Gre.ce, &;c., in which he makes not the slightest how to arrange large masses harmoniously and effectively;
mention of Stuart and Revett, nor of their labours or in- those of Greece and Rome how to impart grace and de¬
tentions, with all of which he was well acquainted. This nity; and the structures of Italy how the materials of an-
work is moreover notoriously and grossly incorrect; so cient architecture may be moulded to modern uses, while
incorrect indeed, as to make it difficult of belief that its at the same time they give practical warning of what may
author ever saw the objects of which he professes to give result from the abuse of the most obvious principles of the
the representations. Such as it is, however, it was from art.
M. le Roy’s work that the public had to judge of the The difference between the representations of the
merits and beauties of Greek architecture; for we have Athenian antiquities by Stuart and his colleague, and the
said that the first volume of Stuart and Revett’s did not misrepresentations of them by Le Roy, appears to have
appear for several years after it, and that does not con- opened the eyes of the world to those of ancient Rome,
tain any pure specimen of the national or Doric style : to see if they too had not been dealt with unjustly; for
the second, which does, was not published for twenty of late years much more correct delineations of them have
years after Le Roy’s. Considering, therefore, the source appeared than those of Palladio and Desgodetz,—delinea-
from which the public had to derive information on the tions of them as they exist, exhibiting the spirit of the
subject, it can hardly be wondered at that Greek ar- originals, and not warped to the Vitruvian precepts, and
chitecture was vituperated on all sides; and by none thereby stripped of their best quality, truth. Ihe exca-
with greater acrimony than by Sir William Chambers, vation of the ancient cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii
whose apology must be, ignorance and the prejudices of has opened to us much interesting matter, and some that
education. He really did not know the style he carped is instructive : their ruins too have the advantage of being
at; and his education in the Italo-Vitruvian school had correctly delineated ; so that we are at this time in pos-
unfitted him for appreciating its grand, chaste, and simple session of more knowledge of the architecture of the an-
beauties, even if he had known it. Notwithstanding the cients, acquired in a few years by the actual examination
misrepresentations of Le Roy, the vituperations of Cham- of its relics, than our predecessors of the last generation
hers, the established reputation of Italian architecture, were, after talking, and writing, and reading Vitruvius
and the trammels which Vitruvius and his disciples had about it, for nearly four centuries.
fixed on the public mind, when Stuart and Revett’s work It is an argument in proof of the classical beauty of the
actually appeared, the Greek style gradually advanced in Pointed style, that when the eyes of men were opened to
esteem, by dint of superior merit alone—‘for it has had no the perfections of Greek architecture, they began to dis-
factitious aids; and since that period Greece and all her cover its merits also. Pointed architecture, under the op-
colonies which possess remains of her unrivalled archi- probrious name Gothic, had long been a subject of discus-
tecture have been explored, and we now possess correct sion among antiquaries; that is, essays were written by
delineations of almost every Greek structure which has them to prove how the Pointed arch originated, but none
survived, though in ruins, the wreck of time and the de- appreciated its beauties. Our Pointed cathedrals and
solution of barbarism. To our country and nation, then, churches were, after the example of Inigo Jones, ruth-
ARCHITECTURE.
History, lessly barbarized in repairing and fitting up. If an archi-
tect were employed to do any thing in or to one of them,
he appears to have thought it incumbent on him to con¬
vert it to the doctrines of his own faith—to Italicize it.
Deans and Chapters for the most part intrusted their
commissions to country masons and plasterers, who also
operated according to the laws of the “ five orders.”
About the middle of the 18th century one Batty Lang¬
ley endeavoured to draw the attention of the world to
Pointed architecture, by reducing it to rules, and dividing
it into orders. Fortunately he was only laughed at, and
both he and the book he published on the subject were
soon forgotten. One of the first men in rank and influ¬
ence of his time, in matters of taste particularly, Horace
Walpole, patronized Pointed architecture, but ineffec¬
tually. He had himself neither taste nor feeling to ap¬
preciate its beauties, as his Strawberry Hill clearly evinces;
so that his patronage of it must have been the effect of
mere whim, or a wish to lead a fashion. Delineations
were indeed put forth from time to time, but generally
so rude and imperfect, that, like M. le Roy to Greek
architecture, they did more harm than good. The So¬
ciety of Antiquaries, however, at length took up the sub¬
ject, engaged Mr John Carter, an ardent and judicious ad¬
mirer of our national architecture, and commenced the
publication of a series of splendid volumes, containing en¬
gravings of its best specimens, from drawings and admea¬
surements by him. The “ Antiquities of Athens” had al¬
ready done much to dispossess men of their prejudices,
by showing that Greek architecture, though neither Vi-
truvian nor Palladian, was nevertheless beautiful; and the
great work of the Society of Antiquaries did the same for
Pointed architecture. Since the death of Mr Carter, our
native style has been beautifully illustrated, in a series of
valuable works by Mr Britton, and elucidated in detailed
“ specimens,” by Mr Pugin, a French gentleman but an
English artist, and by a great variety of other useful and
excellent publications; so that, at the present time, the
Pointed style, too, is studied and understood, and not a
few of our architects are now competent, not only to be
intrusted with the repairs and restorations of the ancient
structures, but also to originate new ones, which may
rival all but their prototypes in beauty.
We have now, in this part of the subject, only to add a
few remarks on the improvement which has taken place in
domestic architecture, since men have begun to consider
their own comfort and happiness of as much importance
to them as the splendour of their religious edifices. The
exhumated city of Pompeii has very clearly proved, that
notwithstanding the extent and general beauty of the pub¬
lic buildings of the Romans, the houses of the common¬
alty were exceedingly plain and confined, while those of
the higher classes, though internally elegant, were exter¬
nally unpretending. The rooms were small and badly ar¬
ranged, imperfectly secluded from the public gaze, and
quite exposed to the inmates ; pervious alike to the sum¬
mer s heat and winter s cold. Indeed, the house of a Ro¬
man gentleman presents a very convenient model for a
prison, but without many of the comforts which in mo¬
dern times are thought necessary even in such places. Of
this, however, we shall treat more in detail when we come
to consider Roman architecture as a style. It has been
stated as probable, that the use of wooden floors, and the
consequent power of making additional stories without
enoi mously thick walls, arose during the middle ao'es.
I hat impi ovement, together with the use of glass for win¬
dows, gives an air of comfort and convenience to the ear¬
liest domestic structures of modern times, of which the
ancients could have had no idea; but the latter were de¬
ficient in elegance, though indeed the use of windows
VOL. HI.
tended to the introduction of external architectural deco-
ation. With learning and civilization came refinement
Tn bega?’ thouSh at a great distance, to
their houses what they found of beautiful and
splendid m the churches and monasteries. The exclusion,
by glass windows, of currents of cold air, which carried
the smoke off to the funnel in the roof of a hall or large
room, when the fire was exposed in the middle of it led
to the invention and use of chimneys, which should convev
it away without occupying the room at all. This is more
particularly applicable to the colder countries north of
the Alps, and it is in them that domestic building is best
understood, and is best applied to produce comfort and
convenience. Not that the Palazzi of Italy are not o-ene-
rally more pretending in their external architectureMian
the town mansions of this country; but they are deficient
in those internal arrangements which tend to produce the
greatest possible advantages—which, indeed, promote the
enjoyments of domestic life.
In consequence of the refinements which now pervade
the manners, habits, and customs of civilized life, and
civilization having extended itself from the noble and the
learned through almost the whole social system, men are
no longer contented to admire the beauty and magnifi¬
cence of public edifices, whether ecclesiastical or civil, and
to witness the splendour and elegance of the palaces and
mansions of the wealthy; but all are anxious to see in
their own habitations that degree of decoration and beauty
which they find so productive of pleasure and pleasurable
emotions. Thus architecture is no longer confined to the
temples of the Divinity and the palaces of the great, but
its beauties are sought everywhere. In every edifice
whose inhabitant has been fitted by education and habit
to appreciate and enjoy the charm which arises from sym¬
metry of form, beauty of proportion, and elegance of de¬
tail, the aid of architectural art is required.
Of Egyptian Structures.
The architecture of ancient Egypt is characterized by
the boldness and magnitude of its parts, and the almost
monotonous uniformity which pervades its features. The
existing monuments of Egyptian architecture consist for
the most part of temples and pyramids. Obelisks are gene¬
rally found in connection with the former, so that perhaps
they can only be considered as belonging to them, and
not as distinct architectural works, or the sphinxes and
other things of a similar nature must be considered as such
also. Neither can the hypogea or excavations be correct¬
ly described as belonging to architecture, though they
bear many of its features, and were perhaps the antitypes
of regular architectural combinations.
The pyramids are almost solid masses of masonry, whose
bases are squares, and whose inclined sides are nearly
equilateral triangles : some of them are truncated, and
some run up to a point. They are generally much injured
on the surface by long exposure, so that it is impossible
to say whether any of them were considered finished
while in steps or receding courses, or if the angles were
either filled up or worked off, to make smooth surfaces on
the exterior. Some of them not only were made plain by
working off, but remain so still; whilst others bear no in¬
dication of ever having been finished in that manner. In
one existing example, that of the great southern pyramid
of Dashour, the angles of the receding courses have been
wrought off; and it is singular that the blocks of stone are
not laid in horizontal courses, but at an angle inclined to
the base; nor are its sides carried up to the top in one
continued plane, but at about two thirds from the base they
incline towards each other under a more obtuse angle.
It has been imagined, but not determined, that most of
3 M
458 A R C H X T
Egyptian them have natural hills, either of earth or stone, for cores,
Structures.or rather that hills have been cut to the shape, and built
over with large courses of stone to give them the appeal-
ance of being solid masonry. If this be the case, the
chambers and the passages to them, which have been dis¬
covered in some of the pyramids, have been carefully
built around to have the appearance of being left in the
construction, which is not very probable. Another sug¬
gestion, to account in some measure for the immense
quantity of matter in them, is, that they are actually cut
in living rock to a considerable height, and built above.
This may be the case with regard to those which are of
the stone the place alfords ; but some ot them are ot foreign
material, externally at least, and of consequence cannot
have been hewn in the native rock. More consistent with
the genius of Egyptian undertakings, but hardly more pro¬
bable is it, that the pyramids include or cover some such
constructions as the labyrinth beyond Lake Moeris, spoken
of by Herodotus, according to the suggestion we have
made in another place, or chambers of some kind whici
may have been the depositories of the arcana of Egyptian
learning and science. Such indeed is the immense extent
of some of these extraordinary monuments of human in¬
dustry and human folly, that no suggestion with legald
to them can be considered wild, as they adord. full scope
for the imagination, without presenting any thing to sup¬
port or refute any theory that may be applied to them.
The Egyptian temples, without possessing that entne
uniformity of plan which those of the Greeks do, are very
similar in arrangement and manner. Ihe larger and
more perfect structures do not externally present the ap¬
pearance of being columned, a boundary wall or penbolus
girding the whole, and preventing the view of any part of
the interior, except perhaps the towering magnificence of
some inner pylones ; of the lofty tops of an extraordinaiy
avenue of columns, with their superimposed terrace; of
the tapering obelisks which occupy, at times, some of the
courts ; or of a dense mass of structure, which is the body
of the temple itself, inclosing the thickly columned halls.
The immense magnitude of these edifices may perhaps
have made them independent, in their perfect state, of
considerations which have weight in architectural compo¬
sition at the present time, and on which indeed its hai-
mony depends. The various portions of the same temple
differ in size and proportion; and being intermingled, the
cornices of the lower abut indefinitely against the walls of
the higher parts, while the latter are not at all in accord¬
ance among themselves.
Elate LII. The structure we produce to exemplify Egyptian archi¬
tecture, though not, according to M. Champollion,. one of
the Pharaonic monuments, is perfectly characteristic of
the style and arrangement of Egyptian temples, and is a
more regular specimen than any other possessing the na¬
tional peculiarities. It is known as the temple of Apol-
linopolis Magna, or of Edfou, in Upper Egypt, on the
banks of the Nile, between Thebes and the first cataiacts.
The plan of the inclosure behind the propylaea is a long
parallelogram, the moles or propylaea themselves forming
another across one of its ends. rIhe grand entrance to the
great court of the temple is by a doorway between the
moles, to which there may have been folding gates, as the
notches for their hinges are still to be seen. Small cham¬
bers, right and left of the entrance, and in the core of the
propylaea, were probably for the porters or guards of the
temple: a staircase remains on each side, which leads to
other chambers at different heights. To furnish these with
light and air, loop-holes have been cut through the exter¬
nal walls, which disfigure the front of the structure. The
court-yard, cloister, or vestibule, has on three of its sides
a colonnade, against the wall of the penbolus, forming a
E C T U R E.
covered gallery. This, and the gradual ascent by corded Egyptian
steps to the great portico or pronaos, will be better under-
stood by reference to the plan and section. I he pronaos, j,- 3^4
or covered portico, consists of three rows of six columns b '
each, parallel and equidistant, except in the middle, where
the intercolumniation is greater, because of the passage
through. The front row of columns is closed by a sort of
breast-work or dado, extending to nearly half their height,
in which moreover they are half-imbedded; and in the
central opening a peculiar doorway is formed, consisting of
piers, with the lintel and cornice over them cut through,
as exhibited in the elevation of the portico. From the Fig- 2.
pronaos another doorway leads to an atrium or inner ves¬
tibule, consisting of three rows of smaller columns, with
four in each, distributed as those of the pronaos are.
Beyond this vestibule there are sundry close rooms and
cells, with passages and staircases, whose intention is not
obvious. The insulated chamber within the sixth door
was most probably the adytum or inmost sanctuary, which
may be supposed, in an Egyptian temple, to have contained
a presentment ot the divinity: the rest is inexplicable.
In many cases the temples are without the peribolus
and propylaea, the edifice consisting of no moi e than the
pronaos and the parts beyond it; and in others, parti¬
cularly in those of Thebes, this arrangement is doubled,
and there are two pairs of the colossal moles, the second
being placed where the pronaos is in this, and another
open court or second vestibule intervening them and the
portico. In these the central line across the courts is
formed by a covered avenue of columns, of much laiger
size than ordinary; and the galleries around are of double
rows of columns instead of one row with the walls, as in
this case. The obelisks marked in the plan, and indicat¬
ed in the section, before the propylaea, occupy the situa¬
tion in which they are generally found, though they do
not exist with this example. Colossal sedent figures are
sometimes found before the piers of the gateway; and from
them, as a base, a long avenue of sphinxes is frequently
found ranged like an alley or avenue of trees from a man¬
sion to the park-gate, straight or winding, as the case may
^ The^'ongitudinal section of the edifice shows the relative Fig. 3.
heights of the various parts, and the mode of constructing
the soffits or ceilings, which are of the same material of
which the walls and columnar ordinances are composed:
this is in some cases granite, and in others freestone.
The elevation of the pronaos shows also a transverse sec-r ig. 2.
tion of the colonnades and peribolus. It displays most of
the general features of Egyptian columnar architecture;
the unbroken continuity of outline, the pyramidal tendency
of the composition, and the boldness and breadth of every
part. The good taste with which the interspaces of the
columns are covered may be remarked. Panels standing
between the columns would have had a very ill effect,
both internally and externally; and if a continued screen
had been made, the effect would be still worse, as the
columns must then have appeared from the outside ab¬
surdly short; but as it is, their height is perfectly obvious,
and their form is rendered clear by the contrast of light
and shade occasioned by the projection of the panels,
which would not exist if they had been detailed between
the columns. The lotus ornament at the foot of the Figs. G& 7-
panels is particularly simple and elegant; and nothing can
be more graceful and effective than the cyma above their
cornice, which is singularly enriched with ibis mummy-
cases. The jambs forming a false doorway in the central
interspace, are a blemish in the composition ; and they in¬
jure it very much by the abruptness of their form, and
their want of harmony with any thing else in it. It may
be remarked, that the effect of the front generally is that
ARCHITECTURE. 459
Kgrpiian of an excavation rather than of a structure, the end piers in other respects so totally different from them as to give Hindoo
MuK.atres.anti entablature having a unity of purpose, which leads but little weight to the suggestion. The compartments are Structures,
to the idea that the test was similai, 01 the whole at fiist beautifully enriched with hieroglyphics, except in the centre ^
a plain wall afterwards pierced and carved into its present where a winged globe is sculptured, surmounting another
form. This view of it would support the supposition that on the architrave, as shown in the elevation of the pronaos.
the excavations or hypogea are the antitypes of columnar The crowning tablet or fillet is quite plain and unorna-
... , architecture. . men ted. Angular roofs are unknown in ancient Egyptian
I- The front elevation of the moles or propylaea, with the buildings, and consequently pediments are unknown in its
grand entrance between them, is peculiarly Egyptian ; and architecture.
very little variety is discoverable between the earliest and Of the style of architecture used in the domestic edi-
latest specimens of this species of structure. ^ It is. an ob- fices of the Egyptians we can give no idea, as no docu-
ject that must be seen to be appreciated; simplicity and ments remain by which it may be known ; neither can we
an inherent impressiveness in the pyramidal tendency are judge of it by analogy from what we know of that of
all on which it has to depend for effect, except magnitude, other nations of antiquity, for no direct analogy exists be-
. ich alone would certainly make no agreeable impres- tween the styles of their still existing structures. Indeed
sum on the mind. Ihe projecting fillet and coving which the Romans are the only people, before the Christian era,
form a cornice to the structures, though large and bold, 0f whose domestic architecture we know anything with cer-
appear small and inefficient when compared with the bulk tainty; and the advantage they possessed over their pre-
t ley crown ; and theie is nothing particular!3^ striking in decessors in their knowledge of the use of the arch was so
t ie torus which mai ks the lateral outline and separates great, fin- that purpose especially, that theirs affords no cer-
t le straight line of the fi ont from the circular of the cor- ta;n index to that of the Greeks even, and none whatever
nice. 1 either aie they dependent lor.their effect on the f;o that of the Egyptians,
sculpture, for their appearance is as impressive at such
a distance as to make the latter indistinct, as when they are Hindoo Structures.
seen near at hand. The effect of the sculptures and hiero- From local circumstances, structures in India are ex-
glyphics generally on Egyptian architecture is to enrich the posed to rapid destruction as soon as they lose the pro¬
surfaces, but not to interfere with the general form of a tecting power of man; and thus the absence of any posi-
structure, or even with the forms of its minor parts. tive architectural works in that country which can be de-
A portion of the portico is given on a larger scale, to termined to be of high antiquity may be partly accounted
show more clearly the forms and arrangement of Egyptian for. But religious intolerance and devastating war have
columnar composition. The shaft of the column in this conspired together to aid natural causes in the destruc-
Pig. 5. example is perfectly cylindrical. It rests on a square tion of the ancient edifices of the Hindoos. Whatever
step, or continued, stylobate, without the intervention of of antiquity fell in the route of that ruthless conqueror
a plinth or base of any kind; and has no regular vertical Mahmood of Ghizni, in his twelve expeditions into India,
channelling or enrichment, such as fluting, but is marked was defaced or destroyed; and those structures in the more
horizontally with series of grooves, and inscribed with remote parts, impervious to his march, either want data to
hieroglyphics. The capitals are of different sizes and pronounce on their antiquit}^, or, when they possess any, it
forms in the same ordinance. In this example the capital, is in a character still unintelligible to the learned. But
exclusive of its receding abacus, is about one diameter of the there are some to which tradition—and this we should not
column in height. Its outline is that of the cyma, with a re- altogether reject—assigns a date beyond the age of Alex-
versed ovalo fillet above, and its enrichment consists princi- ander; and we understand that the unity of style of these
Fig. 2. pally of lotus flowers. The capital of the column next to warrants the assumption of immense priority for them to
this, in the front line, is much taller, differently formed, and all now existing in Gangetic India. It is from Rajpootana
ornamented with palm leaves; the third is of the same that we may yet look for developments of the ancient
size and outline as the first, but differently ornamented; architecture of the Hindoos; a field of great magnitude,
and the corresponding columns on the other side of the only just begun to be explored, and still remaining unde¬
centre have capitals corresponding with these, each to its lineated. Extensive excavations, however, of much greater
fellow, in the arrangement. Above the capital there is a magnitude even than those of Egypt, and, it is presumed,
square block or receding abacus, which has the effect of a of at least equal antiquity, are found in various parts of In-
deepening of the entablature, instead of a covering of the dia ; and they may be supposed to bear some resemblance
1*1 columns when the capitals spread, as in this case. In the to their contemporaneous structures, of which, most like-
j ate i . earlier Egyptian examples, however, in which the columns ly, they were either the representations or the originals.
S- ' are swollen, and diminished in two unequal lengths, the But we thus arrive only at the style: the composition
ieSUlt 18 ^.fferent’ an.d tl16 form and size of the abacus and arrangement of structures cannot be deduced from
IT,*5 " I’ aPl?ear perfectly consistent. The height of this column the hypogea; for though these latter in Egypt agree in
” 0 a.!, lts capital> without the abacus, is six diameters, style with the architecture, they would not suggest the
ihe entablature consists of an architrave and cornice, other particulars.
there being no equivalent for the frieze of a Greek entab- The most common Hindoo pagoda of the present day
lature, unless the coving be so considered, in which case is composed of a rectangular mass, surmounted by a gra-
the cornice becomes a mere shelf. The architrave, in- duated truncated pyramid. That this species of structure
eluding the torus, is about three quarters of a diameter is of very considerable antiquity, may be concluded from
in height, which is half that of the whole entablature, the fact, that every thing in its composition and arrange-
1 he arclntrave itself is in this example sculptured in low ment is determined by immutable precepts of a religious
relief, but otherwise plain. The torus, which returns and nature. This was ascertained by Colonel Tod, the learned
runs down the angles of the building, is gracefully band- annalist of Central India, from a man to whom the pre-
ed, something like the manner in which the fasces are cept had descended with his profession from his ancestors
represented in Roman works. The coving is divided into through more than forty generations,
compartments by vertical flutes, which have been thought These kinds of evidence, however, though interesting,
u) be the ongin of triglyphs in a Doric frieze; but these are not conclusive; and we must consent, for the pre-
ai e arranged without i eference to the columns, and are sent at least, to remain in ignorance of the Hindoo archi-
460 ARCHITECTU R E.
Grecian lecture of the early ages, to which our inquiry is more
Structures, immediately directed. The splendid works of the Mos-
lem conquerors of that country bear no relation whatever
to its indigenous architecture.
Of Grecian Structures.
As no nation has ever equalled the Egyptians in the
extent and magnitude of their architectural monuments,
neither have the Greeks been surpassed in the exquisite
beauty of form and proportion which theirs possess. Ex¬
treme simplicity and perfect harmony pervade every part
of a Greek structure; and to the evanescence of the finer
spirit of these qualities may be referred the difficulty—
for great difficulty certainly exists—of applying Grecian
architecture to modern practice. The national style, or
Doric Order, is in every respect the most distinguished
and the most intractable. The voluted Ionic being more
complicated, is more plastic; and the foliated Corin¬
thian, from its still greater divergence from Doric sim¬
plicity and harmony, is the most easily moulded to
various purposes. Unfortunately nothing remains from
which we might acquire a knowledge of the practice
of the Greeks themselves in the architecture of do¬
mestic and general structures; but it may be inferred
from some existing edifices, particularly the Choragic
monuments, that the Doric columnar style was not used
by them except for the temples of the gods and some
of their accessories. But whether this arose—if the
feeling really did exist—from the sanctity of its cha¬
racter, in consequence of that appropriation, or from the
difficulty of moulding it to general purposes, cannot be
determined. It is very certain, however, that the few
structures which do exist of Greek origin, not of a reli¬
gious character, are either Ionic or Corinthian, or a mix¬
ture of one of them with some of the features of the Do¬
ric ; and in all Greece and the Grecian colonies, except
Ionia, there are very few examples of religious edifices
not of the Doric order, and none which are of the Corin¬
thian.
We have already given our reasons for mistrusting the
descriptions of ancient writers on architectural subjects;
and when they merely make reference to different parts
of a structure, without pretending to describe, in the ab¬
sence of examples or models they must be unintelligible,
and therefore no more valuable to the architectural anti¬
quary than those of the writers, whom existing specimens
of what they profess to describe prove to have been to¬
tally ignorant of their subject. We shall therefore not
attempt to develope what does not exist, either from in¬
ferences to be drawn from Homer and others, from the
professional dicta of Vitruvius, or from the description of
Pausanias; but confine ourselves to the remains of the
structures themselves of the Greeks, which are actually be¬
fore our eyes, for the elucidation and exemplification of
the Grecian style.
Like the architecture of Egypt, that of Greece is known
to us principally by means of its sacred monuments, and
from them is deduced almost all we know of its principles.
The Doric temples of the Greeks are uniform in plan,
and differ only in arrangement and proportion, as they are
of greater or less size; for every part depends on the same
modulus. If the dimensions of a single column, and the pro¬
portion the entablature shall bear to it, were given to two
individuals acquainted with the style, with directions to
compose a hexastyle peripteral temple, or one of any other
description, they would produce designs exactly similar
in size, arrangement, features, and general proportions,
differing only, if at all, in the relative proportions of mi¬
nor parts, and slightly perhaps in the contour of some of
the mouldings. This can only be the case with the Do¬
ric, and it arises from the intercolumniation being deter- Grecian
mined by the arrangement of the frieze with triglyphs Structured,
and metopes; the frieze bearing a certain proportion in
the entablature to the diameter of the column, and so on,
in such a manner that the most perfect harmony is pre- Plate LIII.
served between every part. Thus, in the example, the Fig3-1 & 4-
column is so many of its diameters in height; it diminishes
gradually from the base upwards, with a slightly convex-
ed tendency or swelling downwards ; and is superimposed
by a capital proportioned to it, and coming within its
height. The entablature is so many diameters high also,
and is divided, according to slightly varying proportions,
into three parts—architrave, frieze, and cornice. A triglyph
bearing a certain proportion to the diameter of the co¬
lumn is drawn immediately over its centre ; the metope is
then set off equal to the height of the frieze; another
triglyph is drawn, which hangs over the void ; then a me¬
tope as before ; and a second triglyph, the centre of which
is the central line for another column; and so on to the
number required, which, in a front, will be four, six, eight,
or ten columns, as the case may be, the temple being tetra-
style, hexastyle, octastyle, or decastyle ; and on the flanks
twice the number of those on the front and one more, Pjate
counting the columns on the angles both ways. Thus
a hexastyle temple will have thirteen columns on each 3 J
flank, an octastyle seventeen, and so on. It must be ob- ^
served, however, that to ease the columns at the angles,
they are not placed so that the triglyph over them shall
impend their centre as the others, but are set in towards
the next columns so far that a line let fall from the outer
edge of the triglyph will touch the circumferential line of
the column at the base, or at its greatest diameter. It
has been generally thought that the object in this dispo¬
sition was to bring the triglyph to the extreme angle, to
obviate the necessity of a half-metope there ; and many
imitators have puzzled themselves to no avail to effect it
without contracting the intercolumniation or elongating
the first metope; though it is perfectly obvious that the
intention of the Greek architects was to ease the columns
in those important situations of a part of their burden,
and for no such purpose as Vitruvius and his disciples
have thought. Indeed, this has been a problem to the
whole school, which their master proposed, and which
they have settled only by putting a half-metope beyond
the outer triglyph; thus preserving the intercolumniation
equal, but rendering the quoins more infirm, or perhaps
less stable, than the Greek architects judiciously thought
they should be. Besides contracting the intercolumnia¬
tion, the Greeks also made the corner columns a little
larger than the rest, thus counteracting in every way the
danger that might accrue to them, or to the structure
through them, from their exposed and partly unconnected
situation. The graduated pyramidal stylobate on which
the structure rests also bears a certain proportion to the
standard which is the measure of all the rest; and so
every part is determined by the capacity of the sustain¬
ing power. Though the Doric order thus possesses, as it
were, a self-proportioning power, which will secure har¬
mony in its composition under any circumstances, yet
skill and taste in the architect are necessary to deter¬
mine, according to them, the number of diameters the
column shall have in height, and according to that assign
the height of the entablature. For these two points in
proportioning, and for appropriate detail and enrichment,
he may, without servility, refer to the ancient examples;
with the confidence, moreover, that in availing himself of
their beauties he acquires the power of producing an ob¬
ject that shall be itself beautiful, while he can avoid being
a mere copyist in the adaptation and arrangement of the
materials of his composition, as well as in the selection
ARCHITECTURE.
(yrecmn of them. We cannot discover that the elevation of the
^u‘c mes. pediment depended so immediately on the common stand-
ard, though in the best examples the tympanum will be
found to be about one diameter and a half in height.
The Ionic and Corinthian, or Voluted and Foliated
orders, do not possess that innate principle of harmony
which pervades the Doric, and therefore they are, as
styles, less perfect, and depend more on factitious combi¬
nations. The Greek compositions of Ionic and Corinthian
are of such consummate beauty in every particular, that
their examples appear perfect, and may therefore be taken
as models for study, in preference to the rules which have
been laid down for those orders, without a knowledge of
these exemplifications. With a consciousness of their in¬
ferior capacity to produce grand and harmonious effects
in such arrangements as their temples require, the Greeks
never applied either the Ionic or the Corinthian peripte-
rally, and, as far as we have certain knowledge, only the
latter in prostyles. Whether the lonians did or did not,
cannot be satisfactorily ascertained, as their temples are in
every case so much destroyed, that it is impossible, at least
without more care and attention than they have yet re¬
ceived, to make out satisfactorily what their plans were.
In the Ionic and Corinthian orders, the proportions of the
various parts are generally made dependent on the diame¬
ter of the column, as in the Doric; but the intercolumni-
ations, anti consequently the general proportions, of a com¬
position, are not determined by the column and its acces¬
sories according to their capacity, but must be left to the
taste and skill of the architect, as well as the columnar
proportions themselves. This gave rise to the rules re¬
ferred to, which are laid down by Vitruvius, for what he
calls the “ Five Sorts of Edifices,” or, more correctly,
species of intercolumniation. They are pycnostyle, systyle,
diastyle, araeostyle, and eustyle, to each of which a fixed
space is assigned. Architects will, however, act more
wisely in judging for themselves, by reference to the best
models of antiquity, what proportion constitutes an Eustyle
intercolumniation, according to the application of his
ordinance, than by attending to such irrational dogmas as
are contained in that classification.
The temples of the Greeks are described, according to
then external arrangement, as being either in antis, pro-
style, amphiprostyle, peripteral, pseudo-peripteral, dip¬
teral, or pseudo-dipteral; and internally, as cleithral or
hypaethral. rI he columnar arrangement in antis is not com¬
mon in Greek architecture, though there are examples
Plate LIII. of it, generally of the Doric order. The inner porticoes or
Fig i> and pronaoi of peripteral temples are for the most part placed
^2 J '^n ant!s’ as may be seen by reference to the examples,
k' * m which columns stand between the antm. The Ionic
temples of Athens are the principal examples of the
simple prostyle. They may be called apteral, if it be ne¬
cessary to distinguish them from peripteral, as the latter
are prostylar; but the former term alone is sufficient.
Neither does Greek architecture present more than one
example, and that is at Athens also, of an amphiprostyle,
except in the same peripteral structures, which are also
amphiprostylar. Almost all the Doric temples are perip-
tera , and being peripteral, they are, as a matter of course,
amphiprostylar, as we have just remarked ; so that the for¬
mer term alone is used in describing an edifice of that
kind, with the numeral which expresses the number of
columns in each of its prostyles. There is but one known
example of Greek antiquity of a pseudo-peripteral temple,
and that is the gigantic fane of Jupiter Olympiusat Agri-
461
gentum in Sicily. It is not even prostylar, for the columns Grecian
rri 1 Sj- 10nt* are Cached, as well as those on its flanks. Structures.
I he djpteral arrangement is found at Selinus, in an octa- W
style temple ; and in some cases the porticoes of peripteral
temples have a pseudo-dipteral projection, though no per-
feet example of the pseudo-dipteros exists.
Most of the temples of the Greeks were cleithral; those
to the inferior and demi-gods were invariably so.’ The
fanes of the supreme divinity were almost as invariably
hypaethral, and frequently those of other superior gods
were of the latter description also. The Doric order was
never used by the Greeks in mere prostyles; consequent¬
ly there is no Doric temple of the tetrastyle arrangement,
for it is incompatible with the peripteral, the tetrastyle
examples which do exist being all Ionic.1 With very few
exceptions, all the Doric temples of the Greeks are hexa-
style. Their queen, however, the unmatched Parthenon, Plate L.
is octastyle; and the pseudo-peripteral fane of Jupiter
Olympius at Agrigentum, just referred to, presents the
singular arrangement, heptastyle. No example exists in
Greek architecture of a portico of more than eight columns,
except the mis-shapen monument called the Basilica at
Paestum, the Thersites of its style, be so considered, and that
has a front of nine columns, or an enneastyle arrangement.
It may be here remarked, in support of the opinion we
have given as to the authority of Vitruvius, that, ac¬
cording to him, peripteral temples have on each flank
twice the number of intercolumniations they have in front;
thus giving to a hexastyle eleven, to an octastyle fifteen
columns, and so on, whereas in the Greek temples this is
never the case, for they always have more. The best ex¬
amples have two, some have but one, but many have three,
and in one instance there are four intercolumniations more
in flank than in front. Again, he limits the internal hy¬
paethral arrangement to those structures which are exter¬
nally decastyle and dipteral, though an example, he says,
existed in Greece of an octastyle hypaethros, and that was
a Roman structure. Now, the Parthenon is an octastyle
hypaethros, but all the other hypaethral temples, both in
Greece and her colonies, are hexastyles, except perhaps
the octastyle dipteral at Selinus ; and there is no evidence
in existence that the Greeks ever constructed a decastyle
dipteral temple.
A Greek temple, whose columnar arrangement is sim¬
ply in antis, whether distyle or tetrastyle, consists of pro-
naos and naos or cella. A tetraprostyle may have be¬
hind it a pronaos and naos. An amphiprostyle has, in ad¬
dition to the preceding, a posticum, but is not understood
to have a second entrance. The porticoes of a peripteral
temple are distinguished as the porticus and posticum,
and the lateral ambulatories are incorrectly called peri¬
styles. It may indeed be here suggested, that as the ad¬
mixture of Latin with Greek terms in the description of
a Grecian edifice cannot be approved of, it would perhaps
be better to apply the term stoa to the colonnaded plat¬
form or ambitus altogether, and distinguish the various
parts of it by the addition of English adjectives: or the
common term portico would be quite as well with front,
back, and side or lateral, prefixed, as the case may be.
\Vithin the back and front stoas or porticoes, then, a pe- p]ate jjv.
ripteral temple has similar arrangements in antis, which pig. 3.
are relatively termed the pronaos and opisthodomus, with
an entrance only from the former; unless there should
exist, as there does in the Parthenon, a room or chamber Plate LI1I.
within the opisthodomus, supposed to be the treasury, Fig- 3-
when a door opens into it from the latter. Besides these,
sola ^ tetraprostyle, may seem to contradict this; but it must be recollected that we have already
. »i? t> f V1 ,sPea ing °t Urreek architecture, we exclude all the examples, even in Greece itself, which were executed
under the Roman dominion, for they bear the Roman impress; and that is one of them.
462 ARCHITECTURE.
Grecian a Greek temple of the most ramified description consists
Structures. on]y 0f a ceU5 in those which are cleithral; and of a naos,
which is divided into nave and aisles, to use modern eccle¬
siastical terms, in an hypaethral temple.
The only pure Greek architectural works that remain
to us, and of which we have certain information, besides
temples, are, it has been already stated, propylaea, chora-
gic monuments, and theatres. The Propylaeum, or Pro¬
pylaea, as applied to the Acropolis of Athens, is the entrance
or gateway through the wall of the peribolus into it. It
consists of a Doric hexaprostyle portico internally, with
a very singular arrangement of its columns, the central
intercolumniation being ditriglyph. This was done pro¬
bably to allow a certain procession to pass, which would
have been incommoded by a narrower space. Within the
portico there is a deep recess, similar to the pronaos in a
temple, but without columns in antis ; a wall pierced with
five doorways corresponding to the intercolumniations of
the portico, close the entrance; and beyond it is a vesti¬
bule, divided into three parts by two rows of three Ionic
columns, and forming an outer portico, fronted externally
by a hexaprostyle exactly similar to that on the outside:
Right and left of it, and setting out about one intercolum¬
niation of the portico from its end columns, at right angles,
are two small triastyle porticoes in antis, with chambers be¬
hind them. These have been called temples, but most
probably they were nothing more than porters’ lodges or
guard-houses. The whole structure, though extremely
elegant, and possessing many beauties, is not a good ar¬
chitectural composition : the unequal intercolumniation
detracts from its simplicity and harmony. The use of Ionic
columns in a Doric ordinance is equally objectionable;
and their elevation from the floor of the portico on insu¬
lated pedestals is even worse, though their intention is
obvious ; and without raising them, the ceiling might have
been too low, or they must have been made taller.1 The
uneven style of the small temples or lodges is not pleasing,
even though they be taken as flank and not as front com¬
positions ; and, moreover, their entablature abuts indefi¬
nitely against the walls of the larger structure, both in¬
ternally and externally, to the total destruction of the
harmony of the general composition. Indeed the unequal
heights of the entablature of the greater ordinance in¬
volves a fault, if there were not something to prevent
them from being seen in the same view, which it requires
more than all the beauties of detail and harmony of pro¬
portion to countervail.
Plate LVI. The choragic monument of Lysicrates, vulgarly called
Fig. 1 & 2. the Lantern of Demosthenes, at Athens, is a small struc¬
ture, consisting of an elegant rusticated quadrangular
basement or podium, which is more than two fifths of the
whole height, surmounted by a cyclostyle of six Corin¬
thian columns, attached to, and projecting rather more
than one half from, a wall which perfects the cylinder up
to the top of their shafts, where it forms a stand for tri¬
pods the height of the capitals. A characteristic enta¬
blature rests on the columns, and receives a tholus or
dome, which is richly ornamented, and terminates in a
foliated and heliced acroterium. To this Stuart has add¬
ed dolphins as supporters, and has placed on the summit
a tripod, which was the prize in the choragic festival;
thus completing perhaps the most beautiful composition
in its style ever executed. In Vitruvian language the ar¬
rangement of this edifice would be called monopteral;
but it is more correctly cyclostylar, or, perhaps, because
of the wall or core, it may be termed a pseudo or attached
cyclostyle. The basement of this monument is eminently Grecian
bold and simple, admirably proportioned to the rest of the Structures
structure, and harmonizing perfectly with it. The
lumnar ordinance is the only perfect specimen of the style L'1S‘
in existence of pure Greek origin, and it has never been
surpassed, perhaps not equalled, in beauty elsewhere. The
most exquisite harmony reigns throughout its composi¬
tion : it is simple without being poor, and rich without
being meretricious; and the same applies to the super¬
imposed tripod and its supports.
Totally different in style and arrangement, and far in¬
ferior in merit, is the choragic monument of Thrasyllus.
It bears, however, the impress of the Grecian mind. This
composition is merely a front to a cave, consisting of three
pilasters proportioned and moulded like Doric antae, and
supporting an entablature similar in style, but too shallow
to harmonize with them. Above the entablature there is
an attic or parapet, divided into three compartments hori¬
zontally. The two external form tablets with a cornice or
impost on them, and the central is composed of three re¬
ceding courses, on the summit of which is seated a draped
human figure, whether male or female, in its mutilated
state is not determinable. The entablature, instead of
triglyphs in the frieze, has laurel wreaths; and it would
appear as if the absence of the triglyph had deranged the
whole composition. The two outer pilasters are of good
proportion, and the architrave is well proportioned to them;
but the frieze and cornice are both too narrow, and
the spaces between the pilasters, equivalent to interco¬
lumniations, are too wide. The third pilaster, itself in¬
harmonious, is absurdly narrow, being narrower than the
others; and, standing immediately under the statue, evi¬
dently to support it, its meagreness is the more obvious
and striking. In spite of all this, the general outline of
the structure is simple and pleasing, the detail is elegant,
and the execution spirited and effective. This little mo¬
nument is, however, a proof that the Greeks were not so
excellent in architectural compositions at all times, as in
the self-composing Doric temples, and in the choragic
monument of Lysicrates; and to this evidence may be
added that of the triple temple in the Acropolis of Athens.
It consists of an Ionic hexaprostyle in front, resting on a Plate LV.
bold, continuous, and well-proportioned stylobate, and
forming the entrance to a parallelogramic cella, but,
from all that has yet been discovered, without a pronaos
in antis. The back-front consists of four columns like
those of the portico, attached in antis; and the flanks are
broad and bold, crowned by the well-proportioned and
chaste entablature, with the enriched congeries of mould¬
ings and running ornament of the antae under it. In the
absence of a pronaos to give depth to the portico, the
composition was defective, but otherwise simple and har¬
monious. It was, however, completely spoiled by the at¬
tachment of a tetraprostyle to one of its sides, Ionic cer¬
tainly, like that in front, but not only in a different man¬
ner, but of a different size; beautiful in itself, but a blot
on the main building, with which it harmonizes in no one
particular, being altogether lower; for the apex of its pe¬
diment only reaches to the cornice of the former. This
and the Caryatidean portico are omitted in the example.
In a similar situation, against the other side is attached a
similar arrangement of Caryatides, a tetraprostyle of female
figures raised on a lofty basement, and yet not reaching
to the entablature of the main building,—according in no
one particular either with it or with the portico on the
other side, and altogether forming the most heterogeneous
1 An editorial note in the new edition of The Antiquities of Athens says that “ they are incorrectly mounted on pedestals” in Stuart
and Ilevett’s Restoration. This structure cannot perhaps fairly be judged of, until its site and remains shall have been exammed
without the jealous supervision of a Turkish governor.
ARCHITECTURE.
Grecian and inharmonious combination imaginable. Yet the two
nruetures. ionic porticoes are the most beautiful examples of their
Order in existence, and perhaps, it might be added, that
were ever executed,—arranged in the finest proportion,
and with the most exquisite details and enrichments.
The Caryatidean frontispiece, also, for more it cannot be
called, is full of architectural beauties, though it is most
injudiciously collocated.
The theatres of the Greeks, it has been already inti¬
mated, present but little to interest in the view we are
taking of architecture. They were not structures, but ex¬
cavations ; and whatever decoration they may have re¬
ceived to make them objects of interest externally, is, in
every known example, entirely gone; and attempts to re¬
store them from their remains as now existing, aided by
all the information to be derived from ancient writers,
would be futile, in the absence of a knowledge of the
Greek style of art obtained from some other source.
And as no existing example of the Greek theatre furnishes
matter for architectural illustration, we should gain no in¬
formation in furtherance of our present subject by treating
of it here.
The division of the columnar architecture of the Greeks
and Romans into orders by the Italian architects of the
fifteenth century, according to the laws of Vitruvius, and
the universal reception of that mode of arranging it, al¬
most imposes on us the necessity of adopting the same
course, and laying down a standard or model for each.
But instead of so doing, we think it better to give each
school separately, and describe the general features of the
orders as they occur in the works of each,—pointing out,
moreover, the varieties that exist, and prevent the mono¬
tony consequent on restricted forms and proportions. We
retain, too, the term “ Order,” and the names in general
use, without consenting to the propriety of either the one
or the other; for if it be judicious to divide Greek and
Roman columnar architecture into orders, there can be
no reason why Egyptian, Hindoo, Persian, or any other
style, should not be classed in a similar manner. More¬
over, there is nothing in any one “ order” that, were it
not for custom, would not be thought as fitting in any
other as in that to which it may belong. The Greeks did
not hesitate to put triglyphs in the frieze of an entablature
whose columns were fillet-fluted and had foliated capi¬
tals^ as some ruins at Psestum attest. As to names, the
Doric might, as w’-e have said, be called Corinthian with
more propriety; the Ionic, Samian; and the Corinthian,
Athenian; referring to the oldest known examples of
each. The term Style would be more correct than Order,
as it wrould indicate the column as the feature referred
to, without conveying the idea of fixed rules; and archi¬
tectural works into which columns do not enter need not
be constrained to admit the arrangement of some Order
in the composition, proportion, and detail of its various
parts. In naming, too, the Doric might be called the
Greek sacred or triglyphed style; the Ionic, the Voluted
style; and the Corinthian, the Foliated; thus admitting
any varieties of combination wdiich could be expressed as
composites of the voluted and foliated, or of the foliated and
triglyphed, as the case might be.
An Order, according to Mr Gwilt, is “ an assemblage
of. parts, consisting of a base, shaft, capital, architrave,
frieze, and cornice, whose several services requiring some
distinction in strength, have been contrived or designed
in five several species,...each of which has its ornaments
as well as general fabric proportioned to its strength and
character.” Perrault says that an order may be defined
“ a rule for the proportion of columns, and for the form
of certain parts which belong to them, according to the
different proportions which they have.” We would have
463
1,t.^n^ers.t00.d be a species of columnar arrangement, Grecian
differing in its forms and general proportions, and in some Doric,
leading features, from any other. Greek columnar archi-
tecture may thus be divided into the three arrangements
or orders, Doiic, Ionic, and Corinthian, which form its
classes or styles. In considering them, however, it is
necessary to discharge the mind of all the absurdities of
the Italo-Vitruvian school about the proportions of the
human figure being applied to columns, whether virile, ma¬
tronal, or virginal; about the trunks of trees and rafters’
feet; whether Doric columns should not have bases be¬
cause men have feet, or that Ionic columns should have
them because women wore sandals ; that the guttie in a
Doric entablature should be conical, and not pyramidal,
because they are to look like drops of water; that sculls^
furies, thunderbolts, and daggers may be used to enrich
a Doric frieze, but that spears, and swmrds, and stars, and
garters may not;—these, with the thousand other puer¬
ilities of the Cinquecentists, whether Italian, French, or
English,—whether acquired from the writings of Palladio
and Scamozzi, of Perrault and Leclerc, or of Wotton and
Chambers,—must be forgotten, and the greater or less
degree of beauty resulting from this or that mode of ar¬
rangement and detail alone attended to.
Not to induce the idea that the quoted examples of the
antique should be imitated to the line and letter, but ra¬
ther in spirit, we shall speak of the proportions of their
various parts generally; though it must at the same time
be understood that much of the beauty of a columnar
composition depends on its minutiae: still it is not neces-
sary that these minutiae should be mere repetitions of an
original; it is in the spirit of the antique models that ex¬
cellence is to be sought, and not in crude rules for their
reproduction.
Of the Grecian Doric.
This order may be divided into three parts, Stylobate,
Column, and Entablature. The stylobate is from two
thirds to a whole diameter of the column in height, in
three equal courses, which recede gradually the one above
from the one below it, and on the floor or upper step the
column rests. That graduation, it may be remarked, does
not appear to have been made by the ancients to facilitate
the access to the floor of the stoa or portico, but on the
principle of the spreading footings of a wall, to give both
real and apparent firmness to the structure, both of which
it does in an eminent degree.
The column varies in different examples from four to Plate LI.
six diameters in height, of which the capital, including Fig- 10.
the necking, is rather less than half a diameter : in those p!ate Lnr*
cases in which a necking does not exist, the capital itselfp^’^Ay
occupies nearly the same proportion. The shaft dimi-
nishes in a slightly curved line, called entasis, from its base &
or inferior diameter upwards to the hypotrachelium, leav¬
ing it at that place, or at the superior diameter, from two
thirds to four fifths of the lower or inferior, which latter
is the diameter always intended when the term is used as
a measure of proportion. The capital consists of a neck¬
ing, an echinus or ovalo, and an abacus; the necking is
about one fifth of the height of the capital, and the other
two members equally divide the remaining four fifths:
when there is no necking, the ovalo occupies the greater
proportion of the whole height. The abacus is a square
tablet, whose sides are rather more than the inferior dia¬
meter of the column. The corbelling of the ovalo adapts
it to both the diminished head of the shaft and the ex¬
tended abacus, flowing into the one, and forming a bed
for the other by means of a graceful cyma-reversa; but Fig. C & 7.
its lower part is encircled by three or four rings or annu¬
lets, which are variously formed in different examples,
464 ARCHITECTURE.
Grecian and which are the means of giving the echinus form to
Doric, the great moulding, although it is, as we have said, part
of a cyma-reversa. The shaft is divided generally into
twenty flutes; but there are several examples with sixteen,
Plate LIII. and there is one with twenty-four. The flutes are some-
Pig. 12. ^ times segments of circles, sometimes semiellipses, and
sometimes eccentric curves. They always meet in an arris
1^’ or edge, and follow the entasis and diminution of the
column up through the hypotrachelium to the annulets,
under which they finish, sometimes with a straight and
sometimes with a curved head. At the base they detail
on the pavement or floor of the stylobate.
Fig. 4. The third part of the order, the entablature, ranges in
various examples from one diameter and three quarters to
rather more than two diameters in height, of which about
four fifths is nearly equally divided between the architrave
and frieze, and the cornice occupies the remaining one
fifth : this is in some cases exactly the distribution of the
entablature. The architrave is in one broad face, four
fifths, and sometimes five sixths of its whole height; and
the remaining fifth or sixth is given to a projecting con¬
tinuous fillet called the taenia, which occupies one half the
space, and a regula or small lintel attached to it, in lengths
equal to the breadth of the triglyphs above in the frieze.
From the regulae six small cylindrical drops called guttae
depend. There are examples to the contrary, but it may
be taken as a general rule, that the architrave is not in
the same vertical line with the upper face of the shaft, or
its circumferential line, at the superior diameter, but is
projected nearly so much as to impend the line or face of
the column at the base. The frieze, vertically, is plain
about six sevenths of its whole height, and is bounded
above by a fascia, slightly projecting from it, which oc¬
cupies the remaining seventh. Horizontally, however,
it is divided into triglyphs and metopes, which regulate
the intercolumniations in the manner that has been al¬
ready described; the former being nearly a semidiame¬
ter in width, and the latter the space interposed between
two triglyphs, generally an exact square, its breadth
being equal to the whole height of the frieze, including
the fascia. This latter breaks round the triglyphs hori¬
zontally, and is a little increased in depth on them. Each
glyph, of which there are two whole ones and two halves
to every tablet, is one fifth of the width of the whole,
and the interglyphs are each one seventh of the whole
tablet or triglyph. The glyphs detail on the taenia of the
architrave, but are variously finished above. In some ex¬
amples they are nearly square-headed, with the angles
rounded off; in others the heads are regular curves, from
a flat segment to a semiellipsis. The semiglyphs are
finished above in a manner peculiar to themselves, with a
turn or drop; but hardly two examples correspond in that
particular. The tablets in which the glyphs are cut are
vertical to the face of the architrave, the metopes recede
from them like sunk panels ; these are often charged with
sculptures, and indeed almost appear contrived to receive
them. The third and crowning part of the entablature,
the cornice, in what may be considered the best examples,
projects from the face of the triglyphs and architrave
about its own height. Vertically, it is divided into four
equal parts, one of which is given to a square projecting
fillet at the top, with a small congeries of mouldings, dif¬
ferent, and differently proportioned to each other, in vari¬
ous examples. Two other parts are given to the corona,
and the remaining fourth to a narrow sunk face below it,
with the mutules and their gutta;. These latter form the
soffit or planceer of the cornice, which is not horizontal or
at right angles to the vertical face of the entablature ge¬
nerally, but is cut up inwards at an angle of about 80°.
The width of the mutules themselves is regulated by that
of the triglyphs over which they are placed, to which it Grecian
is exactly equal. They are ornamented each with three
rows of six small cylinders, similar to those which depend
from the regulae under the triglyphs and on the archi¬
trave. There is twice the number of mutules that there
is of triglyphs, one of the former being placed over every
metope also in the manner the examples indicate.
This completes the Greek Doric Order according to the
generally received sense of the term; but there are other
parts necessary to it. In the front or on the ends of a Plate LIV.
temple, or over a portico, a pediment is placed. Its in- FlS- 1-
tention is obviously to inclose the ends of the roof, but it
forms no less a part of the architectural composition. In
reason, it should be raised as much as the roof required;
but when the span is great that would be unsightly; and
reference appears to have been made to the common
standard of proportion, as the pediments of most Doric
temples are found to be about one diameter and a half in
height at the apex of the tympanum, which in a hexastyle
arrangement makes an angle at the base of about 14°,
and in an octastyle about 12F°. The pediment is covered
by the cornice, without its mutules, rising from the point
of its crowning fillet, so that no part of it is repeated in
profile. Another moulding, however, is superimposed:
sometimes this is an ovalo with a fillet over it, and some¬
times a cymatium. It varies much in its proportion to the
cornice, but in the best examples it is about one half the
depth of the latter without its mutules. Ornaments of
various kinds, statues or foliage, are believed to have been
placed on the apices and at the feet of pediments as
acroteria. Of these, however, we have no actual remains;
but indications of the plinths or blocks which may have
received them exist, and such things appear represented
in ancient coins and medallions. The tympana of pedi¬
ments are well known as receptacles of ornamental sculp¬
ture. On the flank of a Doric temple, the cornice sup- Plate LIII.
ported a row of ornamented tiles called antefixae. These Fig. 1.
formed a rich and appropriate ornament, but they rather
belonged to the roof than to the columnar arrangement or
order. The antefixae covered the ends of the joint-tiles
as the pediments did those of the roofs; and correspond¬
ing ornaments called stelai rose out of the apices ot the
joint-tiles, forming a highly enriched ridge.
A secondary Doric order arises in the disposition of a Fig. 9.
Grecian temple, from the columns of the pronaos and
the inner part of the external entablature continued and
repeated. Of this the frieze is generally without triglyphs,
though there may be regulae and guttae on the architrave.
The fascia of the frieze is either moulded or enriched on
the face; and, instead of a cornice, the beams of the ceiling
are laid at equal intervals to support sunk panels or cof¬
fers, in which there may be flowers or other enrichments.
Propriety in the composition and arrangement of antae is
as necessary to the perfection of the Doric order as to that
of the columnar ordinance itself, especially if the latter be
in antis. Slight projections are made on the end and side Fig. 2, 3,
faces of a wall, so as to form a species of pilaster, whose & 10; and
front shall be nearly equal to the diameter of the columns^-Llv-
to which it is attached, exactly equal indeed to the soffit&1|' , ’
of the entablature, whose faces have been described as im¬
pending the circumferential line of the column at a little
above its base. This rests on the stylobate in the same
manner as the columns do, with sometimes a small conti¬
nuous moulding as a base; and its capital is a congeries
of mouldings, about the depth of the abacus, with a plain
fascia corresponding to the ovalo of the columnar capital.
The entablature of the order to which it is attached rests
on it, and, continuing along the flank of the building, is re¬
ceived by a similar combination at the other end. These,
it may be remarked, were never diminished or fluted,
ARCHITECTURE.
ri. r..
^IoiRc n projections from and upon the ends and faces of walls,
j they could not be diminished without involving an absurdity ;
' and fluting on a straight surface must be productive of mo¬
notony, as the flutes can only project a series of equal and
parallel shadows. Not so, however, with columns, on whose
rotund surface fluting produces a beautiful variety of light
and shade in all their gradations, which it could not pos¬
sess without that enrichment; for on a plain column nei¬
ther are the lights so bright nor the shadows so dark as
in the former case, nor are they so finely diffused over the
whole surface in the one as in the other.
In the only example which occurs in the ancient archi¬
tectural remains of attached Doric columns,—that of the
pseudo-peripteral temple of Jupiter Olympius at Agrigen-
tum—the stylobate is rteculiarly arranged. The upper gradus
is grooved, and detailed round the columns and along the
walls between them; and a congeries of vertically arranged
mouldings and fillets rests on it, and receives the base of
the column.
Such are the materials of which the Greeks composed
their beautiful temples, the manner of whose composition
has been already described. Of their effect, however, it is
impossible to form a competent idea without seeing one.
And whence, it may be asked, does their interest arise ?
From their simplicity and harmony;—simplicity, in the
long unbroken lines which bound their forms, and the
breadth and boldness of every part; such as the lines of
the entablature and stylobate, the breadth of the corona,
of the architrave, of the abaci, of the capitals, and of their
ovalos also; in the defined form of the columns, and the
breadth of the members of the stylobate ;—harmony, in
the evident fitness of every part to all the rest. The en¬
tablature, though massive, is fully upborne by the columns,
whose spreading abaci receive it, and transmit the weight
downwards by the shafts, which rest on a horizontal and
spreading basement; the magnitude of every part, as we
have before had occasion to remark, being determined by
the capacity of the sustaining power. Besides graceful
and elegant outline, and simple and harmonious forms,
these structures exhibit a bewitching variety of light and
shade, arising from the judicious contour and arrange¬
ment of mouldings, every one of which is rendered effec¬
tive,—by the fluting of the columns and the peculiar form
of the columnar capital, whose broad, square abacus pro¬
jects a deep shadow on the bold ovalo, which mingles it
with reflections, and produces on itself almost every va¬
riety. The play of light and shade, again, about the in¬
sulated columns, is strongly relieved and corrected by
the deep shadows on the walls behind them; and in the
fronts, where the inner columns appear, the effect is en¬
chanting. For all the highest effects which architecture
is capable of producing, a Greek peripteral temple of the
Doric order is perhaps unrivalled.
Of the Grecian Ionic.
Not less Hellenic in its detail than the national Doric
is the graceful and elegant style called the Ionic, whose
proportions and peculiarities we take from the perfect ex¬
amples of the Athenian Acropolis.
D- • 1 his order may also be considered in three similar parts,
Stylobate, Column, and Entablature. The stylobate is in
three receding equal courses or steps, whose total height
is from four fifths of to a whole diameter. The column,
consisting of base, shaft, and capital, is rather more than
nine diameteis in height, of which the base is two fifths of
a diameter; and the capital, including the hypotrachelium,
is in one case three fourths, and in the other seven eighths
of a diameter high. I he base consists of a congeries of
mouldings, extending gradually from a diameter and a
third to a diameter and a half, and its height is in three
VOL. JUI.
465
Grecian
Ionic.
nearly equal parts, two equal fillets separating them. The
owest, a torus, rests on the top of the stylobate or floor of
the portico, a fillet divides that from a scotia, a second '  
fi et intervenes the scotia and a second torus, and a third
tillet bases the apophyge or escape of the shaft. The
upper torus of the base is, in one example, fillet-fluted
horizontally; and, m the other, the same member is en¬
riched with the gmlochos. The shaft diminishes with en¬
tasis from its lower or whole diameter, to above five sixths
of it immediately under the hypotrachelium. It is fluted
with twenty-four flutes and alternating fillets, which fol¬
low the diminution and entasis of the column. The flutes
m plan are nearly semiellipses, and they finish at both
ends with the same curve: a fillet is in thickness nearly
one fourth the width of a flute. The difference in the
height of the capital is in the length of the necking,
which in one case is separated from the head of the shaft
by a carved bead, and in the other by a plain fillet.
Above the necking, a height of about one third of a dia¬
meter is occupied by a congeries of three spreading or
corbelling mouldings, a bead, an ovalo, and a torus, which
are all appropriately carved. On these rests theparallelo-
gramic block, on whose faces are the volutes, and whose
ends are concaved into what is technically termed a bol¬
ster, to connect them. This part is about one third of a
diameter in height, and includes a rectilinear abacus,
whose edges are moulded to an ovalo, and carved with
the egg and tongue ornament. The volutes are three
fifths of a diameter in depth, and extend in front to
one diameter and a half; and they are nearly a semidia¬
meter apart. The flowing lines which connect the volutes
can only be understood by reference to the example. The Fig. C.
bolsters are fluted vertically, with alternate fillets, on Fig. 12.
which are carved beads. An ornament composed of the
honeysuckle with tendrils encircles the necking of the
column. It must be remarked, that as the capitals are
parallelogramic, and present but two similar fronts, to pre¬
serve the appearance of volutes externally on all sides,
the capitals of those columns which occupy the external
angles of porticoes are differently arranged. The outer Fig. IS.
volute is bent out at an angle of 45°, and volutes are put *
on the end or side-front of the capital also, the outer one
being the other side of the angular volute of the front.
To suit the angle internally, the two volutes of the inner
face are placed at right angles to each other: this is,
however, at best but an awkward expedient, and need
not be employed when a portico projects only one inter-
columniation.
The entablature, which is rather more than two diame-Fig. 5.
ters in height, is also divided into three parts—architrave,
frieze, and cornice—which may be proportioned by divid¬
ing the whole height into five parts, four of which, as in
the Doric, may be again equally divided between the ar¬
chitrave and frieze. The cornice, however, in the exam¬
ples referred to, does not occupy one fifth of the entabla¬
ture; but if it had a fillet over the upper moulding, which
it appears to want, that would be just its proportion. If
the architrave be divided into nine parts, seven of them
may be given to three equal fascias, which slightly pro¬
ject the one before the other; the first or lowest, which
is vertical to the circumferential line of the inferior dia¬
meter, being covered by the second, and the second by
the third. The remaining two ninths form a band of
mouldings corbelling a broad fillet, which separates the
architrave from the frieze: these mouldings are enriched.
The frieze, which does not project quite so much as the
lowest fascia of the architrave, is, in the Athenian exam¬
ples, quite plain ; but it may be enriched with foliage, or
made the receptacle of sculpture in low relief. The cor¬
nice projects from the face of the frieze rather more than
3 N
466
ARCHITECTURE.
Grecian as much as its whole height, and is composed of bed
Ionic, mouldings, a corona, and crown mouldings. The first are
a carved bead and carved cyma-reversa, the former of
which only occupies a portion of the height of the cor¬
nice, as the planceer is cut up inwards in the manner re¬
presented by dotted lines in the example, to a sufficient
depth for it; the crown mouldings, which consist ot a
carved ovalo above a carved bead, are rather more than
one fourth of the whole cornice; and the corona occupies
the rest of its height, except that small portion given to
the bead of the bed mould. A fillet above the crown
mouldings, as already intimated, is certainly necessary to
complete the order and receive the antefixae, as described
in the Doric, for the flank of a temple.
Fig. 1 & 2. The pediments in the examples of Ionic are rather flatter
than in those of the Doric, the angle made by the covering
cornice with the base being, in a hexastyle, less than 14 .
A vertical fillet, with a small moulding, equal in depth to
the two crown mouldings of the cornice, covers them in the
pediment, in the place of the cyma-recta or ovalo used in
the Doric order. The intercolumniation differs in these
examples; in the one it is two diameters, and in the other
three diameters and one-sixth.
A much greater variety is found in the composition of
the Ionic than of the Doric order. Indeed the examples
of the Athenian Acropolis alone have neckings; in all
the others the shaft runs up to the corbelled mouldings,
which bed the block of the volutes, and the flutes finish
under them. Neither have they a torus in that congeries,
but a bead and ovalo alone, which latter makes an incon¬
venient projection under the pendent lines that connect
the volutes, and thus the capital is not more than half a
diameter in height.
The Asiatic or the truly Ionian examples of this order
are far inferior to those referred to. Their bases are dif¬
ferently, and certainly less elegantly composed. They
are without hypotrachelia, as may have been inferred;
they want the torus in the capital; and, in most cases, in¬
stead of flowing, pendent lines, they have straight lines
connecting the volutes. Their entablatures are not so
finely proportioned, nor so delicately executed. The coro¬
nas want breadth, and the bed moulds of the cornice are
as much too heavy as those of Athens are perhaps too
light. Indeed, upon the whole, they have more of the
grossness of Roman architecture than of the delicacy and
elegance of Grecian, though the Ionian examples are
supposed to be the models of those of Athens.
Fig. 10. The width of the antae of the Ionic order is determin¬
ed, as in the Doric, by the soffit of the entablature; and
it will, of course, be exactly the same as, or rather less
than, the inferior diameter of the column. It is slightly
raised, too, from the face of the wall at the ends of which
it stands. The base of the antae is, in one of the two ex¬
amples of the Acropolis, a little deeper than that of the
column, having a small projecting moulding between the
lower torus and the floor; and the lower torus itself is
reeded. In the other example there is no difference in the
form and proportion of the antae and columnar bases, but
both the tori are fluted horizontally, with beaded fillets
between the flutes. The antae cap consists of a congeries
of corbelling mouldings, nearly one third of a diameter in
height. It is divided into three nearly equal parts, the
lowest of which is composed of a bead and an ovalo ; the
second of another bead and a cyma-reversa, all carved;
and the third of a plain flat cavetto, with a narrow fillet
and small crowning cyma-reversa, forming an abacus. The
necking is like that of the capital, and is enriched in the
Fig- 3. same manner. The cap or cornice thus formed breaks
b ’ round the projection of the antse, and is continued along
the wall under the entablature the whole length of the
building, or till it is impeded by some other construction, Grecian
and the base is continued in like manner. Corinthian.
Attached columns have the voluted capital, but their
base is that of the antae; and it is detailed round them and *'
along the wall to which they belong, as with the antae. It
must be remembered, however, that the attached columns
in the triple temple are about one ninth less in diameter
than those which are insulated, though they are similar in
other respects, and have the same entablature.
The back of the triple temple, between the attached
columns, presents the only example in Greek architec¬
ture of windows. These are rather more than twice their
width in height, and are narrower at the top than at the
bottom. They rest on a broad, bold sill, which is equal in
depth to two sixths of the opening, and are surround¬
ed externally by a congeries of mouldings, which, with a
plain fascia, constitute an architrave. This architrave is
one fourth the opening in width; it diminishes with the
window, and in the same proportion, and is returned above
in two knees, which are made vertical to its extreme point
at the base.
Of the Grecian Corinthian.
The importance which the Greeks attached to a gradu- Plate LVI.
ated stylobate, and the necessity of giving it a relevant FiS-
proportion in a columnar ordinance, are evinced in the
only example of this order which remains to us of Gre¬
cian origin. Unlike the Doric and Ionic in its applica¬
tion, which is in temples of rectangular form, whose whole
height they occupy, this is attached to a small circular
structure, resting on a lofty square basement; and yet,
like those orders, it has a stylobate in receding courses,
and in plan, too, corresponding with the arrangement of the Fig. 2.
columns, and not with that of the substructure; in this too
offering further proof that the stylobate was considered a
part of the columnar ordinance. Thus the Corinthian Fig. 1 & a
order also consists of stylobate, column, and entablature.
The stylobate is rather more than a diameter in height,
and is divided into three parts, but not equally, in con¬
sequence, it is probable, of the peculiar position of the ordi¬
nance. The two lower grades have vertical faces, are of
equal depth, and occupy three-fourths of the whole height;
whilst the third step occupies the remaining fourth and
is moulded on the edge, in exquisite harmony with the
more ornate style, of which it forms a part. Like the
column of the Ionic order, that of the Corinthian consists
of base, shaft, and capital: it is ten diameters in height.
The base is rather more than one third of a diameter high,
and is composed of a torus and fillet, which are nearly
two fifths of its whole height; a scotia and another si¬
milar fillet, rather less than the former; and a second
torus or reversed ovalo, one fifth the height of the base,
on which rests a third fillet basing the apophyge of the
shaft. The extent or diameter of the base, at the lower
torus, is rather more than one diameter and a half. Tdie
shaft diminishes with entasis to five sixths of its diameter
at the hypotrachelium, and, like that of the Ionic order, has
twenty-four flutes and fillets. The flutes are semiellipses, so
deep as nearly to approach semicircles : they finish in the
apophyge at the foot of the shaft, in the same manner and
form; and at the head they terminate in leaves, to which
the fillets are stalks. The fillets are rather more than one
fourth the width of the flutes. The hypotrachelium is a
simple channel or groove immediately under the capital.
The capital itself is a diameter and rather more than one
third in height: its core is a perfect cylinder, in bulk rather
less than the superior diameter of the shaft. This is band¬
ed by a row of water leaves, whose profile is a flat cavetto,
one sixth of the whole height, and another of leaves of the
acanthus, with flowered buttonsattachingthem to the cylin-
architecture.
467
Grecian der. These latter have the contour of a cyma-recta, and
^^^^•are twice the height of the last, or one third of the whole
capital. Rather more than another third is occupied by
helices and tendrils, which latter support a honeysuckle
against the middle of the abacus; and the abacus itself,
resting on and covering the whole mass, is but little more
than one seventh of the whole height. This member in
plan can only be described as a square whose angles are
cut off at 45°, and whose sides are deeply concaved. In
profile it consists of a narrow fillet, an elliptical cavetto or
reversed scotia, and another fillet surmounted by a small
ovalo, or rather a moulding whose profile is the quadrant
of an ellipsis.
The entablature of this order is two diameters and two
sevenths in height. It also consists of architrave, frieze,
and cornice, of which the first occupies one tenth more
than a third, the second rather more than as much less
than that proportion, and the cornice is so much more
again above one third. The architrave is divided, like
that of the Ionic order, into three equal fascias, which
occupy all but one sixth of its whole height, and that is
given to a corbelled band, consisting of a bead, cyma-re-
versa, and fillet, separating the two members of the en¬
tablature. Ihe fascias of the architrave, it must be re¬
marked, are not perpendicular, but incline inwards, so
that their lower angles are all in the same vertical line,
which impends the surface of the shaft about one third of
its height from the base. The frieze is one plain band,
slightly inclining inwards, like the fascias of the archi¬
trave, and slightly projected beyond them: in this ex¬
ample it is enriched with sculptures. The cornice con¬
sists of a deep congeries of bed mouldings, and a corona,
with the accustomed small crown mouldings and fillet. Its
extreme projection is nearly equal to its whole height: of
this the bed-mouldings project about two fifths. As in
the Ionic cornice, additional height is given to the bed-
moulds, by undercutting the planceer. In this case, the
undercutting extends to nearly one-fourth the height of the
coiona. One-sixth the height of the cornice is given to a
flat bead and an ovalo, which are immediately above the
frieze, and which base a broad dentilled member that oc¬
cupies more than one-fourth of the whole cornice. This is
surmounted by a listel or broad fillet, above which is a cy-
marecta, whose narrow fillet nearly reaches the horizontal
plane of the planceer, and separates it from a cyma-reversa
that beds the superimposed projecting corona. This lat¬
ter is only three eighths of the whole cornice, and nearly
one of the three is given to the ovalo and fillet, the bed-
moulds alone occupying five eighths. The cornice is sur¬
mounted by a cut fascia supporting honeysuckle antefixm,
which may indeed be taken as a part of the order, as the
solitary example in question presents it. This, however,
we know, from the Doric and Ionic structures, to be
a modification of the flank ornament of temples; and we
may suppose from analogy, that if used in a portico, the
cornice of this order would have a cyma-recta to crown
it on the inclined side of the pediment. The intercolum-
- niation of this example is two diameters and one third.
Of Corinthian antae we have no examples, nor indeed
have we of insulated columns ; but as we find in the Ionic
examples quoted, that the attached columns are less in
proportion to the entablature than those which are insu¬
lated, we may conclude that it would be the same with this ;
thus reducing the entablature to two diameters, the ordi¬
nary average of that part in Greek columnar architecture.
Of the Caryatides, or Caryatic Order.
ig. 4, 5, The solecism in architecture of which we have now to
speak has but the one existing example in the works of
the Greeks, to which we have already referred. It is the
third portion of the triple temple in the Athenian Aero- Car vatic
polls, and is a projection from the flank of the principal Order,
lomc structure, formed by a stereobatic dado raised on
the stylobate and antae-base mouldings of it, with a sur-
base consisting of a carved bead and carved ovalo covered
by a broad hstel, with a narrow projecting fillet above it.
On this rests a square plinth, which bases a draped female
figure, on the head of which there is imnosed a circular
moulded block, with a deep rectangular abacus, two thirds
of whose face is vertical, and the other third is a cavetto,
fillet, and small cyma-reversa. The stereobate, inciuding
the moulded base of the temple, is about three fourths
the height of the statue-pillar with its base and capital.
The entablature is rather less than two fifths of the same,
but it consists of architrave and cornice alone, between
which parts the height is nearly equally divided. Rather
more than one fifth of the former is given to a carved
bead and carved cyma-reversa, with the flat, plain cavetto
and fillet which they support; the other four-fifths is di¬
vided nearly equally into three fascias, of which the third
or upper one has a fraction more than the other two, and
is studded with plain circular tablets, whose diameter is
five sixths of its depth. The cornice consists of bed-
mouldings, corona, and crown mouldings. Two fifths of its
whole height is given to the bed-mould, to which one
seventh of that may be added for the portion cut up in
the planceer. Half that increased height is occupied by a
dentilled member, and the other half by a broad plain
fillet, a carved bead, carved cyma-reversa, and a narrow
fillet above it. The remaining three fifths of the whole
cornice being again divided into five parts, rather less than
two of them is given to the corona; a little more than one
to a plain cyma-reversa and fillet, of which the latter is
the wider; and of the rest a carved ovalo occupies five
sevenths, and a listel or crowning fillet, with a carved bead
on it, the other two. A pier, pilaster, or antse, projects
from the wall of the greater temple, and receives the end
of the entablature behind the inner figure ; for the projec¬
tion is of two statues and their interspaces. It does not,
however, rest on the stereobate, but runs down to the base-
mouldings of the temple, the dado and surbase abutting
against it. rlhe antae is capped by a congeries of carved
mouldings, which support a narrow cavetto and fillet: the
height of the cap is half the diameter of the antae. There
is also a hypotrachelium, consisting of a carved bead and
the honeysuckle ornament, occupying about one third of
a diameter in height. This Caryatidean portico displays
very clearly the arrangement of the ceiling, with its coffers
or cassoons. Internally the architrave is plain two thirds
of its height; of the remaining third rather more than one
half is a plain, slightly projected, fascia; the other half is
occupied by a carved bead and ovalo. In the absence of
a frieze, the ceiling rests on this, and is divided by carv¬
ed beads into panels, which are deeply coffered, and dimi¬
nished by three horizontal moulded fascias.
Of Grecian Mouldings and Ornament.
Greek architecture is distinguished for nothing more PI. LVII.
than for the grace and beauty of its mouldings; and it
may be remarked of them generally, that they are eccen¬
tric, and not regular curves. They must be drawn, for
they cannot be described or struck ; so that though they
be called circular, or elliptical, it is seldom that they are
really so : not but that they may be, but, if they are, it is
evidently the result of chance, and not of design. Hence
all attempts to give rules for striking mouldings are worse
than useless, for they are injurious: the hand alone, directed
by good taste, can adapt them to their purpose, and give
them the spirit and feeling which render them effective and
pleasing.
468
ARCHITECTURE.
Grecian The leading outline of Greek moulding is the grace- nevertheless, is not the segment of a circle, for the upper .
Mouldings. fuPy flowing cyma. This will indeed be found to enter part of a cavetto is the most fleeted, and it fa s
into the composition of almost every thing that diverges almost into a straight line. . , , • ™ t ttt
from a right line ; and even combinations of mouldings are There is a hooked moulding common in Greek arc 11- • ■
frequently made with this tendency. It is concave above lecture, particularly in the Doric antae-caps which ls*ig.5&u.
and convex below, or the reverse ; and though a long and technically called the hawk s-beak. It is a combination of pi LIV
but slightly fleeted line appear to connect two quickly- curves which cannot be described m words; but it ias pig.5&10.
curving ends, it will always be found that the convexity been already referred to in speaking of the cyma-recta,
and the concavity are in exactly the same curve, so that which is brought into its composition.
if the moulded surface were reversed, and the one made The cyma-recta is never found carved, or sunk within PI. EVIL
to assume the place, it would also have the appearance, itself; but it sometimes has the honeysuckle, or other
of the other, and the effect would be the same. It is, ornament of the kind, wrought on it in relief, particularly
in fact, the Hogarthian line of beauty; and it is not a when used as the covering mouldmg-the cymatium-of
little singular that Hogarth, in his well-known Analysis a pediment. The enrichment of the cyma-reversa consists
of Beauty, although he did not know, and indeed could of a contrasted repetition of its own contour meeting in a
not have known, the contours of Greek architectural broad point below, and joining by a ciicular line above,
mouldings, has given the principle of them, and, under and making a sort of tongued or leafed ornament, whose
his line of beauty, has described many of the finest Greek surface is inflected horizontally also. Between the leaves
forms. The Roman and Italian mouldings were called a dart-formed tongue is wrought, extending from the cir-
Greek in his day, and he assumed them to be so ; but they cular flexure above to the bottom of the moulding, whose
evidently do not agree with his theory, whereas, in prin- contour it takes in front alone. As this would not mitre
ciple, the now well-known Greek forms do most com- or join well on the angles of the cyma, a honeysuckle is
pletely. gracefully introduced in the manner shown in the ex-
The cyma-recta is generally found to be more upright ample. This enrichment is not wrought in relief on the
and less deeply fleeted than the cyma-reversa; it is al- moulding, but is carved into it, so that the surfaces of
most always the profile of enrichments on flat surfaces, of the parts of the ornament alone retain the full outline of
foliage, of the covering moulding of pediments, of the un- the cyma. The ovalo is enriched with what is called the
dercut or hooked mouldings in antae-caps, the overhang- egg and dart ornament. This will be best understood by
ing not affecting the general principle ; and it pervades, reference to the example. Its angles also are made with
as we have said, fleeted architectural lines generally, a honeysuckle, and the inflections are made m the mould-
whether horizontal or vertical. The cyma-reversa has all
the variety of inflection that its opposite possesses, but
the line connecting its two ends is, for the most part,
more horizontal, and its curves are deeper. It pervades
many architectural combinations, but is most singularly
evinced in the composition of the Greek Doric capital,
PI. LIII. which is a perfect cyma-reversa, with the ends slightly
& LIV. but sharply fleeted, as it flows out of the shaft below, and
Fig. 6 & 7. turns in under the abacus above. The obviousness of the
ing itself. The torus is sometimes enriched with the in¬
terlaced ornament called the guilochos: this too is cut
into the moulding itself. We have no Greek example of
an enriched scotia, and from its form and position, which,
to be effective, must be below the eye, it hardly seems
susceptible of ornament which could operate beneficially.
The bead is carved in spheres or slightly prolate sphe¬
roids, with two thin rings or buttons, dilated at their
axes, placed vertically between them. A cavetto is not
PI. LV.
Fig. 5.
PI. LVI.
Fig. 3.
PI. LVII.
former is prevented by the annulets which divide the enriched at all, nor is the hawks beak, except by paint-
cyma into an ovalo and a cavetto, but the principle is ing, which does not appear to have been an uncommon
clear.1 The cyma is the governing outline in the con- mode of enriching mouldings among the Greeks; that
geries of mouldings in bases also, as may be noticed in is, the ornament was painted on the moulded sur.ace in-
the Ionic and Corinthian examples quoted and referred to. stead of being carved into it. lascias are also found en-
An ovalo is but the upper half of a cyma-reversa, even riched by painted running ornaments, such as the fret or
when it is used as a distinct moulding, and unconnected meander, the honeysuckle, and the lotus. Sometimes plain
with the waving form. The name expresses its apparent colour was given to a member, to heighten the effect it
rather than its real tendency; for its contour is not that
of an egg in any section, though the ornament which is
carved on it, when used as a running moulding, is formed
like an egg; and from that the moulding was named.
The upper torus of a base forms, with the escape or
apophyge of the shaft, a perfect cyma, and the scotia and
lower torus do the same ; so that the torus and scotia
are referable to the same principle when in composition,
was intended to produce. Ornaments were painted and
gilt on the coffered panels of ceilings too.
The few examples which exist of sculptured ornament
on straight surfaces exhibit varieties of nearly the same
combinations as those last mentioned,—the honeysuckle
with the lotus, and sometimes a variety of itself on scrolls,
either throwing out tendrils, or plain. This is found on
the necking of the Ionic columns of the Athenian Acro-
and they are not found together except in the combina- polis, and on those of their antae, and continuing along
tion referred to.
The bead is an independent moulding, varying in con¬
tour ; but it is generally the larger segment of a circle.
It is used, however, sometimes to mask the waving form,
and sometimes to separate it.
The cavetto, or simple hollow, is part of a cyma also, as
we have shown ; but it is also applied independently, to
obviate a sharp angle, or to take from the formality of a
vertical line, as in the abaci of Ionic antae-caps. Its form,
under the congeries of mouldings, as previously described.
The varieties of foliage used in the enrichments of Greek
architecture are few, and will be found generally exem¬
plified in the Corinthian capital of the choragic monu- L
ment of Lysicrates, and in the rich acroteral pedestal or *'
stem of the same edifice, than which we possess no more Tig- !•
elaborate specimen of foliated enrichment of the Greek
school. There exist many specimens of architectural or¬
nament on vases and fragments, in marble and terracotta,
1 The presence of the cyma in the Doric capital was, we believe, first pointed out by Mr T. L. Donaldson, in the supplementary
volume to the new edition of Stuart’s Athens, though the true contour of the cyma itself appears to have escaped that gentleman's
attention.
ARCHITECTURE.
469
Homan in which human figures, both male and female, are com-
fetructures. posed, with a greater variety of foliage than is generally
found in Greek architectural works; and many of the
beautiful marble and bronze utensils discovered in Her¬
culaneum and Pompeii have enrichments obviously of
Greek origin, from which, as well as from the specimens
of ornament on positive architectural monuments, we may
judge of their productions generally, as well as acquire
or imbibe somewhat of the fine taste which originated
them.
It would be puerile to speculate on the domestic edi¬
fices of the Greeks any further than we have done, as we
possess no genuine data on which to proceed. Their sa¬
cred structures have taught us their style of architecture ;
but for its application to general purposes we have no re¬
source but to consult the Roman remains of the exhu¬
mated Campanian cities and other places, and gather from
analogy what Greek domestic architecture was.
Of Roman Structures.
and other .With a treatise on Roman architecture by a Roman ar-
public chitect, jn our hands, mere transcription would appear to be
buildings. a that is necessary in writing on the subject. But finding
the writer and existing specimens of the art at variance, we
cannot help determining in favour of the superior authority
of the latter; to which, therefore, we shall refer to elucidate
Roman edifices and the Roman style, as we did to the
Greek remains to elucidate the Grecian.
Though far inferior in simplicity and harmony to the
columnar architecture of the Greeks, that of the Romans,
whether derived from it or not, is evidently of the same
family, and is distinguished by boldness of execution
and elaborate profusion of ornament. The tastes of the
two nations are exemplified in the Doric of the former
PI. LIII. and the Corinthian of the latter; the one a model of
& LIV. simple grandeur, perfect in its peculiar adaptation, but al¬
most inapplicable to any other purpose; and the other,
PI. L VIII. jess refined, but more ornate, making up in extrinsic what
it wants in intrinsic beauty—imperfect in every combina¬
tion, but almost equally applicable to every purpose. As
in Greece, so also in Rome, the noblest specimens of co¬
lumnar architecture are in the temples of the divinity;
but it does not appear that the Romans were in the habit
of constructing them peripterally, as the Greeks so con¬
stantly did. There are indeed ruins which induce the
belief that they at times built dipteral temples; but their
common practice (as far as existing examples are authori¬
ties) was to make them pseudo-peripteral, or apteral and
prostylar: of an amphiprostyle, even, we have not an ex¬
ample. It certainly is the custom to restore the ruined
temples, whose remains are a few columns only, as if they
had been peripteral; but it is done not only without sufficient
authority, but against that which the more perfect struc¬
tures present. The great projection, too, that the Romans
gave their porticoes, is evidence that they were depend¬
ent entirely on themselves for effect; for they are gene-
rally projected three columns and their interspaces be¬
fore the cella, which, however, has no pronaos with co¬
lumns in antis; nor does it appear from existing remains
that the Romans were accustomed to use that arrange¬
ment. Circular or peristylar temples are not uncommon
in Roman architecture ; and there are temples to which it
can hardly be supposed that columns were ever attached:
these are for the most part polygonal. Neither do the Ro¬
mans appear ever to have constructed hypaethral temples
with columns internally, as the Greeks did. Indeed it is
a question whether all their temples were not cleithral;
for it is not generally admitted that the Pantheon, which
is hypaethral by the open eye of the dome, was originally
a temple ; and where the structures remain tolerably per¬
fect, the ceilings and roofs appear to have been formed Roman
by arching fiom flank to flank, and thereby quite inclos-Structures,
mg them. J 1
The application of columns internally is most strikingly PI. LX.
effective in the Pantheon, where they are arranged in Pig-4 & 5.
front of niches, or deep recesses, composed with ant* to
carry a crowning entablature round under an attic on
which the cupola rests. No representation can convey
even the most incompetent idea of the effect of this ar¬
rangement, to those who cannot gather it from the plan.
A section presents only one compartment correctly; all
the rest must of necessity be foreshortened. It is far
otherwise with the temple of peace and the hall of the
baths of Diocletian, in which columns stand before the
piers to have the entablature broken over them. This, in¬
deed, was the result, as we have before intimated, of the
combination of columns with arches; and it is most clearly
exemplified in those works which most probably originat¬
ed the practice, and which are next in pretence to the
temples;—these are the triumphal arches.
The Romans had not adopted the simple graduated
stylobate of Greek columnar architecture in their temples,
but made the access to their porticoes in front with thin Fig. 6,7, &
steps, and built vertical stereobates along the flanks for 8.
the walls of the cella, or as stylobates, if there were at¬
tached columns. In applying a columnar arrangement to Fig. 10 &
the triumphal arch, this lofty stylobate was taken also.]1-
The breadth of the opening prevented the columns from
being placed equidistant; they were, therefore, coupled,
the entablature was broken over them, and necessarily the
stylobate was cut through, leaving mere attached pedes¬
tals to stilt the columns, so that the whole ordinance was
deprived of every thing that could render it as a composi¬
tion beautiful: its simplicity and harmony were entirely
gone; and instead of giving a graceful character to the
structure, it became a mere attached frontispiece, that
could only deform it. As if conscious that the Corinthian
was too beautiful to maltreat in such a manner, the Ro¬
man architects produced the hybrid, which has since been
called the Composite order, to use in these compositions: Pi. LIX.
in them, indeed, it is chiefly found; and if it were notEx. 2.
evidently a mere deterioration of the Corinthian, it might
with truth and propriety be called the Roman order.
Coupled columns, broken and recessed entablatures
and pedestals, and the Composite order, are among the
greatest blemishes in Roman architecture; for the mis-
formed and inappropriate abortions which have obtained
the name of Ionic and Doric, in Roman works, are hardly Ex. 3 & 4.
to be attributed to the school, but to individuals of it, as
they are of very infrequent occurrence, and generally ap¬
pear only in works which are otherwise ungainly. Such
are the amphitheatres, whose elliptical forms can never
be graceful, and whose architecture was invariably the
worst the time produced. The immense structure in PI-LX.
Rome, which, from its magnitude, has been called the FiS- L
Colosseum, bears in relief the gross architectural solecism
of columns in stories, which, moreover, have recessed sty¬
lobates and immense intercolumniations, with large arches
in them, which again reduce the effect of the column still
more, making the continuity of the entablatures themselves
a fault, by their consequent infirmity. The architectural
details of this structure are coarse and inelegant, plain
without simplicity, and laboured without elegance. But
internally these blemishes disappear, columns and arches
piled upon columns and arches give way to the long con¬
tinuous lines which graduated from the arena to the gal¬
lery, and must have produced as grand an effect as al¬
most any object in architecture ; its magnitude and ruined
state produce the imposing effect so striking at the pre¬
sent time; but the mind can easily restore it, or it may
470
ARCHITECTURE.
Roman be contemplated in miniature in the amphitheatre at
Structures. Verona.
The most perfect specimens of the Roman theatre re¬
maining are those of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Like
those of the Greeks, they rest on the side of a hill; but
instead of being hewn out of, they are built on it, as there
is no rock out of which they might have been excavated.
Their general form, however, is very similar to that of
the Greek theatre, but they received a greater degree of
architectural decoration than the latter was susceptible of.
Of this the theatre of Marcellus in Rome is an example ;
for though otherwise destroyed, its external wall remains,
and presents columnar ordinances, with intervening arches
in stories, according to the vicious and inelegant practice
of the Roman school. This, however, is on a plain, and
presents external walls, which other examples do not so
completely.
The baths of the Romans were structures of immense
extent, and of splendid appearance internally. What their
exteriors were we have no competent means of determin¬
ing; fragments, however, give us reason to believe, that
in architectural merit they did not surpass the exteriors
of the amphitheatres. The walls internally were covered
with stucco, and painted with foliage, figures of animals,
and compositions, architectural landscape or history : the
floors were of mosaic, laid in compartments, and variously
ornamented: the ceilings were vaulted and stuccoed like
the walls; sometimes they were enriched with coffered
panels containing sculptured flowers or other architectural
ornament, and sometimes they were merely painted with
what are termed arabesques. Columnar ordinances do
not appear to have been much used, and when they were,
it was not always with good taste, as we have had occa¬
sion already to remark; though the structure called the
Pantheon, which, with a great show of probability, is be¬
lieved to have been a saloon in the baths, perhaps of
Agrippa, on the contrary presents a beautiful adaptation
Fig. 2 & 3. of one. That the Pantheon was part of a more extended
edifice, is very clear from its external form and appear¬
ance, which are unsightly in the extreme, presenting a
mis-shapen and unfinished mass. Now, domed chambers
are very common in the baths and palaces of the Romans.
They are not only more effective than rectangular apart¬
ments, but were much more convenient in the absence of
glass; for a small opening left in the apex lights and ven¬
tilates the domed saloon most completely, whilst the rain
that could pass through it was necessarily small in quantity,
and could be easily avoided by those walking on the floor.
In rectangular vaults this could not be effected, so that
rooms of that form depended on lateral openings for light
and air, and were thereby exposed and uncomfortable.
Again, there is a rectangular portico attached to the Pan¬
theon, having no single feature in common with it, the
former being a noble Corinthian octaprostyle of three in-
tercolumniations projecting, with two others of antae and
pilasters behind; and the other a polygonal, bulbous mass
of brickwork, much loftier than the portico, having cor¬
nices and blocking courses, too, none of which range with
the entablature or any part of it. A conclusive argument,
moreover, against the commonly received opinion, that the
portico and the circular temple are an original composi¬
tion, proving indeed that the former was an adaptation of
what most likely had previously existed elsewhere in a
different situation, and of course could not be intended
for its present adjunct, is, that it now fronts north, and
consequently the sun never shines full on it, so that.it is
in fact always in shadow; and that was never permitted
bv the ancients in their original compositions ; for two
thirds of the beauty of a portico, consisting in the beauti¬
ful play and contrast of light and shade it affoids, are thus
sacrificed. But in an after-appropriation, as we imagine in Roman
this case, it might have been, and clearly was done; pro-structures,
bably through the ignorance or inattention of those who
did it. If, then, the Pantheon, whose diameter is nearly
150 feet, was but an apartment—suppose the grand saloon
or xystum—in the baths, the whole structure must have
been immense; and if its proportions and internal archi¬
tecture be taken, as they certainly may be: as a specimen
of the style and manner of the interior of the edifice gene¬
rally, we shall obtain a very high opinion of the magnifi¬
cence of the Roman baths or thermae. That they were
adorned with admirable works of sculpture, too, is proved
by the fact, that some of the noblest specimens of that art
have been discovered in and among the ruins of the baths
in Rome. It may be further remarked of the Pantheon,
that its effect has been seriously injured since its original
construction, by the removal of the columns from the re-F>g- 4 & 5-
cess opposite to the entrance, making the opening greater,
fixing the columns before the antae with the entablature
broken round them, and turning an arch over the whole ;
thus destroying, as far as that part could affect it, the
simplicity and perfect harmony of the primitive composi¬
tion. The same bad taste which dictated that alteration
affixed little pedimented excrescences, now used as altars,
against the piers which alternate with the compartments
of columns.
The still extensive remains of the villa of Adrian, near Palaces
Tivoli, bespeak its original magnificence ; and the archi- and villas
tectural fragments with which the site even now abounds,
though it has furnished specimens to almost every coun¬
try in Europe, after having suffered the spoliation and
destruction attending the incursions of barbarians and
the lapse of so many centuries, attest its pristine beauty,
and the fine taste of its imperial builder. This, however,
furnishes no evidence that its exterior was attractive.
Everything appears to have been directed to internal splen¬
dour and effect alone; and indeed all collateral evidence
tends to the conclusion, that the exterior of Roman palaces
and mansions was not heeded; being merely plain brick
walls. This is the case at Pompeii, as we shall see ; and
the ruins of mansions in various parts of Italy, from that
of Sallust on the Benacus or Lago di Garda, to those, of
other Roman nobles on the shores of the Bay of Baiae,
present no indications whatever that their exteriors were
subjected to architectural decoration. The palace of
Diocletian at Spalatro, and the splendid remains of Bal-
bec and Palmyra, some of which perhaps belonged to se¬
cular structures, offer evidence to the contraiy of this, if
they are correctly restored in the works which tieat of
them; for they present in their elevations so many of the
worst features of the Italian school, that there would be
room for doubt, if views of the ruins did not help to justify
the restorers. But this does not appear to have been the
case in the earlier ages of the empire, when architecture
among the Romans was in its best state. Notwithstand¬
ing the extent of the structure, and its general magnifi¬
cence however, the mouldings and ornaments in the in¬
terior of the villa of Adrian, though in themselves classical
and elegant, are small, and have a general air of littleness,
especially when compared with the apartments to which
they belong;—not that the apartments are generally large,
but they are for the most part lofty. The ceilings appear
to have been formed by vaulting; there are no indications
of windows, and none of stairs of any magnitude—so that
the rooms must have been nearly if not quite open at
one end, to admit light and air; and the probability is
that there were no apartments above the ground floor,
though it is likely enough that terraces formed on the
vaulted roofs were used for the purposes of recreation
and pleasure. The floors were of mosaic, several of
ARCHITECTURE.
471
Roman which are preserved entire in the Museum of the Vati-
Structures. can; and many fine specimens of ornamental sculpture
in vases and candelabra, besides busts, statues, and groups
in bronze, marble, porphyry, and granite, of various styles,
the remains of the noble collection Adrian made during
his progress through his extensive dominions, found among
the ruins of the villa, are conserved in the same place.
The ruins of the palace of the Caesars present no forms
or arrangements from which it would be possible to form
a rational notion of its original plan, still less of its gene¬
ral elevation, or indeed of the elevation of any part of
it. Large vaulted apartments, with here and there a
little stucco, sometimes moulded and sometimes plain or
merely painted, and a few small unconnected chambers scat¬
tered up and down in a mountain of brick rubble, convey
an exceedingly vague idea of a palace, or rather they are
incompetent to convey an idea of a palace at all.
Homan If evidence were required to prove the futility of writ-
streets. ten descriptions of buildings when their general model is
unknown, it would be enough to compare the house of a
Roman gentleman in Pompeii with the various designs
which have been made of the same thing from the de¬
scriptions and directions of Vitruvius, before the exhu¬
mation of that city. Their authors could only work upon
the notion they had of laying out houses; and therefore
the plans produced are those of ill-contrived modern re¬
sidences, so arranged that they may present a uniform
and architectural external elevation, which the Roman
houses have not; with windows properly lighting every
apartment, which are totally wanting in the latter; with
staircases to upper stories that did not exist; with corri¬
dors and doors uniformly disposed, which was unheeded
in laying out a Roman house. The Vitruvian restorers
put columns wherever they could, whereas the Roman
architects appear only to have put them where they could
not avoid it. In dimensions, too, the former erred no less
than in distribution; they thought none too extensive for
a Roman domicile: but the apartments in Roman houses,
wherever they are, are generally small, and in ordinary
cases their whole site is exceedingly restricted. In pro¬
portioning the various parts, they adhered to rules the
Romans never heeded; and applied the details of the
architecture of temples and triumphal arches to domestic
edifices, in whose composition the plasterer, painter, and
mason, almost appear to have been the only architects!
Far inferior as Pompeii was to Rome in magnitude and
splendour, there is no more reason for supposing that
houses in the latter were so very dilferently arranged
from those in the former that the same general descrip¬
tion of them should not apply to both, than there would
be for a future antiquary to hesitate in applying the plan
of a Brighton or Bath house, which may be preserved, to
a London mansion; for we know that in ordinary cases
they nearly coincide. It is, too, a recorded fact, that
wealthy Roman citizens had mansions at Pompeii and
Herculaneum; and we have already stated that discove¬
ries made of ordinary houses under the present level of
Rome show them to be exactly like the more perfect ones
of the Campanian city, except in their state of preserva¬
tion ; so that, “ parvis componere magna,” in Pompeii we
may see the domestic as well as public architecture of
ancient Rome.
I he streets of Pompeii are very narrow, their average
width being not more than twelve or fifteen feet; fre¬
quently they are not more than eight feet wide, and very
few in any part exceed twenty. The principal excavated
street in the city, that leading from the Forum to the gate
towards Herculaneum and the street of the tombs, is, at
the widest, twenty-three feet six inches, including two
footways, each five feet wide. The streets are all paved
with lava, and almost all have side pavements or footways, Roman
which, however, are for the most part so narrow, that,Structure8*
with few exceptions, two persons cannot pass on any of''-^~v~'v-'//
t lem. That the cars or carriages of the inhabitants could
not pass each other in most of the streets, is proved by
the wheel-ruts which have been worn on the stones, and
the recesses made here and there for the purpose of pass-
ing. Their narrowness and inconvenience are aptly exem¬
plified in London by the narrow lanes which come be¬
tween St Paul s and Thames Street, about Doctors’ Com¬
mons. The Forums, on the contrary, though not very
spacious, are of regular forms, and have wide and con¬
venient footways, completely colonnaded. In immediate
connection with them are the theatres, the principal tem¬
ples, the basilica, the courts of justice, and other public
edifices: the amphitheatre is by itself, in an extreme an¬
gle of the city. The use of some of the buildings on one
flank of the great Forum is not obvious: they are not ar¬
ranged like temples, and indeed possess no peculiar cha¬
racter by which they may be distinguished: it is tolera¬
bly clear, however, from circumstances, that they were for
the use of the public. The temples differ very little from
the ordinary Roman structures of that description, but are
generally inferior to them in the quality of the materials
of which they are constructed, in the style of their archi¬
tecture, and in the manner of its execution. The basilica is
not unlike a modern church, it being a long rectangular
edifice, having an arcaded porch at one end, being divided
internally bj' rows of columns into nave and aisles, and
having a columned recess at the west end of the nave for
a tribunal. There are, however, no indications of win¬
dows, so that it was probably hypaethral, though that ar¬
rangement would have made the place very inconvenient
for its purpose.
The streets of Pompeii are lined on either side with pi. LXI.
small cells, which served for shops of various kinds; and Fig. 1.
they are strikingly like the ordinary shops in towns in the
south of Italy and in Sicily at the present time. Like
these, too, there appear in very few cases to be accommo¬
dations in connection with the shops for the occupiers
and their families, who must have lived elsewhere, as mo¬
dern Italian shopkeepers very commonly do. They pre¬
sent no architectural decoration whatever; the fronts are Fig. 3.
merely plain stuccoed brick walls, with a large square
opening in each, part of which is the door, and part the
window, for lighting the place and showing the goods.
Whenever a private house or gentleman’s mansion oc- Houses
curs in a good place for business, like the ground floor of a.nd domes*
many modern Italian noblemen’s palaces, the street-front, ortic acc.om*
fronts, was entirely occupied with shops, a comparatively modatlon<-
narrow entrance being preserved to the house in a conve¬
nient part between some two of them. The door to this
is sometimes quite plain, but at times it is decorated
with pilasters. When the site permitted such an arrange¬
ment, the entrance door being open, a passer by could
look completely through the house to the garden, or, in
the absence of a garden, to the extreme boundary wall, on
which was painted a landscape or other picture. An ar¬
rangement, it may be observed, not unlike this, is com¬
mon in some of the Italian cities at the present day; but
the mansions being now built in stories, and the upper
stories alone being occupied by the families, a merely
pleasing effect is produced; but in the former, persons
crossing from one apartment to another were exposed,
and domestic privacy thus completely invaded to produce
a pretty picture. Within the entrance passage, which
may be from ten to twelve feet in depth, there is a ves¬
tibule or atrium, generally square, or nearly so, on which
various rooms open, that vary in size from ten feet square
to ten feet by twelve, or even twelve feet squai'e : they
472
ARCHITECTURE.
Roman have doors only, and were probably used as sleeping-
Structures. chambers by the male servants of the family. In the
centre of this court there is a sunk basin or reservoir for
receiving the rain, called the compluvium, rendering it
likely that this was roofed over, with a well-hole to admit
light and air, and allow the rain to drop from the roof
into the reservoir. Connected with this outer court was
the kitchen and its accessories. If the site allowed the
second court to be placed beyond the first in the same di¬
rection from the entrance, the communication was by a
wide opening not unlike folding doors between rooms in
modern houses, generally with a space intervening, which
was variously occupied; if the site did not allow of that
arrangement, a mere passage led from one to the other.
The second or inner vestibule, atrium, or court, is gene¬
rally much larger than the first, is for the most part paral-
lelogramic, but variously proportioned. It forms a tetra-
stoon, being open in the middle and arranged with a pe¬
ristyle of columns, colonnading a covered walk all round.
On this the best and most finished apartments open; but
they are of such various sizes, and are so variously ar¬
ranged, that it is not easy to determine more than that
they included the refectory, the library, and sleeping-
rooms. Some of them, indeed, are such as must have
been useless except for the last purpose : these, perhaps,
were the apartments of the female branches of a family,
at least in most cases. Some houses, however, have a
nest of small cells in an inner corner or secluded recess,
which may have been the gynaeceum ; but that is far from
being common. Exhedrae or recesses, open in front to
the atrium, are common, and are often painted with
more care and elegance than any other part ot the house ;
but generally the walls are everywhere painted—in the
more common places flat, with a slight degree of orna¬
ment perhaps, and in the best rooms with arabesques and
pictures in compartments. The architectural decorations
are mostly painted; the ornaments are not unfrequently
elegant, but the architecture itself of the mansions is bad
in almost every sense. The rooms being windowless,
would, when covered, be necessarily dark; the doors are
arranged without any regard to uniformity, either in size
Fig, g. or situation. The street-fronts of those houses which, not
being in a good business situation, were not occupied with
shops, were not merely unadorned, but were actually de¬
formed by loop-holes to light some passage or inner closet
which had no door on one of the courts. The columns of
the second courts are generally in the worst style possi¬
ble : those which have foliated capitals, and may be con¬
sidered compositions of the Corinthian order, are the best;
but the imitations of Doric and Ionic are both mean and
ugly. From the duty they had to perform, and the wide¬
ness of their intercolumniations, together with the fact
that none of them remain, it is probable that the entabla¬
tures were of wood, and were consequently burnt at the
time of the destruction of the city, and broken up by the
inhabitants, almost all of whom certainly escaped, and
who, it is very evident, returned, when the fiery shower
and the conflagration had ceased, to remove whatever
they could find of their property undestroyed; for it must
be remembered that the roofs and ceilings all over the
city are entirely gone, and the uncovered and broken
walls remain, from eight to ten feet only in height. Every
thing, indeed, clearly demonstrates that great exertions
were used to recover whatever was valuable; and it is
very probable, moreover, that the place was constantly
resorted to by treasure-seekers for perhaps centuries af¬
ter the calamity occurred. It may also be remarked that
the loftier edifices, which would have been unburied by
the ashes, had been thrown down by a terrible earthquake
about sixteen years before the volcanic shower fell, and
therefore were the more easily covered. Other showers Roman
must have fallen since that which destroyed the city, to Structures,
produce the complete filling up of every part and the ge¬
neral level throughout; as the one must have been pre¬
vented by those roofs and ceilings which were fire-proof
in the first instance, and the other would be the result of
the same, if it were not deranged by the subsequent ex¬
cavations. It is indeed the fact, that the superstrata of
ashes are evident and unbroken, while the substratum is
mingled with ruins. Hence we are still uninformed as to
the structure and disposition of the roofs and ceilings of
the houses of the ancients. The doors, too, of whatever
materials they were composed, are entirely gone: there
remain, however, here and there, indications of wooden
door-posts—in some cases, indeed, charred fragments of
them—but they are to outer or street-doors, leaving it
probable, as we have before suggested, that a matting of
some kind, suspended from the lintel, formed the usual
doors to rooms,—or perhaps they were closed by cur¬
tains only. In these particulars, unfortunately, Hercu¬
laneum affords but little assistance, as the mode of its
destruction was similar to that of Pompeii, and it, too,
was doubtlessly exposed in nearly the same manner; its
subterranean situation, moreover, at present, renders it
difficult to examine ; but, upon the whole, Herculaneum
is more likely to furnish information on these particulars
than its sister in misfortune. Although it has been as¬
certained that the Romans understood the manufacture
of glass, or at least that they possessed some utensils of
that material, it must not be supposed that they were ac¬
customed to apply it to exclude the weather and trans¬
mit light; for in no case has a glass w indow of any kind
been discovered in any ancient structure ; and, without
contemplating the houses of Pompeii, it is impossible to
appreciate the advantages we derive in our habitations
from the application of that beautiful production of the
useful arts, and how much superior it alone renders them
to those of the ancients. The floors of the houses of
Pompeii and Herculaneum are all of mosaic work, coarser
and simpler in the less esteemed parts, and finer and
more ornate in the more finished apartments: the orna¬
ments are borders, dots, frets, labyrinths, flowers, and
sometimes figures. In this, too, the superior advantages
the moderns enjoy are evident. Ihe ancients did not un¬
derstand how to construct wooden floors, at least the ap¬
plication of timber to that use was not made by them ; for,
though it wTere admitted, which, however, it cannot be with
justice, that, in the warmer climate of the south of Italy,
lithic floors would be more grateful, that would not be
the case in this country; and we find the remains of Ro¬
man houses, baths, &c. in England, with floors of mosaic,
as in Naples and Sicily. All the indications which are
found in Pompeii of an upper story consist in a few rude
and narrow staircases, which, it is very probable, were to
afford access to the terraces or flat roofs, for they are not
common, and no portion of an upper story remains in any
part, though it is most likely that the lower or ground-floor
rooms were arched over. In one part of the city the
houses on one side of a street are on a declivity: there a
commodious flight of stairs is found to lead from the
atrium in front, to another atrium and rooms below, not
under the houses, but behind them ; for neither do we find
an under-ground or cellar story in the Pompeian houses.
On the shores of the Bay of Baiae, and of the Gulf of
Gaeta, at Cicero’s Formian Villa, however, there are
crypts or arched chambers under the level of the man¬
sions; for the sites require substructions ; but it may be
questioned whether even these were used as parts of the
house, and as we use cellars; for they present no indica¬
tions of stairs, and have no regular means of intercommu-
A R C HI T
Roman nication. Neither had the houses of the Romans chim-
Structures. neyS 0f any . their only mode of warming their apart¬
ments was by means of braziers, many specimens of which
have been taken out of both Herculaneum and Pompeii;
and their cooking fires were on fixed gratings over a sort
of stove, but without flues ; so that most probably char¬
coal alone was burnt for domestic purposes. In this re¬
spect the modern Italians are not far beyond their prede¬
cessors ; and the mode used by them of applying fire in
warming and cooking appears very similar to that used
by the Romans. Indeed many of the peculiarities we
have noticed in the Pompeian houses are still found in
various parts of Italy and Sicily; the cortili, courts, or
cloisters of palaces, mansions, monasteries, and inns, are
representatives of the cavsedia, vestibula, atria or courts,
of Pompeian or Roman mansions. It is common, too, in
the former, for bed-rooms to open on open galleries, as on
the colonnaded courts of the latter. There are instances
also in the countries referred to, of rooms which have
no aperture but the doorway. Shops, we have said, are
frequently mere cells, having an opening towards the
street, part of which is a door, and the other part, with a
low dado, a window. It was only in the forums and pub¬
lic places, then, that architectural beauty and magnifi¬
cence were displayed in a Roman city. Street architec¬
ture was unknown, and the decoration of houses was the
work of the plasterer and painter rather than of the ar¬
chitect.
If such as we have described wrere the imperfections
and inferiority of the domestic architecture of the Ro¬
mans, who knew that of the Greeks and Egyptians, and
had, moreover, knowledge of the use of the arch, and were,
we have reason to believe, better carpenters than either,
besides possessing greater wealth, and a greater taste for
luxury than they, with a less mild and serene climate than
Greece and Egypt,—what must the domestic edifices of
these nations have been ! A person accustomed to the
comforts and conveniences of houses in this country finds
much to complain of in a modern Italian mansion, but
not so much as an Italian would in the house of an an¬
cient Roman; and from analogy we may believe that a
Roman of the empire would have had reason to complain
of a Grecian domicile, even of the Periclean age ; and a
Greek, again, might have been abridged of the comforts
of his house in the palace of an Egyptian.
Superior as the habitations of civilized men in modern
times may be to those of the ancients, a degree of classic
beauty and elegance pervaded the decorations and furni¬
ture, and even the domestic utensils, in the houses of
Pompeii and Herculaneum, which we do not equal,
though we imitate them; and from the Hellenic taste
which reigns in their forms and enrichments, their origin
may probably be attributed to Greek artists; so that, it
may be supposed, in these particulars the Greeks even
excelled the Romans. It is indeed not a little singular,
that though the architecture of these cities is completely
Roman, the painted ornaments and ornamental sculp¬
ture generally are in style and manner perfectly Greek.
There are certainly modifications found of Greek Doric
columns in Pompeii; but they bear so slight a degree of
relationship to their original, that its existence may al¬
most be denied,—they have the form without the feeling.
Sepulchral As works of architecture, the sepulchral monuments of
monu- the Romans were of more importance than their domes-
ments. tic structures. There is more architectural display in the
street of the tombs at Pompeii, than in any street of the
city itself; and the mausoleum of Adrian on the right
bank of the Tiber at Rome was a much more important
object in its perfect state than his villa near Tivoli could
ever have been. It was perhaps the most splendid struc-
vol. m.
E C T U R E. 473
ture of the kind ever executed; excelling the Memphian Roman
pyramids as much in architectural pretence as they sur-^orimhian.
pass it in magnitude. There was, too, a degree of har-
mony and simplicity in its composition, which can only
be accounted for by supposing that the imperial builder,
who was himself an adept in architecture, had acquired
bettei taste than the architects of Rome generally pos¬
sessed, by the contemplation of the monuments of Greece
and Egypt. It consisted of a deep quadrangular basement,
each of whose sides was about 250 feet in length. This was
surmounted by a lofty circular mass, on which was a gra
duated stylobate, supporting a noble peristyle of Corin¬
thian columns, with their entablature; forming, with its
circular cone, a species of peristylar temple, something
like that below the cupola of St Paul’s Cathedral in Lon¬
don. Above this there was, most probably, a species of
dome, whose acroterium is said to have been a metal pine-
cone, which was the receptacle of the ashes of the empe¬
ror. The mausoleum of Augustus was, we may believe,
from the descriptions which exist of it when in a more per¬
fect state than it is at present, inferior in size, in splendour,
and in good taste, to that of Adrian; but it was neverthe¬
less a magnificent monument. Its form was conical; it
diminished in stories and terraces, probably columned
round, and terminated at the apex in a bronze figure of
its founder. The sepulchral monuments of Cecilia Me-
tella, of the Plautian family, and others, are evidences of
the same fact. The sarcophagus from the first-mentioned
of these is simple and elegant in the extreme; and indeed
it exhibits a greater degree of simple beauty than almost
anything of the same kind that remains to us of the Ro¬
mans.
Of the Roman Corinthian.
Like the Greek orders, the Roman Corinthian may be PI. LX.
said to consist of three parts, stylobate, column, and en-Fig- 6, 8,
tablature; but, unlike them, the stylobate is much loftier,9’ & 10>
and is not graduated, except for the purposes of access
before a portico. Its usual height is not exactly deter¬
minable, in consequence of the ruined state of most of
the best examples; but it may be taken at from two and
a half to three diameters. In the triumphal arches the
height of the stylobate sometimes amounts to four, and
even to five diameters. It is variously arranged, more¬
over, having, in the shallower examples, simply a congeries
of mouldings to form its base, with perhaps a narrow
square member under it, a plain dado, and a covering
cornice or coping, on the back of which the columns rest.
In the loftier examples a single, and sometimes a double
plinth, comes under the base mouldings; and a blocking
course superimposes the coping, to receive the bases of
the columns. This last is only necessary when the height
of the stylobate is such as to take the columnar base
above the human eye, when the coping cornice would in¬
tercept it if a blocking course did not intervene.
The column consists of base, shaft, and capital, and PI. LVI1I.
varies in height from nine and a half to ten diameters. The
base has, ordinarily, in addition to the diminishing congeries
of mouldings which follows the circular form of the shafts,
a square member or plinth, whose edges are vertical: with
this the whole height of the base is about half a dia¬
meter. The rest of this part of the column is variously
composed, but it generally consists of two plain tori and
a scotia, with fillets intervening, as in the Greek examples
of this order, but differently proportioned and projected,
as the examples indicate. Sometimes the scotia is divided
into two parts, by two beads with fillets, as in the Jupiter
Stator example, in which also a bead is placed between the Ex. 1.
upper torus and the fillet of the apophyge. The spread
of the base varies from a diameter and one third to a dia-
3 o
474
ARCHITECTURE.
Roman meter and four ninths. In the best Roman examples, as
Corinthian.we]] as jn Greek, the shaft diminishes with entasis:
the average diminution is one eighth of a diameter. The
shaft was always fluted when the material of which it was
composed did not oppose itself; for the Romans often
used granites, and sometimes an onion-like marble called
therefore cipollino, for the shafts of columns; the former
of which could not be easily wrought and polished in
flutes, and the latter would scale away if it were cut into
narrow fillets. Like the Greek Corinthian and Ionic or¬
ders, the Roman Corinthian has twenty-four fillets and
flutes. The flutes are generally semicircles, and they ter¬
minate at both ends, for the most part, with that contour.
Dividing the space for a fillet and a flute into five parts,
four are given to the latter, and one to the former. The
hypotrachelium is a plain torus, about half the size of the
upper torus of the base, or half the width of a flute, as these
nearly correspond: it rests on a fillet above the cavetto at
the head of the shaft.
The ordinary height of the capital is a diameter and
one-eighth; but there is a very fine example in which it
hardly exceeds a diameter, and another in which it is
not quite so much. It is composed of two rows or bands of
acanthus leaves, each row consisting of eight leaves ranged
side by side, but not in contact; of helices and tendrils
trussed with foliage; and an abacus, whose faces are moulded
and variously enriched. The lower row of acanthus leaves
is two-sevenths the whole height of the capital; the upper
row is two-thirds the height of the lower above it, and its
leaves rest on the hypotrachelium below, in the spaces left
between the others. They are placed regularly, too, under
the helices and tendrils above, which support the angles,
and are under the middle of each side of the abacus. The
construction and arrangement of the next compartment
above must be gathered from the examples; for a com¬
petent idea cannot be conveyed in Avords. The abacus
is one-seventh of the height of the capital; in plan it is a
square whose angles are cut off, and whose sides are con¬
caved in segments of a circle, under an angle at the centre
of from 55° to 60°. Its vertical face is generally a flat
cavetto, with a fillet and carved ovalo corbelling over at
an angle of about 125°. The cavetto is sometimes enriched
with trailing foliage, and a rosette or flower of some kind
overhangs the tendrils from the middle of each side of the
abacus.
Every example of this order differs so much in the form,
proportion, and distribution of the various parts, of its
capital particularly, that it cannot be described in gene¬
ral terms, like the Greek Doric and Ionic: the example
we have referred to in this definition is that of the Jupiter
Stator, the most elegant, perhaps, of all the Roman spe¬
cimens.
The entablature varies in different examples from one
diameter and seven eighths to more than two diameters
and a half in height. Perhaps the best proportioned are
those of the portico of the Pantheon, and of the temple
of Antoninus and Faustina; the former being rather more
than two diameters and a quarter, and the latter rather
less than that ratio. The entablature of the temple of
Jupiter Stator is more than two diameters and a half in
height, of which the cornice alone occupies one sixth
more than a full diameter, leaving to the frieze and archi¬
trave somewhat less than one diameter and a half be¬
tween them. In this latter particular it nearly agrees
with the other two quoted examples, so that the great
difference in the general height is in the cornice almost
alone, the cornices of the others being about a sixth less,
instead of as much more, than a diameter in height. The
Roman Corinthian entablature may be taken, then,, at two
diameters and a quarter in height. Rather more than
Ex. 1.
Ex. 4.
Ex. 3.
three fifths of this is nearly equally divided between the Roman
architrave and frieze, the advantage, if any, being given Corinthian,
to the former ; the cornice, of course, takes the remaining
two fifths, or thereabouts. The architrave is divided into
three unequal fascias and a small congeries of mouldings,
separating it from the frieze. The first fascia is one fifth
the whole height; one third of what remains is given to
the second, and the remainder is divided between the
third fascia and the hand of mouldings,—two thirds to the
former, and one to the latter. A bead, sometimes plain
and sometimes carved, taken from the second fascia, which
is itself enriched in the Jupiter Stator example, marks its
projection over the first; and a small cyma-reversa, carved
or plain as the bead may be, taken from the third fascia,
marks its projection over the second. The band consists
of a bead, a cyma-reversa, carved or plain according to
the general character of the ordinance, and a fillet. In
non-accordance with the practice of the Greeks, the face
of the lowest or first fascia of the architrave, in the Roman
Corinthian, impends the face of the column at the top of
the shaft, or at its smallest diameter; and every face in¬
clines inwards from its lowest face up. The whole projec¬
tion of the architrave, that of the covering fillet of the
band, is nearly equal to the height of the first fascia. The
frieze impends the lowest angle of the architrave. Its face
is either perpendicular, or it slightly inclines inwards, like
the fascias of that part of the entablature: in some cases
it is quite plain, and in others is enriched with a foliated
composition, or with sculptures in low or half relief. The
cornice consists of a deep bed-mould, variously propor¬
tioned to the corona; but it may be taken generally, when
it has modillions, at three fifths, and when it has none, at
one half the whole height. It is composed of a bead, an
ovalo or cyma-reversa and fillet, a plain vertical member,
sometimes dentilled, another bead, and a cyma-reversa
and fillet or ovalo, as the lower may not be: this is sur¬
mounted, when modillions are used, by another plain
member, with a small carved cyma-reversa above it. On
this the modillions are placed, and the cyma breaks
round them. They are about as wide as the member from
which they project, and are about two thicknesses apart.
In form they are horizontal trusses or consoles, with a
wavy profile, finishing at one end in a large, and at the
other in a small, volute; and under each there is gene¬
rally placed a raffled or acanthus leaf. In proportioning
the parts of this bed-mould in itself, one third of its height
may be given to the modillion member, and the other two
thirds divided nearly equally, but increasing upwards into
three parts, one for the lowest mouldings, one for the
plain or dentil member, and the third and rather largest
portion for the mouldings under the modillion member.
The mouldings of this part of the cornice are carved or
left plain, according to the character of the ordinance ;
and its greatest projection, except the modillions them¬
selves, that of the modillion member, is about equal to
half its height. The upper part of the cornice,—the co¬
rona, with its crown mouldings,—consists of the vertical
member called the corona, which is two fifths the whole
height;—this, in the examples of the temples of Jupiter
Stator and Antoninus and Faustina, is enriched with ver¬
tical flutes;—a narrow fillet, an ovalo, and a wider fillet,
occupy one third of the rest, the other two thirds being
given to cyma-recta, with a covering fillet which crowns
the whole. Its extreme projection is nearly equal to the
whole height of the cornice.
The ordinance of the temple of Vesta, or of the sibyl Ex. 2.
at Tivoli, whose entablature is the very low one mention¬
ed, is not generally in accordance with the scale we have
given, and it must be referred to for its own peculiar
proportions.
ARCHITECTURE.
475
Roman
Corinthian
PI. MX.
Ex. 2.
Pediments with the Roman Corinthian order are found
* to be steeper than they were made by the Greeks, vary¬
ing in inclination from eighteen to twenty-five degrees;
but they are formed by the cornice of the entablature in
the same manner Antefixse do not appear to have been
used on flank cornices as in Greek ordinances, in which
the cymatium is confined to pediments; but in Roman
works it is continued over the horizontal or flank cornice,
as we have described ; and frequently it is enriched with
lions’ heads, which were at the first introduced as water¬
spouts. The planceer or soffit of the corona is, in the
Jupiter Stator example, coffered between the modillions,
and in every coffer there is a flower. The soffit of the
entablature in this order is generally panelled and enrich¬
ed with foliated or other ornament. The intercolumnia-
tion is not the same in any two examples. In the temple
of Vesta in Rome it hardly exceeds a diameter and a
quarter ; in the Jupiter Stator example it is a fraction less
than one diameter and a half, in that of Antoninus and
Faustina, nearly a diameter and three quarters; in the
portico at Assisi, rather more than that ratio; in the por¬
tico of the Pantheon, almost two diameters; and in the
Tivoli example, a fraction more than that proportion.
The antas of the Roman Corinthian order are generally
parallel; but pilasters are mostly diminished and fluted
as the columns. Of two of the existing examples of antae,
in one—that of the temple of Mars Ultor—they are plain,
to fluted columns; and in the other—that of the Pantheon
portico—they are fluted, to plain columns. The capitals
and bases are transcripts of those of the columns, fitted to
the square forms.
Ceilings of porticoes are formed, as in the Greek style,
by the frieze returning in beams from the internal archi¬
trave to the wall or front of the structure, supporting coffers
more or less enriched with foliage or flowers. This, how¬
ever, could only have been effected when the projection was
not more than one, or at the most two intercolumniations,
if stone was used; and it is only in such that examples
exist. Porticoes ordinarily must have had arched ceilings,
as that of the Pantheon has, or the beams must have been
of wood; in which latter case probably the compartments
of the ceiling would be larger. How, in the former, it
was arranged we cannot tell, as the arches only remain;
and they may not be of the date of the rest of the portico.
The ancient examples of what is called the Composite
order do not differ so much from the ordinary examples
of the Corinthian as the latter do among themselves, ex¬
cept in the peculiar conformation of the capital of the co¬
lumn. In other respects, indeed, its arrangement and
general proportions are exactly those of the Corinthian.
The Composite was used, we have said, in triumphal
arches, and, in the best ages of Roman architecture, in
them alone. The difference in the capital consists in the
enlargement of the volutes to nearly one fourth the whole
height of the capital, and in connecting their stems hori¬
zontally under the abacus, giving the appearance of a dis¬
torted Ionic capital. The central tendrils of the Corin¬
thian are omitted, and the drum of the capital is girded un¬
der the stem of the volutes by an ovalo and bead, as in
the Ionic. Acanthus leaves, in two rows, fill up the whole
height from the hypotrachelium to the bottom of the volutes,
and are consequently higher than in the Corinthian capi¬
tal : this difference is given to the upper row. Besides
this Composite, however, the Romans made many others,
the arrangements and proportions of the ordinances being
generally those of the Corinthian order, and the capitals
corresponding also in general form, though in themselves
differently composed. In these, animals of different spe¬
cies, the human figure, armour, a variety of foliage, and
other peculiarities, are found. Shafts of columns also are
sometimes corded or cabled instead of being fluted : those Roman
of the internal ordinance of the Pantheon are cabled to one Ionic,
third their height, and the flutes of the antae of that or-v^^v^“
dinance are flat, eccentric curves. There are fragments of
others existing, in which the fillets between the flutes are
beaded; some in which they are wider than usual, and
grooved; others, again, whose whole surface is wrought
with foliage in various ways; and it would be no less ab¬
surd to arrange all these in different orders, than it is to
make a distorted and hybrid capital the ground-work of an
order.
Of the Roman Ionic.
The only existing example of this in Rome, in which PI. LX.
the columns are insulated, is in the Temple of Manly For-Rig. *2.
tune, except that of the Temple of Concord, which is too
barbarous to deserve consideration. Its stylobate, like that
of the Roman Corinthian, is lofty and not graduated,
having a moulded base and cornice or surbase. The PI- IRX.
column is nearly nine diameters in height; its base isRx-
half a diameter in height, and consists of a plinth, two
tori, a scotia, and two fillets; the shaft has twenty fillets
and flutes, and diminishes one tenth of a diameter; the
capital is two fifths of a diameter in height; the volutes,
however, dip a little lower, being themselves about that
depth without the abacus ; the corbelling for the volutes is
formed by a bead and large ovalo, half the height of the
capital; the latter of these is carved : a straight band con¬
nects the generating lines of the volutes, whose ends are
bolstered and enriched with foliage; and a square abacus,
moulded on the edges, covers the whole. The entablature
is rather less than two diameters high ; three tenths of this
are given to the architrave, the same to the frieze, and
the cornice occupies the remaining two fifths. The archi¬
trave is unequally divided into three fascias, and a band
consisting of a cyma-reversa and fillet; the lowest angle
impends the upper face of the shaft of the column. The
frieze is in the same vertical line, and is covered with
a fillet which receives the cornice ; it is also enriched
with a composition of figures and foliage. The cornice con¬
sists of a bed-mould, two fifths of its height, and a corona
with crown mouldings. The bed-mould is divided nearly
equally between a cyma-reversa and fillet, a square den-
tilled member and fillet, and another fillet and ovalo. The
corona is two fifths the height of the rest of the cornice;
another fifth is occupied by two fillets and a cyma-rever¬
sa, and the rest is given to a cyma-recta and crowning fil¬
let. The whole projection is nearly equal to the height
of the cornice. The cymatium is enriched with acanthus
leaves and lions’ heads, and the mouldings of the bed-
mould and architrave band are carved. The soffit of the
corona is hollowed out in a wide groove, whose internal
angles are rounded off in a cavetto, but without ornament
of any kind, forming indeed a mere throating. Like the
angular capitals of the Greek Ionic, the external volute of
this is turned out and repeated on the flank: either that
or the abuse of it in the Composite capital gave rise to
distortions of this order, in which all the volutes of the
capital are angular, and consequently all its four faces are
alike. In other respects, however, it does not differ ge¬
nerally from the ordinary Roman examples of Ionic. The
Temple of Manly Fortune is pseudo-peripteral, and con-PI.LX.
sequently has neither antae nor pilasters, nor do ancient 12-
examples exist of either.
Of the Roman Doric.
This is even a ruder imitation of the Grecian original PI- RIX.
than the mean and tasteless deterioration of the voluted
Ionic is of the graceful Athenian examples. The speci-Ex. 4.
men of it which is considered preferable to the others is
476
ARCHITECTURE.
Roman that of the theatre of Marcellos in Rome. The column is
Doric, nearly eight diameters in height: it consists of shaft and
capital only. The shaft is quite plain, except fillets above
and below, with escape and cavetto; and it diminishes one
fifth of its diameter. The capital is four sevenths of a
diameter high, and is composed of a torus which forms the
hypotrachelium, and, with the necking, occupies one third
of the whole height. Three deep fillets, with a semitorus
or quarter-round moulding, are intended to represent the
ovalo and its annulets of the Greek capital. They occupy
three sevenths of the rest; the other four sevenths are
given to the abacus, three fifths of whose depth is plain
and vertical; and the other two is divided between a
cyma-reversa and a fillet.
The corona and crown mouldings of the cornice being
destroyed, the whole height of the entablature cannot be
correctly ascertained ; but from analogy it may be taken,
with the bed-mould, part of which exists, at about two
thirds of a diameter, making, with the architrave and
frieze, an entablature nearly two diameters high. Of this
the architrave is rather more than one fourth, indeed ex¬
actly half a diameter. Three tenths of its depth are un¬
equally occupied by the taenia, regula, and guttae, the first
being rather the widest, projecting more than its own
depth, and the second the narrowest. The guttae are six
in number, and are truncated semicones in form. The rest
of the surface of the architrave is plain and vertical, im¬
pending a point rather within the superior diameter of the
column. The frieze is two fifths the whole height of the
entablature. A fascia, one eighth of its own height, bands
it above the triglyphs, and projects about one third of its
depth; the rest of its surface is plain vertically, but hori¬
zontally it is divided into triglyphs, which are half a dia¬
meter in width, and are placed over the centres of the
columns. These are channelled with two full and two
hemiglyphs, whose heads are cut square on the outer
edge, but inclined downwards at the angle of the glyphs.
The space between the triglyphs is equal to the height of
the frieze without its plat-band or fascia, making in effect
perfectly square metopes. All that can be traced of the
cornice is a small cyma-reversa, immediately over the
frieze, and a square member with dentils on it. In the
example the cornice is completed from that of the Doric
of the Colosseum.
The temple at Cora presents a singular specimen of the
Doric order, evidently the result of an examination of
some Greek examples, but moulded to the Roman pro¬
portions and to Roman taste. The columns are enormous¬
ly tall, but the shafts are partly fluted and partly cham¬
fered for fluting, like the Greek. The capital is ridiculously
shallow, but the abacus is plain, and the echinus of a some¬
what Hellenic form. The entablature is very little more
than a diameter and one third in height, and the archi¬
trave of it is shallower even than the capital; but the
frieze and cornice are tolerably well proportioned, though
the triglyphs in the former are meagre, narrow slips, and
the latter is covered by a deep widely projecting cavetto,
that would be injurious to even a better composition. In¬
stead of regular mutules with guttae, the whole of the
planceer of the cornice is studded with the latter; but, like
the Greek, the triglyph over the angular column extends
to the angle of the architrave, which does not appear to
have been the practice of the Romans ; yet the reason for
so doing does not appear to have been understood, for the
external intercolumniations are the same as the others.
As far as we have the means of judging, the Romans
made the antae of their Doric similar to the columns, only
that they were of course square instead of round; though
indeed an attached column appears to have been gene¬
rally preferred.
It may, however, be here again intimated, that these two Roman
orders, the Ionic and Doric of the Roman school, ought Mouldings,
hardly to be considered as belonging to the architecture
of the Romans. They are merely coarse and vulgar adap¬
tations of the Greek originals, of which we now possess
records of the finest examples. If it were not, therefore,
that custom required it, we should have omitted all men¬
tion of them, or at least have left them to the Italo-Vitru-
vian school, to which they properly belong. Yet their
meanness and tastelessness, when compared with the
Grecian models, will more strikingly show the superiority
of the latter, and show, moreover, how the architects of
the Italian school must have been blinded by their system,
when they fancied such wretched exemplars as those of
which we have been speaking to be beautiful.
Of Homan Mouldings and Ornament.
The mouldings used in Roman architectural works are PL LVII.
the same as the Grecian in general form, but they vary
materially from them in contour. The Roman cyma-recta
is projected much more than the Greek, with a deeper
flexure; and the two parts or ends seldom correspond,
the one being generally larger than the other. On the
contrary, the Roman cyma-reversa does not project so
much, or at so large an angle with its base, as the Grecian,
nor is it so deeply fleeted as the Greeks made it. The
upper or convex part of this moulding is almost always
larger than the lower or concave; and it is frequently
allowed to finish below in a sharp arris projecting from
whatever is below it, and above it abuts upon the hori¬
zontal soffit of its covering fillet in a similarly harsh man¬
ner. The ovalo of Greek architecture is represented in
the Roman style by a moulding whose outline is nearly
the convex quadrant of a circle, or a quarter round, and
sometimes it is nearly that of the quadrant of an ellip¬
sis. The Roman torus is either a semicircle or a semi¬
ellipsis; and the bead is a torus, except in its applica¬
tion, and in being smaller, and generally projected rather
more than half the figure whose form it bears. The
cavetto, in Roman architecture, is nearly a regular curve,
being sometimes the concave quadrant of a circle, or in¬
deed the reverse of an ovalo, and sometimes a smaller
segment. A Roman scotia is more deeply cut, and is
consequently less delicate than the same member in a
Greek congeries: its form frequently approaches that of
a concave semiellipsis.
This correspondence in general form, and disagree¬
ment in spirit, of Greek and Roman mouldings, appear to
have arisen entirely from the ignorance or inattention of
the Romans to the governing principle of Greek combi¬
nations ; as we have seen that in these the individual
mouldings are not independent, as the Romans made
them, but that they take their contour and direction from
each other, under a certain pervading outline.
The enrichments of Roman mouldings are for the most
part similar to those of the Greek, but less delicate and
graceful both in design and drawing. Those of the cyma
and ovalo are particularly referred to, but the Romans
used others besides. Raffled leaves form a favourite en¬
richment in the architecture of the Romans : indeed these
are hardly less frequent in their works than the honey¬
suckle is in those of the Greeks. Mouldings were en¬
riched with them; and a raffled leaf masks the angles of
carved cymas and ovalos in the former, as a honeysuckle
does in the latter. Nevertheless, the honeysuckle and
lotus are both found in Roman enrichments, particularly
the latter, and perhaps even more than in Greek. It is
not uncommon to find examples of Roman architecture
completely overdone with ornament,—every moulding
carved, and every straight surface, whether vertical or
ARCHITECTURE. 477
Italian horizontal, sculptured with foliage, or with historical or
Arehitec- characteristic subjects in relief. This fault is most ob-
tmc. vjous jn those works which exhibit similar bad taste in
the general composition. The triumphal arch of Septimius
Severus, the little arch of the goldsmiths, and the half-
buried ruin called the temple of Pallas, in the forum of
Nerva at Rome, are egregious specimens. The entabla¬
ture of the arch of Titus, too, is overloaded with orna¬
ment.
Prieze enrichments, consisting of foliage composed with
animals, and a variety of other things, are very common
in Roman architecture. Many specimens indeed are not
found in existing structures, but there are numerous
fragments of entablatures of destroyed edifices which ex¬
hibit them in great variety. Their general character is
exuberance, and a tendency to frittering, from the variety
and incoherence of form in their composition; but their
effect can only fairly be judged of when seen in appro¬
priate situations. One existing example of an enriched
frieze of the kind referred to, that of the temple of Anto¬
ninus and Faustina, speaks strongly in its favour, for nothing
can surpass its efficiency and simple beauty; but it must,
moreover, be confessed that, when examined in detail,
the enrichment is less exuberant, and is composed of
fewer parts, than most others of the species to which that
example belongs. Architectural ornament, however, is
not confined to purely architectural works. We find many
beautiful specimens of it on the vases and candelabra
which decorated the baths and mansions of the ancient
Romans, and whose elegance of form rivals even the
beauty and delicacy of their enrichments. Whether these
should be referred or not to the Romans, is doubtful; for
it has been already intimated, from the style of many of
them, both in outline and ornament, which appertain more
to the Greek, that they are the productions of Grecian
artists; but indeed they belong exactly to neither, for they
frequently possess the beauties, and sometimes exhibit the
defects, of both. There are existing works, clearly of
Roman origin, far inferior in every respect to the objects
last mentioned. These are for the most part cenotaphial
monuments, sarcophagi, and altars, whose composition, de¬
tails, and enrichments, are gross and inelegant when com¬
pared with the objects alluded to. The difference may
arise merely from the inferiority of the artists of the one to
those of the other, and not from the difference of their
schools; but the prevalence of Greek taste in the superior
productions is not the less striking because it was acquired
by education, while it is wanting in the inferior, whose au¬
thors had not been imbued with the spirit and fine feeling
of the Greek style.
Of Italian Architecture.
Gothic architecture,—that is, the style wdiich preceded
the Pointed,—being for the most part a mere deterioration
of Roman, and possessing no peculiar character which
can recommend it as a subject for study and imitation
that may not be deduced from the Roman style, and
Pointed architecture being a genus per se, we have
thought it better to allow the Italian, or revived Roman
style, to usurp its chronological place; as the latter more
naturally follows what it pretends to be derived from, than
it would follow the Pointed, or than the Pointed would
the Roman.
We have already stated that Italian architecture,
though professedly a revival of the classical styles of
Greece and Rome, was formed without reference to the
existing specimens of either, but on the dogmas of an ob¬
scure Roman author, and the glosses of the “ revivers”
on his text. Vitruvius described four classes or orders
of columnar composition; and, on the principles which go¬
verned him in subjecting to fixed laws all the varieties Italian
with which he appears to have been acquainted, they form- Architec-
ed a fifth, of a medley of two of his, thus completing
the Italian orders of architecture. The school which
was founded on the \ itruvian theories has systematized
every thing, and laid down laws for collocating and pro¬
portioning all the matter it furnishes for architectural
composition and decoration. It teaches that columns
are modelled from the human figure; that the Tuscan
column is like a sturdy labourer—a rustic; the Doric
is somewhat trimmer, though equally masculine—a gen¬
tleman, perhaps; the Ionic is a sedate matron; the Co¬
rinthian a lascivious courtesan; and the Composite an
amalgam of the last two! In a composition which admits
any two or more of them, the rustic must take the lowest
place; on his head stands the stately Doric, who in his
turn bears the comely matron, on whose head is placed
the wanton, and the wanton again is made to support the
lady of doubtful character! But as we in this place are
neither apologists for nor impugners of any particular doc¬
trines, we proceed at once to point out the general fea¬
tures of the Italian style; premising only, that, according
to the practice of the school, every thing is confined
to an exclusive use and appropriation; such columns may
be fluted, and such must not; such a moulding may be
used here, but not there ; and so on. The proportions and
arrangements of an order, of any part of one, or of any
thing that may come within an architectural composition,
are fixed and unchangeable, whatever may be the purpose
or situation for which it is required; whether, for instance,
an order be attached or insulated, the column must have
exactly the same number of modules and minutes in
height. It is true that the masters of the school are not
agreed among themselves as to those things in which they
are not bound by Vitruvius; but every one not the less
contends for the principle, each, of course, prescribing
his own doctrine as orthodox on the unsettled points.
Mouldings are considered as constituent parts of an or¬
der, and are limited to eight in number, strangely enough
including the fillet. They are the cyma-recta, cyma-re-
versa, commonly called the ogive or ogee, the ovalo, the
torus, the astragal or bead, the cavetto, the scotia, and
the fillet. They are gathered from the Roman remains,
but reduced to regular lines or curves, which may be
drawn with a rule or struck with a pair of compasses.
Arranged according to certain proportions, with flat sur¬
faces, modillions, and dentils, a profile is formed; no two
conjoined mouldings maybe enriched, but their ornaments,
as well as the modillions and dentils, must be disposed so
as to fall regularly under one another, and, when columns
occur, above the middle of them.
An order is said to be composed of two principal parts, H. LXIJ.
the column and the entablature; these are divided into
base, shaft, and capital, in the one, and architrave, frieze,
and cornice in the other, and are variously subdivided in
the different orders. The Tuscan column must be made
seven diameters in height, the Doric eight, the Ionic
nine, and the Corinthian and Composite ten. The height
of the entablature, according to some authorities, should
be one fourth the height of the column, and, according to
others, two of its diameters. The parts of the entablature
of all but the Doric may be divided into ten equal parts,
four of which are given to the cornice, three to the frieze,
and three to the architrave; and in the Doric, the entab¬
lature being divided into eight parts, three must be given
to the cornice, three to the frieze, and the remaining two
to the architrave. For the minor divisions a diameter of
the column is made into a scale of sixty minutes, by
which they are arranged; but this is obviously irrelevant
if the whole height of the entablature is determined by
478 A R C H I T
Italian the height of the column, and not by its diameter; in this
Architec- casej therefore, they must be proportioned from the ge-
V—neral divisions already ascertained. Columns must be
, diminished, according to Vitruvius, more or less as their
altitude is greater or less; those of fifteen feet high, or
thereabout, being made one sixth less at their superior
than at their inferior diameter, and that proportion is
lessened gradually, so that columns fifty feet high shall
be diminished one eighth only. On this subject, however,
many of his disciples controvert the authority of their
master; and some of them have fixed the diminution at
one sixth of a diameter for columns of all sizes in all the
orders. The entasis of columns is disputed also, some
authorities making it consist in preserving the cylinder
perfect one quarter or one third the height of the shaft
from below, diminishing from thence in a right line to the
top ; while others, following Vitruvius, make the column
increase in bulk in a curved line from the base to three
sevenths of its height, and then diminish in the same
manner for the remaining four sevenths, thus making the
greatest diameter near the middle.
It being difficult to determine among the masters of
the Italo-Vitruvian school whose designs of the various
orders are to be preferred, we have selected those of
Palladio, certainly not for any superior merit they possess,
but because he is more generally esteemed than any other,
and because he the most strictly adhered, as far as he
could understand them, to the precepts of Vitruvius.
It should be remarked, however, that although Palladio
has fluted all but the shaft of the Tuscan column, he
very seldom fluted columns in his own practice; and
indeed it may be called the custom of the Italian school
not to flute, how much soever their doctrine may be to
the contrary; for fluted columns in Italian architecture
are exceptions to the general practice. Swelled or pil¬
lowed friezes are not peculiar to Palladio ; they are more
or less common to the works of most of the masters
of the same school. Prostyles being almost unknown
in Italian architecture, antse are not often required;
but when they are, the meanest succedaneum imagin-
Pl. LXVI. able is recurred to. Of this, Palladio’s Villa Capra, near
Fig. 3. Vicenza, and Lord Burlington’s Palladian Villa at Chis¬
wick, afford striking examples. Pilasters, however, are
very common, so common, indeed, that they may be call¬
ed pro-columns, as they are often used as an apology for
applying an entablature. They are described as differing
from columns in their plan only, the latter being round,
and the former square ; for they are composed with bases
and capitals, they are made to support entablatures ac¬
cording to the order to which they belong, and are fluted
and diminished with or without entasis, just as columns of
the same style would be. When they are fluted, the flutes
are limited to seven in number on the face, which, it is said,
makes them nearly correspond with the flutes of columns;
and their projection must be one eighth of their diameter
or width when the returns are not fluted ; but if they are,
a fillet must come against the wall. Pedestals are not con¬
sidered by the Italo-Vitruvian school as belonging to the
orders, but they may be employed with them all, and
have bases and surbases or cornices to correspond with
the order with which they may be associated. The dado
of a pedestal must be a square whose side shall be equal
to that of the plinth of the column or pilaster which rests
on it, or a parallelogram a sixth or even a fourth of a dia¬
meter taller. The intercolumniations of columns are call¬
ed pycnostyle, systyle, eustyle, diastyle, and araeostyle,
and are strictly adhered to in Italian architecture when
columns are insulated, and that is not very often; when
they are attached, the interspaces are not limited, except
when a peculiar arrangement called araeosystyle is adopt-
E C T U R E.
ed. This consists of two systyle intercolumniations, the Italian
column that should stand in the mid-distance between two Architee-
others being placed within half a diameter of one of them,' ^ure-
making in fact coupled columns or pilasters. It is applied
to insulated columns as well as to those which are attach¬
ed. Following Vitruvius, the Italian school makes the cen¬
tral intercolumniation of a portico wider than any of the
others. Arched openings, in arcades or otherwise, arepi. LXlir.
generally about twice their width in height; if, however,
they are arranged with a columnar ordinance, having co¬
lumns against the piers, they are made to partake of the
order to which the columns belong, being lower in propor¬
tion to their width with the Tuscan than with the Doric,
and so on; and the piers are allowed to vary in the same
manner, from two fifths to one half of the opening. With Fig. 11 A
columnar arrangements, moulded imposts and archivolts 12.
are used; the former being made rather more than a semi¬
diameter of the engaged columns in height, and the latter
exactly that proportion. Variously moulded key-stones
are used, too, projecting so that they give an appearance of
support to the superimposed entablature. Smaller columns Fig. 12.
with their entablature are sometimes made to do the duty
of imposts, and sometimes single columns are similarly ap¬
plied ; at others, columns in couples are allowed to stand for Fig. I n.
piers to carry arches. In plain arcades the masonry is gene- Fig. 13.
rally rusticated, without any other projection than a plain
blocking course for an impost, and a blocking course or cor¬
nice crowning the ordinance. Niches and other recesses
are at times introduced in the plain piers, which are in that
case considerably wider than usual, or in the spandrels over
wide piers. Very considerable variety is allowed in these
combinations, which will be best understood by reference
to the examples. Doors and windows, whether arched or
square, follow nearly the same proportions, being made, in
rustic stories, generally rather less than twice their width
in height, and in others either exactly of that proportion,
or an eighth or a tenth more. If they have columned or
pilastered frontispieces, these are sometimes pedimented;
and, except in rustic stories, whether with or without
columns, a plain or moulded lining called an architrave is
applied to the head and sides of a door or window. This
architrave is made from one sixth to one eighth the width
of the opening it bounds, and it rests on a blocking course
or other sill, as the case may be. In the absence of
columns or pilasters in the frontispiece, their place is fre- Fig. 2& 4.
quently supplied by consols or trusses of various form and and Plate
arrangement, backed out by a narrow pilaster, which may ^
be considered as the return of the frieze of the entablature, 1®‘ 2‘
and supporting the cornice. It is not uncommon for the
architrave lining to project knees at the upper angles,
and this is sometimes done even with consols and their
pilasters. With columned frontispieces to gateways, doors,
and windows, arose the custom, so frequent in Italian
architecture, of rusticating columns, by making them
alternately square and cylindrical, according to the heights
of the courses of rustic masonry to which they are gene¬
rally attached, and with which they are less offensive than
in other collocations. The practice of the Cinquecenlo
school of piling columns on columns, with their accessories,
is warranted by the doctrine of its master; but his pre¬
cepts not being practicable, recourse has been had to the
inferior works of the Romans, which present examples of Plate
it. The difficulty of preserving any thing like a rational LX •
arrangement is acknowledged on all hands to be great, ir 1*
not insurmountable ; for if the first or lowest order be at
an intercolumniation fitting its proportions, the second or
next above it, though diminished ever so little, is already
deranged, for it has the same distance from column to
column that the inferior order has, whilst the columns
themselves are smaller in diameter, and their entablature
ARCHITECTURE.
479
PI. LXVI.
Fig. 2.
PI. LXV.
consequently shallower. This derangement must of course
increase with every succeeding ordinance, rendering it
indeed impossible to make such a composition consistent.
The most approved practice in arranging order above order
appears to be, that the upper column shall take for its dia¬
meter the superior diameter of the one below it; that
when the columns are detached their axes shall be in the
same perpendicular line ; but when attached or engaged,
the plinth of the pedestal of the upper shall impend the
top of the shaft of the lower column. The most rational
mode, however, for diminishing, if reason can be applied to
such compositions, is to canry the diminution through, the
outlines of the columns of the lowest order being drawn
up in the same direction, and so the columns of every
story would take up their place and be diminished in re¬
gular gradation. When columns are attached, or pilasters
used, in Italian architecture, the almost invariable custom
is to break the entablature over every column or pilaster,
or over every two wrhen they are in couples. Because of
the great length of the intercolumniation, it would appear
to have been done at first; but it has frequently been done
by some of the most esteemed practitioners of the school,
even without that excuse, so that it may be held as approv¬
ed by them. A basement is either a low stereobate or a
lofty story, as it may be intended to support a single ordi¬
nance the whole height of the main body of the structure,
or indeed the lowest of two or more orders ; or as it may
occupy the ground story of a building, and support an
ordinance, or the appearance of one, above. In either
case, much is necessarily left to the discretion of the
architect; but in the latter the height of the order it is to
support is the generally prescribed height of the base¬
ment. A basement may be rusticated or plain; if it be
low, and is not arranged like a continued pedestal, it
must have neither cornice nor blocking course; but if
lofty, a deep, bold, blocking course is indispensable. An
attic may vary in height from one quarter to one third the
height of the order it surmounts ; attics are arranged with
a base, dado, and coping cornice, like pedestals, and gene¬
rally have pilasters broken over the columns below. The
rule for the form, composition, and application of pedi¬
ments in Italian architecture, if it may be gathered from
the practice of the school, appears to be to set good taste
at defiance in them all. We find pediments of every shape,
composed of cornices, busts, scrolls, festoons, and what not,
and applied in every situation, and even one within another,
to the number of three or four, and each of these of dilfer-
ent form and various composition. The proportion laid
down for the height of a pediment is from one fourth to
one fifth the length of its base, or the cornice on which it
is to rest. Balustrades are used in various situations, but
their most common application is in attics or as parapets,
on the summits of buildings, before windows, in otherwise
close continued stereobates, to flank flights of steps, to
front terraces, or flank bridges. Their shapes and propor¬
tions are even more diversified than their application : that
oi most frequent use is shaped like an Italian Doric
column, compressed to a dwarfish stature, and consequent¬
ly swollen in the shaft to an inordinate bulk in the lower
part, and having its capital, to the hypotrachelium, revers¬
ed to form abase to receive its grotesque form. The base
and coping cornice of a balustrade are those of an ordinary
attic, or of a pedestal whose dado may be pierced into
balusters. The general external proportions of an edifice,
when they are not determined by single columnar ordi¬
nances, appear to be unsettled. The grand front of the
PI. LX VI. harnese Palace in Rome is in two squares, its length being
l''g- 1* twice its height; the length of each front of Vignola’s
celebrated pentagonal palace of Caprarola is twice and a
quarter its height above the bastions. In Palladio’s works
we find the proportions of fronts to vary so considerably, Pointed
as to make it evident that he did not consider himself Architec-
bound by any rule on that point. In some cases we find ^uie*
the length to be once and one sixth the height, in others
once and a fourth, once and a half, twice, twice and a
sixth, and even thrice and a sixth ; and elevations by other
masteis of the school are found to vary to the same ex¬
tent. The proportions of rooms, again, range from one to
two cubes inclusive, though it is preferred that the height
should be a sixth, or even a fifth less than a side when the
plan is a square; but the sesquialteral form, with the
height equal to the breadth, and the length one half more,
is considered the most perfect proportion for a room.
There is considerable variety and beauty in the foliate
and other enrichments of an architectural character in
many structures in Italy, but very little ornament enters
into the columnar composition of Italian architecture.
Friezes, instead of being sculptured, are swollen; the shafts
of columns, it has been already remarked, are very seldom
fluted, and their capitals are generally poor in the extreme;
mouldings are indeed sometimes carved, but not often;
rustic masonry, ill-formed festoons, and gouty balustrades,
for the most part supply the place of chaste and classic
enrichments. This refers more particularly to the more
classic works of the school; in many of the earlier struc¬
tures of Italy, especially those of the Trecento period, and
on monuments of various kinds, we find what may be called
a graceful profusion of ornament, of the most tasteful and
elegant kind; few carved mouldings, however, and very few
well-profiled cornices, are to be met with in Italian compo¬
sitions of any kind. In many of the later architectural works
of that country we find again a profusion of ornament of the
most tasteless and inelegant description, chiefly in the gross
and vulgar style, which is distinguished as that of Louis XIV.
of France.
Of Pointed Architecture.
There are so many varieties of this beautiful style, and
the variations are at the same time so considerable and
so minute, that it is impossible to describe it generally.
Every country in which it was practised had some pecu¬
liarities in its composition, and, to develope it perfectly,
all of them should be pointed out. This, however, would
far exceed our limits; and as the specimens of our own
are not excelled, if indeed they are equalled, by those of
any other country, a consideration of the style as exhi¬
bited by them will afford us a better opportunity of de¬
veloping it than could be obtained by making our obser¬
vations more general.
Various classifications of Pointed architecture have
been made, and in almost all of them the arch is con¬
sidered the index, as the column is in columnar architec¬
ture ; for, like that, it is more expressive of variety than
any other feature in the composition to which each be¬
longs. These, too, form the grand distinctions between
the Greek and its derivative styles, and the Pointed; but,
independently of the column in the one and the arch in
the other, the two species of architecture may be said each
to have certain governing principles, which sufficiently dis¬
tinguish and make it impossible to mould them together
in one composition, and almost to apply any of the lead¬
ing forms of the one to the other. They may be thus
generally laid down. In Greek and Roman architecture
the general running lines are horizontal, as in entabla¬
tures and single cornices. In Pointed, the general run¬
ning lines are vertical. In the former, arches are not ne¬
cessary to a composition ; in the latter, arches are a really
fundamental principle. In Greek and Roman, again,
columns require an entablature ; in the Pointed style no
such thing as an entablature composed of parts is appli-
480
ARCHITECTURE.
7, 8, S 9.
Pointed cable to the pillars, columns, or shafts. ( Vide Rickman’s
Architec- Attempt, &c. p. 110.)
These, however, only determine the generic differences
which exist; the varieties in the former styles we have
found to be marked by such and such distinctive features
in the columns and their accessories, which allowed them
to be divided into orders. In the latter the varieties arise
chronologically, and, consisting for the most part in the
forms and arrangements of details, are not incoherent;
nor are certain proportions either fixed or determinable,
and consequently they cannot be rendered into orders.
It has been customary, in treating of Pointed architec¬
ture, to class with it the Saxon and Norman Gothic styles.
This is at least unnecessary, as they have no direct rela¬
tion to it, except that of immediate precedence in point
of time, and that the one was the stock on which the
other was grafted. The peculiarities of Pointed archi¬
tecture are indeed totally independent of those of its pre¬
decessor the Gothic; nevertheless we should hardly be
excused for passing over the latter in total silence.
According to the best authorities, there are very few
specimens of architecture now in existence in this coun¬
try which can properly be called Saxon, that is, of a date
anterior to the Conquest, and not of Roman origin; and
those few are of the rudest and most inferior description.
Saxon, therefore, as far as the architecture of this coun¬
try is concerned, is an improper term. All the ancient
structures which are distinguished by the semicircular
PI. LXIX. arch may be called Anglo or Anglo-Norman Gothic. It
Fig. 1, 2, consists principally of massive columnar piers supporting
3, 4, 5, 6. semicircular arches, similarly arched doors and windows,
and arches on small columns in relief, against a dead wall,
to ornament it. The pier when round has a rude foliate
or rounded capital, and generally a moulded base, and is va¬
riously ornamented on the surface, being altogether a rude
resemblance of the columns of Roman architecture: it is
at times polygonal, and sometimes piers consist of clusters
of small round shafts. Frequently in doors and windows thin
columns with rude capitals and bases receive the mouldings
of the arched head ; and, when the opening is divided, such
columns are placed like mullions, to support the inner arches.
There are examples of this style which are quite plain in
every particular; but it is generally enriched by deep con¬
geries of mouldings on the arches, which, when there are
no columns, run down the jams of doors. These are again
frequently carved, and mostly with the zigzag or chevron
ornament: grotesque masks, and rude representations of
animals, foliage, and flowers, form also common enrichments
in Anglo-Gothic architecture.
This style prevailed down to the reign of Henry II. of
England, when the pointed arch made its appearance. A
degree of impressive grandeur pervades its productions,
notwithstanding their clumsiness, arising from the great
simplicity of manner and massiveness of proportion by
which it is distinguished. The best existing specimens
in London are the vestibule of the Inner Temple church,
which, moreover, exemplifies the transition; many parts
of the church of St Bartholomew in Smithfield, and the
chapel of the Tower of London. Exemplifications of the
style are also to be found in the interiors of Norwich,
Chichester, Gloucester, Canterbury, Worcester, Roches¬
ter, Winchester, Durham, Peterboi-ough, Oxford, and Here¬
ford Cathedrals. According to Mr Rickman, the naves
of Peterborough and Rochester are the most unmixed
specimens. Parts, which are easily distinguished, of the
exteriors of many of the same edifices, portions of Lin¬
coln, and the towers of Exeter Cathedrals, Bigod’s Tower
at Norwich, and the White Tower in the Tower of Lon¬
don, afford characteristic external examples of the Anglo-
Gothic style. The most striking castellated remains are
those of Rochester in Kent, Hedingham in Essex, Conis- Pointed
brough in Yorkshire, and Guildford in Surrey. Many Architec-
minor edifices, principally ecclesiastical, exist in almost v ture'
every county in England. Mr Rickman remarks two speci-
mens of this style as peculiarly deserving of attention ; the
one in the vestibule or entrance of the chapter-house at
Bristol, and the other in the staircase leading to the regis¬
try of Canterbury Cathedral; the former for its simplicity
and beauty of composition, and the latter for its singularity,
and as exhibiting a very fine specimen of enrichment. The
roofs, or ceilings rather, of the Anglo-Gothic edifices, were
mostly of wood; but there are various examples of stone-
groined ceilings to be found in crypts, which appertain
to this style. Spires were unknown : there are, however,
turrets crowned with large pinnacles of a date anterior
to the introduction of the pointed arch, as in Rochester
Cathedral, and the Church of St Peter in the East at Ox¬
ford. I owers were not uncommon ; they are square mas¬
sive structures, rising to no great height above the roof of
the buildings to which they are attached. It may be re¬
marked in addition, that many of our ancient structures re¬
tain the circular-headed or Anglo-Gothic door, when all
the rest has been removed, and replaced by work of a later
date.
Architects and antiquaries have generally agreed in
dividing Pointed architecture into three styles of three
succeeding periods. The first commences with the esta¬
blishment of the pointed arch, and the formation of the
style or manner which accompanies it, in the latter part
of the twelfth century, the time of Henry II. of Eng¬
land ; the second arose in the beginning of the fourteenth
century, in the latter part of the reign of Edward I.,
and was itself superseded before that century closed,
about the time of Richard II., by the third style, which is
the latest, for with it, on the introduction of the Cinque-
cento, Pointed architecture ceased to exist. A difficulty
arises in appropriately naming these three styles, for on
that point there is no degree of accordance among those
who are best qualified to be considered as authorities.
Mr Rickman calls the first the “ Early English” style,
the second the “ Decorated English,” and the third the
“ Perpendicular English to all of which terms Mr Brit¬
ton objects, and, without giving appellations, except to
the first, which he calls the “ Lancet Order of Pointed
Architecture,” suggests that the second might be named
with propriety the “ Triangular Arched,” and the third
the “ Obtuse Arched.” Objecting strongly to the term
“ Order,” used by Mr Britton, we think with him that
the first might be appropriately called the “ Lancet Arch”
style; but his other distinctions are certainly not more
defensible than Mr Rickman’s. In the absence, there¬
fore, of unobjectionable distinctive terms, as the varieties
arise chronologically, we will speak of them as Periods.
Of the First Period of Pointed Architecture.
Mr Ric kman describes this style as being distinguished Plate
by pointed arches, and long narrow windows without ^I-
mullions, and a peculiar ornament, which, from its resem-Fl^- 1‘
blance to the teeth of a shark, he calls the toothed orna¬
ment. There is very considerable variety in the forms
and proportions of its different examples, as they retain
the massive character of the Anglo-Gothic, or tend to the
more florid style of the next period. In the former the Pl.LXVir.
sharp lancet arch is found at times, in a series of its nar- Fig- 12-
row windows, with rude piers between them, occupying
the place of the precedent large circular-headed opening;
and in other places springing from the round columnar piers jg8-
of the former period. In its more advanced works wepiate
find the same long narrow window systematically arranged, LX VIII.
singly or triply, with light clustered columns, against the Pig-1.
ARCHITECTURE.
481
Plate
I; XIX
Fig. 1,
Plate
Ij XVIII.
Fig. 1.
Pointed piers which divide them, receiving the deep congeries of
Architec- mouldings which forms the archivolt. Its columned pier,
too, consists of clustered shafts, generally on a round core,
and always forming cylindrical masses, girded at different
heights with slight rings or belts of mouldings. Their
PI. LXVII. capitals consist for the most part of congeries of mould-
Fig. 14. ings following the form of the shafts, though rich and
flowering capitals are not uncommon. Moulded bases,
too, are generally used, not dissimilar in form to what is
called the attic base of Italian architecture.
The lancet arch is described from two centres about an
acute-angled isosceles triangle in the line of its base, with
a radius equal to twice and one third (in some cases more,
and in some less) the length of that base, or of the span
the arch is to embrace. This, though the ordinary, is not,
however, the universal form of the arch in the first period ;
but the absence of mullions, and in general of tracery,
may almost be considered a criterion: yet foliations or
featherings are not uncommon, especially in doors, and as
enrichments to flat surfaces, though every thing of the
kind certainly indicates an approach to the style of the
succeeding period. Ribs on the angles formed by the in¬
tersections of arches in groined ceilings, not in ramified
tracery, but with bosses at their apices alone, appertain to
works of the first period. These ribs sometimes spring
from corbels, and sometimes from the heads of slight
shafts, which may run uninterruptedly from the floor to
the springing of the arched ceiling, against the walls or
against the columnar piers; and a small cornice or tablet
continuing round them, runs along horizontally to sepa¬
rate the vertical from the vaulted surface. Buttresses in
general, of various forms, sometimes in diminishing stages
and sometimes upright, with acutely gabled heads with¬
out crockets, but having finials—and flying buttresses in
particular—belong to this style. The tablets or cornices,
mouldings, ornaments, and the variety and arrangement
of niches, must be gathered from examples. The parapet
or battlement is straight and uninterrupted, and is either
plain or ornamented with series of arches or panels with
foliations. Turrets are in some cases square, in others oc¬
tagonal ; but the pinnacles which surmount them are al¬
most always of the latter form, and plain or crocheted, as
the work may be more or less ornate. Towers, in the
style of this period, were generally made to receive that
beautiful characteristic of Pointed architecture, the spire.
This, in the best examples, is octagonal in its plan, and
of pyramidal elevation, running to a point, or nearly so,
under an angle of about 12°, the angle at the base being
consequently 84°. In some cases the spire is richly crochet¬
ed like the pinnacles; but whether plain or crocheted, it
is surmounted by a bold finial.
The most perfect structure in this style throughout is
Salisbury Cathedral, which, unlike any other Pointed cathe¬
dral in England, except perhaps that of Bath, was begun
and finished in the same manner; and so excellent an
example is it, that it has been proposed to call the style
of the period the Salisbury style. Not inferior in merit,
and hardly less perfect a model of the same, is Beverley
Minster. That which is of later date in it is easily dis¬
tinguishable ; and being confined to particular parts, it
hardly interferes with the unity of the composition. The
transepts of York Minster are also of the first period, and
so is a great part of Westminster Abbey. The fronts of
Ely, Lincoln, and Peterborough Cathedrals exhibit good
specimens ot it. Indeed there is hardly one of all our
Pointed cathedrals which does not partake of this style
in a greater or less degree. It will be most generally
found interwoven with and superimposing the Anglo-
Gothic where that exists, and inferior to, when in con¬
nection with, works of a later period. Many of the mo-
VOL. HI.
nastic structures with which the country abounds pre- Pointed
sent very beautiful specimens of this style also. Among Architec-
other excellent examples of it may be particularized the v tine. ^
chapter-houses of Lincoln and Lichfield. Those beauti-
ful monuments which the affection of Edward I. induced
him to raise to the memory of his wife, called the Crosses
of Queen Eleanor, are in the style of the first period,
though they verge on that of the second, and indeed mark
the transition which took place in the latter part of that
king’s reign.
Of the Second Period of Pointed Architecture.
The style of this period, which is thought by many to
be the classic age of Pointed Architecture, is described
by Mr Rickman as being distinguished “ by its large win¬
dows, which have pointed arches divided by mullions, and
the tracery in flowing lines forming circles, arches, and
other figures, not running perpendicularly ; its ornaments
numerous and very delicately carved.” Mr Britton says
that “ during this period the Pointed style received its
greatest improvements ;” and that, limiting it to the time
of Edward III., “ the form of the arch then principally
in vogue admitted of an equilateral triangle being pre¬
cisely inscribed between the crowning point of the arch
and its points of springing at the imposts.” The mullions of
this style clearly result from the slender shafts which were
used in that of the first period against the piers dividing
a number of windows. The piers being removed, it be¬
came necessary that an arch should be turned from side
to side, leaving a space to be filled up in the head above
the smaller arches. This was done by repeating and con¬
tinuing their contours, and connecting them by gracefully
flowing lines and foliations. It is indeed but an extension Plate
of the former; for in some of the early examples the1'^111-
mullions are thin columnar shafts having capitals and 2 & 3-
bases, and the head of the arch is generally filled up with
regular figures, such as foliated circles, leaving spandrels
or triangular circular-sided spaces in various parts. It is
in the more advanced works of this period that the tracery Fig. 4&5,
becomes what may be truly called flowing. The mullionan(l Plate
is angular and moulded, and the mouldings run all through
the composition; the jamb or architrave mouldings also11^’ 1
run through, and for the most part without the inter¬
vention of any horizontal mouldings at the impost or
springing of the arch. Besides the ordinary covering
cornice or drip-stone following the form of the arch, we
find a moulded cornice, generally arranged pediment-wise,
embracing a window or door, having crockets and finials,
and resting on corbels, which are almost always masks.
This may be called an attached canopy. The columnar Plate
piers of this period are nearly square in plan, and are^XIN
placed diagonally. They are sometimes composed ofFiS- 2-
clustered shafts, and sometimes of shafts separated by
deep hollows. Their capitals are either moulded simply
in rather a deep congeries, or with woven foliage under a
moulded abacus. Their bases are a diminishing series of
bold mouldings, supported generally by a vertical-faced
octagonal plinth. The shafts which support the ribs of
the roof or ceiling tracery, in the finest examples of this
style, spring from rich and bold corbels in the angles of the
arches, or the spandrels, immediately above the piers. The
groining ribs do not adhere to the angles of the groins mere¬
ly, but are set more profusely to form tracery; and rich bosses
are put at every intersection. Buttresses of the second pe¬
riod are exceedingly various: on quoins they are mostly set
diagonally. They either diminish gradually in heights or Plate
stories, and finish under the cornice, or they run through LXX.
and are surmounted by pinnacles. In some cases the sets-‘S- 1-
off in diminishing are made simply with an inclined shelf;
in others every set-off is formed with a pediment properly
3 p
482 ARCHITECTURE.
Pointed enriched, and the face of the buttress is commonly orna-
Architec- mented with blank tracery in panels or in niches. Flying
*. tUrel 7 buttresses of this period are also more ornate than those of
the preceding; indeed in this they became ornaments,
whereas in the former they appear to have been kept out
of sight as much as possible. Parapets are either pierced
or embattled, and a similar variety is maintained in pedi¬
ments. Pinnacles are generally square, but they stand
diagonally with regard to the turret or buttress on which
they are placed, their angles resting on the apices of the
pediments which surmount the faces of the substructure.
These pinnacles are richly ornamented with crockets and
finials. Spires are less common in the more extensive
works of this period than in the precedent; but in those
of minor importance they are frequent, differing little,
however, from the same object in works of the first period,
except in being more highly enriched. Towers are richly
pinnacled; but the pinnacles rest for the most part on
small turrets rising from the angles of the tower itself,
and seldom from projecting turrets or from the heads of
buttresses, which latter are generally found to die away
below the cornice. The details and enrichments of this
style are too curious and complicated for verbal descrip¬
tion, but they may be gathered from the examples.
We possess no one complete cathedral of the second
period, but almost all our larger Pointed structures pre¬
sent specimens of it in a greater or less degree. Except¬
ing perhaps the upper story or belfries of the towers of
Plate York Minster, which are of the third period, its west
LXX. front is a model for this style, and it presents specimens
Fig- of almost all its external peculiarities. The nave of the
same edifice, and the interior of Exeter Cathedral, are
perhaps the finest examples of the second period. The
latter edifice, indeed, has the reputation of presenting a
greater and more pleasing variety of tracery than any
other of the same style. To these may be added the
cathedrals of Lincoln and Ely, both of which contain much
that is valuable. Next to these cathedrals may be placed
Beverley Minster, which is not only a mine of beauty of
the first, but it presents many exquisite specimens of this
period also. The steeple of St Mary’s Church, Oxford,
is a fine example in this style of the combination of tower
and spire. Many minor works in England, and several
in Scotland, are excellent; particularly much of what re¬
mains of the High Church, Edinburgh, much of the re¬
mains of Elgin Cathedral, and the largest portion of those
of Melrose Abbey, which, it would appear, was not ex¬
celled, when perfect, by any thing in the kingdom.
Of the Third Period of Pointed Architecture.
This is that period of the style commonly known as
florid Gothic. The first authority quoted with regard to
the styles of the two preceding periods calls it the Per¬
pendicular English, and says that this name clearly desig¬
nates it; “ for the mullions of the windows and the orna¬
mental panellings run in perpendicular lines, and form a
complete distinction from the last style.” Mr Britton,
however, insists that the term 'perpendicular, though per¬
haps proper enough, if the style could be sufficiently dis¬
tinguished by the mullions of the windows and the up¬
right forms and continuity of the panelling over entire
surfaces, “ gives no idea of the increased expansion of the
windows, nor of the gorgeous fan-like tracery of the vault¬
ings, nor of the heraldic description of the enrichments
which peculiarly distinguished this period; neither does
it convey any information of the horizontal lines of the
door-ways, nor of the embattled transoms of the windows,
nor of the vast pendents that constitute such important
features in the third division.” Although windows with
tracery in them may be determined as belonging to this
period, by the perpendicular and parallel lines found in the Pointeri
head or arch, and by the use of transoms to divide the Architec-
bays into heights, yet the presence of a window of this
kind does nothing towards fixing the style of the edifice piate
generally to which it may belong; for in hundreds of cases LXVIII.
this sort of window will be found where it is the only pig. 6.
specimen of its age or style in the structure. Other points
must therefore be attended to.
The simpler arches of this style are, like those of the pre¬
ceding periods, struck from two centres only; the two sides
or halves of the arch are similar segments of a circle whose Plate
radius in this case is about three fourths the width of the LXXI.
opening. Others are segments of ellipses, and are of course 1-
struck from four centres ; but some are eccentric curves,
which may be drawn, but cannot be described. Many of
both the latter descriptions are extremely flat or depressed,
the angle at their apex being very obtuse. The ogee or con- Fig. 8 & 11.
trusted arch is also found in works of this period, but this
is more common in internal tracery than in external form.
The modes of arranging tracery must be gathered from
examples, for they possess no degree of regularity to ren¬
der it possible to describe them generally in words. Mul¬
lions are richly moulded, and so are the architraves of
both doors and windows; the deep congeries of mould¬
ings forming architraves are not intercepted by horizontal
or impost mouldings, but run through from the head down
the sides or jambs. The angular or pedimented canopy to Plate
an arched opening in the style of the second period as-LXX.
sumes in this the form of a contrasted arch; it is corbell-*4?- *•
ed and enriched with crockets and finials as in that. Doors,
however, in this style are peculiar, because whatever the plate
form of the arched head may be, it is inscribed in a square LXXI.
frame or canopy, the spandrels being variously enriched. l-’ig. 1.
Columnar piers of this period are of almost parallelogramic Fig- L
form, thinner in the direction of the arches, and generally
plain on the longer sides, but deeply moulded and running
to a thin shaft on the outer edges. These mouldings are
those which enrich the arch, there being no capital of any
kind to intercept them, so that they run, as in windows
and doors, all round the opening. To this, however, there
are exceptions. The thin shaft which is formed on the
outer edge of the pier continues through from floor to
ceiling, to receive the groining ribs ; and it has a thin con¬
geries of mouldings at either end to form base and capi¬
tal. The tracery of the ribs of groined ceilings of this
period is most profuse, and beyond description intricate.
To this also belongs the absurdity called basket groining,
in which the arches are made to spring on one of their
sides from a pendent mass, which, though rich and gor¬
geous in appearance, threatens constant ruin. Quoin
buttresses standing diagonally are not so common in this
as in the preceding style: in form, however, they are not
dissimilar, excepting that the sets-off are plain moulded
slopes for the most part, instead of having pedimented or
triangular vertical heads, as in that. Flying buttresses
are, like the style generally, very much enriched, and are
very commonly used. Parapets are variously arranged;
indeed they embrace almost every peculiarity, being either
plain, panelled, pierced, or embattled; each decorated
arrangement is effected by different means. Pinnacles in Fig. 8 & IF
this style are generally square, but there are examples of
pinnacles which have a greater number than four sides; in Fig. 1.
the former and most usual case they are sometimes placed
with their sides parallel to those of their pedestals, and
sometimes diagonally: they are of course in every case
highly enriched with crockets and finials. Spires of this
are hardly distinguishable from spires of the preceding
period; and towers, of which there are innumerable spe¬
cimens, may be known by the construction of their but¬
tresses, and by the arrangement of the tracery in the heads
ARCHITECTURE. 483
Pointed of their windows, as the windows of towers are generally are straight and uninterrupted throughout their whole Beauty in
Architec- contemporaneous with that story, or stage of it at least, length. The ancient monuments of Egypt, of Greece, Architec-
to which they belong. Octagonal or otherwise polygonal and of Rome, offer the most complete exemplifications of ture*
turrets at the angles of buildings are not uncommon, and this. No other than the long, unbroken line which bounds
they generally finish with an embattled parapet. The the temples of Egypt could produce an effect so grand; PI. LII.
pedestals which support the pinnacles on the angles of and no other than the simple, square, and pyramidal'
towers, and at the heads of buttresses, seldom have pedi- forms, could be productive of so much dignity as they
mented faces, as in the preceding period, but finish with a possess. In the pyramids and obelisks of the same coun-
corbelled battlement, and not unfrequently send up minor try the effect of this simplicity is even more obvious. In
turrets and pinnacles from its angles. the temples of Greece, again, the same dignified simpli-Pl. L.
In the more ornate works of this style the enrichment city is still predominant; for although in them the paral-
of flat surfaces is carried to great excess, and it is gene- lelogram and pyramid are combined, they are not con-
rally effected by means of panelling. Niches with their fused; their mass consisting of a parallelopipedon whose
canopies, tabernacles, screens, and stalls, exhibit the most ends are surmounted by vertically faced pyramids, con-
exuberant profusion of ornament, for the most part effect- nected by an unbroken line of ridge running parallel to
ed in this manner; but we find, besides, a considerable the horizontal boundaries of the sides. Those of the Ro-
variety of ornaments, foliate and heraldic; of the former man monuments which are deficient in simplicity are also
the Tudor flower, which is a combination of the roses, is deficient in beauty. Such are the triumphal arches, PI. LX.
pleasingly predominant. whose general form is broken by columns and arches Fig. 10 &
The only one of the cathedrals entirely of this period which subject themselves to no commanding outline, but11-
is that of Bath ; but being generally inferior in merit are all at the same time prominent features of and ex-
to many other examples, it need not be cited. Many of crescences from the general composition. In the temples
the cathedrals, however, have large portions in this style, which are on the Greek model it is not so; nor is it so in
which can hardly be mistaken if the form of the arches, the long series of arches in the Roman aqueducts, which
the arrangement of the tracery, and the mode of enrich- are crowned and connected by commanding lines, unim-
ment, be attended to. The finest west fronts of the third peded by projections or protuberances of any kind. The
period to cathedrals are those of Gloucester, Winchester, crucial form of the Pointed cathedral may be thought to
and Chester; but that of Beverley Minster is by far the detract somewhat from its simplicity, and so much from
most perfect and most classic specimen in existence, not its beauty; but it is an aggregation of simple forms, per¬
flate excepting the front of Westminster Hall, which is also fectly coherent with the tendency of the leading lines in
LXXI. of great merit, and presents a classic exemplification of the style, which, we have seen, is vertical; and the lines are
!• most of the peculiarities of the style. I aken as sepa- therefore not broken by the projected masses of the tran-
rate edifices, the chapels of St George at Windsor, of septs, as they would be in the Egyptian and other styles,
Henry VII. at Westminster, and of King’s College at the tendency of whose commanding lines is horizontal.
Cambridge, are the most complete, as they are entirely Otherwise the Pointed cathedral is a modification merely
and peculiarly of the third period. The central towers of the form of a Greek temple, with other parallelogramic
of the archiepiscopal fanes of Canterbury and York, the forms added to it, as towers, or pyramidal, as spires. The
tower of Gloucester Cathedral, that of Magdalene College, same principle will be found to pervade the best works of
Oxford, Boston Tower, and the tower of St Mary Magda- the Italian school, more or less modified according to its
lene at Taunton, are singularly excellent examples of the application.
style. To smaller edifices, those of Wrexham and Gres- Next to the straight line is the circular; but the greater
ford in Wales, and of St Neot’s in Huntingdonshire, are complexity of this latter, and the variety of which it is
particularly beautiful. Of steeples, that is, towers having capable, render it more subtile, and for the most part less
spires superimposed, there are many fine specimens; but competent to produce grand and impressive effects, ex-
the most perfect, perhaps, in composition are those of cept under peculiar circumstances of situation and combi-
Bloxham in Oxfordshire, and Louth in Lincolnshire: the nation. A cupola such as the cupolas of St Peter’s at PI. LXV.
former is most admirable rather in general than in detail. Rome and St Paul’s in London, if placed on its base on
Many of the monastic ruins throughout the country pre- the ground, or even on a low structure, like a large bee-
sent excellent specimens of this style also ; indeed it is hive, would be not merely ineffective, but absolutely ugly;
to ecclesiastical structures we must look for architectural and if, in the situations they occupy, the cupolas referred
display in Pointed architecture, as in that of the Egyptians, to were without the diminishing pinnacles above them, to
Greeks, and Romans. We have just specimens enough bring their general outlines within that of the pyramid, it
existing of the architecture of the secular structures of is a question whether they would possess the attractive
our ancestors to show how inferior it was in merit to that beauty they now do. If St Paul’s be looked at in the
of the ecclesiastical; and if the castellated mansions of gray twilight of morning or evening, or when a mist ren-
the nobility, and the palaces of the sovereigns, cannot vie tiers its form indistinct, the impression conveyed by the
in excellence with the cloistered cells of the monks, we mass is that of a lofty pyramid or cone, rising out of the
may be well assured that ordinary domestic architecture substruction which the cathedral forms, and running off
was still more of an inferior cast. to a point in the sky. The superstructure of St Peter’s
„ is, as we have seen, more depressed, and less perfectly
Elements of Beauty in Architecture. formed in this particular; yet nevertheless it may be sub-
Simplicity and harmony are the elements of beauty in mitted to the same test, and the same or nearly the
architecture; simplicity in the general form and arrange- same result will follow. Furthermore, let a hemisphere
ment of a subject, and harmony in the collocation and or an oblate hemispheroid be supposed in the place ot
combination of its various parts. Without these qualities the prolate hemispheroid, as at present, and this reason-
a structure can never possess either dignity or grace, and ing will be rendered more clear; for neither of those
with them it will certainly possess the attractions of both, forms, even with the accessories these possess, would be
The outline, then, most conducive to beauty in architec- as beautiful; and without them they would be ungainly
ture, is that which bounds the most simple forms. These deformities, as is proved by that example on the new
are the parallelogramic and pyramidal, in which the lines palace in London, on the site of Buckingham House.
ARCHITECTURE.
484
Beauty in The cupola of University College, London, exemplifies this
Architec- point also; for though its profile is elegant, and its acces-
( lure- ; sories are generally good, the composition does not re-
solve itself into a simple form, and the result is far from
being beautiful.
When the circular form is employed cylindrically, the
utmost simplicity is required to be preserved in its hori¬
zontal, as well as in its vertical lines, or the result will be
totally devoid of all architectural beauty. In proof of
this, let the broken and dentilled columnar ordinance
which surrounds the tholobate of St Peter’s be compared
with the noble, unbroken peristyle in the corresponding
^ part of St Paul’s. In the former the cylindrical mass is
studded with a series of minute excrescences of coupled
columns ; and in the latter it forms a grand, beautiful, and
effective compartment of the composition.
The preceding remarks do not of course apply to the
interior of a structure in the same manner; for although
as high a degree of simplicity is required internally as ex¬
ternally, similar combinations are not necessary, nor are
they indeed always available. A spacious concave, of what¬
ever form its profile may be, so that its plan be a perfect
circle, is one of the grandest works of architecture, and at
the same time one of the most simple, whether it occupy
a compartment of the structure to which it belongs, as in
St Peter’s and St Paul’s, or cover the complete edifice to
Pl liX. which it appertains, as in the Pantheon at Rome. In
Fig- 4- such situations it is indeed almost impossible to destroy
its inherent simplicity; and being unconnected with exter¬
nal circumstances, it requires no coherence with any thing
else, being as independent of its substructure as of its ex¬
ternal contour for effect. Irregular and intricate forms,
however, in works of architecture, whether internally or
externally, will be found unpleasing. Few can admire the
Fig. 1 & 2. external effect of the Pantheon, or of the structure in
London called the Colosseum, which has been subjected
to the same arrangement, though certain features in both
may be indisputably good. To these may be added the
church in Langham Place, London, and indeed many
others; but that is an egregious example in point. The
complication of straight and circular in their composition,
and the consequent irregular forms and undefined out¬
lines, totally destroy both simplicity and harmony. The
comparison of an Eg}rptian obelisk with a monumental
column of the same relative size will afford the strongest
proof of the superiority the more simple form possesses
over the more complicate. None, however, but those who
have visited Rome, in which city alone the comparison
can properly be made, can duly appreciate this evidence;
but London furnishes a contrast almost as much to the
purpose, in the monument on Fish Street Hill, and the
lofty shot tower by the south-west abutment of Waterloo
Bridge. They are both of nearly cylindrical form ; but the
one is crowned by a square abacus, and the other by a bold
cornice, which follows its own outline. The greater sim¬
plicity and consequent beauty of the latter, having regard
to general form alone, are strikingly obvious.
Not only in general form and outline is simplicity ne¬
cessary to beauty in architecture, but also in all its details,
and even in its enrichments. In exemplification of this,
a plain Greek entablature may be compared with one in
the Roman style, in which every thing is sacrificed to
profuse ornament; and the style of ornament in the latter
may again with equal advantage be compared with that
of the age of Louis XIV. of France. In the arrangement
of the parts of a composition, as well as in the composi¬
tion itself, simplicity is essentially necessary to the beauty
of the whole ; every style will afford exemplifications of
PI. LV. this also, in the comparison of the more simple with the
Fig. 5. more complicate specimens of the same. Compare the
few simple and well-defined parts of a Grecian Ionic en- Beauty in
tablature with a Roman or Italian example of that order: Architec-
in the latter will be found a complexity and straining at
effect not at all consistent with beauty and dignity, de-
termining the comparison much in favour of the first; ^ IgTX-
and so in many other cases which might be cited. That pf’^xn
the more simple arrangement of columns at equal dis- pig. 4.
tances is superior to that in which they are coupled or
placed only alternately equidistant, is clear from the fact
that the latter mode was first proposed, and is only used
to obviate difficulties, and not from choice, except in the
works of the merest pretenders.
Harmony, concord, or fitness—of proportion, of form,
of one part of a composition to another, and in the collo¬
cation of the various enrichments which architecture re¬
quires,—is as necessary to its beauty as simplicity. We do
not speak of the agreement which should exist between
the manner or character of a structure and its application,
for that is purely conventional, and totally independent of
any architectural consideration. The merit or demerit
of a composition is not at all affected by the use to which
the edifice is applied; neither would its front be more
tolerable, nor its cupola less beautiful, if St Peter’s in
Rome were, by the course of events, to become a demo¬
cratic forum instead of a papal basilica; nor is the monu¬
ment of London a more or less elegant object, whether it
be understood to record a triumph or a defeat—the burn¬
ing of the city, or its re-edification. Harmony in archi¬
tecture is that agreement which exists between its various
parts, as in the relation of a column to its entablature and
stylobate, in the accordance of a cornice with the eleva¬
tion it crowns, and in the coherence of one part of a com¬
position with another. It is that which exists in the com¬
mon tendency of the leading lines of a structure; and it
is that which blends the straight and circular in enrich¬
ment or decoration, as in the capital of an Ionic column
whose square and horizontal form is harmoniously adapted
to the vertical lines and cylindrical form of the shaft, by
the intervention of the volutes. An inharmonious combi¬
nation arises out of the collocation of the same voluted
capital with a pilaster or squared pier. This quality re¬
quires a judicious arrangement of ornament. That a cer¬
tain degree of enrichment should pervade the whole of a
composition, and not be confined to one part of it—for in¬
stance a Corinthian ordinance, in which the columns are
unfluted and the entablature is quite plain—is inharmoni¬
ous ; for the capitals being masses of rich foliage, are
spots, having nothing to connect them with the rest. A
degree of harmony must exist, too, between the solids and
vacuities of an edifice. An Italian portico, with its thin
and straggling columns, is an inharmonious object, for it
conveys an idea of infirmity and poverty, which is not the
case with one proportioned like the best Greek and Ro¬
man examples. In the front of a house, windows and the
piers between them being too wide or too narrow will af¬
fect its character in this respect. The comparative size
of various portions of the same composition, though they
be in themselves simple and harmonious, may be such that
they shall not be so in combination. The portico of Uni¬
versity College, London, is of great extent and considerable
beauty, and the cupola behind and above it is of elegant
form, though deficient in another particular, as we have
already stated; yet they do not harmonize—the one is much
too large for the other, and their forms are incoherent.
Thus harmony has reference to comparative magni¬
tude, strength, decoration, disposition, and proportion.
To acquire a knowledge of all these sufficient to produce
a worthy result, a long course of study and careful obser¬
vation are necessary: but such can only be necessary to
the architect; it is enough for the general student to be
ARCHITECTURE.
485
Cornposi. able to appreciate them when present, and to detect their
Uon. absence.
^ '
Principles of Architectural Composition.
These must be different in the widely differing species
of architecture, whose tendencies in the one are to hori¬
zontal or depressed, and in the other to vertical or upright
lines and forms; the former including all those varieties
which proceed from the Greek and Roman modes of de¬
sign, or columnar and circular-arched architecture; and
the latter embracing those which arise out of the pointed
arch, and which we have distinguished by the term
Pointed. Except in the elements of architectural beauty,
which must be the same in all architectural works, there
is no similarity whatever between the principles which
govern composition in the two species. Simplicity of form,
and harmony between the parts, are as essentially neces¬
sary to the one as to the other; but instead of the leading
horizontal lines required by the former, the latter is dis¬
tinguished by the absence of commanding lines having
that tendency, and by the presence of strongly marked
lateral projections and vertically inclined lines. The rec¬
tangular figure formed by the front of a Greek temple,
below the pediment, rests on one of its longer sides as a
base. In a Pointed composition that order is reversed,
and one of the shorter sides becomes the base ; and the
pediment, instead of being a depressed obtuse-angled tri¬
angle, becomes upright and acute-angled ; the whole mass,
moreover, follows the change thus described, so that the
same figure, a parallelepiped, is set for horizontal or ver¬
tical composition, as a larger or smaller side is made the
base. This being tbe case, it will be necessary to treat
of them separately; for rules which apply to the one are
totally inapplicable to the other, and the former, being of
most common application, may be taken first. We shall
quote the principles which appear to have actuated the
Greek and Roman architects in the production of their
best works, or rather the principles which those works de-
velope, instead of citing all existing ancient works as au¬
thorities; and determine on those principles how to pro¬
duce similar results in cases of which examples do not
appear in ancient practice. In the same manner, we must
deduce the principles for general composition in the
Pointed style, from those which appear to enter into its
best existing works.
Of Horizontal Composition.
Every thing tending to break the continuity of the lead¬
ing horizontal lines in a composition should be avoided.
The advantage of adhering to this, and the disadvantage
PI. LXVI. resulting from the breach of it, are clearly exemplified in
* ^ !• the front of the Farnese Palace, and in the flank of St
I’1- • Peter’s at Rome. In London, too, the fronts of the Ban¬
'S- -• queting House at Whitehall, and of Somerset House to
the Strand, offer similar exemplifications of the principle;
the former having both the entablatures and the stylobate
of the upper ordinance broken round every column, which
makes the ordinances mere excrescences, and the latter pre¬
serving the leading lines continuous and unbroken through¬
out, to the manifest advantage of the whole composition.
1 his applies equally to columned and arcaded ordinances,
and to compositions in which neither is used; and it is as
much opposed to the projection of masses to form wings
and centres, whether shallow or deep, as to the breaking
of an entablature or stylobate round one or two columns.
Sufficient variety of light and shadow is attainable with¬
out the use of columnar ordinances at all, as the Farnese
Palace evinces. But if, however, it be required to give
a greater degree of importance to an elevation than can
be attained in that manner, it may be produced w-ithout Composi-
either attaching or insulating columns the whole extent, R011*
by means of antae and recessed compartments with co-*^^^^^
lumns in them, as on either side of the gates in the north
or Lothbury front of the Bank of England, and on the flanks
of the churches of StPancras and St Martin in London ; but
a mere pilastraded ordinance, or pilasters with an entabla¬
ture and without columns, is bald, tasteless, and unmean¬
ing, as the front of Crockford’s Club-house, in London
also, very clearly shows. In speaking of the Italian style,
we have shown the injudiciousness of putting order above
order, because of the impossibility of maintaining a ra¬
tional arrangement with regard to diminution and inter-
columniation. We made that, too, an objection to the ele¬
vation of the Roman Colosseum ; but the practice is more- Pi. lx.
over objectionable, because of the repetition of the simi-Fig. 1.*
lar parallel lines of the entablatures, similarly projected too,
which destroy the breadth a composition should possess ;
and because the upper and crowning cornice, if in propor¬
tion to its own ordinance, must be disproportioned to the
wLole elevation which takes from that member a charac¬
ter of grandeur or meanness, as it may or may not be fit¬
ted to its whole height. This is made very evident by
the opposed fronts of the United Service and AthenEeum
Club-houses in London, the former of which is finished
by the thin shelf-like cornice of a second order, and the
latter by a crowning cornice which has some relation to the
whole height of the building. In a similar manner, and for
the same reason, the practice of raising lofty basements
to support columnar ordinances is injudicious ; and this
detracts much from the merit of the front of Somerset
House just referred to, by making the crowning cornice of
less importance than it should be. In St Paul’s this fault
is partially relieved by the somewhat exaggerated size of
the cornice of the upper order, and by the insertion of
cut blocks, in the manner of upright modillions, under it
the whole depth of the frieze. Nothing, again, should be
allowed to superimpose a crowning cornice, except what
may form a part of itself, as antefixm; where, however,
something is absolutely necessary, as on a bridge, a close
simple parapet, as low as it may be conveniently, should
be resorted to. On the principle first developed, porti¬
coes should not be projected from the front of a building,
unless they occupy the whole extent of it, as in a Greek
or Roman temple, and so carry the horizontal lines unbro¬
ken to the flanks; or they should be made distinct and
independent objects, to which the rest of the composition
may be subservient, as in University College. A porti¬
co should moreover be considerably projected, or the- sur¬
face behind it recessed, that the columns may have a back¬
ground of shadow, otherwise it will be poor and inefficient.
Of this the Greek temples offer a favourable exemplifica¬
tion; and most of our churches, and other modern edifices
which have porticoes to them, prove the correctness of the
principle in the breach of it. Exceptions more or less
favourable certainly exist, whose superior merit is suffi¬
cient to indicate them. A pediment should never be used
unless it is made to embrace the whole of the end or
front to which it is attached. Numberless absurdities
have arisen in Italian architecture from the injudicious
application of this form; so general, indeed, is it, that
the fact of a pediment existing under any circumstance
in a work of that style is almost a sufficient reason for
avoiding a similar use of it. Nothing is more difficult
than to combine straight and circular, or otherwise bend¬
ing lines, with propriety and good taste, and therefore
theircollocation, in general composition particularly, should
be seldom attempted. It is when they harshly contrast,
as in circular pediments, and in mixed compositions of
columns or pilasters, with their accessories, and arches and
ARCHITECTURE.
486
Composi- their piers, that the combination is bad; but not so in the
tion. connection of the arch with its pier, so that the former
be semicircular or semielliptical, and not smaller segments,
in which cases they fall naturally and gracefully together.
The incoherence and inelegance of contrasted straight and
circular forms are very evident in the New Exchange at
Paris, where two tiers of circular-headed windows are seen
within a Corinthian peristyle. Circular prostyles or cyr-
toprostyles should be avoided, as their horizontal lines
cannot be made to harmonize perfectly with any form to
which they may be attached. This however does not apply
to peristyles ; and both the one and the other are exempli¬
fied by the transept porticoes and columned tholobate of
St Paul’s. The use of coupled columns is so absurd, and
they are confessedly so inelegant, that it seems almost
unnecessary to denounce them. Suppose apertures, such
as windows, arranged in couples throughout an elevation,
with very narrow and very wide piers alternating, and both
the absurdity and the inelegance become manifest: now,
neither the one nor the other can be either lessened or
changed by reversing the case, and putting alternately
wide and narrow openings, as in coupled columnar ordi¬
nances. Columns may with propriety be put further apart
when they are attached than when they are insulated,
because the entablature, resting in part on the wall, is
neither in fact nor in appearance made infirm by the dis¬
tension, as it would be if it rested on the columns alone.
All the parts of the same edifice which come into view,
under any circumstances at the same time, should corre¬
spond ; but insulated and attached columns of the same
ordinance and in the same elevation may, under certain
circumstances, without impropriety be arranged with a dif¬
ferent intercolumniation.
An arcaded ordinance should be considered as only
more massive than, and differently shaped from, a colum¬
nar, and may therefore be governed by nearly the same
principles. A pier is but a differently shaped and more
massive column, and the archivolt but a succedaneum
for the architrave ; while a bold blocking course, or a com¬
mensurate cornice and frieze, as the composition may be
more or less ornate, will complete the ordinance. Under
this view nothing can be more absurd than to affix columns
or pilasters to the piers of an arcade to support an enta¬
blature, and certainly nothing can be more inharmonious,
from the contrast which arises, as we have just remarked,
between the rectangular lines of the latter, and the in¬
scribed circular lines of the arch, as well as the incon¬
gruity necessarily attending the interspaces of the columns.
In speaking of Greek and Roman architecture, we have
shown why columns should, and why antae and pilasters
should not, be fluted ; and have shown also, that a certain
degree of richness or plainness of surface should pervade a
composition, and not be confined to particular parts of it.
It will now be enough to add, that in composing, lights
and shadows should not be scattered on a surface as they
are on the front of the Banqueting House, by broken ordi¬
nances ; nor should either be too much narrowed, as the
light on the corona of a Roman cornice too frequently is,
by the too great projection of the cymatium. It will be
found, moreover, that shadows projected horizontally are
more in coherence with the horizontal style of composi¬
tion, than those which fall laterally, or from a vertically
projecting object.
Columns, &;c.—The proportions of the columnar orders
will be best sought in the existing examples of the an¬
cients ; and those we give of them afford sufficient va¬
riety. What is deficient in one may be made up from
another; and what appears superfluous in one example
may be omitted, as its omission may appear beneficially
to affect another. The Doric may be adopted from the
Parthenon or the temple of Theseus, as the best existing Composi-
models of the order. If an ungraduated stylobate be tlon-
used, which should be avoided if possible, it should not
exceed one diameter in height. The intercolumniation •
should not exceed one triglyph, as in the Greek temples,
though for compositions of a generally less dignified cha¬
racter it may, perhaps, be extended to two. A good mo¬
dern example of tbe Doric order, in a work of the latter
description, may be seen in the small entrance portico to
the University Club-house in London. The Ionic example PI. LY.
from the Erechtheum, which we have given, may be
used as a model for that order, with the same restriction
with regard to the stylobate which is made to the Doric.
Additional depth may with advantage be allowed to the
bed-mould of the cornice, and it may be effected by the
insertion of a dentilled member, which indeed some of
the ancient Greek (though not Athenian) examples pos¬
sess. The intercolumniation should not be less than one
diameter and a half, nor should it exceed two diameters.
In London this order is admirably applied in the front of
an Episcopal chapel on the east side of North Audley
Street; and this particular example is very correctly co¬
pied on the exterior of the church of St Pancras. The PI. LIX.
great inferiority of the Roman examples of the Doric and Ex. 3. & 4.
Ionic orders is too evident to require that what it consists
in should be pointed out, and they are the models of the
Italian. The Greek example of the Corinthian order pi. LVI.
might perhaps be improved by making the dentil member Fig. 3.
of the cornice a little shallower, by projecting the corona
rather less, and by correcting the form of some of the
mouldings of the entablature generally. If the columns
be used in a prostyle or other position to insulate them,
they may with advantage be made half a diameter less in
height; and the intercolumniation should be made less than
it appears in the original, where the columns are attached.
This example has been well executed in the entrance to
the Philadelpheion or Exeter Hall, in the Strand; but the
pedestals and the attic are blemishes in the composition.
Of the Roman examples of this order, that of the temple PI. LVIII.
of Jupiter Stator is certainly the best. Its greatest fault Ex. 11.
is the too great magnitude of the cornice, of which every
member, except the corona, might advantageously be re¬
stricted one tenth of its height; that which is dentilled
might indeed be reduced one fifth. The projections might
also be diminished in the same proportion, removing the
greater diminution of one fifth in this particular from the
dentilled member to the cymatium, and the ovalo under
it, both of which project by far too much. The three fas-
cias of the architrave are too unequally divided. The
lowest may be made as wide as the middle one, by de¬
ducting their difference from the third or upper one. In
the Tivoli example the architrave is too shallow, and so Ex. 2.
are the dentil band and corona of the cornice; and the
cymatium is both too deep and too much projected. The
cornice would moreover be improved by denticulating the
dentil band, and by enriching the frieze with an ornament
less coarse and less massive. If this example be used in
a generally ornate composition, some of the mouldings of
the entablature should be enriched. The parts of the
entablature of the temple of Antoninus and Faustina are Ex. 3.
well proportioned to each other. The cornice of this ex¬
ample would be improved by giving additional height to
the dentil band at the expense of the moulding above it,
and by denticulating it also. The cymatium is rather too
shallow, and may be widened out of the moulding under
it; and both should be restricted in their projection at
least one fifth. The capital of this example is poor, and
its abacus is too shallow. The shaft requires fluting, and
one half the depth of the upper fillet of the base might be
added with advantage to the tori and scotia. The cited
ARCHIT
Composi- example from the portico of the Pantheon has, like the
tlon- last mentioned, the parts of its entablature well propor-
tioned to each other. As in the Jupiter Stator example,
Fx 4VI11' ^ie architrave should be more equally divided. The
mouldings, too, separating the fascias, should be made
less ; and the superior moulding, at least of the archi¬
trave, carved, unless the frieze were enriched, and then it
would not be necessary. In the cornice a fifth or sixth
should be taken from every member of the bed-mould
and added to the corona. In the presence of modillions,
however, the dentil band is judiciously kept plain, though
the moulding below it would be better if enriched. The
capital of this example is as faulty as that of Antoninus
and Faustina, and in the same particulars. The shaft also
requires fluting, and the base might with advantage be
made to spread more. The ordinance of the temple of
FI. LIX. Mars Ultor, though the most masculine, is, from its good
Fx. 1. proportions, and the bold character of its foliage, one of
the most excellent of the Roman Corinthian examples.
Most of the entablature being supplied from a not well
authenticated source, may not be original; but that is of
no consequence, if it be beautiful. The corona, like that
member in most Roman entablatures, wants greater depth ;
and the cymatium perhaps less, and certainly less projec¬
tion. *In this, as in the first-mentioned Roman example,
with modillions there are dentils. This is injudicious;
the member would be better plain, as in the Pantheon
ordinance. The architrave, which is authentic, is exceed¬
ingly well proportioned, and the column is fine in all its
parts. These examples all vary in their intercolumnia-
tion, from rather less than one diameter and a half to a
fraction more than two diameters, beyond which propor¬
tions, either less or more, it would not be well to go. A
stylobate to the order might judiciously be adapted from
the Greek; for the stilted effects produced by insulated
pedestals, and even by continuous vertical stylobates, are
injurious to the general appearance of a columnar compo¬
sition ; and the thin steps in common use detract exceed¬
ingly from its beauty under any circumstances.
There are many varieties of the foliate capital which
may be used with advantage ; one of the least elegant,
however, is that which assumes the distinction of being
called the Composite order. The example of it from the
F.x. 2. arch of Titus is one of the best, if not the best; but it
will be seen, on comparison, to be strikingly inferior to
the Corinthian examples, or those in which the volutes
of the capital are made subservient to the foliage, instead
of being distended into huge mis-shapen knobs. The en¬
tablature, too, is only an exaggerated Corinthian. If it be
wished to use foliate capitals differently composed from
the ordinary, it may be well to preserve the character
and proportions of the entablature the same, or nearly so.
Under any circumstances, however, care should be taken
in composing an entablature, that it have sufficient height,
and yet not be too heavy; that it be sufficiently divided,
and yet not frittered; that the parts have sufficient
breadth, and be not so much projected as to bury all
that is below them in shadow; and that ornament be pro¬
perly distributed, and in sufficient quantity, without over¬
loading the composition with it, as in the ordinance of the
arch of Titus.
If again it be wished, under any circumstances (though
Pi. LVI. the practice cannot be recommended), to use human
Fig. 4, 5, figures as columns, there appears to be no reason why
6. the entablature should be executed without a frieze, as it
is in the example of the Pandroseum; and if a frieze be
inserted, it should be by lessening the other parts, and
not by increasing the whole, as that entablature (taking
it as a model) is quite deep enough in proportion to the
height of the ordinance.
E C T U R E, 487
Entasis in columns need not be regarded, unless they Composi-
exceed eighteen or twenty feet in height; but it adds tion-
much to their beauty, and should not be neglected when''--^~v”",''~*/
they are above that magnitude. No rule can be given for
its production, but it may be thus described. The shaft,
instead of being the frustum of a regular cone, is the
frustum of a cone whose outline is not straight, but
slightly convex; so that if it were perfect, its vertical sec¬
tion would have the form of a very acute pointed arch.
This convexity should, however, be so slight as in the
finished shaft to be hardly distinguishable. Its abuse is
evident in the columns of the east front of the church of St
Paul, Covent Garden, and indeed in some of the less es¬
teemed works of the Greeks themselves. The modes of
fluting in the different orders may be gathered from the
examples. The flutes should be deeper or shallower, as
the collocation of the ordinance may require a greater or
less depth of shadow on the surface of the columns. The
elliptical or nearly elliptical contour seems to be the
most generally pleasing. The flutes meet in an arris on
columns of the Doric order, and are separated from each
other by alternating fillets in the Ionic and Corinthian.
AntcB and Pilasters.—These should seldom be used, ex¬
ternally at least, unless with columns, for their real use is
to connect a columnar ordinance with the walls to which
it is attached ; and being, as they are, but slight projec¬
tions from walls for that purpose, nothing can be more
absurd than to give them the features of columns, either
by the application to them of similar capitals and bases,
by diminishing, or by fluting. The use of antae was right¬
ly understood by the Greeks, but not by the Romans ; and
their proper use may be seen in the works of the former.
The examples in London of their judicious application,
most worthy of remark, are in those edifices already men¬
tioned as exhibiting good specimens of the Greek orders,
in the Bank of England, and in the portico only of Uni¬
versity College. The adaptation in these of other than
the bold foliage and branching cauliculi of the columnar
capitals in the Corinthian ordinances to the antae caps is
particularly worthy of notice (though they are not all of
equal merit as compositions), as the Greek remains are
without a regular example of Corinthian antae, and the
Roman practice is inelegant.
Pediments.—As there is no mode by which the pitch of
a pediment can be determined, it must be left to the taste
of the designer to be governed or not by the examples of
Greek and Roman antiquity: it may, however, be pre¬
mised of them generally, that those of the former school
are too flat, and those of the latter too steep. The pedi¬
ment of the portico last above referred to is admirably
proportioned to the rest of the composition, but its pitch
would be absurdly flat if applied to a tetrastyle portico.
The inclined sides of a pediment are covered by a cornice
similar to that which forms its base, except that all blocks,
modillions, and dentils are omitted, even if the bed-mould
itself be retained, and a cymatium superadded.
Cornices, &;c.—Although a perfect entablature should
not be applied to crown an edifice, except it be in con¬
nection with columns of some sort, or their legitimate re¬
presentatives, piers, yet a single cornice, or a cornice and
frieze, is not so; and it forms the most pleasing termina¬
tion to an elevation in which columns are not used. The
proportion of one or the other may be best found by set¬
ting out a columnar ordinance of the style preferred at
the height of the elevation ; and the size of the cornice or
cornice and frieze thus given will aptly become it. The
Vignolan or block cornice, in which the frieze is occu¬
pied by cut blocks, is exceedingly effective: it is this
which Sir Christopher Wren has employed in the upper PI. LXVI.
entablature of St Paul’s, and Vignola himself in the front Fig. 2.
488 ARCHITECTURE.
Composi- of the Villa Giulia. With these cornices rustic quoins
tion. consort very pleasingly, and so they do indeed with all
single cornices which are of a bold character, and all such
should be so.
PI. LXII. Arcades, &;c.—The most graceful average proportion
for these is, that the opening be twice the width of the
pier, and twice its own width in height to the crown of
the arch. The practice of the Italian school in the com¬
position of arcaded ordinances may be generally followed
with advantage, except in mingling and confusing them
with columnar. The pier is based by a deep square plinth,
and surmounted by a square or moulded cap or impost,
the upper surface of which is the base line of the arch.
In rusticated work the radiating stones of the arch show
their joints, and are cut to a uniform appearance with
the ordinary surface of the wall. In other cases there is
a moulded archivolt, whose width varies from an eighth to
a tenth of the opening of the arch. A dropping keystone
is generally used; but this very much injures the simpli¬
city, and consequently the beauty of the arch, and should
be avoided.
Doors and Windows, Sfc.—The most approved propor¬
tion for these apertures, also, is twice their width in height.
In an elevation which comprises several tiers or stories, it
is customary to make those of the lowest or ground story
rather less than that proportion in height; those of the
first or principal story rather more; those of the second
somewhat less again; and those of the third (if there be
so many) square or even lower. If, however, the eleva¬
tion consist of but two, the ground story should be the
principal, and its windows of the most importance (if
any difference be made between them at all), those of the
upper story being then less than the stated proportion in
height. The modes of ornamenting doors and windows
are so various, and they depend so much on the coherent
parts of the composition, that it is impossible here to go
into their varieties, or to give particular instructions for
their adaptation. The practice of the Italian school may
in this case also be generally followed, avoiding those
things in it which are injurious, and referring to the Greek
for the details of mouldings and ornament. The applica¬
tion of a columnar ordinance to every door or window,
giving it the effect of a little edifice in relief, exemplified
by the windows of the principal story of the Farnese Pa¬
lace, must be censured as injudicious; and so must pedi¬
ments of all kinds, but particularly those formed with cir¬
cular lines, or lines twisted in any way, or, though right
lined, not meeting in a point at the apex. In basements
or ground stories windows or doors may be lined with
rustic courses with good effect, though the face of the
wall be not rusticated; and if it be so, no other lining is
thought necessary. The windows of a principal story may
be lined with an architrave, either quite straight or re¬
turning in knees at the head, and resting on a continuous
blocking course below. This architrave may be surmount¬
ed by an enriched frieze and cornice, the former bounded
at the ends, and the latter upborne by trusses or consoles,
which may rest on or be affixed to a species of pilaster,
outside the architrave, and parallel to it; if detached sills
are preferred, a shorter and bolder truss may be judicious¬
ly applied below the sill, under the foot of each pilaster,
to complete the composition : the architrave is generally
a sixth or a seventh of the opening in width, and the con¬
sole and its pilaster about a ninth or tenth. Upon no ac¬
count should rustics be run through the architrave lining
of a window, as on the flanks of St Martin’s Church in
London. A series of circular-headed windows conjoined,
as in the earlier works of the Venetian school, is produc¬
tive of a pleasing effect; but the large circular-headed,
with two conjoined smaller rectangular windows, found in
the later works of the Italian school, and called Venetian, Composi-
is radically inelegant; and there is such a one in the turn,
east end of the structure last mentioned. Blank windows
should be recurred to as seldom as possible; and when
they cannot be avoided, they should have sash-frames and
sashes as if they were real windows, otherwise they give a,
maimed effect to an elevation.
Niches.—There are very few cases in which these do
not act injuriously on a composition, from the difficulty of
making them cohere with the other parts: the usual
mode in Italian practice is to give them the effect of win¬
dows, which cannot be approved of. Internally they may
be used with much better effect than on exteriors. If a
niche is intended to receive a statue, it should have a cir¬
cular head; if a vase, it will perhaps be better straight:
the plan of a niche is semicircular.
Parapets.—The pierced parapet or balustrade is not in¬
elegant when the forms of which it is composed are sim¬
ple and chaste, as piers; but the close continuous parapet
is generally preferable, because of its greater simplicity,
and its accordance with the principles developed in the
most classic works of architecture. The parapet of a pro¬
jected balcony, to give an appearance of lightness, may
perhaps be better pierced; but if a stereobate continue
straight through a window without projection, it should
remain close and uncut, unless there exist some special
reason for wishing to make the wdndow appear so much
higher.
Balconies.—These, whether continuous or broken to
every window, act for the most part injuriously in a com¬
position. In the former case they cannot be kept sufficient¬
ly under not to appear of too much importance; and in
the latter they have the effect of a broken cornice or en¬
tablature. In both cases, when a balcony is above the eye,
it destroys the proportion of the windows opening on it,
by intercepting more or less of their height.
Proportion and Arrangement of Booms.—Whatever the
length of a room may be, it will not be disagreeably pro¬
portioned if its height and breadth are the same; and if
the length may be limited, once and a half the breadth is
the most pleasing. Galleries, of course, will be much
longer than that proportion ; and corridors will necessarily
be narrower than they are high. Entrance-halls should
be cubical, regularly polygonal, or circular. Access should
be given to a room by the end; it should be lighted on
one side, and the fire-place may be at the other end, or
on the other side: if the former, there should be two
doors, or one and the appearance of another, that the fire¬
place may not be immediately opposite to a door. Many
things, however, from localities and otherwise, constantly
occur to make it practically impossible to attend to such
suggestions as these. In halls and saloons not command¬
ing a pleasing view, the windows may be advantageously
placed above the usual level, for agreeable effect, for light,
and for ventilation. In rooms lighted from above, as the
Pantheon in Rome is, a columnar ordinance may be judi¬
ciously adapted; but otherwise columns and their acces¬
sories can seldom be well disposed internally.
Chimneys.—If a chimney be in the end of a room, it
should be similarly proportioned, the height and breadth
of its opening corresponding with the height and breadth
of the room; if it be on a side, it should be somewhat
wider than it is high; if the room be longer than the
sesquialteral proportion, it should have two fire-places,
either at the two ends or equidistant from the centre of
one of the two sides. The chimney-piece should be bold
and massive, not frittered into small parts and much mould¬
ed ; it may, however, have its vertical faces enriched with
great advantage.
Ceilings.—The ceiling of a room should be nearly plain,
Composi- but it may rest on a bold and enriched cornice, not com-
posed like an external cornice, as it is differently lighted,
but with deep covings instead of broad flat surfaces. Such
cornices are highly susceptible of ornament, and they may
have additional effect given to them by means of colour.
In large rooms the area of the ceiling may be pleasingly
contracted, and so made to appear lighter, by coving the
angles altogether, and thus bringing the cornice on which
it rests lower down on the walls. This mode of arrange¬
ment is used, too, in the small rooms of a lofty story, to
take off from their too great height. The horizontal sur¬
face of a ceiling may be treated like a large panel, with
broad borders and slight sinkings ; or, if it be very large
and lofty, coffering or panelling all over, with moulded
or painted ornaments, will produce an agreeable effect.
Domed ceilings should be coffered, especially when they
are lighted from above; but if the light be from below,
as in St Paul’s and St Peter’s Cathedrals, ribbing is far
better. Heavy cumbrous masses of foliage in a ceiling
should be avoided; frets, guiloches, and arabesque orna¬
ments, are the best suited enrichments for a ceiling on
which ornament is necessary.
Stairs. In a structure whose principal apartments are
on the ground floor, the staircase is a secondary considera¬
tion, and should be secluded; but where they are above
the level of the entrance door, it becomes an important
part of the interior, and should be of immediate and easy
access. I he rise of a step should not be more than six
inches, and the tread not less than twelve. In a square
staircase winders should not be used; and in no case
should there be more than ten or twelve flyers without a
quarter or half space, both to prevent fatigue in ascending,
and to avoid even the appearance of danger in the de¬
scent. \\inding staircases are less convenient and less
pleasing in effect than those which are square and with¬
out winders. Much room may be saved, however, where
it is of consequence, by using the former. Handrails
should follow the character of the staircases to which
they are attached ; but a somewhat square form, with the
sides or edges moulded, should be given to them under
all circumstances, because of its simplicity, as well as the
greater degree of firmness or solidity which the whole
composition derives from it, both in effect and in appear¬
ance, than can be acquired for it otherwise. The hand¬
rail and balusters of an in-door staircase are indeed but the
parapet of an external flight of steps, or of a terrace, exe¬
cuted with more lightness and a greater degree of deli¬
cacy because of their location. The balustrading, also,
should therefore be characterized by boldness and sim¬
plicity, though it is indeed a difficult thing to compose
with propriety, because of its inclination, and the want of
parallelism between the graduating base formed by the
ends of the steps and the hanging level of the coping or
handrail. The first step of a staircase has a voluted or
curtail end (or ends if it be insulated, as in a staircase
with a double returning flight) supporting a column or
newel, on which the voluted or scrolled end of the hand¬
rail rests. The steps of a staircase are wrought with
moulded nosings, which are returned at the exposed ends ;
the under surface is either cut straight and parallel to the
inclination of the flight, or moulded to form a sightly ob¬
ject when seen from below.
Mouldings and Ornament.— I he Greek examples offer
the most beautiful forms for mouldings, and the Grecian
mode of enriching them is unsurpassed for beauty and effi¬
ciency. by adhering to them, and observing the manner
in which they are produced and combined, it will not be
difficult to pioduce and combine mouldings in sufficient
variety for every purpose.
tor ornament the Roman examples may vie with the
VOL. in.
ARCHITECTU R E.
489
Gieek, but in composing or adapting, it is necessary to Coniposi-
avoic a i e tie tendency to too great luxuriance in the R°n-
one, and to poverty in the other. The remains of Her- ' ^
culaneum and I ompei. have furnished us with a great
dea of ornament that is new and beautiful; and much
that is excellent may be found on the earlier architectural
and sculptural monuments of Italy of the middle a-es.
It should nevertheless be always borne in mind that the
object in architectural enrichment is not to show the or¬
nament, but to enrich the surface, by producing an effec¬
tive and pleasing variety of light and shade ; but still, al¬
though the ornament should be a secondary consideration,
it will develope itself, and should therefore be of elegant
form and composition, as well as the means of producing
a good effect on the surfaces to which it is applied.
Of Vertical or Pointed Composition.
The towers of Westminster Abbey are an excellent
practical illustration of the essential difference which
exists between the horizontal and vertical styles of archi¬
tectural composition. In general form they belong to
the Pointed style, and in so far cohere with the structure
generally; but the running lines of the buttresses, if their
quoin piers may be so called, are constantly intercepted by
transverse cornices ; and all the details are strangely in dis¬
cordance with the character derived from the pointed arch.
Buttresses in a Pointed composition must not be con¬
sidered simply as abutments to the arches and aids to the
walls of a structure, any more than a cornice in horizon¬
tal composition may be thought only necessary to cover
or protect the wall on which it rests. That these were
the uses for which they were severally applied originally,
cannot be doubted; but although such may be their pur¬
poses, we must now consider them as aids to architec¬
tural effect. Buttresses, then, are of the same use in
the vertical style that cornices are in the horizontal —
to give character to an elevation, by throwing a mass of
shadow, to relieve it of the monotony necessarily attend¬
ant on a flat surface, however it may be pierced or en¬
riched. The sides of the buttresses should be either
quite perpendicular the whole height they have to run,
or be slightly diminished, if the wall behind them dimi¬
nishes, in lengths and not by inclined lines. Their faces
also must run up vertically to the sets-off, and these should
be in the same inclined line, and that line pointing to the
apex of their pinnacles, when pinnacles surmount them.
Indeed it cannot be too strongly enforced that there should
be a constant tendency in the outlines of compositions in
this style to meet, although the surfaces be themselves so
generally perpendicular; and the more acute the angle
under which they incline, the more graceful and becoming
the style the result will be. The commanding lines of everv
part of a composition should lead through from its summit
to the base. Thus, a spire or pinnacle should rest on a tower
or turret whose angles are not interrupted, but never on
a merely flat wall, however it may be faced with but¬
tresses to give an apparent projection. Neither should
low porches be projected from the face of a structure, for
such can only have the effect of excrescences, and tend to
injure a composition ; nor should external doors be made
but in places where the harmony of the composition is
not injured by them as irregular apertures. Internally,
square forms are seldom used ; but piers consist of clustered
cylindrical shafts, and thin shafts of the same form, lofty,
and uninterrupted by crossing lines, act as pilasters. On
these, capped with deeply inflected congeries of mould¬
ings or foliage for the former, and lighter ones made con¬
tinuous and breaking round them for the latter, rest the
arches and arched ceilings. Flat surfaces are susceptible
of high enrichment by means of tracery and panelling;
3 Q
490 A R C H 1 T
Supple- mouldings are enriched, not by carving on them, but by
ment. rounding out foliage and other ornament in covings and other
v-"*'' deep inflections. Corbels should not be substituted for shafts
to support arches when it can be avoided ; but they have a
pleasing effect as supports to the dripstone or canopy of a
door or window ; and indeed there are many other situations
in which they are almost necessary, but they should always
be considered as succedaneous, and not as necessary to a
composition.
To avoid glaring inconsistencies in composing, it will be
wrell to adhere generally to the style of some particular period,
and to employ the proportions and enrichments, as well as the
forms, peculiar to it; but, nevertheless, a more ornate may
superimpose a plainer part, so that the difference be not vio¬
lent. Windows of the second period may be placed over an
arched composition of the first, and appear naturally to re¬
sult from it; but the transition would be so great from the
first to the third, as to make the result inharmonious. It
need not, however, be denied, to those who feel them¬
selves competent to use the materials with good taste and pro¬
priety, to select matter from examples of the various periods,
and make compositions not exactly in the style of any of
them. With a clear perception of the principles of the style
generally, which we have endeavoured to point out, and a
E C T U R E.
practical acquaintance with the classic exemplars of it, such Supple-
may certainly be produced; and they may as certainly be ment.
adapted to all the purposes to which any style of architec-
ture can be applied.
Rules for practice might be made to infinity, but they are
unnecessary in this case, there being no authorized modern
practice, like that of the Italian school in horizontal compo¬
sition, to counteract. It is but to use the forms, proportions,
decorations, and enrichments, and follow the mode of com¬
bination, which appear in the examples: these, with constant
reference to the principles we have attempted to develop,
will be the surest and safest guides in composing and arrang¬
ing any subject. They are, too, so rife with materials for
general purposes, that few cases can occur in which there
need be any difficulty in finding parallels. Buttresses, piers,
shafts, arches, pediments, parapets, turrets, pinnacles, win¬
dows, doors, niches, ceilings, tablets, with mouldings and or¬
naments in great profusion,—indeed almost everything that
can be required in practice,—appear in existing works of the
pointed style ; preventing the necessity of determining from
the mode of procedure in one case how we should act in an¬
other, as the comparative paucity of materials in the Greek
and Roman remains rendered it necessary to do in develop¬
ing the horizontal style. (w. h—G.)
Supplement.—1853.
The science of architecture is the same in 1853 as in
1829-30, when the preceding treatise was written ; and what
was true in respect of architecture at the earlier date is true
at the present time. But it could hardly happen that, in
any treatise upon a subject so comprehensive and so widely
ramified, there should not be something to explain, and to
amend; and that, with longer experience, and, it may be
hoped, increased knowledge on the part of the writer, there
should not be something to add.
But as the foregoing treatise, published in a separate
form, together with another and more purely technical
treatise by the same writer, had become to some extent a
text-book to the student, as well as an authority upon its
subject in an established book of reference, it has been
thought better,—there being nothing in its statements to
unsay,—to let it stand unaltered save by the correction of a
few patent errors of the pen or of the press, and to add, by
way of supplement, a concise view of architecture in its
broader and more catholic form, together with the results
of discovery and investigation, as well as to bring the sub¬
ject as exhibited in practice down to the present time.
In treating of architecture in an encyclopaedia, the infor¬
mation of the general reader, or of the student seeking to
be generally informed upon the subject as a branch of edu¬
cation, is to be regarded rather than the instruction of the
professional student; and in an encyclopaedia for English
readers, reference to English, and more especially metropo¬
litan, instances would seem to be more useful, because bet¬
ter known, than foreign or provincial examples. Illustration
by diagrams to any great extent is practically impossible in
a work which purports to trace the whole round of human
knowledge, and which ought therefore to give an equal rate
of information upon every subject profitable to the human
mind, and useful to the social human being; but which must
be itself, at the same time, kept within comparatively nar¬
row bounds. Reference is made, nevertheless, to provincial
or to foreign instances, where they are of such a character
as to be generally known by published representation, so that
the remarks made may be thereby generally intelligible.
The main defect of the treatise on architecture consists,
in the estimation of its author, in the narrowness of its range
and in insufficient reference to construction. It takes the
artist’s view rather than the architect’s, and makes the mere
adornment the prominent subject; taking the vulgar view
of architecture, indeed, which does not regard the causes
within, but which looks only to what may be, and too often
is, the factitious outer form, leaving aside all consideration
of that which can alone give consistency and propriety to
the outward presentment. This is truly the vice of almost
all that has been written on architecture under that name.
Architecture, in the broad sense in which it really exists,
and in which alone it ought to be understood, has been ig¬
nored, and the world has been content to take the shadow
for the substance. Construction, including in the term the
disposition of a building writh reference to its uses, is com¬
monly taken to be to the architect what the lay figure is to
the painter and the sculptor,—an articulated machine upon
which to hang drapery,—and it is, by the great as well as
by the little vulgar, both lay and professional, esteemed, and
by some designated, the common part of the art. But con
struction, taken in its double sense, is really the bone-mar¬
row, muscle, and nerve of architecture; and the arts of con¬
struction are those to which the true architect will look, rather
than to rules and examples, for the means of producing two
at the least of the three essential conditions of building well
—commodity, firmness, and delight—which conditions have
been aptly said to be the end of architecture as of all other
operative arts1.
A true architect, who arose and flourished, and has passed
away within the period that has run out since the writing
of the foregoing treatise, said, with equal truth and point, in
commencing a lecture on architecture, which he published
in 1841, and entitled The True Principles of Pointed or
Christian Architecture,—though the doctrine is alike true
in respect of every style of architecture,—“ The two great
rules for design are these : 1st, That there should be no fea¬
tures about a building which are not necessary for conveni¬
ence, construction, or propriety; 2d, That all ornament
i “ In Architecture, as in all other Operative Arts, the End will direct the Operation.—The End is to Build w-eZZ.—Well Building hath
three Conditions; Commodity, Firmness, and DelightF (The Elements of Architecture, by Sir H. Wotton, Knt., Part i. p. 1.)
A R C H I T
Supple- should consist of enrichment of the essential construction of
mcnU the building. The neglect of these two rules is the cause
of all the bad architecture of the present time. Architectural
features are continually tacked on buildings with which they
have no connection, merely for the sake of what is termed
effect; and ornaments are actually constructed instead of
forming the decoration of construction, to which, in good
taste, they should be always subservient.” 1
A glimmering of the truth here enunciated had led the
present writer to remark, under the head “ Principles of
Architectural Composition” {ante'), that “ the object in archi¬
tectural enrichment is not to show the ornament but to en¬
rich the surface but it was reserved for Mr Welby Pugin
to see it clearly and to state it fully. It is in propriety or
fitness that the condition of delight which Sir Henry Wot-
ton claims as one of the three conditions of building well,
that architecture consists, and not in inconsistent devices.
Ihe readiness of the world to accept the shadow, out¬
ward presentment, or even mere colour, for the substance, ar¬
chitecture, of which the true embodiment is construction, has
made it the aim and pretence of the student in architecture
to be an artist rather than a constructor, instead of grafting
the artist upon the constructor. In the practice of the law
the graces of oratory are taken to be of value only when
supported by the sound learning of the lawyer; and in the
practice of architecture the taste of the artist ought to be
held merely ancillary to truthful disposition for structure
and service.
But the soundest constructor is the most apt in the
production, or the reproduction it may be, of real art. If
Welby Pugin had been the mere artist-draughtsman his
father was, which alone he might have been but for the
superadded skill of the carpenter, and thereby of the con¬
structor, he would not have arrived at the truth in respect
of building well; nor have built so well and with such ex¬
cellent effect as, in his brief lifetime, he did. The me¬
chanician Smeaton, and not a mere artist architect, was
employed to build the Eddystone lighthouse, and the means
placed at his disposal being truly directed to the end
aimed at, the result obtained presents a compendium of
commodity, firmness, and delight. The Eddystone light¬
house is well adapted to its uses; that is to say, it is com¬
modious, it is firm and stable almost to a miracle, and its
form is as beautiful in outline to the delight of the eye,
as it is well adapted to break and thereby to mitigate the
force of the sea in defence of its own structure. Smeaton
was in that work a true architect, the artist engrafted
upon the constructor; whereas in dropping uncombined
stone rubble into the Thames about the piers of old London
Bridge to protect the bed of the river, and thereby the foun¬
dations of the bridge, from the scour of the already pent-
up stream ; and in building Hexham Bridge after the man¬
ner of old London Bridge, as to the effect of the piers upon
the stream, and after the manner of Westminster Bridge
as to the character of its foundations, Smeaton might have
been taken for nothing more than a mere artist architect.
In like manner, the botanist and landscape gardener, Pax¬
ton, having learnt to help himself in the contrivance and
construction of works of architecture of a kind adapted to
the purposes of his art, had become qualified to suggest the
employment of a material unthought of by professional archi¬
tects though as ready to their hands as to his, and often
misused by them as the main constituentof a structure, and
to devise a plan by which the material employed might be
applied alike with constructive propriety, with marvellous
rapidity, and so, moreover, as to produce a magical effect, in
a Conservatory designed to fulfil, and amply fulfilling, a noble
E C T U E E. 491
object, which must, probably, have failed for the time, or Supple-
have been carried out in an ignoble manner, if the horticul- mem-
tunst-architect, Paxton, had not already himself learnt to
be a constructor. And this was in default of wide-reaching
knowledge of construction on the part of professional and
practising architects, and so-called engineers, so far as the
results of an invitation to prepare and to submit designs for
such a work can be taken as evidence of the knowledge,
talent, and imagination of the architectural profession ; for
the invitation was general, and it went far and wide, and was
largely responded to even from beyond the bounds of the
British Islands. ^ The Great Exhibition building in Hyde
Park, originated by Sir Joseph Paxton, possessed in an emi¬
nent degree the qualities arising from the conditions of
commodity, firmness, and delight; it was most commodious
for the purposes of an exhibition; it was firm enough for
the temporary service required of it; and there was de¬
light in its luminousness and in the simplicity and truth of
its combinations; and all this may be said to have grown
out of propriety of construction as applied in and to the ma¬
terial, cast iron.
The use of unfitting materials on the other hand, or the
employment of fitting materials inappropriately, leads almost
certainly to incommodiousness, infirmity, and offence, or
some of them. The bearing towers of suspension bridges
are commonly built of masonry, and being so built, are of
necessity massive, and being massive they tend to narrow if
not to obstruct the way,—the necessity of the construction
ip most cases requiring that the towers shall intercept the
footways, whereby the pedestrian is compelled to take the
carriage-way ; or for the same cause the way is narrowed if
it be but one, as in a foot bridge. In the Brighton Jetty,
conventionally called the Brighton Pier, the substructure of
the bearing towers is of timber in piles, upon which are raised
trestle-like frameworks—standards, they may be designated,
—and these are made to present the outward form of towers,
as of masonry, by casing them with cast-iron plates to that*
effect, and as if to keep up the false character thus given to
the standards, they are so arranged in plan as to obstruct
the way along the floor of the jetty.
Cast iron in its proper character, and in the forms which
the duty to be imposed requires it to assume, would not be
more inappropriate as the material of a superstructure upon
piles of timber, than a tower of masonry is; and an open
structure well composed of cast iron to form trestle-like
framework, would, in the case of the Brighton Jetty, have
left the bridged way wholly unobstructed and convenient
for use.
At Rouen there is, over the Seine, a wire-rope suspension
bridge in two bays; the ropes are anchored at the banks
and carried over a bearing structure which is founded on
an island in the middle of the river. In this case the sub¬
structure of the bearing tower, if it may so be called, is, pro¬
perly enough, and as it conveniently might be, of masonry;
but the superstructure is, as to the main supports of the
suspending ropes and their load, in fact of cast iron dis¬
posed as columns about the piers of arches ; so that the iron
structure takes the appearance of a structure of stone, whilst
the proportions are those appropriate to the stronger mate¬
rial of which it is, and not of the weaker material of which
it pretends to be. The result to the eye is what might be
expected. The bearing structure which, being of iron, is
sufficient to carry the bridging way, pretending to be stone
presents the appearance of excessive weakness; while as
cast iron, properly disposed with reference to the duty re¬
quired of it, the standard would have been not only strong
enough, but it would have appeared to the eye to be so.
The Ti ue Principles of Pointed or Christian Architecture, by A. Welby Pugin, Architect, &c., p. 1.
492
Supple¬
ment.
'—/—'
ARCHITECTURE.
Section I.
The practice of architecture in whatever form, and under
whatever alternative designation it presents itself1—whether
as civil architecture in works upon and above ground to be
covered from the weather, or as civil engineering in works
upon and in the ground and exposed to the weather—con¬
sists in originating, designing, composing, and arranging in
detail, specifying, estimating, directing, and supervising the
formation, construction, and fitting for use of works, and par¬
ticularly works of the nature of buildings for the use and
convenience of man, and mainly of social man in civilized
communion.
Originating involves the devising a practicable scheme for
effecting any desired object in the manner the best adapted to
the end.—A canal, a road, or a railway, is required between
any two places. By the aid of hydrographical maps and by
personal exploration of the country, the most fitting line the
country affords may be struck out and laid down ; and by in¬
vestigation of the levels, examination of the soil, computation
of the available quantity of water at the summit in the case
of a canal, and inquiry into the cost of labour, and of the va¬
rious materials necessary for the work contemplated at the
place where they are to be applied—the cost of land and the
contingencies connected with its tenure and occupation—the
line struck out as naturally the most fit, is modified to the
most economical in execution, consistently with efficiency
and economy in its use.—A town, or a new quarter of a town,
a new street or a single house or other building, is required ;
the town, or part of town, the street, the house, warehouse,
or workshop, is to be considered first with reference to the
essentials, commodity, firmness, and delight;—and it will be
convenient and salubrious, or unfit and probably the seat of
disease—it will be cheerful and agreeable, or dull and cheer¬
less—and, although the commercial estimation may depend
on circumstances beyond the control and not wholly within
fhe modifying power of architecture, even wealth or poverty
may result from the propriety or impropriety with which the
work has been originated.
Designing includes the bringing together and combining
in the most efficient manner permitted by the circumstances
of the case for convenience in use, all the parts of which a
work may consist, shaping the parts within themselves to the
duties they are respectively to perform, or to the uses they
are to fulfil; adapting the work to the materials which ne¬
cessity, prudential economy, or luxury may dictate ; giving,
indeed, a congruous body to the originated idea. The ori¬
gination of a bridge has determined its position, the manner
in which it shall lie across the river or whatever else it is to
be built over—the manner in which it is to be approached—
the waterway, in the case of a river, that may be occupied by
its substructions, or rather the waterway that the bridge must
leave unobstructed—the headway that must be preserved
under it, whether for navigation or for flood water, and with
reference to the country above it or to its own security—the
level or other inclination of the roadway, and the materials
of which the bridge shall be composed, together with the
general outline of its form, determining thereby the class of
composition to be adopted. The design gives form and consis¬
tence to the outline—it arranges the spans, bays, or openings
—proportions the solids to the voids—determines, upon close
and minute investigation of the site, the depth, mass, and
composition of the foundations, and how they shall be exe¬
cuted—settles the form and rise of the arches, and prescribes
the requisite appliances in erecting them, as centering and
scaffolding—shows the mode of composing and constructing
the roadway, and provides all the requisite accessories in com¬
pleting the work for use.
Composing and arranging in detail are further preliminary
considerations, and fall strictly, perhaps, within the province
of design. These comprise the artistical and constructive
adaptation and adjustment of the materials in the forms and
combinations in and by which they are to be placed and
held together to fulfil the ends of the design—the degree
of finish that shall be given to a work, and the means by
which it is to be brought about, as well as the modes of com¬
bining the parts and protecting them from injury from what¬
ever source, whether from influence within the substance of
the materials to be employed, from those which may be
brought to bear upon them in the use of the finished work,
or from external influences in and through the atmosphere.
The composed and arranged design is exhibited in clearly
expressed and accurately executed drawings made to scale—
the scale being in ordinary English practice some aliquot part
of a foot, or of an inch as an understood division of a foot—
and the drawings being plans, sections, and elevations in ge¬
neral and in detail, made, by colouring, or by hatching, and
by written descriptions, to express the main component
materials severally and distinctly.
Specifying is a describing in writing everything required
to be used and applied, and the modes of using and applying
all the matters proposed to be incorporated in the work, to
give effect to the design, the specification having reference
to the drawings, of which it is, indeed, a further expression in
words ; with the addition of a description of the kinds and
qualities of the materials to be employed, the modes of ope¬
rating upon them, the sequence of the operations, the time
to be expended upon them, or within which they are required
to be effected (for time has always an important influence
upon the cost of a work), and the result to be produced ;
and this must be done in such manner as to render misap¬
prehension or misunderstanding as nearly impossible as
knowledge and perspicuity can make them.
By estimating is understood the computing the quantities of
materials of their various kinds required to be used or applied
in the execution of a work ; the power, whether it be that de¬
rived from inorganic matter through the aid of machinery,
or from the labour of beasts of draught and burden, or of
men, and the labour of skilled workmen as artizans neces¬
sary in procuring the materials, and in preparing, shaping,
and applying them to effect their combination in the man¬
ner and to the end proposed ; and, furthermore, the cost of
such materials and labour, together with all the charges and
expenses proper and incidental to the execution of the work
according to the drawings and specification.
Directing and supervising the execution of a work imply
the instructional explanations the workmen may require
while the works are in preparation and progress, and the
overlooking them to see that they do properly what the draw¬
ings and specification require to be done. In the case of a
contract for the execution of a work, the effective directions
must be supposed indeed to appear in the drawings and speci¬
fication, and so that supervision shall be only necessary to
secure adherence to such directions.
Supple¬
ment.
“ In architecture, as in all other operative arts, the end is
to build well.” But, with whatever limitation in his own
mind Sir Henry Wotton may have made that declaration,
the conditions of well building declared by himself, give a
much wider meaning to it than the words are ordinarily
taken to convey. Architecture in its broad and catholic
sense admits of no limitation—it is subterrene as well as
superterrene, formative as well as structural, and includes the
general disposition of a site as well as the particular arrange¬
ment of the parts into which it may be divided. It is thus
applicable to towns, or aggregations of buildings, as such, as
well as to the individual buildings which go to make up the
town, and ought to be applied in such manner that the gene¬
ral result, in building a town, shall be in accordance with the
conditions, and that they shall be fulfilled in the aggregate
ARCHITECTURE. 493
Supple- as completely as they are required to be fulfilled in each par-
ment. ticular building which may go to compose it.
In the choice or selection ofa site for a town, intrinsic cir¬
cumstances,—some peculiar advantages in a commercial, or
a merely pleasurable, or it may be indeed a military point of
view,—commonly determine the general question, and impose
upon the architect to fit it in all particulars for the contem¬
plated purpose. Whether the site have the advantage of rail¬
way communication, or not, easy access by carriage-roads
must be provided ; which roads must be laid out, and set out
with such inclinations proper for use as are attainable; bridges
and culverts must be built to carry the roads over streams
and gullies, and they must be cut, formed, drained, bottomed
and metalled, or otherwise paved; quays to the river or the
harbour must be arranged and formed, or embanked and con¬
structed,—encroaching upon the tideway, or widening the
waterway as the case may require ; or, in the absence of
natural facilities for navigation, it is a question for considera¬
tion whether artificial navigation can be obtained, and how
and in what manner the arrangement of the site may be mo¬
dified to render it available, or whether a railway may not
be preferable to any other mode of giving commercial access
to the town; the site of the town must be drained, both as
regards water in the ground, and surface water, and the soilage
must be taken off in a fluid state ; water must be led to, or
be raised by artifice within the site of a town, and accumu¬
lated in reservoirs at such levels that it may pass freely
from them to all the parts of the town, and to the highest con¬
templated building in it. In the distribution of the parts of
a town, not only are the requirements of the community as
such to be considered, but the particular requirements of
every class of a community ought to be provided for. There
should be public markets and bazaars, and there should be also
provision made for shops and warehouses, from which those
who may choose to take their supplies may obtain them
without recourse to the public markets. There may be within
every town exclusive gardens, as in squares for the use of
those who, dwelling around, may undertake to maintain them
for their own use; but there should be certainly places as gar¬
dens, maintained at the public expense, open to general use
for the resort and recreation of men, women, and children,
of whatever class, as well as parks or pleasure grounds in the
environs for general pedestrian, equestrian, and carriage ex¬
ercise and open-air enjoyment. Streets, squares, and pub¬
lic places, should be disposed upon the site with regard to
light, aspect, and ventilation; and sites for all requisite public
buildings, sites for the requisite varieties of private dwellings;
and places for storing, manufacturing, and commercial build¬
ings and establishments, according to their kinds and require¬
ments, are to be provided and arranged, and so provided and
arranged as to produce the greatest possible general conve¬
nience, as well as to be capable of producing private benefit.
T owards effecting these objects everything likely to be offen¬
sive should be placed to leeward, having regard to the pre¬
vailing winds. The relative levels of the lowest floor of build¬
ings in every case to the drainage level should be settled, and
provision made for the ventilation by legitimate means, of
the drains of every building, so that it be not left to chance,
or to the ignorance or caprice of individuals in building in
detail, whether the town may be pleasant and wholesome, or
be the seat of discomfort and disease.
I here are certain essentials to every building which it is
within the province of architecture to provide, and within the
duty of the architect to secure. There must be convenient and
easy access to the building itself; protection from water from
whatever source and in whatever form water can present it¬
self; from the earth or from the skies,—by the foundation or
by the roofs,—as water supplied for use, and as foul water or
water the vehicle of the foulest matters ;—air is to be supplied
to the interior by legitimate channels from the best accessible
source, and the ejection of vitiated air provided for and se- Supple-
cured, and so that there be ventilation without injurious ment-
draughts ; and light is to be admitted and diffused, so that
every part of an interior may be appropriately and suffi¬
ciently lighted, and lighted from the general source directly,
01 with as little recoin se as possible to borrowed and artifi¬
cially created light; equal temperature throughout the vary¬
ing seasons is to be maintained by making provision to check
excess of heat at one season, and by the promotion and dif¬
fusion of heat to warm at another. Next to the general essen¬
tials—which are as much so to a penitentiary or to an hospi¬
tal as to a palace—are the particular arrangement and distri¬
bution of buildings according to their respective uses, with
reference to the demand which the use may make or impose.
But the uses of buildings are so various, and the requirements
of each particular use so different from those of every other
in all the classes of buildings, while every individual build¬
ing of a class may be forced into peculiarities of disposition,
dictated by site and other circumstances, that no general
rules can be laid down for the design of buildings in classes,
or severally, without running too much into detail for the
pages of an encyclopaedia. These are, or they ought to
be, the special study of the architect, the merit and value
of whose services consist mainly, indeed, in giving special
effect to the general requirements in a congruous manner,
and at the smallest cost consistent with efficiency.
It will be necessary, however, to add in this place some
observations upon matters which, though general in their na¬
ture, are of particular interest to every community. Whe¬
ther it be in laying out a new township, or in adding to a
town, provision should be made for securing that it be done
in such manner as may best tend to secure to it commodity,
firmness, and delight, or, in other words, the health, comfort,
and safety of the future inhabitants. And first, as to the car¬
riage roads leading into and out of a town. No such road
should be permitted to have a greater inclination in any part
than one in thirty, such being the maximum at which ordi¬
nary four-wheeled carriages will remain at rest upon a well-
made road surface. The width of the carriage roadway,
clear of any side drains, should be such as to permit three
carriages abreast, taking one to be standing on one side or
the other, and two in motion, meeting or passing. Eight feet
should be allowed to the carriage at rest, and ten feet to each
of the carriages in motion, making twenty-eight feet as the
minimum width between the water channels, or at the least
thirty feet clear between the footways ; for there ought to
be to every such road a footway on each side, and each of
sufficient width for four persons, two and two meeting, to pass
abreast; and this requires eight feet at the least, so that
there should be in the whole little short of fifty feet of pub¬
lic way wholly devoted to the public in what may be termed
the country roads about a town where there are no houses,
or but few, before which carts or carriages of any kind can
be required to stand.
In laying out a town, there need be no mere lounging
places provided, such as the paved area of Trafalgar Square
in London, or as the Place so common in the towns and cities
of the Continent. Markets should be provided for in shel¬
tered and inclosed buildings, and not be held in a place ;
and a more than equivalent for the place or even the
village green ought to be provided for outdoor recreation,
and, it may be, rest; but wholly irrespective of business. To
this effect plots of from five to ten acres each, making in all
not less than one-tenth of the whole area, should be re¬
served in laying out a town, or in adding to a town ; such
plots being so disposed as not be more than a short half-mile
apart, or so that there shall be one such plot within less than a
quarter of a mile (a sufficiently long walk at once for a child,
or for a woman or a girl carrying a baby) of every domicile ;
and every such plot inclosed, but accessible on every side,
494 ARCHITECTURE.
Supple- and laid out in the best manner to make it a pleasant re-
ment sort at a\\ times for men and women seeking rest or health-
ful recreation, and as a play-ground for children. With
such a provision in a town, idle men and boys may be rea¬
sonably required by the police to “ move on and with
almost equal advantage to children and to the community
at large, the trundling of hoops in the streets may be pro¬
hibited ; whilst river or sea-side quays for business, or ter¬
races for pleasure, need not be the permitted haunts of
thieves and beggars. Out of a ten-acre plot (the size of the
whole area of Russell Square in London,—and about that of
Lincoln’s Inn Fields, up to the inclosures before the houses),
one acre disposed in four distinct quarters of an acre may be
assigned to the four essential requisites of every hundred-acre
area in a town—-a church, a school, a library with reading-
rooms, and a building to contain baths and washhouses ; one
at each of the four corners of the Town-Garden, in its own
quarter-acre plot, and each communicating directly with the
garden as well as with the streets by which, if houses or other
buildings front towards it, the garden should be belted, with¬
out taking them out of the ten-acre area. The town-garden
need not supersede the square and its garden, which may be
formed, and the garden maintained in all its exclusiveness,
with great public benefit, wherever the prospective demands
of a future population may seem to require squares in con¬
nexion with the streets, by which and by the buildings front¬
ing to them, the greater part of the whole area will certainly
be covered. Nor need the town-garden vie with the square-
garden in the relative extent of its plantations, or in the
picturesque disposition of its paths. It should be laid out
with broad walks, and hardily-turfed lawns ; it should have
a fountain, and trees should not be wanting; upon the
whole, more like Hyde Park, the Green Park, and the public
grounds of the Regent’s Park, than like the too elaborately
beautiful grounds of St James’s Park. The town-garden
should not be too delicate for cricket and quoits ; nor should
it be supposed to render the suburban park a superfluity:
the town-garden for children in the day, and for work-day
evenings for men and women, and the park for holidays.
The courses or directions to be given to streets must
be greatly influenced by the circumstance of the locality,
whether it be plain or hilly, and greatly by the climate,
whether sunshine or shade is more to be desired. No ge¬
neral rule in this respect can be laid down; but having re¬
ference to the high latitude in which the British Islands are
placed, and the consequent obliquity of the sun’s rays at all
seasons, without great intensity at any season, the light and
heat of the sun are to be sought and not to be evaded; and
these are more equably diffused, and the roadway exposed
to the sun’s rays more certainly, the more nearly the direc¬
tion is that of the meridian. Perhaps, however, it is of
more importance that buildings of whatever kind in which
human beings are to live or to labour, shall be so disposed,
that every room in every such building shall be capable of
receiving the rays of the sun at some time in the course of
every day that the sun shines.
The width of a street—and by the term street is intended
any line of communication, whether adapted for carriages
or not, in and through a town having houses or other
buildings fronting to it on both sides—ought not in any
case to be less from front to front of the buildings, taking
an even course, than the height of the buildings, the dimen¬
sions of which—the street being once formed with such limit
to its width—it ought not to be permitted at any time to ex¬
ceed, without setting the higher buildings back accordingly.
To this effect it is necessary to determine in what manner
the height of a building is to be ascertained, the object in
view being the due ventilation of the streets as a means of
assuring a sufficient flow of air to the buildings, whereby they
in their turn may be duly ventilated.
Take a minimum width for a street—say 30 feet—as a ho- Supple-
rizontal base line transversely of the street, and at a level, say ment.
one foot lower than the level assigned, in manner hereafter
described, to the floor of the lowest story of the contemplated
buildings. Erect a perpendicular line upon each end of such
base, and bisecting the inner angles, draw lines which—the
angles being right angles—will of course intersect the oppo¬
site perpendiculars at the height of 30 feet, the limit in height
of any buildings standing up to such lines at the limited dis¬
tance of 30 feet apart; the diagonals drawn out will limit the
heights of the opposite buildings as to the roofs or any erec¬
tions upon the roofs, beyond the perpendiculars. This rule
is applicable in like manner to any greater width than 30
feet; but it will be seen that the rule imposes no limit to
the height of any building standing in the narrowest street, if
the front be set back at the level of the street, or be in any
manner arranged by building terrace-wise; or in any other
manner to the same effect of falling wholly under the diagonal
line drawn from the opposite extremity of the base. Lofty
chimneys, towers, and such like erections, of small extent in
plan, should be admitted exceptions to such general rule.
The drainage of a town must be ’settled, and the levels
determined throughout the course of every street, square,
or other place, before the levels of the road surfaces, and of
the floors of the lowest stories of buildings, can be fixed,
so that they may be prescribed ; but it must be obvious,
that no street should be formed, in the technical sense of
the term, by making the road at such a level that it cannot
be efficiently drained. In like manner, as regards any build¬
ing ; every building should be placed at such a level that
the floor of the intended lowest story can be efficiently
drained, and in all respects relieved of fluid matters by
the means provided ; and the means of efficient drainage
should he made, and he in a condition to operate, before a
building to he relieved is begun to he built.
The widths of streets for the purpose last above referred
to are to be considered as minimum widths, and irrespective
altogether of the widths which ought to be imposed and re¬
quired in respect of the roadways and footways, as means of
communication and of passage in, through, and about a town.
A minimum width of 30 feet from front to front of build¬
ings, ought to allow of no more than a single-line carriage¬
way in short lengths, or with turning and passing places;
such single-line ways being necessary to give access for carts
in the supply of fuel and other heavy matters, and for the
removal of solid refuse, as cinders, ashes, bones, and other
hard rubbish. Shops requiring frequent supplies by carts,
and making their deliveries by carts, require greater width of
carriage-way, and consequently greater width of street. As
the demands of the carriage road for width increase, so do
those of the footway; for shops making a show of their goods
attract the attention of passers-by, and thereby tend to cause
obstruction. Houses built as private dwelling-houses, in
streets which are leading thoroughfares, or which become
such, maybe turned into shops; and when this is done, the
space usually retained in towns between the footway and
the house should be, for the reason stated, given up to the
footway. In respect of the carriage-way, however, no street
being, or being in a position to become, a much-used tho¬
roughfare, ought to be of less width from footwTay to footway
than sufficient for four carriages abreast, reckoning one to
be standing on each side, and three to be in motion; for if
only two be provided for, as in motion, the fast will be
checked by the slow, and the whole traffic of a street be in¬
terrupted. Space for two standing carriages at 8 feet each,
and for three in motion at 10 feet each, make together 56
feet as the least width that shoidd be given to the carriage¬
way of a leading thoroughfare in any town. Any addition
to this should be by 9 feet at the least, or it will add no¬
thing to the convenience of the road. The footways to such
ARCHITECTURE.
495
Supple- a street, where the houses are private dwellings, may be
ment- taken at three couples abreast, or 12 feet at the least, and
where they are shops, at 16 feet, allowing 4 feet for loungers.
Any bridge occurring in a town ought not to require the
carriage-way or road to be as wide, by the two stopping
carriages, as the roadways in the streets leading up to it.
The relief of a town from water in the ground, if there be
any—of the water that v/ill fall upon it in the form of rain,
hail, or snow—of the waste and refuse of water raised or sup¬
plied for the use of the inhabitants, in whatever condition
the refuse may present itself, must, so far as regards the mode
of relief, depend, in the first instance, upon the circumstances
of the locality. If the choice of a site for a town, or for an
addition to a town, lay between one from which all fluids
could be passed away by gravitation, and another the gene¬
ral level of which was so low with reference to the means
of eventual discharge that nothing could pass off in a natu¬
ral course, the inducements to prefer the latter to the former
must be great; but cases do nevertheless occur, and when
they do occur, means must be applied to remedy the defect.
London, in its great extent, contains many varieties, or rather
instances of many varieties, of soil and surface ; and it seems
desirable to show somewhat in detail to what an extent na¬
tural deficiencies have been exaggerated in that notorious
example of folly and neglect, and so to teach by warning.
Suffice it for the present purpose to suggest, that the main
considerations in providing for the relief of a town from water
in all its forms and with all its concomitants, whatever the
means of eventual discharge maybe, are,—first, whether there
is water in the ground so near the surface as to require to be
tapped and kept down; secondly, whether the water falling
from the clouds upon the surfaces of the roads and streets, and
carrying gravel, sand, silt, and other heavy matters, either not
soluble in water, or incapable of being held in suspension suf¬
ficiently to be carried along by the obtainable current in a
reasonably well-formed drain, but inoffensive, shall be passed
into special drains forming a separate system ; and, thirdly,
whether the rain-fall and other surface-wrater shall be passed
into the system of drains necessary to relieve the buildings of
the fluids which, coming through and from the habitations of
human beings, are, though foul and offensive, for the most
part soluble in the water with which they pass away. It is in
favour of the separate system, that surface-water (and water
falling upon the roofs of buildings in towns may be to a
great extent treated and passed away as surface-water), be¬
ing taken off at a higher level, may often be discharged
by gravitation, that is to say, by natural fall, when house
drainage, which is commonly at a lower level, cannot be so.
Moreover, surface-water may, without offence, be discharged
into rivers and other water-courses, whilst the fluids from
houses, being foul, ought not to be turned into any far in¬
land waters, and certainly not into any tidal river far from the
sea, if they can by any economical possibility be otherwise
disposed of. There can indeed be no reasonable doubt, that
if the circumstances of any case be such as to permit the
discharge of surface-water, or any considerable part of it, by
gravitation, it ought to be so discharged, though it may in¬
volve the necessity of a separate system of drains ; cloacal
waters being permitted to pass down to a low level, though
it be to be lifted again by artifice, rather than allow it to
contaminate the surface-water, and involve the necessity of
lifting this also. But there is the further and important
reason for keeping the two kinds of drainage-water sepa-
rate, even if they must pass at or to the same level, and that
a low one. I lie surface-water being necessarily charged
with heavy matters, and commonly taking up lime and other
cementitious matters with silt and sand from the roadways,
a concrete is deposited in slow-coursed drains, which re¬
quires to be removed by manual labour.
I bus, when cloacal drainage and surface drainage go to¬
gether, the drains must have a greater fall than the former Supple-
alone requires,^ to hurry on the surface-waters with their ment-
heavy concomitants, and to lead both down to a greater v'*'
depth than either would require if separate ; and this last is
the case with London.
Until within the present century, the common sewers of
London received surface-water alone. Cloacal matters were
not admitted into them, but human ordure and other dejecta
fell or was thrown into cess-pools dug deep in the ground;
and as London in the eighteenth century hardly extended
beyond the limits of the dry gravel bed, the fluids were in a
great degree absorbed, and the more solid matters were re¬
moved under the name of night-soil by hand-labour, and
carried away in carts and applied as manure. But as the
clay land became building land, and as the water-closet came
into general use, the gravelly subsoil could not take up the
increased quantity of fluid matter, and the clays of course re¬
fused to receive them at all; so that it became necessary to pro¬
vide for the discharge in a fluid state of the matters dejected
all together. This is done, so far as it is done, by drains into
the common sewers, which have thus become cloacal vents, as
well as conduits for waste and surface water. As more capa¬
cious sewers are found necessary for this double duty, such
have been built, and are constantly in course of building, and
at such depth that houses may be relieved by their drains of
waste-water, and of refuse soluble in water, while the roads
are kept drained by the same conduits of their surface-water.
The result of such deepening, however, is, that to a large
extent the outfalls of the sewers are below the level of high
tide in the Thames and its confluent creeks; so that the com¬
mingled waters in the sewers are penned back to await the
ebb, when the sand, silt, and other heavy and insoluble mat¬
ters which the surface-water brings from the roadways depo¬
sit, and form a concrete which no force of any backwater will
wholly remove and carry out at the reflux ; and this it is
which constitutes the great difficulty in relieving London, and
in providing for the discharge of its cloacal refuse—whether
for use as manure, or into the river as waste—so much below
London, seaward, that it shall not return with the tidal flood to
or within the inhabited area. A separate system of drains at
the higher level, for the surface-waters, would discharge them
with their heavy but inoffensive accompaniments from over
three-fourths at least of the whole metropolitan area into the
river at high tide, from which the latter return in the valu¬
able form of sand and gravel; but it may be said to be now
impossible to revert, and to form a separate system, so many
places have been laid out and built upon at low levels upon the
faith that what is permitted is entitled to protection. No¬
thing remains, therefore, but to continue the present abomin¬
able condition of London as to the discharge of its cloacal
refuse; or to make tunnelled ducts for the commingled sewer¬
age at a depth below the lowest level to be relieved—and
practically very much below even that level—and the con¬
stant employment of costly artificial means for raising a most
unnecessarily large quantity of matter, fluid and solid, from
such low level to a level high enough to allow of their dis¬
charge without offence; or, as a further alternative, by sepa¬
rating the heavy and insoluble matters from the commingled
fluids before they pass down into the low level ducts, where
these alone may be very easily dealt with.
The existing practice is condemned, and judgment has
been passed upon it, but execution is delayed for want of
a feasible scheme for a plan by which to supersede it. Scores
of schemes professedly to that effect have been prepared and
submitted to the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers in a
foolishly invited and unwisely answered competition, but
none of such schemes were thought by the commissioners
for the time being likely to effect the object sought in an
efficient and satisfactory manner. Failing in a general com¬
petition which had, nevertheless, produced schemes from
496
ARCHITECTURE.
Supple- some men of large experience in sewering, the Commis-
ment. si0ners of Metropolitan Sewers instructed their chief sur-
veyor, whose experience is understood to have been that of
a supervisor of railway works, to devise a scheme; and he
produced one which overcomes none of the inherent difficul¬
ties of the case, whilst it presents new ones of its own crea¬
tion. No available scheme has yet been promulgated for
separating the heavy and insoluble matters from the fluids
before the precipitation to a deep level of either ; and it is
to this object probably that attention must be directed. But
speculation upon the mode by which success may be attained
in a particular case is not matter for an encyclopaedia; our
object is to show, by the miserable example of London, what
ought to be avoided, as a mode of indicating the more clearly
what is to be aimed at in providing for the relief of a town
as a matter of architectural practice.
The considerations which lead to the choice of sites for
new towns are seldom those which have regard to the perso¬
nal accommodation of future inhabitants. Neither pleasant¬
ness of position, nor salubrity of air and dryness of soil, will
at any time prevail against commodiousness for the trade or
manufacture whereby the community to be established may
obtain the means of living and of becoming wealthy. Even
facilities for defence are in modern times made secondary
to the objects stated, with the certain conviction that wealth
can always provide the means of defending itself. The
province of architecture is, so to dispose and so to form,
that the advantages which dictated the site shall be ren¬
dered available and enduring, and that any defects in site,
soil, or position shall be remedied—that is to say, so far
as artful disposition and skilful operation can bring relief
or lead to cure. In like manner as regards the increment
of ancient towns. Towns outgrow the sites upon which
they were first established, and widen upon soils and at
levels which possess none of the advantages which may hap¬
pen to attach themselves to the ancient site. Whatever
were the inducements which led to the first establishment
of a town on the site of the city of London—whether the
facilities which it presented for defence, or for commerce,
or both ; or the beauty of the situation, and of the country
about and within view from it; or the excellence of its soil—
dry, but covering water of the finest quality—there can be
no doubt that its facilities for commerce have prevailed, and
that they have made it the centre of a province rather than
the heart of a metropolis. But in widening as a town, Lon¬
don has outgrown the beautifully environed high ground,
with its deep bed of dry gravel, and brought within its
area cold clays and low marsh lands ; so that it has long be¬
come a subject for the application of all the resources of
architecture in its most extended sense, and with all the
applications that it can bring in aid.
Sir Christopher Wren’s scheme for rebuilding the city
of London after the great fire, included every consideration
that in his time was recognised as essential to “ commodity,
firmness, and delight;” and it may be believed that Sir
Christopher’s plan for re-distributing the site, with a view to
fulfil the conditions which had been already laid down by
Sir Henry Wotton, was not carried out, only because the
case was one of re-building, not of building ; the site had
been cleared, but the rights to the ancient though ill-dis¬
posed seats or sites remained. The city was refilled with
buildings, and many of them were by the great master in
architecture himself; but it was not rebuilt architecturally
—the buildings may have fulfilled, and certainly many of
them did fulfil, the conditions of well building, so far as they
could be fulfilled in a town which had not been, as a whole,
submitted to them ; and the city of London remains to this
day, and will remain—notwithstanding the millions devoted
at the expense of the metropolis to “ city improvements ”—
a monument of bad architecture.
An urgent reason prevailed against the application of the Supple-
great architect’s plan to the site of the devastated city in nient.
the latter part of the seventeenth century ; but there is no ^
good reason whatever why the London that has grown up
since that time around and about the city, upon the suburban
gardens, fields, and marshes, should have been absolved from
all wholesome rule in respect of the great conditions of ca-
tholical architecture.
Reverting, however, to the city itself, it may be remarked,
that under a crushing despotism, commodiousness and delight
were firmly established in the capital of France, when its
ancient limits were to be extended, by a broad belt of almost
park-like avenue being formed upon the site of the demo¬
lished fortifications; whilst the civic body that built an ob¬
struction,—which is by the same body still retained,—upon
the most crowded thoroughfare in Europe, wherewith to
exercise their useless and now unmeaning and absurd
power of shutting a door in the sovereign’s face—whilst the
corporation of the city of London, in the plentitude of their
freedom, when they demolished their city walls and filled
up the moat with the rubbish, covered the new site so ob¬
tained,—not with broad avenues for commodiousness and
delight,—but with lanes, courts, and alleys ; unless, indeed,
Houndsditch is to be called a street. Smithfield might have
been a park, or at least a garden connected with Tower-Hill
by an equivalent for the Boulevards of Paris, at no cost but
that of a little self-restraint on the part of the corporation.
T leet-Ditch might have been converted into a dock with
broad quays locking into the river at the south, as the Gros-
venor Canal further west now does, and capable of being ex¬
tended inland as necessity might dictate or convenience re¬
quire, and so as to deliver fuel and other heavy goods east
and west, to the protection of the heart of the town from the
heavier traffic north and south, to the present time and for
ever. Elevated viaducts thrown over the valley of the Fleet
would have connected the main lines of street running east
and west ; so that the means of personal communication
would have been uninterrupted by, and have left uninter¬
rupted, the trade of the lower parts of the sides of the valley
and the commerce upon the quays of the dock.
It may seem useless to speculate in this place upon what
might have been done in and for London a century and a
half or two centuries ago ; but there are many old towns and
cities which hardly yet extend beyond their ancient boun¬
daries, but which are likely to be subjected to the same
process of extension, and are susceptible of improvement
in like manner as they become extended. It is, indeed, to
the extension of towns and cities by the bringing within
the inhabited area of lands not heretofore built upon, and to
the formation of new townships, that such observations are
more immediately applicable. It may be said with no ex¬
aggeration, that the city of London has been twice rebuilt
since the great fire, and with no improvement in its condi¬
tion as it regards commodiousness, that has not been more
than counterbalanced by the being hedged in on almost all
sides by suburbs in which all the ends of architecture are
coarsely and vilely set at nought. Hundreds of acres of
land have been, in the vulgar sense, built over, and scores,
if not indeed hundreds, of acres more are yearly added to
London ; every owner, doing what may appear to him
likeliest to turn the land to his own immediate profit,—the
legislature caring next to nothing for the manner in which
such increment is made.
It is only natural that a man possessing land should de¬
sire to turn it to the best account, and it is not to be ex¬
pected that men who possess, whether as individuals or as
corporations, shoidd do otherwise in adding their lands to
the area of a town than the natural impulse leads them to
do. Any man possessing, or having the authority of an
owner over land in or adjacent to London may cover it, or
ARCHITECTURE.
Supple¬
ment.
cause it to be covered over, with buildings of any sort or
size, and so covered as to leave nothing upon which the foot
J may be placed, except certain strips which as streets and
alleys are necessary, as means of communication, to the ap¬
plication to profitable use of all the rest; and every possessor
of available land does so. It is true that in “ covering” the
land small plots are here and there laid out as gardens, but
this is done only when the sacrifice is more than made up
by the greater rent obtainable for the building sites which
front to such plots ; for the gardens are inclosed, and are
necessarily, and indeed properly, kept for the special use as
pleasure-grounds of those who pay for the use in the rent
of their houses, and in rates for maintaining them. These
gardens are not for the use of the public, nor even for the
occupiers of other parts of the same estate, which are laid
out in streets, alleys, and mews ; and except so far as such
gardens are open spaces and pleasant to look at, their sites
are, for the rest of the community, “covered.” And thus the
whole surface of every acre brought within the inhabited
area of London is covered or otherwise occupied; and in
such manner, as regards the community at large, as to render
every garden and every field turned into building land worse
than the land of Egypt was under the plague of locusts—for
that plague was temporary—the land is darkened that one
cannot see the earth.
But the land in and about London being devoted to the
purposes of building, the legislature has provided that all
buildings shall be inclosed with walls, and with unmitigable
stringency, that all inclosing walls shall be built of brick or
of stone, without any regard to the necessity or even the pro¬
priety of such an imposition in every case ; and provision is
made for securing the efficient separation of adjoining build¬
ings, that each building may be protected from fire in the
event of fire occurring in the next to it. But while the
law is to some extent judicious in its provisions in that re¬
spect, it leaves builders at liberty to make each separate
building dangerously susceptible of fire, and ready to burn ;
and so to a large extent London buildings are built and re¬
built. The legislature has, moreover, made some provision
to check the narrowing of existing streets in London, by
projections from and before buildings to that effect; but this
has been rendered nugatory by an ill-advised and wilful con¬
trolling administration, and the abuse prevails. Nothing is
imposed, however, in respect of the ventilation of buildings ;
and every building, whether for habitation or otherwise, and
whether for occupation constantly as dwelling-houses and
hospitals, or temporarily as churches, chapels, courts of ju¬
dicature, theatres, or other places of public resort, which are
all liable to be crowded, may be made as unfit for its pur¬
poses in respect of salubrity as the most ignorant or the most
wrong-headed person engaged in building may choose or
chance to make them; and so to a very large extent they
are made ; that is to say, without any rational provision for
certain and wholesome ventilation. Not that London houses
are left wholly unprovided with means by which air may gain
access to their interiors, and both the law and necessity
act together in most cases to insure the provision of such
means. C ostly sewers are built under the streets to receive
and carry off to some outlet for discharge waste and cloacal
waters; and as every building requires in a greater or less
degree relief in respect of such matters, drain pipes are laid
from most houses, as a matter of necessity, to such sewers,
whereby a free passage is obtained for air from or by the
common sewer to the interior of every house so connected
with it. Air passing through such a duct into any house,
cannot fail to take with it whatever volatile gases it may en¬
counter in its course through the sewers, and the connecting '
or house drains ; and there can, perhaps, be no doubt, that air
so commingled will be more or less tainted. But the law
not only permits such conduits to be established, but by its
administrators, causes holes, curiously designated ventilatinq
shafts, to be made from the roadway of any street under
which a sewer may pass, down into the sewer. These ven¬
tilating shafts are grated over, and when the gratings are not
choked up with stones and mud, air and road stuff go down
together by them into the sewers; that is to say, air goes
down when there is a down draught, but in the absence of
such a draught, faint but foul gases rise by the “ ventilating
shafts to taint the air of the streets for the summer ventila¬
tion of the houses by their open windows. Down draughts
prevail in winter time when fires are burning ; for, windows
being most reasonably kept shut when fire is required for
warmth, and fires requiring air nevertheless, this requisite is
commonly obtained by way of the house-drains from the
sewers, and hence the down-draughts by the ventilatino-
shafts; and from this cause it is, for the most part, that the
air of the metropolis is at all seasons in a condition to in¬
duce fever. The foul air of its sewers and drains is either
drawn into its habitations, or vomited into its streets.1
But London does not stand alone as to these matters.
Sewers commissions and Boards of health are multiplied
throughout the country, so that hardly any town of any
importance in the British Islands can long remain without
the control which such bodies bring with them ; but neither
the science nor the practice of these bodies, nor any combi¬
nation of both, has yet devised and brought into operation
any system by which towns may be at once purged of the
filth and eased of the foul air, which arise as surely in hu¬
man habitations as in rabbit-hutches and pig-sties ; nor does
it appear to have been ever imagined by the legislature, by
whose authority such bodies act, that it is as necessary to health
that every dwelling should be provided with (to use the cant
term of the sanitary empirics) an unintermittent supply of
fresh air, and means by which the spent air shall be cer¬
tainly ejected, as it is to insist upon an unintermittent supply
of water, and the ejection of that which had answered the
ends of its introduction.
It is not enough to build sewers, even if every sewer
have a proper discharge, while men may, in extending a
town, form streets and erect buildings in such manner and
at such levels that neither roads nor buildings can be re¬
lieved by means of any existing system of sewers, or by any
sewer that can be made to lead to a proper and legitimate
issue ; nor is it enough to make a complete and efficient
system of sewers, unless they are by legitimate means
thoroughly ventilated; nor is it just to the community to
allow house-drains to enter a common sewer unless such
drains are first made free from the foul air which is a neces¬
sary consequence of their use ; nor to the future occupiers
of houses to allow the drains to be left by the builders in a
condition to retain foul air; nor again ought any building
to be capable of being used for any purpose involving occu¬
pation by human beings, unless there be that perfect ventila¬
tion as well as efficient drainage without which no building
can be properly fit to live in.
ft he privilege of being a member of a civilized community
is purchased by a concession, whether willingly or unwillingly
made, of many natural rights ; and the privilege of benefiting
497
Supple¬
ment.
. <lC. * . rumage] las become a science, and all manner of experiments, we read, are being made in it. Yet in spite of all our
th r,(I v/tf" m k ar ’i3*1 ° 0Ur ™any resources, it is acknowledged that nothing can be fouler than the sewerage of London; that
j *e i’1'*1 v.n?S ,a C \ °Pene<l *nto them, in obedience to some law of science, there comes forth a most noisome and poisonous vapour;
fn i o ’ /u6 anC.°J ° re ate’ ^ve Persons fell victims in one day, this year, to the pestilential breath of one of these scientific recep¬
tacles. (Prom Assays on Various Subjects, by His Eminence Cardinal Wiseman.” London, 1853.)
YOL. III.
3 R
ARCHITECTURE.
498
Supple- by the industry and activity of the general community of
ment. which one is a member, ought not to be conceded without
an equivalent to the community for the benefit obtained
through and from it. The breath of heaven is the equal
right of all; and it is the duty of society to itself, to take care
that it comes unrestrained and untainted to all its members,
so far as human means and appliances can do so consistently
with the uses of human beings living in community. So¬
ciety is bound, therefore, to insist upon every man conceding
so much, at least, in respect not only of his house, but of
every room in it, as shall be necessary both to secure to him
his right as a human being in respect of wholesome air, and
to prevent him from being a nuisance to the community of
which he is a member, by condensing impurity within his
dwelling, or doing anything else to vitiate the air of the lo¬
cality. But it is of no use to provide means for the internal
ventilation of dwellings, if buildings are so crowded together
that they by their own mass prevent the due circulation of
the outer air, and the change thereby in its condition which
is essential to its wholesomeness ; and it is a mockery of
justice and propriety to call upon men to make sacrifices for
what society fails to secure in return.
The right of human beings to move about upon the face of
the earth which is given to man to occupy, cannot be exercised
by him in a social state without restraint as to time and place.
When man has, as he was commanded, subdued the earth, he
is bound to limit himself for the common good to such use as
may be consistent with the privilege of dominion ; but he
may not give up the means by which he lives to fulfil the
ends of his creation ; he cannot give up air, for w ithout it
he ceases to live, and he may not surrender the means of
wholesome exercise, for without it he cannot have that with¬
out which life itself is a burden. When men congregate in
communities, they are bound therefore—that is to say, so¬
ciety in the aggregate is bound—to provide not alone that the
breath of heaven shall come unrestrainedly and untainted
to all its members, but that the power to move about upon
the face of the earth they occupy—to the extent, at the very
least, of what is necessary to healthful exercise and recrea¬
tion—shall be also fully retained. Human beings must not
be so crowded together that they have not air, and whole¬
some air, to breathe, nor ought the habitations of human
beings to be so crowded together that there is not space about
or near to them for wholesome exercise.
But the rights of property interfere, and the owner of the
land claims to dispose of the site in such manner as he may
think most likely to conduce to his own interest. The owner
of land, like the individual who is to occupy it to his profit,
must make such concessions as it is the duty of society to
require in permitting him to turn his land to profit in a man¬
ner affecting those conditions which are essential to the
life and health of its members, whether present or prospec¬
tive. The rights of property are to be observed, but the
duties of property are to be performed ; and if so under or¬
dinary circumstances, how much the more under such cir¬
cumstances as those herein contemplated. It is through
and by the industry and activity of its inhabitants that a
town requires extension ; and as the land over which the
extension may take place increases in value by the opera¬
tion of such industry and activity,—and to a far greater
extent than if the soil had been suddenly found to contain
gold,1—it is the bounden duty of the legislature to take care, Supple-
and by all reasonable imposition and restiaint to piovide,
that the application of lands to such profitable account shall ^
be made with due regard to the uses out of w hich the profit
is to arise. The legislature is not justified in standing by
until new interests have been created by the application of
capital to the lands which environ a town, as they present
themselves for absorption in it, and then to tax the commu¬
nity at large to buy up and clear off, at a huge expense,
large plots here and there, at long distances apart, and from
the’centre. Plots of reasonable size, as hereinbefore set forth,
ought to be claimed and retained as the duty of the pro¬
perty to the community whose industry and intelligence
give such largely enhanced value to the rest, and as essen¬
tial to the proper application of the rest to the purposes of
a town.
If out of every 100 acres ofland added to London within
the present century alone, a tithe only had been claimed
and set apart as a town garden, and maintained as such by
a rate upon the inhabitants of the 90 acres distributed in
streets and occupied by buildings, it would not have be¬
come necessary to obtain at an enormous outlay sites for
recreation and exercise remote from the courts and alleys
occupied by the labouring classes, and therefore practically
useless to all but the few close at hand, as play-grounds for
children, and places of resort for men and women who live
by hard work, and who cannot afford carriages to convey
them to Victoria Park or to Battersea Fields.2
For the same reason that as the community give en¬
hanced value to lands as they become available for the in¬
crement of a town, the public may claim as a right, not only
that such concession shall be made by the obtainer of the
benefit as that last above indicated, but that the rest shall
be so disposed, so prepared, and so occupied, as it regards
streets and buildings, and that the buildings be so arranged,
built, and relieved, as to secure the health, comfort, and
safety of the future inhabitants ; and it is to such effect that,
as hereinbefore set forth, architecture, in its catholical sense,
should be applied and enforced, by the authority of the
British legislature on the part of the British public.
Section II.
The further explorations in Egypt, the discoveries in Asia
Minor, the almost astounding exhumations in the valleys
of the Tigris and Euphrates, the results of continued in¬
quiries, by excavation and otherwise, in Greece, Italy, and
other parts of Europe less fertile in historical antiquities, and
the tracking out of remaining monuments of undescribed
peoples in Central Amei’ica, have tended greatly, by the
illustrations obtained therefrom, to correct and improve, as
well as to widen, our knowledge of the earlier history of the
human race ; of the condition of the mechanical and manu¬
facturing arts; of some of the arts of design; and generally,
to make us acquainted with a barbaric civilization to be al¬
ways wondered at and sometimes admired. Among the re¬
mains of earlier and later antiquity thus within a recent period
brought to light, there is much to confirm, and nothing to
contradict, the theory propounded in the foregoing treatise
of the origin of conventional architecture, or architecture in
the narrower sense in which the term is there employed; but
neither the rock caverns and temples of Egypt and India,
1 Land in the neighbourhood of London, which, as grass land, has been let at from three to. five guineas per acre, and e mar e
value of which as such would not be more than from L.100 to L.170 per acre, rises gradually in selling value as the town grows out
towards it until it becomes building land, when its price is counted by thousands of pounds per acre, and that before a turf is turne..
2 Even a wider view of the duties of property in land applied to the increment of towns may be taken and maintained. aving
reference to the source of the increased value w hich the application of land to building purposes obtains for it, the disposal of the mor a
i emains of the human beings concentrated upon it by such application, should be provided out of the benefited estates—not by leaving i
as a rate to be thrown upon the inhabitants, but by an appropriation of a sufficient part of the site, or an equivalent in money to uy a
suitably removed site, to receive the remains of all the inhabitants which the building land may be capable of receiving when, in tne
course of nature, they must be removed to resting-places for the dead.
ARCHITECTURE.
Supple- nor the mounds of sun-dried bricks on either side of the
ment. Tigris, nor the addenda to our knowledge of Greek monu-
—mental antiquity supplied by the industry of Mr Penrose at
Athens, and of Sir Charles Fellows in Lycia, nor the curious
labours of Mrs Hamilton Gray and Mr Dennis in the mines
of Etrurian antiquity, nor, indeed, the discoveries of Mr
Stephens in Yucatan, add anything really available to the im¬
provement of our knowledge of the constructive arts appli¬
cable to works of architecture, or to the design and decora¬
tion of such works.
But it may be of interest, nevertheless, to add to the state¬
ments contained and opinions advanced in the foregoing
treatise as to the habitations of the earlier races of men
within the historic period, the following observations of the
distinguished labourer in the fields of Assyrian antiquity,
to whose intelligence and activity the greatest discoveries
above referred to are mainly due, and to inquire into the bear¬
ings of the recent discoveries upon the archaeology of archi¬
tecture. Mr Layard writes, in chap. xiii. of his Popular
Account of Nineveh, page 341—“ The earliest habitations,
constructed when little progress had been made in the art
of building, were probably but one story in height. In this
respect the dwelling of the ruler scarcely differed from the
meanest hut.” And at page 348 of the same work, the author
continues the same subject by the remark that “ we have no
means of ascertaining the nature of the private dwellings of
the Assyrians, nor of learning any particulars concerning their
internal economy and arrangement. No such houses have
been preserved either in Assyria Proper or Babylonia, their
complete disappearance being attributable to the perishable
materials of which they were constructed ; for although the
palace-temples were of such extraordinary magnificence,
the bulk of the people appear to have lodged, as in Egypt,
and indeed in Greece and Rome, in very small and miser¬
able dwellings, which, when once abandoned, soon fell to
dust, leaving no trace behind.” And having reference to the
“ palace-temples ’’ laid open by himself in Assyria and Ba¬
bylonia, Mr Layard remarks, in continuation of the paragraph
first above quoted—“ It soon became necessary, however,
that the temples of the gods and the palaces of the kings,
depositories at the same time of the national records, should
be rendered more conspicuous than the humble edifices by
which they were surrounded. The nature of the country
also required that the castle, the place of refuge in times of
danger, or the permanent residence of the garrison, should be
raised above the city, so as to afford the best means of re¬
sistance to an enemy. As there were no natural eminences
in the country, the inhabitants were compelled to construct
artificial mounds. Hence the origin of those vast solid struc¬
tures which have defied the hand of time, and, with their
grass-covered summits and furrowed sides, rise like natural
hills in the Assyrian plains.” In further continuation of this
part of the subject, the author writes at page 345 of the same
work—“ The mode of roofing the palaces and lighting the
chambers, many of which were in the very centre of the
building, with no other inlet for light but the door, is one of
the most difficult questions in Assyrian architecture. I am
inclined on the whole,” Mr Layard writes, “ to concur with
Mr Fergusson [in his work entitled The Palaces of Nineveh
and Persepolis Pestored\ in thinking that light was admitted
through galleries or open rows of low pilasters above the ala¬
baster slabs, and that wooden columns were sometimes used
to support the roof in the larger halls. It is, however, re¬
markable that no remains whatever of columns have been
499
discovered, nor are there any traces of them. Unless they Supple-
were employed, the chambers exceeding a certain width ment.
must have been left open to the sky. There is no proof ^ * v^ ^
whatever of the rooms having been vaulted, although the As-
syrians were well acquainted w4th the principle of the arch.”
And having regard to this last-quoted expression, it is neces¬
sary to extract the passage which appears to supply the evi¬
dence upon which the author may be supposed to rely in
using it. This is found at page 266 of the same summary of
his earlier but really less informing book, Nineveh and its Re¬
mains, in the following words:—“ It only remains for me to
mention a singular discovery on the eastern face of the mound
[under one of the explored palaces or temples at Nine¬
veh], near its northern extremity. A trench having been
opened from the outer slope, the workmen came upon a small
vaulted chamber, about ten feet high and the same in width,
fifteen feet below the level of the mound, and in the centre
of a wall of sun-dried bricks, nearly fifty feet thick. The
arch wras built of baked bricks. The chamber was filled with
rubbish, the greater part of which was a kind of slag, and the
bricks forming the vault and walls were almost vitrified, evi¬
dently from exposure to very intense heat. The chamber
bail thus the appearance of a large furnace for making glass
or fusing metal. I am unable to account for its use,” Mr
Layard continues, “ as there was no access to it, as far as I
could ascertain, from any side.”
Almost every explorer among remains of ancient times, in
countries which possess works of high antiquity, but in which
works the arch is not found to take its place in the structure,
has referred to some example or other which has seemed to
him to show that the properties of the arch were known to the
builders, or to the people of the nation by whom the works
were produced. Reports of examples of vaulted structure,
found under circumstances which, like those last above quoted
from Mr Layard, seem to assume the high antiquity of the work,
have been received from time to time, with assurances derived
therefrom that the properties of the arch were known to the
people of the place at the time referred to j1 but notwith¬
standing such reports, and the evidence adduced, be it real or
fancied, the world will continue to deny that either Greeks
or Egyptians, Hindoos or Assyrians, were “ well acquainted
with the principle of the arch,” acquaintance with the prin¬
ciple being assumed to include a knowledge of the properties,
—when they built, as we know from their grandest existing
works they did build, without any exhibition of that acquain¬
tance and that knowledge in their practice, under circum¬
stances in which the arch would have been most certainly
applied had its properties been known to the builders. There
can indeed be no answer given to the assertion that “ the
Assyrians were well acquainted with the principle of the arch,”
more conclusively against it, than the statement by which it is
preceded, that “ there is no proof whatever of the rooms hav¬
ing been vaultedthe circumstances of the case having been
such, it would appear from the context and the illustrations,
as admitted of vaulting. It is possible that a semi-civilized
nation may have reached the wedge without attaining to the
application of the properties of the inclined plane in a screw,
or may have learnt to make the explosive compound known
to us as gunpowder, and even to use it for blasting rocks, with¬
out attaining to the art of gunnery; but it seems unlikely
that the more advanced nations of antiquity, who are not
found to have employed the arch in the construction of
works in which it would have been to them invaluable, could
have been practically acquainted with its properties.
1 Mrs Hamilton Gray must be excepted from the class of explorers referred to. With the good sense and clearness of perception that
distinguishes most of her remarks on the many interesting matters which came under her observation among the remains of the old
Etrurian cities, she observes with reference to the arch-shaped structure, known as the tomb of Regulini Galassi at Csese or Agylla,
“ I call it a sort of arch, because it would seem to have been constructed before the regular arch was known, or its principles conceived.
{The Sepulchres of Etruria in 1839, by Mrs Hamilton Gray, page 332.) See illustration on next page, fig. 1.
500
ARCHITECTURE.
Supple¬
ment.
Most of the misleading examples which have been ad-
, duced to show that the properties of the arch were known
to the earlier nations of the East, and in Egypt and Greece,
have not exhibited even the constructive arrangement of
the materials which is essential to an embodiment of the
principle of the arch in vertical constructions. An aperture
left in a wall to serve the purpose of a door or a window is
required to be of limited height,—it is not to be permitted,
indeed, to break the continuity of the wall throughout its
whole height, and it must, therefore, be stopped by a cover¬
ing as a lintel in some efficient manner so that the wall may
be carried on over it. T he opening being too wide for a
stone beam as a lintel to bear over, or a stone not being at
hand of length and strength sufficient for the purpose, the
courses are made to jut over the sides or jambs of the open¬
ing one above another by little and little until the gather¬
ing or corbelling over, as it is technically termed, has nar¬
rowed the space to be covered
so much that the next course
above completes the covering.
The jutting ends of the stones
will overhang, and this being
thought unsightly, or found in¬
convenient, their lower angles
are cut away, and the result is
the outline in appearance of a
pointed arch (See fig. 1), whence
probably—as first suggested, it
is believed, in the preceding
treatise (v. ante, p. 446, 2d cob
—the form which was the germ
of the pointed style. But the familiar form which at once
induces the idea of an arch has misled many an untechnical
observer into a belief that he has detected an arch where
none has existed. It must be conceded, nevertheless, that
the diagrams exhibited by Mr Layard in
Nineveh and its Remains, his earlier
work (published in 1849), and in the
Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh
and Babylon, the result of a Second
Expedition, first published in the cur¬
rent year, 1853, and showing what are ^
believed to be works of high antiquity, do
present all the appearance of arch-built
vaults.—See figs. 2, 3, and 4. More-
Pig. 2.
Fig. 3.
Pig. 4.
over, some of the sculptures removed by Mr Layard from his
excavations among the Assyrian mounds of ruined palaces
or temples, and now in the British Museum, present the ap¬
pearances of door or gate ways in, or rather upon (for the
sculptures referred to are in low relief only), city walls and
the walls of buildings, having curved heads, as if they were
arched over ; but it is to be remarked that although there
are frequent indications by lines on the same sculptured
blocks, and in the same walls, of the joints of the horizon¬
tally-coursed masonry, there are no such lines, radiating or
otherwise, above the bowed lines which would seem to pre¬
sent the form of arched heads to openings in the walls as Supple-
doors or gates, to indicate joints in the masonry, and thereby ment.
to exhibit the structure of an arch.
Reverting to the statement above quoted from the Po¬
pular Account of Nineveh, to the effect that no remains
whatever of columns had been discovered, it is necessary to
add the fuller paragraph from Nineveh and its Remains,
from which it appears that it is not columns alone that are
wanting in the Assyrian remains of the accustomed archi¬
tectural display. Having described the wonderful works
in sculpture which the mounds afforded, Mr Layard asks,
at page 267 in vol. ii., “ Were these magnificent mansions
palaces or temples ?” and observes, as in reply, and to show
the absence of means of answering certainly, “ Of the ex¬
terior architecture of these edifices no trace remains. I ex¬
amined as carefully as I was able the sides of the great
mound at ^Nimioud and of other ruins in Assyria, but there
were no fragments of sculptured blocks, cornices, or other
architectural ornaments to afford any clue to the nature of
the facade. And so strikingly devoid is Assyria in its
ancient remains of all such matters, that Mr Layard again, in
his more recent work (Layard’s Discoveries in the Ruins of
Nineveh and Babylon : being the result of a Second Ex¬
pedition. Lond. 1853), writes, at page 530, “ We find no
remains of columns at Babylon, as none have been found at
Nineveh.”
But Mr Layard has furnished the sufficient and con¬
clusive reasons why columns and their accessories do not
appear among the Assyrian remains. “ The architecture
of a people must naturally depend upon the materials af¬
forded by the country, and upon the object of their build¬
ings. The descriptions already given in the course of this
work,” Popular Account, “ of the ruined edifices of an¬
cient Assyria, are sufficient to show that they differed in
many respects from those of any other nation with which
we are acquainted. Had the Assyrians, so fertile in inven¬
tion, so skilful in the arts, and so ambitious of great works,
dwelt in a country as rich in stone as Egypt or India, it can
scarcely be doubted that they would have equalled if not
excelled the inhabitants of these countries in the magnitude
of their pyramids, and in the magnificence of their rock
temples and palaces. But their principal settlements were
in the alluvial plains watered by the Tigris and Euphrates.
On the banks of those great rivers, which spread fertility
through the lands, and afford the means of easy and expe¬
ditious intercourse between distant provinces, they founded
their first cities. On all sides they had vast plains unbroken
by a single eminence until they approached the foot of the
Armenian hills.” (Pp. 340 and 341.)
Hence it is that the Assyrian ruins present no remains of
columns and entablatures—the Assyrians had no stone but
the tender and friable alabaster, which is capable of becom¬
ing almost plastic in the hands and for the purposes of the
sculptor, as the Assyrian sculptures abundantly show ; but
which is wholly unfit for the purposes of the architect in his
normal character of a constructor. Wanting stone out of
which to form columns and architraves, the difficult question
presents itself, as to the mode employed “of roofing the pa¬
laces and lighting the chambers.” Mr Layard’s opinion on
this point, coinciding with that of Mr Fergusson, is given in
the extract already quoted on the preceding page. “A mass
of charred wood and charcoal,” and “part of a beam in good
preservation, apparently of mulberry wood, found near the
southern entrance of the great hall” {Popular Account, p.
265), yield almost conclusive evidence that timber had been
employed in the buildings for some purpose or other ; and a
woodcut at p. 252 of Mr Layard’s more recent book already
quoted, which contains the result of a second expedition, be¬
ing further discoveries in the same countries, of a view of the
inter ior of a modern house in the Sinjar, shows very clearly
ARCHITECTUEE.
Supple- how timber may have been employed in the formation and
ment. support of the roofs of the palaces or palace-temples of the
ancient Assyrians, while the heavy sun-dried brick walls and
piers may still form the outer lateral inclosure and supports
of the building ; that is to say, the flat roofs may have been,
and probably were, structurally of timber, upborne by the
outer walls of brick burnt or unburnt, aided intermediately
by posts of timber and covered with bitumen.1 Stability
was given to the structure by the masses of sun-dried brick,
and shelter for the inhabitants from the weather by the
timbered flat coated with bitumen. But buildings so com¬
posed were both fragile and combustible ; and fire taking
the roofs, the walls and pillars fell into the heaps which
Assyria and Babylonia have presented to the modern tra¬
veller.
It is most probable, too, that the Assyrian palace-temples,
or whatever else they may be designated, were, for the pur¬
poses of light and air, hypaethral, and that the several halls
presented each the arrangement, as it regards the admission
of light and air, exemplified by the peristyled atrium of a
Roman mansion, as shown by the Pompeian remains at the
present day, and used as an illustration in Plate LXI. ac¬
companying the preceding treatise.
Mr Fergusson, in the work referred to by Mr Layard, and
in the frontispiece to Mr Layard’s Discoveries in the Ruins
of Nineveh and Babylon, being the result of a Second Ex¬
pedition, and hereinbefore quoted, imagines combinations
of timber for which the patent documents afford no suffi¬
cient authority, and which require greater skill in carpentry
than the Assyrians and Babylonians are likely to have pos¬
sessed. The wooden coffins of the Egyptians of the same
time show us very plainly the state of the joiner’s art among
them ; and a technically informed eye can readily determine
the advance a people may have made in carpentry by the
putting together of even a coffin, though that is a piece of
joiner’s work. It does not appear from any of Mr Layard’s
statements, as records of fact, that the beam found in the
S.W. palace of Nineveh, or any other piece of timber dis¬
covered among the ancient remains in the countries which
he has so well described, exhibited any of the operations of
carpentry;—no indent as a mortise, and no projected end
to a piece of timber as a tenon. It is true that’ the sculp¬
tured slabs of alabaster were kept in their places “ as a kind
of panelling to the walls of sun-dried bricks” {Popular Ac¬
count, p. 343), “ and held together by iron, copper, or wood¬
en cramps in the form of double dove-tails.” The dove-tail
joint is found, though in a rude state, certainly, in the Egyp¬
tian coffins or mummy cases, of which such large numbers
are open to public view in the British Museum; and so is
the dowel found, used as a means of connecting boards one
with another, by the face or by the edge, in the form of the
pin-dowel, so familiarly known as the means by which the
head of a cask is put together; and in the form of a tenon-
dowel, which the Egyptians employed to attach the cover
to the case, wooden pins giving the means of keying them.
Pin-dowels are driven so as to set tight against the trans¬
verse section of the fibre, whilst a tenon-dowel requires to
be held in the mortise by pins passing transversely through
them. The coffins or cases of the earliest dates do thus
present both mortise and tenon, as between board and
board, with the fibres running parallel in each ; but they do
not present the mortise and tenon joints of carpentry,
whereby timber may be framed; for which purpose the
tenon must be formed on the end of one piece, of the sub¬
stance of the piece, and be inserted at right angles for the
mos part into a moitise, being an indent of corresponding
s,ze and form in the substance of another piece; that is to
say, the oldest coffins or cases do not exhibit framing, in the
proper sense of the term, as a means of connecting timbers
one with another; nor is the true mortise and tenon joint
found in the large collection referred to, until the Greek or
I olemaic period, when, and in the Roman period, the Egvp-
tian coffins or mummy cases are found to be framed toge¬
ther as the rails are framed into the legs of a common table.
Whilst existing remains of early Egyptian joiner’s work show
that the early Egyptians used the dove-tail and the dowel,
and there is nothing to show that they knew the proper
framing joint whereby alone timber may be efficiently put
together to form a framed structure, we find no evidence
upon which we can conclude, or may admit, that the Assy¬
rians and the Babylonians were in advance of the Egyp¬
tians in that respect. We must therefore conclude that the
timber structures suggested by Mr Fergusson, and adopted
by Mr Layard in the frontispiece design of his books, which
could not have been put together as safe structures with¬
out a system of framing and bracing beyond the skill in
practice of the early Egyptians, could not have been carried
out by their contemporaries in Mesopotamia. Nor does it
appear, from anything discovered, that either Egyptians,
Assyrians, or Babylonians had the means of making up for
want of skill in carpentry, as the modern European and
particularly English architects do make up for such want,
by a profuse use of nails and screws, and of rods, bars, straps,
and bolts of iron. Ihe modern Yezidi houses in the Sinjar
Mountains, above referred to as presenting local instances
of timber structure, exhibit the timber in such manner as
to show that even the modern Assyrian puts timber together
as the ancient Egyptians did stone, and not by means of
carpentry—relying upon mass, and the gravity that accom¬
panies mass, even with the lighter body; but neither the
one nor the other got by such means—whether with stone,
brick, or timber—beyond one story high.
Our denial in the preceding treatise that the properties
of the arch were known well enough at least to be appre¬
ciated by the more ancient nations of the East, including
those of Egypt and Greece, until the arch had first be¬
come of general application in Italy, remains thus unim¬
peached by the recent discoveries in the valleys and plains
of the Tigris and Euphrates ; whilst in like manner our im¬
peachment of the dendroid theory of the origin of those
combinations of ancient works to which the designation ar¬
chitectural has been specially applied, receives negative
confirmation from the results of Mr Layard’s admirable
labours.
To the foregoing observations it is to be added, that, al¬
though we have become possessed of no valuable addition
to our previous stock of architectonic materials by the ex¬
plorations in the Mesopotamian fields, the workings have
brought to light much interesting documentary evidence, to
the effect that the Greeks found the germ of their beautiful
ornament, known to us as the honey-suckle, and so com¬
monly used by them in the enrichment of their Ionic style, in
Assyria. Mr Layard gives in the Popular Accomit (pp. 44,
45) the following interesting statement in connection with
this subject:—“ Adjoining this slab was a second, cut so as to
form a corner, sculptured with an elegant device, in which
curved branches, springing from a kind of scroll work, termi¬
nated in flowers of graceful form The flowers were
501
Supple¬
ment.
f . . +i ° i ln^ vG. bitumen pits, or ‘ Kiyara/ as they are called by the Arabs. They cover a considerable extent
o groun ; ie i umen ubbling up in springs from crevices in the earth and forming small ponds. The Jebours and other tribes en¬
camping near t e p ace, carry the bitumen for sale to Mosul and other parts of the Paschalic. It is extensively used for building
pin poses, or coa lnS t ® on tbe river, &c Before leaving the pits, the Arabs, as is their habit, set fire to the bitumen.” (Popular
■fxCCOWYltj C. XI* jpjp*
502
ARCHITECTURE.
Supple¬
ment.
formed by seven petals springing from two tendrils, or a double
scroll; thus, in all its details, resembling that tasteful orna-
' ment of Ionic architecture known as the honeysuckle. The
alternation of this flower with an object resembling a tulip in
the embroideries on the garments of the two winged figures,
establishes beyond a doubt the origin of one of the most
favourite and elegant embellishments of Greek art.” Hav¬
ing regard to the sculptures referred to by Mr Layard, and
to other evidence to the same effect, Mr Fergusson goes so
far as to express an opinion—at page 340 of his ingenious
speculations, under the title of The Palaces of Persepolis
and Nineveh Restored—that “ it is now impossible to doubt
that all that is Ionic in the arts of Greece is derived from
the valleys of the Tigris and Euphrates. But perhaps this
opinion should receive the same qualification that would
certainly be required for a declaration to the effect that
all that is excellent in modern carpentry is derived from
the Persian and Assyrian palaces, as exhibited in the pre¬
face to Mr Layard’s book which contains the results of his
second expedition ; being a fanciful display of lofty and
many-storied buildings, for the structure and disposition of
the outer features of which Mr Layard’s books contain no
evidence.
It was not long before the exhumation by Mr Layard in
Central Asia, of the wonderful remains of fine art in monstrous
combinations of brute and human forms, entombed in earthen
mounds, that Mr J. L. Stephens, when engaged on a mission
from his government—that of the United States of North
America—to some of the mutable states of Central America,
heard of and tracked out in the forests of Yucatan1 the re¬
mains of a bygone time exhibited in sculptural and archi¬
tectural monuments of a coarse character, and revolting as
regards the representations of human and bestial forms in
sculpture, but not more revolting than the more elegantly
designed and beautifully wrought works of the Central Asians;
whilst the architectural remains afford a strange counterpart
to those which Mr Layard describes, as he imagines them
to have existed in and about the valleys of the Tigris and
Euphrates. Huge mounds, constructed pyramid-wise and
of stone, form in Yucatan the bases of the temples and
shrines upon which some former inhabitants practised the
horrid rites by which they thought the Almighty was to be
worshipped; as in Assyria, there were mounds of the ma¬
terial the country afforded upon which the temples and
shrines of an equally unholy worship was performed by the
more graceful but most abominable sovereigns, subjects, and
slaves of the Eastern tyrannies.
The graphic illustrations of Mr Stephens’s records of his
discoveries are by an English artist whose study had been
especially architecture, and whose drawings may be taken,
therefore, with more confidence to represent truly the forms
and the disposition of the materials which the architectural
remains of Yucatan present, than may be prudently yielded
to the drawings of artists not so prepared. Mr Cather-
wood, the artist referred to, is known to have spent some of
his earlier years in Egypt and the East, and he was thereby
familiar with the ancient remains of those parts of the world ;
but it is not to be imagined therefore, that he drew upon his
memory for the forms and dispositions of the materials of the
American monuments. It is certain, however, that if the
drawings Mr Catherwood has published of the architectural
remains discovered in Yucatan, had been presented to the
world as of remains found in hitherto unexplored parts of
Nubia, or as existing in any part of Mesopotamia, or in
the countries lying between Persia and the Tigris, they
would have been taken to be prototypes of the more finished
and more magnificent monuments so familiar to the world
as the remains of the higher civilization of Egypt and the
East. ,
Among the objects represented in Mr Catherwood’s
Views of Ancient Monuments in Central America, Chiapas,
and Yucatan, are several examples of vaults having the arch
form but not being arched vaults ; that is to say, of vaults^
presenting the appearance internally, or upon the soffit, of
arches, but formed by the gathering over of horizontally-
coursed masonry, with the inner and lower angles worked
away—or cleaned off, as it is technically expressed—to the
appearance on the inside which an arched vault would pre¬
sent. See fig. 5.
Fig 5.
Supple¬
ment.
The circumstance that the arch form presented in the
American monuments is produced by the gathering over
of horizontally-ranged masonry, and not by means of arch
structure, would seem to show clearly that if their builders
ever had intercourse with the Old World, it was before the
properties of the arch were known and practised in it. 1 hese
remains show an advance on the Pelasgic and Celtic monu¬
ments of the cis-atlantic world, and take the general charac¬
ter of the stone works of Egypt and India ; but like those
works they exhibit the vaulted form by gathering over and
not by arching.
Mr Catherwood states, at page 9 of the Introduction to
the Views, that he and Mr Stephens concur in the opinion of
Mr Prescott, the eminent author of the History of the Con¬
quest of Mexico,—“ that though the coincidences are suf¬
ficiently strong to authorize a belief that the civilization of
Anahuac (Ancient Mexico) was in some degree influenced
by Eastern Asia; yet the discrepancies are so great as to
carry back the communication to a very remote period, so
remote, that this foreign influence has been too feeble to in¬
terfere materially with the growth of what may be regarded,
in its essential features, as a peculiar and indigenous civiliza¬
tion and this opinion the monuments, as presented by Mr
Catherwood, would seem fully to justify. But Mr Cather¬
wood adds to this, as the ground, it would appear, for coin¬
ciding with Mr Prescott’s opinion, that the results arrived at
by Mr Stephens and himself “ are briefly, that they (the
American monuments) are not of immemorial antiquity, the
work of unknown men ; but that, as we now see them, they
1 Lord Kingsborough’s great work on the Antiquities of Mexico contains, in some of the later volumes, representations of monuments
which would almost appear to be the same as some of those subsequently explored by Mr Stephens.
\
ARCHITECTURE.
Supple- were occupied and probably erected by the Indian tribes in
rnent. possession of the country at the time of the Spanish con-
quest, that they are the production of an indigenous school
of art, adapted to the natural circumstances of the country,
and to the civil and religious polity then prevailing; and that
they present but very slight and accidental analogies with the
works of any people or country in the old world.” These
results do not appear to accord with, but rather to contro¬
vert, the opinion expressed by Mr Prescott as above quoted ;
but neither the historian nor the explorer and his illustrator
had at the time they respectively wrote the advantage of com¬
paring the arrangements made alike by the ancient Assyrians
and by the ancient Americans with one another, in respect of
artificial high places upon which they respectively erected
their temples, exhibited their monstrous idols, and performed
their horrid rites, or they must have recognised the necessity,
almost, of such results of a barbarian civilization having had
a common origin. And having regard to this point, we re¬
fer to the paragraph in the preceding treatise (p. 438, 2d col.),
where, by the aid of Humboldt, and without the light afforded
by the discoveries of Layard in the East, and Stephens in the
West, we had arrived at the conclusion to which a consider¬
ation of the evidence afforded by their labour has again
brought us.
The researches of Sir Charles Fellows in Lycia have led
to the discovery of some interesting monuments possessing
architectural features which bear the Grecian impress ; but
they present nothing greatly valued by the practical archi¬
tect of which he was not already in possession.
Mr Penrose has found, upon a more minute examination
of the Parthenon than had perhaps been at any time before
made of it, that its floor is slightly in rounding, to use the
technical phrase, and that the entablatures are not in per¬
fectly straight lines, or that they only appear to be straight
and are not so; the supposed tendency of the eye to see
crooked having been corrected in this particular case by the
architect through the agency of the mason. If the noble
ruin had not been exposed through long ages to quakings
of the earth under it, and had not certainly been shaken by
the explosion of a bomb shell within it, even the most minute
aberrations from the line and the level in a work so carefully
executed as the Parthenon was, might not be unreasonably
attributed to design ; and if the aberrations found to exist
were intended, there may be reason to suppose that entasis
was applied to the leading horizontal lines of the structure as
a whole, as it certainly was to the outline of the columns, to
convey to the eye the desired effect of truly straight lines.
Mr Penrose has had the advantage of examining the re¬
mains of the Propylgeum of the Acropolis without restraint,
and he justifies the note by the late Mr W. Kinnaird in cor¬
rection of Stewart and Revett, referred to in a note at page
462 ante. He points out also several other matters of in¬
terest to the student in the disposition of the parts of that
structure. For some further details connected with this sub¬
ject see Athens.
Mr John Pennethorne, who appears to have been the first
to remark and call attention to the peculiarities in the Par¬
thenon, which formed the main subject of Mr Penrose’s
examinations there, has subjected the forms and proportions
of that monument to mathematical investigation; and Mr D.
R. Hay has shown how the forms and proportions of the same
structure may be educed from his ingenious system of geo¬
metric developments.1
Mere verbal reference to the many published delineations
503
of existing works of date subsequent to the classical period, Supple-
which is all that could be made in this place, would not con- ment-
vey any valuable information to the reader; but, indeed,
there was very little to add to the amount of useful, and
this is not the place for merely curious, information con¬
cerning them. The manner, of which the Constantinian
Basilica is the type, so far as regards form and the disposi¬
tion of the structure, is in some degree indicated by the
front of Pisa Cathedral; though truly the style of design is Plate
almost as various as the examples. The buildings—for theLXX,
most part churches—of the Constantinian period are com¬
monly masked at the present time by an Italian exterior of
the cinquecento style of design, whilst the more properly
middle-age buildings are consistent throughout; but, as be¬
fore remarked, the variety as to detail is great, though the
leading characteristics continue much the same to and even
through the true Gothic period of the northern nations, and
until the introduction of the pointed arch. The terms Ro¬
manesque, Byzantine, and Lombardic, are now commonly,
but uncertainly applied to the works referred to as antece¬
dent to the Norman period; but the term Gothic is, never¬
theless, generally applicable even to the Italian works of the
middle ages, and most truly so to everything produced north
of the Alps throughout the middle ages, and down to the time
when the pointed arch gave a new character to construction
as well as a new style.
The greatest of the Moorish remains in Granada have
been made better known by the labours of the late able illus¬
trator Mr Jules Goury, followed up by Mr Owen Jones in
his well-sustained joint character of architectural draftsman
and artist, but the more pretending ecclesiastical structures
of Spain which purport to be in tbe pointed style have yet
to receive similar attention. Cicognara continues to be the
only trustworthy illustrator of that mine of beauty in archi¬
tectural design, Venice ; but his fine work is not easily
obtained, and it is costly. Personal acquaintance with the
works in the pointed style of Northern France, Flanders,
and the Rhine, has led to a higher appreciation of the effect
produced by magnitude and extent as exhibited in the greater
churches, and to admiration of the choirs and chancels of
some of them, and of the Belgian churches especially. Illus¬
trations are to be found sufficiently indicative of the gene¬
ral characteristics of the manner of these works, but nothing
short of personal knowledge can convey a true impression of
their effect, while the peculiarities of construction can only
be guessed at from merely pictorial illustrations.
At home correct delineations from actual admeasure¬
ment of our great works in the pointed style are more fre¬
quent than in any country abroad ; for it continues to be
true that the style is nowhere so well understood, so highly
appreciated, or so much abused in applying it, as it is in the
British Islands.
The old architectural wealth of Scotland has been recently
made known beyond her own limits by the labours of Mr
R. W. Billings, who being, like Mr Owen Jones, an archi¬
tect as well as an artist, has known how to present the sub¬
jects so as to exhibit much of the structural character of the
work in every case, as well as to give pictorial effect to his
illustrations.
Section III.
No instance of sufficient mark and interest to be spoken
of here has occurred within our knowledge, of the application,
in modern practice and to modern purposes, of the mode and
1 While the mathematician and the geometer have made the forms and proportions of the classical models of architecture their study,
to discover and to determine the principles upon which they were established, so that by their application in modern practice, the
excellent qualities of the antique examples might be obtained, the world of British architects have occupied themselves and amused the
public with discussions upon some indications of plastering and painting which have been detected upon the surfaces of some of the ar¬
chitectural and sculptural remains of antiquity. The subject of discussion is designated Polychromy, and the taste which deems such
trifling a matter of serious interest is distinguished by the term ^Esthetic.
504 A R C H I T
Supple- style of composition peculiar to the structures, as they re-
v men^, main to us, of ancient Egypt—the earliest in date as in man-
ner any existing structures ot high antiquity which dis¬
play taste and refinement in their disposition and details—so
as to make them worthy of study for any advantage deriv¬
able from such study ; nor do instances present themselves
of noticeable endeavours to apply the form presented by any
ancient remains in Persia or in India; and we shall find, upon
reference, that the now recent researches on this side of the
last-named countries, have eliminated nothing likely to be
of more interest and utility in practical architecture than
the known remains of Egypt, Persia, and India, and already
presented for the information of the inquirer and the study
of the practitioner. The great western continent had already
yielded up to the observation of the rest of the world many
monuments interesting to the archaeologist, but presenting
nothing to distinguish them as works of taste or of me¬
chanical skill, in which they are not far excelled by many
remains of antiquity in the middle countries of the Old
World. *
The instances which present themselves on all sides of
endeavours to adapt the columnar ordinances derived from
the noble structures of ancient Greece are numerous ; but it
is to be added, that so far as regards the most noble and the
most distinguished of the Grecian styles, every instance must
be regarded as a failure. Even the Walhalla in Bavaria,
which is understood to be professedly a reproduction, as to ex¬
terior form and distribution, of the Parthenon, is without the
inner portico at one of its fronts—the opisthodomus is want¬
ing. In what manner, or with what effect, the work is exe¬
cuted, the present writer has no personal knowledge ; but at
best the Walhalla is an exceptional case, and cannot be taken
to be an adaptation of the Greek style to a modern purpose,
but a copy, and an imperfect one, of a Greek temple. The
interior of the Walhalla cannot be accepted as an embodi¬
ment of either Greek taste or structural propriety, whilst the
rapid constructed approach from a low level to the elevated
site of the building cannot fail to be injurious to the effect
of its exterior, if it be only by taking the roof out of the
view ; but the graduated stylobate must also be intercepted
and thereby lost to the view throughout much of the circuit.
The Grecian Ionic ordinance may be thought to have
yielded in some degree to the requirements of modern uses ;
but having less of dignity to lose than the more purely
Greek style—the Doric—and being exhibited in no ancient
remains in such effective combinations as the Doric, modern
compositions of which the Ionic ordinance forms the basis
have the advantage over those which exhibit the Doric
features of being tried by a less severe test. Nevertheless,
the results, in the more prominent instances which London
presents, ot the application of the Grecian Ionic in modern
structures do not tend to encourage the endeavour to mould
this more plastic ordinance to modern purposes.
In compositions of less pretence, nearer approach may
have been made to success in the application of the Greek
Ionic ordinance. But the great defect of one in particular
of the Athenian examples—that of the portico of Minerva
Polias of an inordinately wide intercolumination, whereby
structural weakness is induced, is too commonly taken as
an authority for such a disposition of the columns as that
example presents, to the great detriment of most reproduc¬
tions in modern instances of the Greek Ionic.
Corinthian, as an ordinance, is more Roman than Greek, and
is much more plastic than the more purely Grecian ordinan¬
ces ; and being more plastic, it has been applied in modern
practice and to modern purposes more extensively, and with
greater success, than the less exacting, as it regards enrich¬
ment, but more exacting as it regards the circumstances
under which they may be applied in practice, Doric and
Ionic of the Greeks. It may be that the Corinthian column,
E c T u R E.
being a more finished and acceptable object in itself than Supple-
either the Doric or the Ionic column of whatever style, the ment.
eye exacts less, in respect of accessories and concomitants,
from the Corinthian column than it does from the Doric and
Ionic, which as columns are nothing; that is to say, they are
unmeaning, and to some extent ungainly, objects, unless it
be in appropriate composition, and with all the requisite ac¬
cessories to complete the respective ordinances; whilst the
Corinthian column, with its richly foliated and otherwise en¬
riched capital, coped with a moulded abacus, and bound be¬
low by a moulded hypotrachelium, its fluted shaft and its
moulded and enriched base, is itself an object to satisfy the
eye, while the mind inquires less urgently for what purpose
it is intended, and how it is to be disposed in composition.
However this may be, there can be no doubt, that whe¬
ther the peculiar form in which the Corinthian ordinance
presents itself be Greek or Roman—that is to say, whether
the characteristics and details be those of the Greek ex¬
ample, or of a Roman example, to which the designation
Corinthian is conventionally applied, or to that form of the
foliated style which is by the Italo-Vitruvian school distin¬
guished as the Composite order—it can be applied, whether
in its full proportions, or shorn of some of its parts and de¬
tails, with a success that has not attended the application of
Doric and Ionic, in whatever guise.
But even the classical Corinthian ordinance is seldom
found applied in modern works either at home or abroad,
without sacrifice being made, in a greater or less degree, of
the purposes of the work to the demands of the classical
exemplar employed, or the more common sacrifice of the
proportions found in the exemplar to the necessity of the
case. Now the proportions found in the purer columnar
architecture of Greece and Rome, of whatever style, are
necessary results of the materials employed and of the mode
of applying the materials in composition. The exemplars
are all in stone of some kind or other, and the propor¬
tions and dispositions are such as the use of stone in legi¬
timate structure of the sort applied would impose. Co¬
lumns are placed as far apart as stone of the kind used
in the case will bear over with certain safety in an ar¬
chitrave or lintel from column to column; such due pro¬
portion being observed between the horizontally disposed
stone beam bearing over, and the vertically disposed stone
column that has to support the superstructure, as the weight
may require. Hence intercolumniation, or the space to be
borne over, is not a matter of fancy, but of structural ne¬
cessity ; and the applicability of a classical columnar ordi¬
nance is structurally limited by the quality and character
of the stone employed. Stone beams cannot be pieced out
in length to bear over a void by any legitimate, or, what is
commonly but expressively termed workmanlike manner;
and arched structure is inadmissible in a pure columnar com¬
position, as arches of whatever form require to be buttressed ;
and the essence of a columnar ordinance as a structure is
in the weights being applied to act upon the column in that
direction only in which the column is qualified to bear pres¬
sure ; that is to say, vertically, or in the direction of its ver¬
tical axis. Marble will bear both transverse strain and ver¬
tical pressure better than freestone, and granite better than
marble; and hence it is that the several parts of columnar
ordinances in the works of the Greeks are more massive in
their proportions when freestone is used, and lighter in the
examples in which marble is employed; and the same relation
will be found to exist between heavy and light proportions
in the Egyptian temples. It is not according to their re¬
spective dates, but according to the material employed in
the structure, that the proportions of the parts to each other
are heavier or lighter,—the structure is more condensed or
more drawn out as sandstone or porphyry is the constituent
material of the building. It is the same with the better
A li C H I T E C T U R E.
Supple- works of the Roman period; that is to say, in the composi-
ment- tion of the columnar ordinances of tfyeir sacred structures ;
and the Romans indulged in the use of almost every kind
of stone available for the purpose in the columnar ordinances
applied to their temples.
Thus out of truth in structure, having reference to the
material employed, grew the forms and proportions found
in the classical exemplars of columnar architecture, stone
being the material of the structures, and the capability of
the stone to bear and to bear over giving the limit to the
columns, and to the parts required to bear over, and thereby
prescribing the proportions of the parts to each other, and
to the spaces between the bearing parts. To falsehood in
structure are attributable the failures to reproduce in modern
compositions the admirable effects found in the columnar
ordinances of the Greeks and Romans in which truth pre¬
vailed. Proportions permitted by marble are repeated in
tender freestone, and this failing, foreign substances and
unworkmanlike tricks of handicraft are applied to cheat the
sense ; but the eye refuses to be deceived, even if the struc¬
ture endure. There may be sufficient strength in reality,
for the effective material employed may be timber or iron,
or other substances capable of yielding the required result
in strength with far slighter proportions than stone of any
kind truthfully applied will permit; but a tutored eye will
detect the weakness in effect; and not unfrequently the trick
is exposed to the common observer by some failure in the
means adopted in the case.
The entablature of the central bay of the lower pseudo¬
prostyle of the west front of St Paul’s in London, reaching
from column to column, over a disproportionately wide in-
tercolumniation, exhibits a well-marked instance of the failure
of the false structure whereby it was endeavoured to cheat
the eye. The architrave is in three stones ; that is to say,
the architrave stones bearing on the adjacent columns are
pieced out by a third stone, which having no true structural
connection with them, the middle length has torn itself
away from its illegitimate attachments, and the stone above it
in the frieze is broken across ; or it may be, indeed, that the
suspended block in the architrave was hung up to the frieze
course ; but be that as it may, there it is a striking example
of undue proportions exhibiting themselves in the failure of
the means by which they were obtained.
Structural untruth is not to be justified by authority.
Neither Sir Christopher Wren, nor the Athenian exemplars
of Doric and Ionic in the Propylaeum, and in the Minerva
Polias, with their irregular and inordinately wide interco-
lumniation, can persuade even the untutored eye to accept
weakness for strength, or what is false for truth. Probably
no eye ever regarded the middle bay of the Propylseum
with satisfaction after having looked upon the Parthenon ;
and certainly none could turn with pleasure from the well
and truly proportioned disposition of the columns of the
Erechtheum prostyle to the straggling columns of the adja¬
cent portico of Minerva Polias.
This doctrine may be supposed to preclude the use as
models of the classical exemplars in architecture of the most
tasteful nations of antiquity, unless reproductions be made
of the materials as well as in the manner of the antique
505
exemplar. But this no more follows than that a man who Supple-
cannot afford to possess himself of sculptures in marble shall ment-
not accept casts; the architect is not precluded from ap-
plying the truth and beauty of form and proportion found
in the classical examples in consistent composition, in any
fitting material proper to the purpose of the work. Mr
Welby Pugin did not hesitate to employ brick-work in
the face as well as in the heart of the work, in building the
Romish church known as St George’s, Southwark, though
the great exemplars of the style he employed are of stone;
but he modified the proportions to the material, and pro¬
duced a truthful and in many respects an admirable work.
To do this or that, however, merely because this or that
is found in canonized examples of a period or of periods in
which works of high merit and great beauty were produced,
is not less preposterous than it is to endeavour to apply
the classical columnar ordinance, and to pay no regard, in
doing so, to the principles upon which their beauties are
founded. And the same observation applies alike to every
style of architectural composition.
Out of truth in structure, and that structure of a very
inartificial sort, grew the beautiful forms of the admirable
proportions fofind in the works of the Greeks, and out of
truth in structure, with the strictest regard to the necessi¬
ties of the composition and to the materials employed—and
that structure of a sort as full of artifice as the artifice
employed is of truth and simplicity—grew the classical
works vulgarly called Gothic, but more characteristically
designated Pointed, from the form of the arch which is
the basis of the style. But the classical columnar degene¬
rated into the Italian of the cinquecento, in which columns
and their accessories are constructed as ornaments, and are
no part of the structure as such with which they are mixed
up, or to which they are affixed; and the classical Pointed
fell into desuetude, or was found only in a debased connection
with the Italian—picturesque at times, but more commonly
grotesque, and never with any claims to decent bearing.
Truly, however, the purposes of modern life are not fully
answered by either of the grand and ruling styles—the
classical columnar of the Greeks and Romans, and the
classical Gothic or Pointed. They both had their birth in
those frailties of man which lead him through devotion to
superstition, and in structures intended for the worship of
the unknown God, the noblest results of both styles were and
still are exhibited ;1 and neither the classical columnar, nor
the classical pointed bends itself, or allows itself to be bent
to secular purposes without loss of both truth and beauty.
Doubtless there is much to admire in many of the pro¬
ductions of the Italian school of architecture, from the
cinquecento period down to the present time ; and many re¬
cent works in the pointed style, and some in the mongrel
manner that arose out of its debasement in connection with
the Italian, exhibit, if not originality, at the least careful
copying.2 Copying, with an affectation of originality, in¬
deed, is carried to such an excess in modern English prac¬
tice, that mere monstrosities are sought out to be copied.
Wearied with building spires upon the towers of churches
of such reasonable proportions that they may at once please
the eye and be safe as structures, recent practice has set up
1 It is a remarkable fact, indeed, that the greatest excellence in architecture has been obtained in connection with the grossest errors
in theology. Witness Egypt, Greece, and Rome.
2 Mere copying, and the most servile copying, is the ruling vice of the day, and it cannot be denounced in more eloquent language,
or in more just terms, than it has been done in the following passage by an eminent person, a distinguished member of his sect in Eng¬
land :—,£ W e have almost canonized defects, and sanctified monstrosities. What was the result of ignorance or unskilfulness, we attri¬
bute to some mysterious influence or deep design. A few terms give sanction and authority to any outrageousness in form, anatomy,
or position; to stiffness, hardness, meagreness, unexpressiveness-—nay, to impossibilities in the present structure of the human frame.
Feet twisted round, fingers in wrong order on the hand, heads inverted on their shoulders, distorted features, squinting eyes, grotesque
postures, bodies stretched out as if taken from the rack, enormously elongated extremities, grimness of features, fierceness of expression,
and an atrocious contradiction to the anatomical structure of man,—where this is displayed,—are not only allowed to pass current, but
are published in the transactions of societies, are copied into stained glass, images, and prints, and are called 1 mystical,’ or ‘ symbolical,’
VOL. III. 3 S
506
ARCHITECTURE.
Supple¬
ment.
Plate
FiXVI.,
fig. 3.
Plate
LX VI.,
fig. 2.
in London and its vicinity several offensively acute, and dan¬
gerously poised erections, as spires. Monstrous dwarf towers,
having the appearance of wind-mills without arms, almost
alternate with the feeble spires, and, consistently enough,
the natural order is commonly reversed in placing these
things ; towers are set up in the plain, and spires are erected
on the hills.
The works of living men may not be dealt with unless it
be to praise them ; and thus there are but few recent works
in London, or elsewhere, within the personal knowledge of
the present writer, which can be referred to in this place in
illustration of the practice of the day.
London is indebted to Sir Charles Barry for an admirable
example of the better kind of Italian street architecture in
the Travellers’ Club House, which shows how much of
beauty may be obtained by just proportions, tasteful dispo¬
sition, and unpretending decoration. The north or Pall
Mall front would seem to be the result of a study of the
Pandolfini Palace at Florence, to which it is fully equal in
merit; but the south or Carlton Gardens front, which is in
the manner of the Venetian school of design, is really beau¬
tiful, and as far excels anything else hitherto produced by
the same architect as his works in Pall Mall excel all others
in that street of great pretence. The Reform Club House
exhibits the general features of the principal front of the
Farnese Palace at Rome; but the proportions of the upper
story particularly of that great work are not obtained, and
the grandeur of the original is not fully attained, whilst the
recent work is overpowered by the noble and fitting crown¬
ing cornice of the model. These sister buildings, standing
side by side, deal hardly with one another, because of the
great difference between them in height and magnitude; but
each being made complete in elevation by the exhibition of
its roof as a part of the composition, not only bears the pre¬
sence of the other without suffering from it, but, together,
they show by contrast the beauty of propriety in the exhi¬
bition of a fitly covering roof in contrast with the pavilion
parapet so commonly exhibited as a mask to, or rather as an
apology for, a roof. The plans of the Travellers’ and the
Reform Club Houses are also well devised, and are of great
merit.
The effect of the Travellers’ Club Flouse upon recent
productions throughout the country has been great and be¬
neficial, for the style of design which it presents is now often
applied with good taste and proper feeling, though few prac¬
titioners seem to understand fully how they are to manage
the roof so as to do without a parapet; or rather, perhaps,
the parapet, in some form or other, has been so long looked
upon as an essential, that few know how to do without it.
They must have columns, too, upon their fronts, without
knowing how to apply them inoffensively, as Vignola ap¬
plied them in his beautiful Villa Giulia; and as Mr Cockerell
has done in his beautiful elevation of the Sun Fire Office,
at the corner of Threadneedle Street and Bartholomew Lane
in London.
In a small church at East Charlton, near the western
boundary of Woolwich, Mr Gwilt has shown how much of
good effect as well as useful service may be obtained with
great economy in the application of the Italian style of de¬
sign, in its earlier and simpler form, to ecclesiastical pur¬
poses. At Streatham, another suburb of London, there is
a church in the Lombardic manner, by Mr Wild, also of Supple-
plain and simple character, but the manner is not capable of ment.
any very agreeable effect.
The Romish church in St George’s Field, Southwark, de¬
signed by the late Mr Welby Pugin, is, without doubt, the
most truthful composition in the pointed style of the time;
and out of truth in composition and perfect simplicity has
arisen that quiet beauty which is so seldom found in modern
compositions affecting that style; but as the tower is not
wholly built up, and consequently the spire (as one must
have been intended) remains unbuilt, the work is wanting
in completeness, and consequently in the effect which, as a
whole, it would be likely to produce.
An endeavour, and not unsuccessful, to vary the mono¬
tony too commonly prevailing in the streets of London, has
been made by Mr T. H. Lewis, in erecting a building on
the east side of Leicester Square, for purposes similar to
those of the well-known Polytechnic Institution. The
Panopticon purports to be studied upon the style of design
prevalent in the capital of modern Egypt, presenting to a
large extent flat surfaces, or surfaces diversified by slightly
profiled proportions. The whole elevation is enriched by
coloured materials disposed for pleasing effect, and the effect
produced is very striking, and far from unpleasing.
A house has been recently erected in London in the style
of design prevalent in the streets of Paris; under a misap¬
prehension, it may be thought, that an arrangement which
is found to be pleasingly effective in the narrow streets of
that city must necessarily be productive of a similar effect
upon the verge of a park.
Much might be said without offence of the extensive
works in architecture of novel character, erected for railway
stations, and in connection with them ; but they are for the
most part of so fleeting a character that, judging from the
past, most of what exists now in the autumn of 1853, may
have fallen down, or have been pulled down, to make way
for something else before the autumn of 1854.
In treating of the practice of architecture, the practice of
architects must not be wholly passed over.
There are in London two associations, claiming somewhat
of a national character, of persons practising in, and in con¬
nection with, architecture ;—one the Institution of Civil
Engineers, and the other the Royal Institute of British
Architects.
The Institution of Civil Engineers was founded in 1817,
“ for facilitating the acquirement of professional knowledge
and for promoting mechanical philosophy.” This body con¬
tains many of the ablest and most ingenious constructors
and mechanicians of our pountry.
The Transactions of the Institution of Civil Engineers
are voluminous, and they contain much valuable matter in
fulfilment of the declared objects of the institution.
The Institute of British Architects was founded about the
year 1835, “ for facilitating the acquirement of architectural
knowledge, for the promotion of the different branches of
science connected with it, and for establishing an uniformity
and respectability of practice in the profession.” This body
numbers among its members most of the artist architects of
the day. It has published two half volumes of transactions,
in which there are some fine graphic illustrations, and use¬
ful practical observations. (w. H—G.)
or ‘ conventional’ forms and representations. And this is enough to get things praised and admired, which can barely be tolerated by
allowance for the rudeness of their own age. We have seen representations of saints such as we honestly declare we should be sorry to
meet in flesh and blood, with the reality of their emblematic sword or club about them, on the highway at evening. And because these
were the productions of an age eminently Catholic, they are considered as the types of an art equally so. But religious art does not look
at time, but at nature, which changes not, and at religion, which is equally immutable. To make rude carvings, because the building on
which they are placed is Xorman, or to make a stiff design because the glass is framed in early English tracery, may be all quite cha¬
racteristic, but it is not artistic. The object of all art is to speak to the eye, and, through it, to the feelings; and the object of religious
art is consequently to excite, through the sight, religious emotions, adequate to the subjects or persons represented.”—Cardinal Wise¬
man’s Essays on Various Subjects.
ARCHITECTURE,
Glossary.
GLOSSARY OF NAMES AND TERMS USED IN ARCHITECTURE.1
507
Glossary.
Abaciscus (diminutive of Abacus, q. v.) This term is ap¬
plied to the chequers or squares of a tessellated pavement.
Abacus (Gr. a/3a£, a square tile or table). The rectangular
and equilateral tablet covering the ovalo of the capital of
the Doric column, and on which the superimposed enta¬
blature rests, is called the abacus ; and from it the similar
part (though differently shaped) of all capitals is distin¬
guished by the same term. Abacus means the same thing,
but is opposed in application to Plinth, q. v. See also
Plate LXII. fig. 1.
Acroterium (Gr.aK[]<i)Trjf)Lov: the summit or vertex), a statue
or ornament of any kind placed on the apex of a pedi¬
ment. The term is often incorrectly restricted to the
plinth, which forms the podium merely for the acroterium.
The statue of the saint on the apex of the pediment of
the western front of St Paul’s is an acroterium ; the other
statues may be called acroteral figures.
Amphiprostyle (Gr. ap^t, around or about, and prostyle,
q. v.) A temple with a portico at each end is said to be
amphiprostylar. This term would be more correctly ap¬
plied to a structure having projecting porticoes on all its
sides, especially if it be equilateral like the Bourse or Ex¬
change at Paris, allowing no distinction of flanks or wings
to make it peripteral. See Plate LV. fig. 3 and 4.
Annulet (Lat. annulus, a ring). This term is applied to the
small fillets or bands which encircle the lower part of the
Doric capital immediately above the neck or trachelium.
Anile (probably from the Gr. avrtos, or some other deriva¬
tive of the preposition am, for, or opposite to ; it has no
singular), the pier-formed ends of the walls of a building
as in the portico of a Greek temple. A portico is said to
be in antis when columns stand between antae, as in the
temple of Theseus, supposing the peristyle or surround¬
ing columns removed. Plate LIV., fig. 1, 2, and 3.
Antefixal (Lat. ante, before, and Jixus, fixed), upright
blocks with an ornamented face placed at regular inter¬
vals on a cornice. Antefixae were originally adapted to
close and hide the lowrer ends of the joints of the covering
tiles on the roof of a temple as they appear in the exam¬
ples. Plate LIII. fig. 1, 2, and 4 ; and Plate LV. fig. 3.
Afofiiyge (Gr. uTTo^vyq, a flying off), the lowest part of the
shaft of an Ionic or Corinthian column, or the highest
member of its base if the column be considered as a whole.
The apophyge is the inverted cavetto or concave sweep,
on the upper edge of which the diminishing shaft rests.
Plate LXII. fig. 1.
Apteral (Gr. a priv. and Trrepov, a wing), a temple without
columns on the flanks or sides. The Greek Ionic temple,
Plate LV., is apteral.
Aileostyle (Gr.apaios, rare or weak, and ernAos, a column),
a wide intercolumniation. (See Eustyle.) The space as¬
signed to this term is four diameters.
ArzEOSystyle (compounded of arceostyle and systyle, q. v.)
This term is used to expressJfie arrangement attendant
on coupled columns, as in the western front of St Paul’s
Cathedral. Plate LXIV. fig. 1.
Arcade, a series of arches.
Arch (Lat. arcus, a bow), a construction of separate or dis¬
tinct blocks or masses of any hard material, cut wedge-
wise, and arranged in a bowed form, so as to bear from
end to end horizontally, or across an opening, though abut¬
ting or being supported only at the ends.
Architrave (Gr. ap^y, chief and Lat. trails, a beam), the
chief beam,—that part of the entablature which rests im¬
mediately on the heads of the columns, and is surmounted
by the frieze; it is also called the epistylium or epistyle.
Plate LXII. fig. 1. The moulded enrichment on the sides
and head of a door or window is called an architrave.
Archivolt. This term is a contraction of the Italian ar¬
chitrave voltato. It is applied to the architx-ave moulding
on the face of an arch, and following its contour.
Arris, the sharp edge or angle in which two sides or surfaces
meet.
Astragal (Gr. aorpayaXos, a vertebral joint), a convex mould¬
ing. This term is generally applied to small mouldings,
and torus to large ones of the same form. See Torus.
Attic, a low story above an entablature, or above a cornice
which limits the height of the main part of an elevation.
The etymology of this term is unsettled; probably the
upper range of columns in a Greek hypsethral temple (see
Plate LIII. fig. 1.; and see also Arch(eologia,yo\.^yX\\.
p. 412), was called ara^ov or aroiyov, from having no co¬
herent wall; whence the Latin atticum, and its applica¬
tion to a story superimposing the general ordinance.
Otherwise such a thing is unknown in Greek architec¬
ture ; but it is very common in both Roman and Italian
practice. What is here termed the tholobate in St Peter’s
and St Paul’s Cathedrals are generally termed attics.
Baluster, a small column or pier supporting the coping in
a pierced parapet: the parapet itself when pierced is hence
called a balustrade.
Band or TzENiA, nearly synonymous with Fillet, q. v. This
term is, however, most generally applied to that listel in
the Doric entablature which separates the frieze from the
architrave, and connects the lower parts of the triglyphs.
Base (Gr. fiacni). The congeries of mouldings generally
placed under the shaft of an Ionic or Corinthian column
is called its base. Plate LXII. fig. 1. The term is ap¬
plied also to the lowest part of a pedestal or stylobate; to
the vertical moulded fittings which go round walls on
the floor ; and generally to everything that is put lowest,
for anything to rest on.
Basement. A basement story is a story in any building
placed below the level of the ground on the outside of
and about the building. Basement applied specially, as
architects apply it, means the compartment in the eleva¬
tion of a building upon which any columnar pilastraded
or arcaded ordinance may rest; as in the Strand front of
Somerset House, of which the basement begins at the
level of the floor of the vestibule, being about that of the
street pavement, and extends upwards to half the height
of the adjoining building east and west.
Batter (Fr. hattre, to beat). Building over in projecting
courses, like inverted steps, is termed battering, gathering,
or corbelling over. The term is often applied to the con¬
verse operation of throwing back, as in a revetement or
retaining wall.
| Battlement, a pierced or machicolated parapet.
f Bay. The space between the mullions of a window, be¬
tween piers, and between the principal beams of a roof,
floor, or ceiling, is a bay. The term Bay is also applied
to a projected window or compartment of windows which
forms on the inside a bay. Such a compartment in a shop
is vulgarly called a Bow-window.
Bead, a small cylindrical moulding of frequent use. Plate
LV.
1 Those marked thus f are either entirely, or almost entirely, peculiar to Pointed Architecture.
508
ARCHITECTURE.
Glossary. Bed-mould, the congeries of mouldings which is under the
projecting part of almost every cornice, and of which in¬
deed it is a part. Plate LXII. fig. 1.
Bell, is a term applied to the solid cove of a Corinthian
or other foliated capital to a column, being, indeed, the
basket ot the pretty Vitruvian fable of the invention of
the Corinthian capital.
Blocking-course, a deep but slightly projecting course in
an elevation, to act as cornice to an arcade, or to separate
a basement from a superior story. (See String-course.)
f Boss, a sculptured knob which is placed on the intersec¬
tions of ribs in groined ceilings.
t Buttress, the projected piers against the quoins of towers,
and against the ordinary piers of walls, to strengthen them,
and receive the outward thrust of the inner transverse
arches.
Cabling. The flutes of columns are said to be cabled when
they are partly occupied by solid convex masses, or appear
to be refilled with cylinders after they had been formed.
f Canopy, a covering or hood, the enriched projecting head
to a niche or tabernacle. The tablet or drip-stone, whe¬
ther straight or circular, over the heads of doors or win¬
dows, if enriched, is called a canopy.
Capital, Cap (Lat. Caput, the head), the spreading, moulded,
voluted, foliated, or otherwise enriched head of a column.
Plate LXII. fig. 1. The term cap is applied, in contra¬
distinction, to the congeries of mouldings which forms the
head of a pier or pilaster.
Caryatides. Human female figures used as piers, columns,
or supports, are called Caryatides; and,adjectively, Cary-
atic is applied to the human figure generally, when used
in the manner of Caryatides. Plate LVI. fig. 4 and 6.
Cassoon (Itah), a deep panel or coffer in a soffit or ceiling.
Phis term is often written, after the French, caisson, wdiere-
as we derive it directly from the Italian cassone, the aug¬
mentative of cassa, a chest or coffer.
Cathetus (Gr. xaderos, a perpendicular line). The eye of
the volute is so termed because its position is determined,
in an Ionic or voluted capital, by a line let down from the
point in which the volute generates.
Cauliculus (Lat. a stalk or stem), the inner scrolls or ten¬
drils of the Corinthian capital are called Cauliculi. It is
not uncommon, however, to apply this term to the larger
^ scrolls or volutes of the same also. Plate LXII. fig. 1.
Cavetto (Ital. cavare, to dig out), a moulding whose form
is a simple concave, and impending. Plate LVII.
C ella (Lat.), the cell or interior of a Cleithral temple. The
Greek term is Naos, q. v.
Chamfer. An edge or arris taken off equally on the twTo
sides which form it, leaves what is called a chamfer, or a
chamfered edge. If the arris be taken off more on one side
than the other, it is said to be splayed or bevelled.
f Cinquefoil, tracery in five foliations or featherings. The
windows in the towers of Westminster Hall, Plate LXXL,
are cinquefoiled.
Cleithral {vide Cleithros). This is used of a covered
Greek temple, in contradistinction to Ilypcethral, which
designates one that is uncovered.
Cleithros (Gr. /Aei^pos, an inclosed or shut-up place). A
temple whose roof completely covers or incloses it is a
Cleithros. Plate LIV. fig. 1, 2, 3 ; and Plate LV. fig. 1
2, 3, and 4.
Coffer, a deep panel in a ceiling.
Column (Lat. columna), a tapering cylindrical mass, placed
vertically on a level stylobate, in some cases with a spread¬
ing congeries of mouldings called a base, and having al¬
ways at its upper and smaller end a dilating mass called a
capital. Columns are either insulated or attached. They
are said to be attached or engaged when they form part
of a wall, projecting one half or more, but not the whole
of their substance. Plate LV. fig. 1 exhibits insulated Glossary,
and fig. 2 attached columns. See also Plate LXII. fig. 1, i „ >
Consol or Console, a bracket or truss, generally with scrolls,
or volutes, at the two ends, of unequal size and contrasted,
but connected by a flowing line from the back of the up¬
per one to the inner convolving face of the lower.
Coping, the covering course or cornice of a wall or parapet.
The term coping is generally applied to a plain, slightly
projected, covering course, and cornice to a larger moulded
coping.
f Corbel, a knob, boss, or consol, projecting from a vertical
face, to act as a prop or support. Its jutting or overhang¬
ing has induced the application of the term to describe the
projecting of one thing over another.
Cornice (Gr. Kopuvis, the highest part, that which is placed
last on a building), the highest part of an entablature—
that which rests on the frieze. Plate LXII. fig. 1. The
term cornice is very generally applied to any bold conge¬
ries of mouldings occupying the highest place in a com¬
position, whether external or internal. A plain covering
to a wall or parapet is called a coping, q. v.
Corona {vide Cornice). This term is applied to the deep
vertical face of the projected part of the cornice between
the bed-mould and the covering mouldings. Plate LXII.
fig. 1.
Cove—Coving. The moulding called the cavetto,—or
the Scotia inverted,—on a large scale, and not as one of
a mere moulding in the composition of a cornice, is called
a cove or a coving.
f Crocket (probably from the old English word crok, a
curl), an ornament of foliage or animals running up the
back of a pediment, arch, pinnacle, or spire, from the cor-
bets below to the finial above, in which latter the croc¬
kets on both sides appear to merge. Plate LXXL fig.
3 and 5. In the earlier examples the crocket is a mere
curl, or bent tendril, with an enriched end.
Cupola (Ital. cupo, concave, profound), a spherical or sphe¬
roidal covering to a building, or to any part of it. Plate
LX. fig. 2, 3, and 4; Plate LX V.; and Plate LXX.
fig. 2.
f Cusp (Lat. cuspis, a spear), the points in which the folia¬
tions of tracery finish. These are sometimes themselves
enriched, and are sometimes plain.
Cyclostyle (Gr. kpkAo?, a circle, and rmAo?, a column).
A structure composed of a circular range of columns with¬
out a core is cyclostylar ; for with a core the range would
be a peristyle. This is the species of edifice falsely called
by Vitruvius Monopteral. (See Monopteros.)
Cyma (Gr. Kvpa, a wave), the name of a moulding of very
frequent use. It is a simple, waved line, concave at one
end and convex at the other, like an Italic f. In that
manner it is called a cyma-recta; but if the convexity
appear above, and the concavity below on the right hand,
it is then a cyma-reversa. Plate LVII.
Cymatium. When the crowning moulding of an entabla¬
ture is of the cyma form, it is termed the Cymatium.
Cyrto-prostyle. An alternation of Cyrtostyle {q. v.), but
indicating more clearly than Cyrtostyle does an external
projection.
Cyrtostyle (Gr. Kvpros, convex, and o-riAos, a column),
a circular projecting portico. Such are those of the
transept entrances to St Paul’s Cathedral, Plate LXV.
fig. 1.
Dado or Die, the vertical face of an insulated pedestal be¬
tween the base and cornice or surbase. It is extended
also to the similar part of all stereobates which are ar¬
ranged like pedestals in Roman and Italian architecture.
Decastyle (Gr. 8exa, ten, and o-nAos, a column), a portico
of ten columns in front. (See note to the term Hexa-
style.) The portico to University College, London, is
ARCHITECTURE.
509
Glossary. of this description ; more particularly described, it is deca-
prostyle and recessed.
Dentil (Lat. dens, a tooth). The cogged or toothed mem¬
ber. so common in the bed-mould of a Corinthian enta¬
blature, is said to be dentilled; and each cog or tooth is
called a dentil. Plate LXII. fig. 1.
Design. Architects apply this term to what is vulgarly
called a plan, intending by it the scheme or design of a
building in all its parts, the term plan having a distinct
application to a technical portion of the design. (See
Plan.) The plans, elevations, sections, and whatever
other drawings may be necessary for an edifice, exhibit
the design.
Detail. As used by architects, detail means the smaller
parts into which a composition may be divided. It is
applied generally to mouldings and other enrichments,
and again to their minutiae.
Diameter (superior and inferior). The greater diameter
of the shaft of a column is technically termed its inferior,
because it is that of the lower end; and the lesser, that
of the upper end, its superior diameter.
Diastyle (Gr. Sta, through, and <rrv\o<s, a column), a spa¬
cious intercolumniation, to which three diameters are as¬
signed. (See Eustyle.)
Dipteral. (See Dipteros.)
Dipteros (Gr. Sis, twice, and irrepov, a wing), a double¬
winged temple. The Greeks are said to have constructed
temples with two ranges of columns all round, which
were called dipteroi. A portico projecting two columns
and their interspaces is of dipteral or pseudo-dipteral ar¬
rangement. See description of fig. 3, Plate LIV.
Distyle (Gr. Sis, twice, and cmAos, a column), a portico of
two columns. This term is not generally applied to the
mere porch with two columns, but to describe a portico
with two columns in antis. The elevation of the pro-
naos of the hexastyle peripteral temple, Plate LIV. fig.
2, exhibits an example of di style in antis.
Ditriglyph (Gr. Sis, twice, and triglyph, q. v.), an inter¬
columniation in the Doric order, of two triglyphs. (See
Monotriglyph.)
Dodecastyle (Gr. SwSeKa, twelve, and crnAos, a column),
a portico of twelve columns in front. (See note to Hex¬
astyle.) There is no portico of this description in Lon¬
don at present. The lower one of the west front of St
Paul’s Cathedral (Plate LXIV.) is of twelve columns, but
they are coupled, making the arrangement pseudo-dode-
castyle. (See Pseudo-Prostyle.) The Chamber of
Deputies in Paris has a true dodecastyle.
Dome (Gr. Sa>/m, a structure of any kind ; whence the Latin
damns, a house or temple), a cupola or inverted cup on a
building. The application of this term to its generally
received purpose is from the Italian custom of calling an
archiepiscopal church, by way of eminence, II duomo, the
temple; for to one of that rank, the cathedral of Flor¬
ence, the cupola was first applied in modern practice.
The Italians themselves never call a cupola a dome: it
is on this side of the Alps the mistake has arisen, from
• the circumstance, it would appear, that the Italians use
the term with reference to those structures whose most
distinguishing feature is the cupola, tholus, or (as we now
call it) dome. (See Cupola.)
j" Dripstone, the moulding or cornice which acts as a ca¬
nopy to doors and windows. Horizontal running mould¬
ings are sometimes called tablets and sometimes dripstones.
Drops. (See Guttal.)
Echinus (Gr. zyivo^, an egg), a moulding of eccentric curve,
which (when it is carved) being generally cut into the
forms of eggs and anchors alternating, the moulding is
called by the name of the more conspicuous. It is the
same as Ovalo, q.v.
Ele\ ation, the front, or facade as the French term it, of a Glossary,
sti ucture. A geometrical drawing of the external upright
parts of a building. Architects speak of front, back-front,
and side or end elevations.
Entablature or Intablature (Lat. in, upon, and tabula,
a tablet). 1 he superimposed horizontal mass in a colum¬
nar ordinance, which rests upon the tablet or abacus of a
column, is so called. It is conventionally composed of
three parts, architrave, frieze, and cornice, a. v. Plate
LXII. fig. 1. 1
Entasis (Gr. evTacns, a stretching or swelling). Columns
are said to have entasis when they do not diminish regular¬
ly, but in a curved line.
Epistylium or Epistyle (Gr. cm, upon, and amAos, a co¬
lumn). This term may with propriety be applied to the
whole entablature, with which it is synonymous; but it
is restricted in use to the architrave or lowest member of
the entablature.
Escape, a familiar English equivalent for the term Apophyge,
q.v.
Eustyle (Gr. ev, well, and cmAos, a column), a species of
intercolumniation, to which a proportion of two diameters
and a quarter is assigned. This term, together with the
others of similar import,—pycnostyle, systyle, diastyle, and
aracostyle,—referring to the distances of columns from one
another in composition, is from Vitruvius, who assigns to
each the space it is to express. It will be seen, however,
by reference to them individually, that the words them¬
selves, though perhaps sufficiently applicable, convey no
idea of an exactly defined space, and by reference to the
columnar structures of the ancients, that no attention was
paid by them to such limitations. It follows, then, that
the proportions assigned to each are purely conventional,
and may or may not be attended to without vitiating the
power of applying the terms. Eustyle means the best or
most beautiful arrangement; but as the effect of a colum¬
nar composition depends on many things besides the dia¬
meter of the columns, the same proportioned intercolum¬
niation would look well or ill according to those other
circumstances ; so that the limitation of eustyle to two
diameters and a quarter is absurd, and so it is in the case
of the other similar terms. With Doric intercolumniation
it is different, as may be seen by reference to the word
M ONOTRIGLYPH.
Facade. (See Elevation.)
Fascia (Lat. a band). The narrow vertical bands or broad
fillets into which the architraves of Corinthian and Ionic
entablatures are divided, are called fasciae or fascias ; and
the term is generally applied to any similar member in
architecture.
f Featherings. (See Foliations.)
Fillet, a narrow vertical band or listel, of frequent use in
congeries of mouldings, to separate and combine them,
and also to give breadth and firmness to the upper edge
of a crowning cyma or cavetto, as in an external cornice.
The narrow slips or breadths between the flutes of Corin¬
thian and Ionic columns are also called fillets.
f Ftnial (Lat. finis, the end). The term is equivalent to
the Greek Acroterium. It is applied to the carved apex
of pediments, piers, pinnacles, and canopies.
Flute, a concave channel. Columns whose shafts are chan¬
nelled are said to be fluted, and the flutes are collectively
called flutings.
| Foliations or Featherings, small arches meeting in
points or cusps, which are plain or enriched. They are
used as an enrichment in tracery, and are distinguished
as trefoils, quatrefoils, and cinquefoils, as the case may be.
Frieze (ItsA.fregia, from the Lat. Phrygionius, enriched or
embroidered), that portion of an entablature between the
cornice above and the architrave below. Plate LXII.
ARCHITECTURE.
510
Glossary. fig- 1- It derives its name from being the recipient of
the sculptured enrichments either of foliage or figures
which may be relevant to the object of the structure." The
frieze is also called the zoophorus, q. v.
Frontispiece, the front or principal elevation of a structure.
This term, however, is generally restricted in application
to a decorated entrance.
Gable. When a roof is not hipped or returned on itself at the
ends, its ends are stopped by carrying up the walls under
them in the triangular form of the roof itself. This is called
the gable, or, indeed, the pediment. The latter term, how¬
ever, is restricted to the ornamental and ornamented gable;
and gable itself is applied to a plain triangular end.
Glyph. (See Triglyph.)
Grading (Ital. dim. of gradm, a step). Architects fre¬
quently use the plural of this term, gradini, and to gradi-
nate, instead of the English, steps, and to graduate, per¬
haps without sufficient reason, though they find them use¬
ful to distinguish what they intend from the meaning of
the latter words in their ordinary acceptation.
Groining. In vaulting or arching over from insulated piers,
the cross vaults meet in angles, and lead to a common
centre or apex. This is called groining.
Gltloche or Guilochos (Gr. ymov, a member, and Xoyo?,
a snare). An interlaced ornament like network, used most
frequently to enrich the torus. Plate EVIL
Gutta: (Lat. drops). The small cylindrical drops used to
enrich the mutules and regulae of the Doric entablature
are so called.
Helix (Gr. eXif, a wreath or ringlet), used synonymously
with Cauliculus, q. v. It forms in the plural Helices.
Hemiglyph (Gr. rj/iurvs, half, and yXvc^r], an incision or chan¬
nel). The half-channels, or rather chamfered edges, of
a triglyph tablet, may be so called. The two hemiglyphs
are included to make the third channel, and complete the
triglyph. (See Triglyph.)
Hexastyle (Gr. six, and o-nAo?, a column). A portico
of six columns in front1 is of this description. Most of
the churches in London which have porticoes have hexa-
prostyles. (See Prostyle.)
Hypalthral. (See Hypyethros.)
IIyp.etiiros (Gr. vtto, under, and aid pa, the air), a temple
open to the air, or uncovered. The Greeks frequently
made the temples of the supreme divinities hypsethral.
For instance, those of Jupiter Olympius at Agrigentum
in Sicily, of Neptune at Paestum, and of Minerva Par¬
thenon at Athens, are all of this description. The term
may be the more easily understood by supposing the roof
removed from over the nave of a church in which co¬
lumns or piers go up from the floor to the ceiling, leaving
the aisles still covered. In that case it would be hypae-
thral, after the manner of the Gi’eek hypsethros. The
Pantheon in Rome having an opening in the centre of
the dome, is thereby rendered hypsethral. See Plates
LIII. and LX. fig 4 and 5.
Hypogea (Gr. vtto, under, and jq, the earth). Construc¬
tions under the surface of the earth, or into the sides of
a hill or mountain, are hypogea.
Hypotrachelium (Gr. vtto, under, and rpa^Aos, the neck),
the moulding or the groove at the junction of the shaft
with the capital of a column. In some styles the hypo¬
trachelium is a projecting fillet or moulding, and in others,
as the Doric, it is composed of a channel or groove, and
sometimes of more than one. Plate LXII. fig. 1.
Iohnography (Gr. tyvo?, a footstep or track, and ypafrq, a
description or representation). A plan, or the represen- Glossary,
tation of the site of an object on a horizontal plane, is its "
ichnography. The term plan (q. v.) is, however, much
more frequently used.
Impost (Lat. impositus, laid upon). The horizontal con¬
geries of mouldings forming the capital of a pier, or edge
pilaster, which has to support one leg of an arch, is called
the impost; sometimes, and more conveniently, this term
is used for the pilaster itself, when its capital is called the
impost cap or impost mouldings.
Intercolumniation (Lat. inter, between, and column, q.v.)
The distance from column to column, the clear space be¬
tween columns, is called the intercolumniation.
Jamb, the side-post or lining of a doorway or other aper¬
ture. The jambs of a window outside the frame are
called reveals.
f Label, the level moulding or dripstone over a door or
window, common in the later Pointed works. It is gene¬
rally turned down at the ends at right angles, and slightly
returned again horizontally and outwards.
Lacunar (Lat.), a panelled or coffered ceiling or soffit. The
panels or cassoons of a ceiling are more classically called
lacunaria.
f Lancet. A term familiarly applied to the simplest form
of the Pointed arch, which is that of the outer end of the
surgical instrument, the lancet.
f Lantern (Lat. lanterna), a turret raised above a roof or
tower, and very much pierced, the better to transmit light.
In modern practice this term is generally applied to any
raised part in a roof or ceiling, containing vertical win¬
dows, but covered in horizontally.
Metope (Gr. peroirq, a middle space), the square recess be¬
tween the triglyphs in a Doric frieze. It is sometimes
occupied by sculptures. Plates LIII. and LIV. fig. 4.
Mezzanine (Ital. mezzanino, dim. of mezzo, the middle), a
low story between two lofty ones. It is called by the
French entresol, or inter-story.
Mitre. A moulding returned upon itself at right angles
is said to mitre. In joinery, the ends of any two pieces
of wood of corresponding form cut off at 45° necessarily
abut upon one another so as to form a right angle, and
are said to mitre.
Modillion (Lat. modulus, a measure of proportion), so
called because of its arrangement in regulated distances ;
the enriched block or horizontal bracket generally found
under the cornice of the Corinthian entablature. Plate
LXII. fig 1. Less ornamented, it is sometimes used in
the Ionic. See also Mutule.
Module (Lat.modulus, from modus, a measure or rule). This
is a term which has been generally used by architects in
determining the relative proportions of the various parts
of a columnar ordinance. The semidiameter of the co¬
lumn is the module, which being divided into thirty parts
called minutes, any part of the composition is said to be
of so many modules and minutes, or minutes alone, in
height, breadth, or projection. The whole diameter is
now generally preferred as a module, it being a better rule
of proportion than its half.
Monopteral. (See Monopteros.)
Monopteros (Gr. p.ovo<;, one, or single, and mepov, a wing).
This term is incorrectly used by Vitruvius to describe a
temple composed of a circular range of columns support¬
ing a tholus, cupola, or dome, but without walls. (See
Peripteral.) Such an edifice would be more correctly
designated as Cyclostylar, q. v.
1 The words “ in front” are used to prevent the mistake which might arise from a supposition that all the columns in a portico should
be counted to designate it. The porticoes of the churches of St Martin-in-the-Fields, and St Mary-le-bone, in London, for instance, have
each eight columns, but are hexastyle nevertheless, there being but six in their front rows respectively.
AKCHITECTUEE.
511
Glossary. Monotriglyph (Gr. /xoros, one, or single, and triglyph, q. v.)
The intercolumniations of the Doric order are deter¬
mined by the number of triglyphs which intervene, in¬
stead of the number of diameters of the column, as in
other cases ; and this term designates the ordinary inter-
columniation of one triglyph. Plate LIV. fig. 1.
Mouldings, eccentric curves of various kinds, intended to
enrich and ornament, by producing light and shade, and
obviating the monotony attendant on many flat and an¬
gular surfaces. They may be variously carved to in¬
crease their efficiency. The most usual forms of mould¬
ings are called the cyma-recta and reversa, cavetto, scotia,
torus, astragal or bead, and the echinus or ovalo, q. v.
Plate LVII. In Pointed architecture, mouldings are not
limited either to those names or to the forms they are in¬
tended to designate, nor indeed is any other style, except
by absurd custom and authority.
f Mullion, the columnar vertical bar used to divide a win¬
dow into breadths ; the trunk out of which tracery flows.
Mutule (Lat. mutulus, a stay or bracket), the rectangular
impending blocks under the corona of the Doric cornice,
from which guttae or drops depend. Mutule is equivalent
to modillion, but the latter term is applied more particu¬
larly to enriched blocks or brackets, such as those of Ionic
and Corinthian entablatures.
Nags (Gr. vaos, a temple). This term is sometimes used
instead of the Latin cella,as applied to the interior; strictly,
however, it means the body of the edifice itself, and not
merely its interior or cell.
Newel, the solid or hollow column or cylinder which bears
up the handrail of a staircase at the foot and in the most
material parts. It means also the core or hollow, as the
case may be, about which a circular staircase winds.
Niche, a concave recess in a wall, with a straight or circu¬
lar head. Niches are generally made to receive statues,
vases, &c.
Octasxyle (Gr. o/ctw, eight, and cmAos, a column). A por¬
tico of eight columns in front. (See note to Hexastyle.)
There is no portico in London of this description at pre¬
sent, though the upper one of the west front of St Paul’s
(Plate LXIV.) is of eight columns ; but they are coupled,
making the arrangement tetrastyle. It may indeed be
called a pseudo-octa-prostyle. (See Pseudo-prostyle.)
Ogee, the vulgar name for the Cyma, q. v.
Opisthodomus (Gr. oTncrOev, behind, and So/xos, a house or
other edifice), the part behind a Greek temple corrrespond-
ing with the Pronaos before it. (See Peonaos.)
Order. A column with its entablature and stylobate is so
called. (Plate LXII. fig. 1.) The term is the result of
the dogmatic laws deduced from the writings of Vitru¬
vius, and has been exclusively applied to those arrange¬
ments which they were thought to warrant.
Ordinance, a composition of some particular order or style.
It need, not, however, be restricted to a columnar com¬
position, for it will apply to any species which is subjected
to conventional rules for its arrangement.
Orthography (Gr. op6os, straight or true, and ypa<f>r], a
description or representation). A geometrical elevation
of a building or other object, in which it is represented as
it actually exists, or may exist, and not perspectively, or
as it would appear, is called its orthography.
Orthostyle (Gr. opOos, straight or true, and o-nAos, a co¬
lumn), any straight range of columns. This is a term
suggested to designate what is generally but improperly
called a peristyle, q. v.; that is, columns in a straight row
or range, but not forming a portico.
Ovalo (Ital.), egg-formed (see Echinus). This is the name
most commonly applied to the moulding which appears
to have originated in the moulded head of the Doric co¬
lumn, and, with an abacus, forming its capital.
Panel, a compartment with raised margins, moulded or Glossary,
otherwise. Deep panels in a ceiling are called Cassoons
and Lacunaria, q. v.
Parapet (Ital. parapetto, against the breast or breast-high),
the low breast-high wall which is used to front terraces
and balconies, to flank bridges, &c. The most common
application of the term in this country is to so much of
the external walls of a house as stands above the flats and
gutters of the roof behind.
Parascenium, in a Greek theatre, the wall at the back of
the stage.
Parastas (Gr. Trapao-ras, standing before), antse or end
pilaster. This is the Greek term for which the Latin ante
is generally used. It has the same meaning, and they may
be used alternatively. (See Ant^e.)
Pedestal (Gr. ttoos, a foot, and o-ruAos, a column). An in¬
sulated stylobate is for the most part so called. The term
is, moreover, generally applied to any parallelogramic or
cylindrical mass, used as the stand or support of any single
object, as a statue or vase.
Pediment, that part of a portico which rises above its en¬
tablature to inclose the end of the roof, whose triangu¬
lar form it takes. The cornice of the entablature, or its
corona and part of the bed-mould only, with the addition
of a cymatium, bounds its inclined sides, and gives it an
obtuse angle at the apex. In pointed architecture, how¬
ever, the angle of a pediment is for the most part acute.
f Pendent (Lat. pendens, hanging). In some of the later
works of the Pointed style, large masses depend from en¬
riched ceilings, and appear to be formed by the other legs
of intersecting arches: these are called pendents. They
also occur in canopies. See Plate LXXI. fig. 1, 8, 9,11,
and 12.
Peribolus (Gr. Trcpi, around or about, and /3aXXw, to throw),
an in closure. Any inclosed space is a peribolus; but the
term is applied more particularly to the sacred inclosure
about a temple. The wall forming the inclosure is also
called the peribolus.
Peripteral. (See Peripteros.)
Peripteros (Gr. -rrepi, around or about, and irrcpov, a wing).
A temple or other structure with the columns of its end
prostyles, or porticoes, returned on its sides as wings, at
one intercolumniation distant from the walls. Almost all
the Doric temples of the Greeks were peripteral. The
term is, however, incorrectly applied by Vitruvius to per-
istylar structures, though it is clear that a perfectly round
building, such as he describes to be peripteral, cannot be
said to be winged or to have wings.
Peristylar, having a peristyle. (See Peristyle.)
Peristyle (Gr. vrept, around or about, and o-nAos, a column),
a range of columns encircling an edifice, such as that which
surrounds the cylindrical drum under the cupola of St
Paul’s. The columns of a Greek peripteral temple form
a peristyle also, the former being a circular, and the latter
a quadrilateral peristyle. The same term is generally but
incorrectly applied to a range of columns in almost any
situation when they do not form a portico. (See Ortho¬
style.
Pier. The solid parts of a wall between windows, and be¬
tween voids generally, are called piers. The term is also
applied to masses of brickwork or masonry which are in¬
sulated to form supports to gates or to carry arches.
Pilaster (Lat. pila, a pillar, and the Ital. augmentative
astro, which indicates an inferior quality), an inferior sort
of column or pillar ; a projection from or against a pier,
having the form and decorations of ante, when used cor¬
rectly ; but too frequently they have capitals, like those of
columns, assigned them.
Pillar (Lat. pila, and Ital. piliere), a columnar mass of no
particular form. Columns are vulgarly called pillars; but
512 A R C H I T E
Glossary. architects make a distinction, restricting this term to such
pillars as do not come within the description of a column.
(See Column.)
Pillowed. A swollen or rounded frieze is said to be pil¬
lowed or pulvinated.
t Pinnacle, the slender tapering head of a turret or but¬
tress. A small spire, or the head of a spire or steeple.
Plan, a horizontal geometrical section of the walls of a build¬
ing ; or indications, on a horizontal plane, of the relative
positions of the walls and partitions, with the various open¬
ings, such as windows and doors,—recesses and projec¬
tions, as chimneys and chimney-breasts,—columns, pilas¬
ters, &c. This term is often incorrectly used in the sense
of Design, q. v.
Planceer is sometimes used in the same sense as soffit, but
incorrectly, as it is from the French plancher, to board or
floor. It is more particularly applied to the soffit of the
corona in a cornice.
Plinth (Gr. ttXlvOos, a square tile). In the Roman orders
the lowest member of the base of a column is square and
vertically faced; this is called a plinth.
Podium, strictly something upon or against which the foot
may be placed ; and in this sense probably it was ap¬
plied to the wall which bounds the arena of an amphi¬
theatre, and is thereby at the feet of the most advanced of
the spectators.
Polytriglyph (Gr. ttoAhs, many, and triglyph, q. v.) An
intercolumniation in the Doric order of more than two tri¬
glyphs. (See Monotriglyph and Ditriglyph.)
Portico (an Italicism of the Lat. Porticus), an open space
before the door or other entrance to any building, fronted
with columns. A portico is distinguished as prostyle, or
in antis, as it may project from or recede within the build¬
ing, and is designated with either of these terms by the
number of columns its front may consist of. (See Dis¬
tyle, Tetrastyle, Hexastyle, Octastyle, &c.)
Porticus (Lat. See Portico). In an amphiprostylar or peri¬
pteral temple, this term is used to distinguish the portico at
the entrance from that behind, which is called the posticum.
Posticum (Lat). A portico behind a temple. (See Por¬
ticos and Portico.)
Pronaos (Gr. upo, before, and vaos, a temple). The inner
portico of a temple, or the space between the porticus, or
outer portico, and the door opening into the cella. This
is a conventional use of the term; for, strictly, the pro¬
naos is the portico itself.
Propyla:um (Gr. vrpo, before, and TrvXp, a portal), any struc¬
ture or structures forming the entrance to the peribolus of
a temple ; also the space lying between the entrance and
the temple. In common usage this term, in the plural
(propylsea), is almost restricted to the entrance to the
Acropolis of Athens, which is known by it as a name.
Propylon, an alternation in the Greek form of Propy-
laeum (q. v.) in the Latin of Vitruvius.
Proscenium, in a Greek theatre, the stage.
Prostyle (Gr. Trpo, before, and cmAos, a column). A por¬
tico in which the columns project from the building to
which it is attached is called a prostyle. It is tautolo-
gous to say a prostyle portico,—a prostyle is a portico.
Custom, however, seems to warrant the impropriety, for
the word portico is always superadded. In determining
the number of columns of which a portico consists, the
Greek numerals are prefixed to the term Style, q. v., and
prostyle is repeated. It would be more concise, and, at
the least, equally correct, to put the numeral before pro¬
style, and say tetra-prostyle, hexa-prostyle, &c., instead of
tetrastyle-prostyle, &c.; as the custom is; that mode is
adopted in this article throughout.
Pseudo-dipteral (Gr. false, and dipteral, q. v.),
false, double-winged. When the inner row of columns of
C T UR E.
a dipteral arrangement is omitted, and the space from the Glossary,
wall of the building to the columns is preserved of the ^
consequent double projection, it is pseudo-dipteral. The
portico of University College London is pseudo-dipterally
arranged, the returning columns on the ends or sides not
being carried through behind those in front.
Pseudo-peripteral (Gr. i^evS^s, false, and peripteral, q. v.),
false-winged. A temple having the columns on its flanks
attached to the walls, instead of being arranged as in a
peripteros, is said to be pseudo-peripteral.
Pseudo-prostyle (Gr. i^evS^s, false, and prostyle, q. v.)
This is a term not in general use, but is here suggested
to designate a portico projecting less than the space from
one column to another, as the western porticoes to St
Paul’s Cathedral, and the portico to the East India
House, in London ; but that they are recessed also, and
therefore may be described as pseudo-prostyle and re¬
cessed. The front of Trinity Church in the New Road,
near the Regent’s Park, London, presents a mere pseudo¬
prostyle.
Pulyinated (Lat. joulvinus, a cushion or bolster), a term
used to express the swelling or bolstering of the frieze,
which is found in some of the inferior works of the Roman
school, and is common in Italian practice. It is used in¬
differently with pillowed.
Pycnostyle (Gr. ttvkvos, dense, and crnAos, a column),
columns thickly set. The space or intercolumniation
implied by this term is one diameter and a half. (See
Eustyle.)
t Quatre-Foil, tracery in four foliations or featherings,
but applicable only to circular or square panels, and not
to arches.
Quoin (Lat. ancon, an elbow or corner, whence the Fr.
coin), an outer corner. The stones which are made to
project from the regular surface of the walls at the outer
angles of a building are technically called quoins. The
front of the Farnese Palace exemplifies them. (See Plate
LXVI.)
Regula (Lat.), a rule or square. The short fillet or rect¬
angular block, under the taenia, on the architrave of the
Doric entablature, is so called.
f Rose or Catherine-wheel Window, the large circular
window filled with various tracery, which is common in
the upper part of transept fronts in churches and cathe¬
drals. Plate LXVIII. fig. 1.
Scotia (Gr. o-kotlo., shadow or darkness), a concave mould¬
ing most commonly used in bases, which projects a deep
shadow on itself, and is thereby a most effective mould¬
ing under the eye as in a base. It is like a reversed
ovalo, or rather what the mould of an ovalo would pre¬
sent. Plate LVII.
Scroll, synonymous with volute. The term scroll is com¬
monly applied to the more ordinary purposes, whilst volute
is generally restricted to the scrolls of the Ionic capital.
Section, a drawing shewing the internal heights of the va¬
rious parts of a building. It supposes it to be cut through
entirely, so as to exhibit the walls, the heights of the in¬
ternal doors, and other apertures; the heights of the
stories, thicknesses of the floors, &c. It is one of the
species of drawings necessary to the exhibition of a De¬
sign, q.v.
Shaft. The body or tapering cylindrical mass of a column,
from the base below to the capital above, is so called.
Plate LXII. fig. 1.
Sill or Sole (Lat. solum, a threshold, whence the Fr. seuil).
The horizontal base of a door or window-frame is called
its sill, though in practice a technical distinction is made
between the inner or wooden base of the window-frame,
and the stone base on which it rests,—the latter being
called the sill of the window, and the former that of its
C H I T E C T U R E.
A R
Glossary. frame. This term is not restricted to the bases of aper-
tures ; the lower horizontal part of a framed partition is
called its sill. It is sometimes incorrectly written cill.
Soffit (Ital. soffitta, a ceiling), the inverted horizontal face
of anything. The horizontal face of an entablature rest¬
ing on, and lying open between, the columns, is its soffit.
The underface of an arch, where its thickness is seen, is
its soffit.
Spandrel. The unoccupied angles, or rather the excluded
triangles, of a square described about a circle, are called
spandrels; whence almost any triangular space is desig¬
nated by the same term.
| Spire, the tapering mass which forms the summit of a
steeple.
Steeple. This term is used in contradistinction to tower,
the latter being upright, or nearly so, and terminating al¬
most abruptly, or with pinnacles, and the steeple running
to a point with sides converging from the base upwards,
or from a certain height only.
Stele (Gr. arqXr], a cippus or small monument). The or¬
naments on the ridge of a Greek temple, answering to
the antefixae on the summit of the flank entablatures, are
designated stelai.
Stereobate (Gr. o-repcos, firm or solid, and /Wis, a base or
fulciment), a basement. It is here sought to make a dis¬
tinction between this term and Stylobate, q. v., by restrict¬
ing the latter to its real import, and applying stereobate
to a basement in the absence of columns.
Stoa (Gr. oToa, a portico). This is the Greek equivalent
for the Latin porticus and the Italo-English portico, q. v.
String or String-course, a narrow, vertically-faced, and
slightly projecting course in an elevation. If window-sills
are made continuous, they form a string-course; but if
this course is made thicker or deeper than ordinary win¬
dow-sills, or covers a set-off in the wall, it becomes a
blocking-course.
Style (Gr. o-nAos, a column). The term style, in archi¬
tecture, has obtained a conventional meaning beyond its
simpler one, which applies only to columns and columnar
arrangements. Eustyle, q. v., is a graceful distribution
of columns as to space, and so it may be taken to apply
to any good and pleasing distribution of solids and voids
in the composition of a structure. But Eustyle being a
condition of style not always found, or not recognized, in
all architectural compositions, the term is taken without
the qualifying prefix, and is applied with such qualifications
and descriptions as may be necessary to make it available
to all classes of architectural composition. Style as a term
in architecture must be understood to be in no sense the
same word as style in literature.
Stylobate (Gr. o-nAos, a column, and /Wis, a base or
fulciment), a basement to columns. (See Stereobate.)
Stylobate is synonymous with pedestal, but is applied to
a continued and unbroken substructure or basement to
columns, while the latter term is confined to insulated
supports.
Surbase (Lat. super, whence the Fr. sur, above or upon,
and base, q. v.), an upper base. This term is applied to
w hat, in the fittings of a room, is familiarly called the chair-
lail. It is also used to distinguish the cornice of a pe¬
destal or stereobate, and is separated from the base by the
dado or die.
stt le (Gr. (rvv, together with, and cmAos, a column),
columns rather thickly set. An intercolumniation to
which two diameters are assigned. (See Eustyle.)
1 abernacle, a canopied recess or niche. The rich orna¬
mental tracery forming the canopy, &c., to a tabernacle,
is called tabernacle-work : it is common in the stalls and
screens of cathedrals, and in them is generally open or
pierced through.
vol. m.
f Tablet. Projecting mouldings, or moulded strings in the
Pointed style, are better described as tablets than as cor¬
nices.
Tainia (Lat.) a band. (See Band.)
Terminal. Figures of which the upper parts only, or per¬
haps the head and shoulders alone, are carved, the rest
running into a parallelepiped, and sometimes into a di¬
minishing pedestal, with feet indicated below, or even
without them, are called terminal figures.
Tetraprostyle. (See Tetrastyle and Prostyle.)
Tetrastoon (Gr. rerpa, four, and o-roa, a portico). An
atrium or rectangular court-yard, having a colonnade or
projected orthostyle on every side, is called a tetrastoon.
Tetrastyle (Gr. rerpa, four, and cmAos, a column), a por¬
tico of four columns in front. (See note to Hexastyle.)
Tholobate (Gr. 6oXos, a dome or cupola, and /3acns, a base
or substructure), that on which a dome or cupola rests.
This is a term not in general use, but it is not the less of
useful application. What is generally termed the attic
above the peristyle and under the cupola of St Paul’s,
would be correctly designated the tholobate. A tholobate
of a different description, and one to which no other name
can well be applied, is the circular substructure to the
cupola of the Univ. Coll. London.
Tholus or Tholos (Gr.), a dome or cupola, or any round
edifice. This is the only term used by Greek writers that
can be supposed to apply to the conoidal chambers which
approach, in internal form, to that of the modern cupola
or dome, and is therefore made the Greek equivalent for
those terms.
Torus (Lat.), a protuberance or swelling, a moulding
whose form is convex, and generally nearly approaches
a semicircle. It is most frequently used in bases, and is
for the most part the lowest moulding in a base. Plate
LVII.
Tower, a circular, square, or polygonal structure, with up¬
right or slightly converging sides, running to a height
equal to or greater than its diameter or base, and termi¬
nating abruptly or in horizontal lines. A tower may be
flanked by buttresses whose pinnacles surmount it, and be
superimposed by a turret, lantern, or spire.
f Tracery. The transoms, mullions, and interlaced or
flowing continuations of the latter, with their foliations in
windows, on doors, panels, and in tabernacle-work, are so
called. The ribs on groined ceilings, and almost all ec¬
centric moulded enrichments, come under the same de¬
nomination.
Trachelium (Gr. rpa^Aos, the neck). In Doric and Ionic
columns there is generally a short space intervening be¬
tween the hypotrachelium and the mass of the capital,
which may be called the trachelium or neck.
Transept. In a church of which the plan is in the form
of a cross, the arms lying across at the intersection of the
nave and chancel form the transept. Commonly each
arm is spoken of as a transept, but strictly the transept is
one.
I Transom, the horizontal bar used to divide a mullioned
window into heights ; the straight and horizontal parts of
tracery.
f I refoil, tracery in three foliations or featherings.
Triglyph (G. rpeis, three, and y\v<j>r], an incision or chan¬
nel). The vertically channelled tablets of the Doric
frieze are called triglyphs, because of the three angular
channels in them, two perfect and one divided; the two
chamfered angles or hemiglyphs being reckoned as one.
The square sunk spaces between the triglyphs on a frieze
are called metopes.
Truss, a term in carpentry ; but, probably by some abuse,
it has been made to apply to consols, or ornamented cor¬
bels. (See Consol.)
3 T
ARCHITECTURE.
514
Turret, a small tower, or a tower of small base in pro¬
portion to its height. Turrets are sometimes placed on
the angles of towers; but in the later works of the style
they are attached to the angles of structures instead of but¬
tresses, and they run up above their height in lieu of pin¬
nacles.
Tympanum (Gr. Tvimavov). The triangular recessed space
inclosed by the cornice which bounds a pediment. The
Greeks sometimes placed sculptures representing subjects
in connection with the purposes of the edifice, in the tym¬
pana of temples.
Vault (Ital. Voltato, turned over). An arched ceiling or
roof. A vault is, indeed, a laterally conjoined series of
arches. The arch of a bridge is, strictly speaking, a vault. Descrip-
Intersecting vaults are said to be groined. (See Groining.) b°ns of
VOLUTE (Lat. volutum, from volvo, rolling up or over, convolv- i>la tes-
ing). The convolved or spiral ornament which forms the
characteristic of the Ionic capital is so called. The com¬
mon English term is scroll, q. v. Volute, scroll, helix,
and cauliculus, are used indifferently for the angular horns
of the Corinthian capital.
Zoophorus (Gr. £wov, an animal, and <£epco, to bear). This
term is used in the same sense as frieze, and is so called
because that part of the entablature is made the recep¬
tacle of sculptures which are frequently composed of va¬
rious animals.
Descrip- I
tions of
Plates. •
DESCRIPTIONS AND EXPLANATIONS OF THE PLATES.
Plate L. The view of the Parthenon in its present state is
from an original drawing made on the spot in the year
1821, by Mr W. W. Jenkins. It consequently exhibits
the appearance of the splendid ruin before the disasters of
the last revolution befell it, as the restored view, under the
same aspect, does of the structure in its original state. This
is introduced as a frontispiece to the subject, as being an ac¬
knowledged master-work of architecture, as well as to en¬
able the reader the better to understand the details of the
style of which it is an example, and the composition of that
class of structures of which it may be reckoned the principal.
Plate LI. This plate exhibits the varieties of columns and
columnar composition which the ancient architecture of
various countries presents, and is intended to elucidate
their presumed derivation from the single pillar of the
earliest records ; together with specimens of ancient modes
of structure.
Fig. 1 presents an example of the single pillar or stone
of memorial, the Monolithon; fig. 2 of the Bilithon, the
cromlech of the Celtic nations; fig. 3 of the Trilithon, an
example afforded by Stonehenge ; and fig. 4 exhibits the
immediately succeeding arrangement of pillars, with a
continuous entablature.
Fig. 5 shows the flank of the portico of the temple at
Amada in Nubia, consisting of square piers or pillars as
in fig. 4, and a cylindrical column, which is evidently
formed of a similar pillar by working off its angles, the aba¬
cus and plinth remaining of the same size and form of
which the pillars are.
Fig. 6, pillars with a plain entablature as in fig. 4, from
the Rhamesseion at Thebes. The statues placed before
the pillars most probably gave rise to the use of such
figures to support an entablature, which these have the
appearance of doing when seen in front.
Fig. 7, an early Egyptian columnar composition, from
Thebes also. In this, as in the example at Amada, the
square abacus shows the form and size of the original pil¬
lar out of which the singular bulbous column has been
sculptured.
Fig. 8, piers of one of the cavern temples of Ellora.
These likewise exhibit the tendency to the cylindrical
form, and may be assumed as an example of the style of
architectural columnar composition at the time they were
executed.
Fig. 9, ancient Hindoo columnar piers, in the Mokundra
Pass, from Colonel Tod’s second volume of the Annals of
Rajasthan. The similarity in character which exists be¬
tween these and the piers at Ellora in the preceding ex¬
ample, tends to strengthen the remark accompanying them,
and affords proof of their contemporaneousness.
Fig. 10, Doric columns and their architrave from the
ruins at Corinth, being the earliest known example of their
style.
Fig. 11, ancient Persian columns from Persepolis, in
front and in profile, the latter showing the mode in which
they were probably made to receive an entablature, though
it is stated that the capitals are wrought on the backs in
such a manner as to render it improbable that they were
ever intended to have anything placed on them.
Fig. 12, columns in front of the rock sculptures at Mun-
dore, in Marwar, from Colonel Tod’s first volume.
Fig. 13, from the ruins of Bheems Chlori, also in the
Mokundra Pass, from Colonel Tod’s second volume.
These present another variety of Hindoo columnar com¬
position of early date, though later, it is probable, than
the example, fig. 9, supra. Figs. 14 and 16 exhibit the
modes of structure described in the text at page 440;
and fig. 15 is a view of the entrance to the great pyra¬
mid at Memphis, from Denon, and shows the mode of its
structure.
Plate LIE An example of the Egyptian style, sufficiently
explained at pp. 436, 458, et seq.
Plate LIII. A Greek Doric octastyle, peripteral, and hy-
paethral temple, with the details of the Parthenon. The
plan (fig. 3) is that of the Parthenon {vide Plate L.)
slightly modified, the better to include the class to which
it belongs. In the Parthenon, the opisthodomus has six
columns, as in the pronaos, and not four in antis, as here
laid down : this, however, exhibits the ordinary mode of
arrangement. The internal columns are arranged in this
plan as they are generally found in other similar struc¬
tures ; and the pedestal for the statue of the divinity is
placed in its most probable position.
Fig. 1. shows part of the flank of the temple and the
internal composition of the hypactliral cella with its upper
range of columns or attic, of the inner chamber or trea¬
sury, and of the opisthodomos and posticum: much of
this, however, is necessarily taken at a venture, because
of the imperfect state of the remains of the Grecian edi¬
fices.
Fig. 2 exhibits an elevation of the opisthodomus be¬
hind the outer range of the portico, not according to the
Parthenon, but in antis.
Fig. 3 is the plan. In front, on the left-hand side, is
the entrance porticus ; behind this is the pronaos ; within
the pronaos is the hypsethral naos or cella, the middle
space between the columns being open ; the spaces be¬
tween the columns and the walls on either side are co¬
vered ; doors (these are not generally laid down to the
Parthenon, but are assumed as probable) lead to the inner
chamber, said to be the treasury,—this is by some called
the opisthodomus, into which it opens, and the opistho¬
domus stands in the same relation to the posticum that
the pronaos does to the porticus.
Fig. 4 is the external order of the Parthenon ; fig. 5,
the profile of its corona to a larger scale, to show its de-
A R C H I T
Descrip- tail; fig. 6, a half-capital of the same, enlarged also, with
tions of its annulets larger still.
Plates. g js jpg or(|er 0f the pronaos ; fig. 8, the profile of
its corona enlarged; fig. 7, its capital enlarged, with the
annulets still larger.
Fig. 10, the antae cap enlarged ; and fig. 12 a half-plan
of a column of the Parthenon, showing the contour of
its flutes. ( Vide page 463, et seq.)
Plate LIV. A Greek Doric hexastyle, peripteral, and clei-
thral temple, with the details of the temple of Theseus at
Athens.
f'ig. 1, front elevation of the temple.
. Fig. 2, section behind the outer range of the portico,
showing the elevation of the pronaos.
Fig. 3, plan of the temple. The arrangement of the
porticus here (to the left) is pseudo-dipteral; a space
equal to two intercolumniations and the intervening co¬
lumn being left between the external range and the front
of the pronaos,—the projection of the posticum is irre¬
gular.
Fig. 4, the external order of the temple of Theseus,
with a half-plan of the column; fig. 5, the profile of the
corona enlarged ; fig. 6, half the capital enlarged; fig.
7, half the capital of the order of the pronaos enlarged
also ; fig. 9, the antae, with profiles of the outer and inner
entablatures of the pronaos,—this shows also the arrange¬
ment of the ceilings.
Fig. 10, enlarged profile of the antae cap.
Fig. 11, inverted plan of part of the ceilings of the por¬
ticus and pronaos, showing the arrangement of the coffers,
lacunae, or cassoons.
Fig. 12, inverted plan of the planceer of the cornice,
showing the form and arrangement of the mutules of the
external entablature.
Fig. 13, is a plan of the triglyphs of the same on an
external angle.
Figs. 8 and Hare enlarged plans of the flutings of the
columns, to show their contours. ( Vide p. 463, et seq.
Plate LV. A Greek Ionic hexa-prostyle apteral temple,
with details of the temple of Erechtheus at Athens.
Fig. 1, elevation of the portico.
Fig. 2, rear elevation of the temple, showing an at¬
tached tetrastyle in antis, with windows as they exist in
that of the temple of Erechtheus.
Fig. 3, flank elevation. The dotted projection to the
right of the posticum indicates the amphiprostylar ar¬
rangement, which is shown on the plan fig. 4 also, and in
the same manner.
Fig. 5, the order of the temple of Erechtheus, except
the two lowest steps of the stylobate, which may be easily
supplied, to a larger scale, with indications of the carved
mouldings, &c.
Figs. 6, 7, and 8 are enlarged profiles of those parts of
the entablature which are immediately behind and above
them. .
Fig. 10, the antae of the same example, showing the
ornament which enriches its necking, and runs along the
flank of the edifice; fig. 11, profile of the antae cap en¬
larged.
Eig. 12, flank elevation of the capital; all the vertical
beads in this are carved. Fig. 13, transverse section of
the capital.
Fig* 14, half the longitudinal section of the capital.
Fig. 15, an inverted plan of the capital, showing the
arrangement of the flutings.
big. 16, an inverted plan of one of the angular capi¬
tals. ( Vide p. 465, et seq.)
F ig. 9, I he Ionic volute, enlarged to show the mode
of striking it, and the contour of its face.
Plate LVI. Fig. 1 the elevation, fig. 2 the plan, and fig. 3
E C T U R E. 515
the details, of the order of the Choragic Monument of Descrip-
Lysicrates at Athens. (Vide p. 466.) tions of
Fig. 4 presents the elevation, and fig. 5 the plan, of the v Flates~
Caryatic prostyle, which is attached to the flanks of the ^
temple of Erechtheus at Athens.
Fig. 6 shows the details of the hands and feet of the
figure, and of the entablature and stereobate of the same.
Vide (p. 467.)
Plate EVIL contains Greek and Roman mouldings, with
their usual enrichments, all drawn from ancient examples,
and detached profiles of them all, together with two ex¬
amples of Greek and one of Roman ornament. The spe¬
cimen of Greek ornament on the left hand of the centre
is from the neck of the antae cap of the tetrastyle portico
on the flank of the temple of Erechtheus, generally known
as that of Minerva Polias; and the other half of the same
is the enrichment of the neck of the antae of the temple
of Erechtheus itself, as shown in Plate LIX. figs 3 and
10. The Roman specimen of ornament is that of the
frieze of the temple of Antoninus and Faustina in Rome.
(Vide Plate LVIII. Ex. 3 and p. 467 and 477.)
Plate LVIII. Four Roman examples of the Corinthian
order. Ex. 1 is that of the temple of Jupiter Stator in
Rome; Ex. 2 is that of the temple of Vesta at Tivoli
(vide Plate LX. fig. 9) ; Ex. 3 is that of the temple of An¬
toninus and Faustina (vide Plate LX. figs. 6, 7, and 8);
and Ex. 4 is the example of the portico of the Pantheon
in Rome (vide Plate LX. figs. 2, 3, 4, and 5). To every
example fig. 1 shows the details enlarged, the shafts being
cut away; and fig. 2 the elevation of the column and
entablature. In every case, also, the distance from the
inner surface of the column fig. 2 to the vertical line di¬
viding the examples is one half the intercolumniation at
which that example is composed. (Vide p. 473, et seq.)
Plate LIX. Examples of the Roman orders. Ex. 1 is the
Corinthian of the Temple of Mars Ultor; Ex. 2 the Com¬
posite of the Arch of Titus (vide Plate LX. fig. 11); Ex.
3 the Ionic of the Temple of Fortuna Virilis (vide Plate
LX. fig. 12); and Ex. 4 the Doric of the Theatre of Mar-
cellus, completed from that of the Colosseum. All of
these are in Rome. Figs. 1, as in Plate LVIII., show the
entablatures, capitals, and bases, &c., on an enlarged scale ;
and figs. 2 the complete elevation of each order, except
their stylobates, some of which are not ascertained, and
those which are may be obtained from the structures
they are referred to in Plate LX. (Vide p. 473, et seq.)
Plate LXIV. Elevations, plans, and sections of sundry Ro¬
man edifices, all drawn to the same scale.
Fig. 1 is a longitudinal elevation of the Colosseum.
(Vide p. 469.)
Fig. 2 is the front elevation, fig. 3 the flank elevation,
fig. 4 a section, and fig. 5 the plan, of the Pantheon. The
dotted lines before the recess opposite the entrance, fig. 5,
show the places the outstanding columns originally occu¬
pied. ( Vide pp. 469 and 470.)
Fig. 6 is the front elevation, fig. 7 the plan, and fig. 8
the flank elevation, of the temple of Antoninus and Faus¬
tina : of this the front steps and stylobate are restorations.
(Vide p. 469, and PI. LVIII. Ex. 3.)
Fig. 9 is the plan and elevation of the temple of Vesta
at Tivoli; of this the antefixae and roof are restorations.
(Vide PI. LVIII. Ex. 2.)
Fig. 10 is the plan and elevation of the triumphal arch
of Septimius Severus. (Vide p. 469.)
Fig. 11 is a plan and elevation of the arch of Titus.
(Vide ut sup. and PI. LIX. Ex. 2.)
Fig. 12 is a plan and elevation of the temple of For¬
tuna Virilis. (Vide p. 469, and PI. LXIII. Ex. 3.)
Plate LXI. Plans, sections, elevations, &c., of Roman man¬
sions from Pompeii.
516
ARCHITECTURE.
Descrip¬
tions of
Plates.
Fig. 1 is a plan of one of the most extensive and most
regular of the domestic structures of Pompeii, with its
immediate vicinage ; it is known as the house of Pansa.
The following nomenclature is generally that of Sir Wil¬
liam Gell:—1, The entrance or recessed porch; 2, the
vestibule; 3, the cavsedium or atrium; 4, the complu-
vium or well for receiving the rain from the roof covering
this part of the house {vide fig. 2) ; 5, penaria, or perhaps
cubicula; 6, ala; or wings ; 7, tablinum or palour; 8,
pinacotheca, or perhaps the library; 9, a passage from
the first to the second atrium without passing through the
tablinum; 10, cubiculum or bed-chamber ; 11, peristy-
lium or oicus—the house ; 12, impluvium {vide sup. in
4, et fig. 2); 13, exhedrae or alae—in these the siesta
was taken—they were also used for conversation ; 14,
cellae familiaricae ; 15, triclinium—here couches and seats
were placed, and company received; 16, lararium or re¬
ceptacle for the family gods ; 17, cubiculum ; 18, hall to
the gynaeceum or women’s apartment; 19, the gyna'ceum
—this is believed by some to be a distinct house, and not
a part of that of Pansa; 20, porticus or pergula; 21, hor-
tus or garden ; 22, a passage from the oicus to the per¬
gula and garden, to avoid the necessity of passing through
the triclinium ; 23, kitchen ; 24, storeroom or larder ;
25, an open court, communicating with the street by a
doorway. This eomprehends the whole of the apartments,
&c., appropriated to domestic use—the residence ; the
other portions of the edifice are distinct from it. 26 is
another smaller house ; 27, a passage leading to the house
of Pansa from the street on the right-hand side ; all the
places marked 28 are shops open to the street, as shown
in the elevation, fig. 3 ; the rooms marked 29 are store¬
rooms to the shops into which they open ; 30 is a bake¬
house, in which the mills, &c., are indicated as they exist;
31 is the oven ; in the angle of the two adjoining streets on
the left hand (32) is the shop of a seller of wine and hot
drinks ; 33 is a fountain. The walls indicated on the other
sides of the streets surrounding the house, &c., of Pansa
are the fronts of shops and of some private houses, &c.
Fig. 2 is a section through the house of Pansa from
the street to the garden, showing the manner in which it
is probable the roofs, &c., were arranged.
Fig. 3 is the probable elevation of the entrance front
of this mansion, though the sketch (fig. 4) of part of the
same in its present state shows how slight the evidence
for it is.
Fig. 5 is an outline of the side of a room, with the or¬
naments, &c., with which it is decorated. This is an
average specimen: many were much plainer, and some
were more enriched.
Fig. 6 is the plan of an ordinary sized house in one of
the private streets of Pompeii: the uses of the various
parts may be generally gathered from those of the simi¬
lar portions of the house of Pansa. The word Salve,
printed across the threshold, is there wrought in mosaic.
Fig. 7 presents the presumed arrangement of the roofs,
&c., of this house in section.
Fig. 8 is the elevation of it towards the street. This can¬
not really have been better than it appears here, and such
must have been the ordinary average appearance of the
street fronts of Pompeian houses. {Vide p. 471, et seq)
Plate LXII. Fig. 1, an example to show how the term order
is applied, and what parts of it the various technical terms
are applied to, or are intended to indicate.
Figs. 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, are the orders of the Italo-Vi-
truvian school as arranged by Palladio; fig. 2, the Tus¬
can ; fig. 3, the Doric ; fig. 4, the Ionic ; fig. 5, the Co¬
rinthian ; and fig. 6, the Composite. {Vide p. 477.)
Plate LXIII. Varieties of Italian composition from exist¬
ing structures in Italy and elsewhere, in the Italian style.
Figs. 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, are windows of various form Descrip-
and arrangement. tions of
Figs. 6, 7, 8, and 9, are doors of various composition, Plates,
with plans to show their arrangement and ichnographic
projections, &c.
Figs. 10, 11, 12, and 13, are arches and arcades, rus¬
ticated and with columns, &c. The plans show their
forms and ichnographic projections. ( Vide p. 478, el seq.)
Plate LXIV. Front elevations alone of the fronts of St
Paul’s in London and St Peter’s in Rome. These two
structures exhibit many of the peculiarities of the eccle¬
siastical architecture of the Italian school. In this plate
their comparative magnitude has not been attended to ;
they are drawn to different scales to bring them more
nearly of the same size, so as to render the contrast more
effective. {Vide p. 452 and 455.)
Plate LXV. Flank elevations of St Peter’s and St Paul’s,
drawn to the same scale, to show their comparative mag¬
nitude, and to enable the reader to judge of their respec¬
tive merits, as well as to elucidate observations which
will be found in the text passim. { Vide p. 455, &c.)
Plate LX VI. Elevations of three esteemed Italian mansions.
The merit of this (the principal) elevation of the Farnese
Palace is divided between Antonio Sangallo and M. A.
Buonarotti. The Villa Giula, near Rome, is esteemed
one of the best works of Giacomo Barozzi da Vignolia ;
and the villa Capra near Vicenza, by Palladio, is, by the
admirers of his style, considered the most perfect of his
works. {Vide pp. 452, 455, 478, 479, &c.)
Plate LXVII. A series of arches in the Gothic and Pointed
styles, from various structures in England. It exhibits
the advance of the circular arch from the plainness ex¬
hibited in figs. 1 and 2, to the richer and more compli¬
cate arrangements of those examples which follow, until
the ingrafting and gradual advance of the pointed arch.
This first appears in fig. 10. Fig. 12 shows the substi¬
tution of the latter for the circular of fig. 9 in a similar
composition. Fig. 13 exhibits the pointed arch on Gothic
pillars or columns ; and fig. 14 the perfected pointed arch
with the clustered shafts which become identified with
the Pointed style. {Vide p. 479, et seq.)
Plate LX VIII. The elevation of the south transept of Be¬
verley Minster. This affords a perfect and beautiful
example of external composition of the first period of
Pointed architecture. The presence of the circular arch
embracing the pointed arches of the doorway, and com¬
posing with others, shows how gradual the advance of the
new style was; the upper part of the front showing also
how completely it was already systematized when the
circular arch was not> yet quite discarded. The plan of
this front shows the various ichnographic projections, and
the arrangement of the clustered shafts of the doors and
windows. Fig. 2 is a niche in front of, and fig. 3 a pin¬
nacle to, one of the buttresses of the nave of the same
edifice : these are of the second period. Figs. 4, 5, 6, 7,
and 8, are windows from various edifices, showing the
gradual advance from the plain lancet arch of the Bever¬
ley Minster transept to the arch the most elaborately en¬
riched with tracery. Fig. 4 is but a modification of the
composition of the doorways of fig. 1, as that is of figs. 9
and 12, Plate LXVII.; and the advance from that may
be almost termed natural.
Plate LXIX. Fig. 1 is a sectional compartment of the nave
of Lincoln Cathedral; it exhibits the mode of internal com¬
position peculiar to the style of the first period ; tending,
however, to the transition, it will be observed, in many par¬
ticulars, and as a comparison of it with the adjacent ex¬
ample, of the next period, will more clearly show.
Fig. 2 is a similar sectional compartment of the choir
of Lincoln Cathedral ; exemplifying the internal compo-
ARC
Archive
II
Archon.
sition of the second period of the Pointed style ; the
plans of the shafts to both examples show their forms
and arrangement. The subjects of the last three plates are
drawn entirely, by his kind permission, from Mr Britton’s
Chronological History of Ecclesiastical Architecture.
Plate LXX., the front of York Minster, exemplifies the ex¬
ternal composition of the second period, as that of Bever¬
ley Minster transept (Plate LX VIII. fig. 1) does that of
the first period ; and the difference will be rendered very
clear by comparing them. The upper parts of the towers
of the front of York Minster, however, it must be remem¬
bered {vide p. 482) are of the third period, and so is the
central tower which appears in the distance between them.
The front of Pisa Cathedral is here introduced in con¬
trast with that of York Minster, to show the striking dif¬
ference which exists between the real Goth’c achitecture
of Italy and the Pointed style which supers'' ded it so com¬
pletely, in this country particularly, and to elucidate our
observations to that effect at page 445 el seq. The cupola
which appears behind and in the distance is surrounded
at the base by pointed arches and pinnacles, all of which
are evidently of much later date than the Gothic front.
Plate LXXI. Fig. 1 is an elevation of Westminster Hall. It
exemplifies the style of external composition of the third
period. It was selected because of the variety of matter
it contains elucidatory of the period to which it belongs
particularly, and of the Pointed style generally. The door,
windows, and canopied tabernacles on the second story
ARC 517
of the towers, are peculiar; the lower tabernacles, are more Archon.
general, and the pinnacles, crockets, corbels, tablets, &c.,
may also be taken in exemplification of such things in the
style generally.
Fig. 2 is a plan of the front, showing the ribs of the
groined entrance, the ichnographic projections of the ta¬
bernacles, &c.
Fig. 3 is one of the flying buttresses of the flank of
the edifice.
Fig. 4 is a spandrel of the entrance porch enlarged.
Fig. 5, crockets of the gable running from the towers
to the crowning turret, enlarged.
Fig. 6, part of the head of one of the upper windows of
the towers, enlarged.
Fig. 7, a foliated heraldic panel from under the pedestals
of the lower tabernacles or niches of the front, enlarged.
Fig. 8, canopies and pinnacles, &c^ of the lower taber¬
nacles, enlarged; the buttresses on which they rest are
also shown at large in intercepted lengths.
Fig. 9, an enriched foliated pendentof the foregoing ex¬
ample, marked a, at a still larger scale.
Fig. 10, one of the pedestals for the reception of statues
within the niches or tabernacles, enlarged.
Fig. 11, part of one of the canopies, &c., of the tower
tabernacles, enlarged.
Fig. 12, one of the foliated pendents, marked h, of the
foregoing ; and fig. 13 the corbel, marked e, of the same,
on a still larger scale.
ARCHIVE, or Archives, a chamber or apartment
wherein the records, charters, and other papers and evi¬
dences, of a state, house, or community are preserved, to
be consulted occasionally. Thus, we say, the archives of a
college, of a monastery, &c.
ARCHIVIST, or Arciiivista, a keeper of an archive.
Under the emperors the archivist was an officer of great dig¬
nity, held equal to the proconsuls, vested with the quality of
a count, styled clarissimus, and exempted from all public
offices and taxes. Among the ancient Greeks and Persians,
the trust was committed to none but men of the first rank;
among the Franks, the clergy, being the only men of letters,
kept the office among themselves.
ARCHLUTE, or Arciliuto, a long and large lute, hav¬
ing its bass strings lengthened after the manner of the the¬
orbo, and each row doubled, either with a little octave or a
unison. It is used by the Italians for playing a thorough bass.
ARCHON (ap^wv), in Ancient History, the title of the
highest magistrates at Athens. On the death of Codrus,
about b.c. 1100, royalty was abolished at Athens, apparently
because the ancient and venerable title of king (jSacnAevs)
made the chief magistrate too independent of the nobles or
eupatrids. Accordingly, although the highest magistracy
remained hereditary in the family of Codrus, and was held
for life, it wras thought expedient to change its title into
Archon, which simply signifies “ a ruler.” In point of fact,
how'ever, the archon’s power was equal to that of a king, ex¬
cept that he was responsible to the nobles. The first archon
was Medon, and the office remained hereditary in his family,
thirteen members of which successively held it for life, until,
in the year b.c. 752, the duration of the archonship was
limited to ten years. But 38 years later, the exclusive right
of the family of the Medontids was abolished, and the arch¬
onship thrown open to all the eupatrids without distinction.
This, however, did not satisfy the nobles, as only few of them
had a chance of being ever raised to the highest magistracy;
and in order to increase this chance, another reform was ef¬
fected in b.c. 683, by which the highest magistracy was
divided among nine archons, whose office lasted only one
year. The executive, which thus remained in the hands of
the nobles, was now attainable to a large number of them
in the course of a few years. But the abuse of their prero¬
gatives led to reforms by which the archonship was ultimately
thrown open to all the Athenian citizens indiscriminately.
The first of the nine magistrates was simply called the
archon, sometimes with the epithet eponymus (eTrwvvgo^),
because the year was marked by his name, as it was at Rome
by the names of the two consuls. At first this archon was
at the head of the whole administration ; but afterwards,
during the period concerning which we have authentic in¬
formation, and when democracy was fully developed, his func¬
tions appear to have been limited to the superintendence of
the festivals of the Dionysia and Thargelia, and of the tragic
choruses and certain sacrifices. All orphans wTere under his
especial care; and he had, lastly, jurisdiction in all matters
connected with the law of inheritance. His tribunal stood
near the statues of the ten archegetae or eponymic heroes,
not far from the agora, or place of the popular assemblies.
The second archon bore the title of kmg (/lacnAeus); for as
his functions embraced everything connected with the pub¬
lic worship of the gods, it would have been an act of impiety
to alter his title : he was the king of the state so far as reli¬
gion was concerned, just as the rex sacrorum was at Rome.
He, in conjunction with his wife (/SaalXicro-a), had to per¬
form certain sacrifices on behalf of the state, and he was es¬
pecially intrusted with the superintendence of the mysteries,
the festival of the Lensea, the torch-races, and gymnic con¬
tests. In all these matters the king-archon also had jurisdic¬
tion, and his court was in the stoa (SacnXews, near the agora.
He had also to act the part of public prosecutor in all offences
against religion, and against murderers whose case was judged
by the Areopagus. But he himself had jurisdiction in dis¬
putes about the rights and duties of priests.
The third archon bore the title of polemarchus {iroXipap-
^os), which indicates that originally he was the supreme com¬
mander of the Athenian forces ; and in this capacity we find
the polemarchus Callimachus at the head of the ten Athenian
generals in the battle of Marathon, b.c. 490. But afterwards
we no longer hear of the polemarchus as commander-in-chief;
and his functions appear to have been limited to watching
518 ARC
Archon over the rights and duties of the resident aliens, just as the
Archpriest arcll0n eponymus watched over those of the citizens ; and
, ^ arranging the funeral games in honour of those who had fallen
in battle, and similar other public solemnities. His office was
near the Lyceum.
Each of these three archons was entitled to appoint two
assessors or assistants (TrdpeSpoi), who, however, had to be
sanctioned, after a previous scrutiny of their character and
fitness, by the senate.
The six remaining archons were called ihesmothctce (Oea-
/xo9£t(u), a name which is sometimes applied to the whole
body of the archons. But the six formed a college of jus¬
tice which had to take cognizance of all cases which did not
belong to the jurisdiction of any other magistrate. They
appointed the jury in the popular courts, and the days on
which justice was administered. They had further to see
that all new laws were duly entered, and annually to revise
the laws to prevent contradictory enactments being main¬
tained at the same time. They also superintended the voting
in the popidar assemblies, and ratified the treaties with foreign
states. Their assessors were styled symbuli ((jv/xfJovXoL).
From these accounts it is manifest that the functions of
the archons were chiefly of a judicial nature; but the legis¬
lation of Draco, and still more that of Solon, produced con¬
siderable changes, for after the institution of the Ephetse and
the popular courts, the archons, generally speaking, acted
only as presidents in the various courts. In some cases,
lastly, the whole college of the archons formed a court by
itself, e.ff., to pronounce the sentence of death against an
exile returning to Athens contrary to law ; to try magistrates
deposed by the people; to conduct the elections of the ten
generals and other military officers, and the like.
Until the time of Solon, the nobles alone were eligible
to the archonship ; his reforms threw open the office to all
persons forming the highest property-class, whether they
were eupatridae or demotae; and Aristides eventually opened
up the highest magistracy to all Athenian citizens, without
any qualification either of birth or of property. During
the early or aristocratic period, the archons were elected,
but when democracy attained its full development, they were
chosen by lot; and to prevent the honour being thus con¬
ferred on unworthy persons, the newly-chosen archons had
to submit to a double scrutiny, one before the senate, which
was termed dvaKpicris, and a second in the agora, which was
called SoKL/iacTLa. At these scrutinies they had to prove that
their ancestors for three generations had been real Athenian
citizens, and every archon was obliged to promise on oath
scrupulously to observe the laws of the state. During their
year of office all the archons were exempt from liturgies or
extraordinary burdens, and any person insulting them wras
branded with infamy. At the expiration of their office they
had to render an account of the manner in which they had
discharged its duties, and when they were found blameless
they became members of the high court of the Areopagus.
Even at the time when Greece had completely lost its po¬
litical existence, the dignity of archon wras sometimes an
object of ambition with men of the highest rank, and the
honour was sometimes even conferred upon, and accepted
by, Roman emperors. (l. St)
Archon is also applied by some authors to various offi¬
cers, civil and religious, under the eastern or Greek empire.
ARCHPRIEST, or Archrresbyter, a priest or presby¬
ter established in some dioceses with a pre-eminence over
the rest. Anciently the archpriest was next in rank after
the bishop ; and acted in his absence as his vicar in all spirit¬
ual matters. In the sixth century there were several arch¬
priests in the same diocese, from which period some believe
them to have been called deans. In the ninth century there
were two kinds of cures or parishes; the smaller governed
by simple priests, and the baptismal churches by archpriests,
ARC
who, besides the immediate concern of the cure, had the in- Archytas
spection of the other inferior priests, and gave an account It
of them to the bishop, who governed the chief or cathedral Ar?on-
church in person. In the Greek church, archpresbyters still
exist, who are invested with most of the functions and pri¬
vileges of chorepiscopi or rural deans.
ARCHYTAS of Tarentum, a Pythagorean philoso¬
pher, eminently skilled in mathematics and geography. He
flourished in the time of Plato (b.c. 400-365), and is said
to have interposed his influence with Dionysius the Tyrant,
in order to save the life of that philosopher. lamblichus is
evidently mistaken when he asserts that he was a hearer of
Pythagoras; and the testimony of a writer mentioned by
Photius would seem more worthy of credit, that he was the
eighth successive preceptor of the Pythagorean school. So
eminent were his military talents, that, in opposition to an
express law of his country, that no man should be chosen
more than once the general of its armies, he was elevated
to that station no less than seven times. He taught that
there is nothing so destructive to man as pleasure ; that
virtue is to be pursued for its own sake, and that every ex¬
treme is incompatible with it. Aristotle, according to some,
was indebted to Archytas for his general heads of classifi¬
cation entitled the Ten Categories, but this opinion has little
support beyond a verbal coincidence. The discovery of the
duplication of the cube by means of the conic sections, and
the method of finding two mean proportionals between two
given lines is due to Archytas. He is also said to have in¬
vented several curious hydraulic machines, and his genius
is honoured with the invention of the screw and crane. He
perished in a shipwreck, and his body was found on the
Apulian coast,—an occurrence commemorated in Horace’s
beautiful Ode, B. i. 28. An apocryphal treatise on the
Categories, bearing his name, was published by J. Came-
rarius at Leipsic, 8vo, 1564. A complete collection of his
Fragments was published by Orelli, Leipzig, 1821, 8vo.
ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, an arrondissement in the depart¬
ment of the Aube, in France, extending over 539 square
miles, or 344,850 acres, and containing four cantons, ninety-
three communes, and in 1851, 36,364 inhabitants. The
capital of the arrondissement is of the same name, and con¬
tained 2606 inhabitants. It has manufactures of cotton and
of hosiery, and a considerable trade in corn by the river Aube,
on the left bank of which it is situated. Long. 4. 14. E.
Lat. 48. 30. N. Near this place Napoleon, on the 20th March
1814, defeated a division of the allied forces. See France.
ARCO, a strong town and castle in the Tyrol, belong¬
ing to the house of Austria. It stands on the river Sarca,
near the northern extremity of the lake of Garda. Pop.
2200. Long. 10. 48. E. Lat. 45. 52. N.
ARCOLE, a village of Austrian Italy, on the Alpone,
15 miles E.S.E. of Verona, with 1600 inhabitants. At this
place Buonaparte gained a victory over the Austrians on
17th November 1796. See France, and Napoleon.
ARCON, J. C. E. Le Michaud d’, a French engineer
and military writer of eminence, and memorable as the in¬
ventor of the floating batteries employed against Gibraltar,
was born at Pontarlier in the year 1733. He was originally
destined for the church ; but, instead of employing himself
in the studies suited to that profession, he became wholly
engrossed with plans of fortifications, and was at length ad¬
mitted, with the consent of his parents, into the corps of
engineers. He distinguished himself at several sieges dur¬
ing the seven years’ war ; and had acquired so much repu¬
tation by his professional services and by his writings, that
he was especially employed to assist in the last grand effort
made by France and Spain for the reduction of Gibraltar
in 1782. It was about this period that he projected the
famous floating batteries ; an invention which inspired the
combined armies with the greatest hopes of success, and
A E C
Arcos at first occasioned no small alarm in the British garrison.
H Of the ultimate fate of these expensive and formidable en-
Arcy- gines all British readers must be sufficiently informed. Not
one of the whole ten escaped destruction from the bombs
and red-hot balls poured upon them from the garrison. M.
d’Ar^on, however, published a memoir to show that his bat¬
teries were wilfully exposed to destruction through the envy
and jealousy which the contrivance had excited among the
Spaniards; and this statement, whatever may have been
its real value, seems to have obtained the general concur¬
rence of his countrymen.
M. d’Ar^on appeared in the capacity of a general in the
first years of the Revolution ; and, in particular, was em¬
ployed in the invasion of Holland, where, in 1793, he be¬
sieged and took several fortified places. He soon afterwards
withdrew or was driven from public life, and remained in
retirement till 1799, when he was made a member of the
Conservative Senate by Buonaparte. He died the follow¬
ing year, aged sixty-seven.
ARC OS de la Frontera, a Spanish town in the pro¬
vince of Cadiz, between Ronda and Santa Maria. It is
situated on the banks of the river Guadalete, celebrated for
that decisive battle of three days’ continuance, near Xeres,
by which the crown of the Gothic kings of Spain was trans¬
ferred to the Arabian invaders. It contains two parish
churches, seven monasteries, 1334 houses, and 12,000 in¬
habitants. Long. 5. 55. W. Lat. 36. 39. N.
ARCOT, a city of Hindustan, capital of a district of the
same name, is situated on the S. side of the river Palar. Ar-
cot is supposed to have been the capital of the Sorae, or the
Soramundalum of Ptolemy, whence, by an easy derivation,
Coromandel; but the present town is entirely of modern
date. The Mogul armies, after they had captured Gingee,
found the situation so unhealthy that they were forced to
remove to the plains of Arcot, and began to build the pre¬
sent town about the year 1716. The nabob of Arcot, An-
wanud Deen, being killed in battle in 1749, the place was
taken by his competitor, who was supported by the French.
In 1751 it was retaken by Colonel Clive, with 500 troops,
from a garrison of 1100 men ; and here that gallant soldier
maintained himself for fifty days against the attacks of the
French and their Indian allies, who were finally compelled
to raise the siege. It was afterwards taken by the French,
but was recaptured in 1760 by Colonel Coote, after the
battle of Wandewash. Hyder Ali gained possession of it
for a time after he had defeated the British under Colonel
Baillie in 1780. Long. 79. 25. E. Lat. 12. 56. N.
ARCTIC, in Astronomy, an epithet given to the north
pole, or the pole raised above our horizon. It is called the
arctic pole, from the constellation of the little bear ; called
in Greek, apuTos, the last star in the tail of which nearly
points out the north pole.
Arctic Circle is a lesser circle of the sphere, parallel to
the equator, and 23° 30' distant from the north pole; from
whence its name. This, and its opposite the antarctic, are
called the two polar circles, and may be conceived to be
described by the motion of the poles of the ecliptic round
the poles of the equator, or of the world.
Arctic Regions. See Polar Regions.
ARCTURUS, in Astronomy, a fixed star of the first
magnitude, in the constellation Arctophylax, or Bootes. The
word is formed of ap/cros, bear, and ovpd, tail, bear’s tail, in
reference to its position.
ARC Y, Grotte d’, a vast stalactitic cavern in the French
department of Yonne, divided into many compartments, one
of which is 1200 feet long, 85 feet high, and 40 feet wide.
Arcy, Patrick r>’, member of the Academy of Sciences
of Paris, a general officer in the French army, Chevalier of
the order of St Louis, &c., was born in Ireland in 1725. His
parents, in consequence of their attachment to the house of
A R D 519
Stuart, left Ireland, and settled in France. He studied Ardea
mathematics with distinguished success under Clairaut the 11
elder, and had for his fellow-student the celebrated Clairaut, Ardee' y
the son. He obtained a commission in the French army,
and in 1746 was embarked in the expedition which was
intended to make a descent into Scotland. He was made
prisoner, and was treated like other prisoners of war, no no¬
tice being taken of his having been born a British subject.
He continued attached to the house of Stuart during the
whole of his life.
In 1760 he published his Essay on Artillery. To esti¬
mate the force of the explosion of gunpowder, he employed
a cannon suspended so that the arc of vibration described
by it on its being fired was a measure of the force of explo¬
sion. To measure the initial velocity of a projectile, he used
Robins’s machine. Robins showed, that when the velocity
of a projectile is great, the resistance opposed by the air is
not in proportion to the square of the velocity, as is the
case when the velocity is small. D’Arcy made experiments
with a view of ascertaining this law, but without success.
His work contains an account of experiments made by him
to determine the most advantageous length of cannon. He
published a paper on hydraulic machines in 1754, where he
treats of the maximum of effect of water-wheels. He also
published a paper concerning the duration of the impression
of light on the retina. He found that the revolution of a
luminous point must be rapid, so as to be performed in roths
of a second at the least, in order to produce the appearance
of a continued luminous circle.
D’Arcy was of a handsome figure, and passed much of his
time in the gay world. A short time before his death, he
married a young lady, his niece, and took the title of Count.
He died in 1779. (w. A. c.)
ARDEA, or Ardua, a very ancient city of Latium, the
capital of the Rutuli, on the river Numicus. It is now a vil¬
lage with 200 inhabitants, in the midst of pestilential swamps.
ARDEBIL, or Ardebeel, a town of Persia, in the pro¬
vince of Azerbijan, on a river which runs into the Aras or
Araxes. It is situated on the southern side of the desert
plain of Ardebil, which is 60 miles in length by 40 in breadth.
The town contains about 500 or 600 families, and appears
to have been built from some former city. It is surrounded
by a ruinous wall of mud, flanked with towers in a like state
of decay. It has a fort, which is a regular square, with bas¬
tions at the corners, fortified according to the European
fashion. The only objects of interest are the tombs of Sheik
Suffee, the ancestor of the Suffanean kings, and his descen¬
dants. It is still held in veneration as having been the resi¬
dence of that prince.
ARDECHE, a department in the south of France, for¬
merly Vivarais. The granitic chain of the Cevennes occu¬
pies a large part of it. The culminating point of that group
is 5970 feet above the sea, and is named Mount Mezenc.
Sandstone forms the lower portions of the district, over which
lie beds of a coal formation, limestone, and chalk; but the
continuity of these beds is disturbed by the cones of extinct
volcanoes, part of the remarkable belt that passes from Puy
de Dome, through Cantal and Haute Loire, towards the
Rhone at Rochemaure. The surface = 2081 square miles;
and the population, by the census of 1851, 386,505. The
department contains three arrondissements ; Tournon, Lar-
gentiere, and Privas. Its chief rivers are the Rhone, Loire,
Gance, Doux, Erieux, and Ardeche. The mineral products
are iron, antimony, coal, &c. Wine, chesnuts, and olives, are
abundant, but corn is rather deficient. The mulberry is
much cultivated for the rearing of silkworms.
ARDEE, a town of Ireland, county of Louth, on the river
Dee, whence its ancient name of Atherdee, “ I own on the
Dee.” It was formerly a place of considerable importance,
but now consists chiefly of miserable cabins. It has two old
520 A R D
Ardelan castles, one of which is used as a court-house ; a church of
Ardennes ^ 1C- ^drteenth century; a large Roman Catholic chapel;
i ^ sayings bank ; dispensary; and several schools. It has a con-
v siderable malt and corn trade. Pop. in 1851, 2752.
ARDELAN, a province of Persia, which forms the east¬
ern division of Kurdistan. Its length is 200 miles, and its
breadth about 160. It is divided from the plain of Hama-
dan by a small range of hills, and its western boundary is 100
miles beyond Senna, the capital, which is situated in Long.
40. E. and Lat. 35. 12. N., 60 miles from Hamadan. From
the Sharook, which separates the province from Azerbijan,
to Senna, the country presents either a succession of hills
clustered and heaped together, or great table-lands covered
with the flocks and tents of wandering shepherds, who pass
the summer here, and migrate in the winter to the vicinity
of Baghdad. The soil in the valleys or glens, which are nar¬
row strips at the foot of the mountains, is fertile, and yields
abundance of wheat and barley. The oil plant, Sesamum
orientale, is everywhere cultivated, and also tobacco, though
in small quantities. The deep valley in which the capital is
situated is well cultivated, and interspersed with orchards of
fruit-trees. The mountains to the west are covered with
forests of oak, which produce fine timber, and abundance of
gall-nuts, which are exported to India, while the oak is floated
down the 1 ab into the Tigris. The inhabitants, and other
pastoral and rude tribes, make little use of the natural advan¬
tages of the country, being addicted to war, cruelty, and ra¬
pine. There is another tribe of shepherds named Gheshkee,
who are most expert and daring robbers. These tribes are
under the government of a powerful chief, who pays an an¬
nual tribute to Persia, but is in all other respects indepen-
(dent. He rules over his vassals with the most absolute
power, but is said to govern rather like a patriarch than a
iyran t.—-Kinneir.
ARDELL, James Mac, one of the ablest of mezzotinto
engravers, is supposed to have been born in Ireland about
17H. His chief works are portraits of distinguished persons
after Hogarth, Hudson. Reynolds, and others; and a few
historical subjects after Vandyk, Murillo, and Rembrandt.
He resided at London, and died there in 1765.
ARDEN, Arduen, or Aedven, the common name of
forests among the Celts. It is written Arduen by Caesar
and Tacitus in speaking of the forest in Gaul.
ARDENNE, Forest of (the Sylva Arduenna of the
Romans), an extensive woody and mountainous district in
the noith of I ranee, stretching also into Belgium and the
Grand Duchy of the Lower Rhine. It extends westward
to the sources of the Somme, Oise, Sambre, and Scheldt,
and eastward to the valley of the Moselle. In Caesar’s time
^ex^nt^e^ R*e Rhine. Its average elevation is about
1700 feet: some of its peaks attain a height of 2500.
ARDENNES, a frontier department in the north-east of
1 r^nee, deriving its name from that of the celebrated forest.
It is bounded on the north by Belgium; and on the west,
south, and east, by the departments of Aisne, Marne, and
Meuse, respectively. It is mostly mountainous, the northern
part abounding with forests ; and the climate is generally cold
and humid. The only navigable rivers are the Meuse and
Aisne, which are united by the canal of Ardennes. Of the
tributaries of the Meuse in this department, the principal are
the Chiers, Semoy, Bar, Vence, and Sermonne ; those of the
Aisne, the Aire, \ aux, and Retourne. Ardennes is cele¬
brated for its sheep. Its woods abound in game, and its rivers
in fish. Agriculture has iccently made considerable progress
in this department, nearly three-fourths of it being now un¬
der cultivation : the inhabitants are chiefly occupied in rais¬
ing corn, and make but little wine. The country is rich in
minerals, particularly in iron, lead, slate, and marble. The
principal manufactures are cloths; iron, copper, and zinc
goods; earthenware, glass, leather, and beer. It has an area
ARE
of 517,385 hectares, or 1,278,530 acres ; and is divided into Ardes
five arrondissements, viz., Mezieres, Rethel, Rocroy, Sedan, ||
and Youziers; comprehending 31 cantons and 478 com- Area*
munes. Pop. in 1851, 331,296. Its capital is Mezieres.
ARDES, a town of b ranee, in Lower Auvergne, and now
in the department of Puy de Dome. It serves as a mart for
the trade between Upper and Lower Auvergne. Pop. 1773.
ARDFERT, a town of Ireland, in the county of Kerry*
of which it was formerly the capital, though it is now a ruin¬
ous and decayed village. It had at one time a university,
and was a bishop’s see ; but it is now united to that of Lime¬
rick. Here are several religious edifices. A pillar tower,
which stood near the cathedral, and was one of the loftiest
and finest in the kingdom, fell in 1780.
ARDGLASS, a seaport town of Ireland, county of Down,
six miles south-east of Downpatrick, was formerly a place of
considerable importance. Population in 1851, 974, chiefly
engaged in the fisheries. It is much frequented by visitors
during the bathing season. Vessels of 500 tons may enter
the outer harbour at all tides, and its inner cove admits ves¬
sels of 100 tons. There is a lighthouse at the extremity of
the pier in Lat. 54. 15. N. Long. 5. 36. W.
ARDISHEER, the founder of the Sassanian dynasty of
Persia, called by the Romans Artaxerxes. See Persia.
ARDOCH, a parish in Perthshire, celebrated for a very
perfect Roman camp, or large fort, with five ramparts and
as many ditches, inclosing an area of 100 by 86 yards. See
Gordon, Itiner. Septent., Pennant’s Tour, iii. 102. Adjoining,
also, are remains of two Castra vEstiva, one of which is
953 by 650 yards, another 635 by 445 yards. General Roy
considers these stations as the position of Agricola, before
dividing his army into three bodies, when he marched
against the Caledonii.
ARDCn E, a market-town of Belgium, in the province
of West Flanders, and arrondissement of Roulers. Pon. in
1851, 6142. ^
ARDRAH, formerly an independent territory of Africa,
on the slave coast of Guinea, but now a province of the king¬
dom of Dahomey. Its chief town, of the same name, is
about forty miles inland, and has a population of 8000.
ARDRES, a town of France, in Pas de Calais. Here an
interview took place between Francis I. and Henry VIII.
king of England in 1520. It is eight miles south of Calais.
ARDROSSAN, a seaport town of Ayrshire, Scotland,
situated on the birth of Clyde opposite the island of Arran,
and 16 miles north-west of Ayr. The town has lately been
much improved, and is a favourite resort of visitors during
the bathing season. Large sums were expended by the late
Earl of Eglintoun in forming the harbour, which is sheltered
by a pier and a small islet, and has a lighthouse with a fixed
light on the north-east breakwater, in Lat. 55. 38. 27. N.
Long. 4.49. 28. W. It has a branch railway uniting it with
the Glasgow and Ayr lines at Kilwinning, and communica¬
tion by steamers with Arran, Belfast, and Liverpool. Pop.
in 1851, 2071. See Ayrshire.
ARDSISCH, a town in the province of Wallachia, on a
small river of the same name, which falls into the Danube.
It was once the seat of government, but is fast decaying. It
still contains six churches, a large and beautiful monastery,
and the ruins of the ancient palace of the sovereigns.
ARE, the present French superficial measure, is a square,
of which the sides = 10 metres. A metre = 39-37079
inches; and 100 ares or 1 hectare = 2-4711695 English
acres ; or 202^- hectares = 500 English acres.
AREA, in general, denotes any plain surface. The La¬
tin word more properly denoted a threshing floor; and is
derived from arere to be dry.
Area, in Architecture, denotes the space or site of ground
on which an edifice stands. It is also used for inner courts
and other inclosed spaces.
ARE
Area
Area, in Geometry, denotes the superficial content of any
Arenaria. %ur.e- .TIlus’if a figure, e. g., a field, be in form of a square,
v i j anfi its side be 40 feet long, its area is said to be 1600 square
feet; or it contains 1600 little squares, each a foot every way.
AREBO, a considerable town of Benin, in Africa, on the
river Formosa. Long. 5. 8. E. Lat. 5. 58. N.
ARECA, a genus of palms, two of which are remarkable.
A. oleracea is the cabbage palm of the West Indies and
Guyana, which attains a height of from one to two hundred
feet, with a very slender stem, of only a few inches in dia¬
meter. It is felled to obtain the young shoots, which are eaten
as a vegetable, especially in pickles ; the nuts are sweet and
edible, and the trunk forms excellent water-pipes, when its
% soft interior decays. A. Catechu is the well-known Betel
Palm of India; the astringent kernels are universally chewed
in the East, when mixed with the leaf of a sort of pepper and
quick lime. This pepper is the Piper Betle of botanists. The
nuts are also used to afford an inferior sort of catechu, named
Kassu, and Coury, now seldom imported into Europe.
AREMBERG, a small market-town of Prussia, govern¬
ment of Coblenz, circle of Adenau, with 300 inhabitants.
It is situated on the river Aar, and has a castle, the ancient
residence of the dukes of Aremberg, who thence derived
their title. About the year 1298, the earldom of Aremberg
came by marriage to John of Engelbert, earl of Mark, in
whose family it continued till 1547, when John of Barban^on,
of the celebrated house of Eigne, by marrying the only daugh¬
ter of the last earl, obtained possession of the lands. In 1572
it was^ raised to a principality, and ranked among the Ger¬
man States. In 1582, the prince obtained a seat in the diet;
and Prince Philip Charles, who died in 1616, by marryino-
Ann of Croy obtained the possessions of the duke of Croy
and Arschot. In 1644 Philip Francis, then the reigning
prince, received the title of duke. By the peace of Lune-
ville concluded in February 1801, between Austria, in the
name of the German empire, and France, by which Belgium
and the territory on the left bank of the Rhine were ceded
to Fiance, the duke lost the greater part of his possessions,
and received as compensation the territories of Reckling¬
hausen and Meppen. On the establishment of the confe-
deration of the Rhine, the duke became a member of that
body; but in 1810 he lost his sovereignty by Napoleon’s in¬
corporating his dukedom with France and the grand duchy
of Berg, for which he received a rent of 240,702 francs, and
remained in possession of his domains. In 1815 the duke
received back his possessions, which, at the Congress of
Vienna, were mediatized, a part to Prussia, and a part to
^.n account the former, he became a peer of
the VV estphalian Estates; and, by the latter, a member of
the House of Lords in Hanover. George IV., on 9th May
1826, elevated the duke s possessions in Hanover to a duke¬
dom, under the title of Aremberg-Meppen. The present
duke is also a grandee of Spain of the first class. His Ger¬
man possessions extend over about 780 geographical square
mi1es,_'Vltl* 94,000 inhabitants ; of which, 544 square miles,
with 50,000 inhabitants, are in Hanover; besides which he
has large estates in France, and extensive tracts of forest in
the Pyrenees. The present duke resides at Brussels ; and
r e fr0m a11 his estates is about 750,000 guilders, or
L.62,500. °
ARENA, in Roman Antiquity, the place where the gla¬
diators fought; so called from its being strewed with sand,
in order to conceal from the view of the spectators the blood
spi t in the combat. Caligula, Nero, and others, are said to
have strewed the arena with a golden dust (probably cinna¬
bar) and with borax. An interesting description of the se¬
veral games of the amphitheatre is given in the Eclogues of
Calpurmus. (Edited by Glaeser, Gotting. 1842.)
AREN ARIA, a genus of wading birds, to which our Red¬
shank belongs.
VOL. m.
ARE 521
Arenaria, a genus of plants of the natural order of Ca- Arenaria
i . — i   udLuiai uiuer oi
ryophylleae, containing numerous species, of which ten are „
UT'duxt a unfier the name of sandworts. Arequipa.
ENARII, in Antiquity, gladiators who combated in
the arena or amphitheatre.
ARENARIUM, m Ecclesiastical Writers, denotes a
cemetery or burymg-ground. The arenaria were properly
a kind of pits or holes under ground, in which tlie ancient
Christians not only buried their dead, but held their reli¬
gious assemblies in times of persecution.
ARENDAL, a seaport town of Norway, on the Skager¬
rack, 35 miles north-east of Christiansand. Lat. 58. 27^ N.
Long. 8. 50. 25. E. It has a considerable shipping trade
particularly in iron and timber. Population, 3229, engao-ed
in the distilleries, tobacco factories, dockyards, and in the
iron mines around. The vicinity is remarkable for the num¬
ber of beautiful and rare minerals found there.
ARENDT, Martin Frederic, a learned antiquary born
at Altona in 1769. In 1798 he commenced his travels in
pursuit of antiquarian lore, visiting the northern parts of
Europe, and afterwards Spain, Italy, and Hungary. His
peregrinations were performed entirely on foot; he fre¬
quently slept in the open air, and trusted for subsistence to
the bounty of strangers. He made accurate observations on
the antiquities of the countries through which he passed,
and published a few memoirs; but much of his erudition’
which was undoubtedly great, has perished with himself. A
part of his papers and drawings were deposited in the library
at Copenhagen. He died in prison at Naples in 1824.
AREIS G, Labillardiere s designation of a genus of palms,
known in Sprengel s work by the name of Gomutus, ori¬
ginally proposed for it by Rumphius. It contains only a
single species, G. saccharifer. Its juice, when fermented, is
palm wine, which is astringent and intoxicating. The trunk
of this palm rises to the height of 25 or 30 feet, is covered
with the coarse, black fibres, of which the Indians make
cables ; and from it a large quantity of farinaceous matter is
obtained, which is manufactured into a species of sago. The
sap as it flows from the plant is a pale, yellowish, transpa¬
rent liquid, which is generally collected in gourds, or joints
of the large bamboo tied to the cut midribs of the leaves.
The plant is a native of Cochin-China and the Indian Isles.
ARENSBERG, or Arnsberg, a city of Westphalia, in
Prussia, the chief town of a government and circle of the
same name. It is situated on an eminence almost surrounded
by the River Ruhr, 44 miles south-east of Munster, and 58
miles E.N.E. of Dusseldorf. It is the residence of the pro¬
vincial authorities, and has a court of appeal, a catholic gym¬
nasium, and a society of agriculture. Pop. 4438. Arensberg
was the capital of the ancient Duchy of Westphalia, and
was formerly a member of the Hanseatic league. Near
the town are the ruins of an ancient castle, once the resi¬
dence of the earls of Arnsberg; the last of whom, Gottfried,
sold his earldom, in 1368, to the archbishop of Cologne.
ARENSBURG, a seaport town of European Russia, ca¬
pital of the Island of Oesel in the Baltic, at the mouth of
the Gulf of Riga. It is situated on the south side of the
island, in Lat. 58.15. N. Long. 22. 18. E. Pop. 1600. From
the shallowness of its harbour, vessels are obliged to anchor
in the roads, about five miles west of the town.
AREOLA, 'm Anatomy, the coloured circle surrounding
the nipple of the breast.
AREOPAGUS, the highest tribunal at Athens, famous
for the justice and impartiality of its decrees, to which the
gods themselves are said to have submitted their differences.
See Attica.
AREQUIPA, the most southern of the seven depart¬
ments into which the republic of Peru is divided. It lies
along the Pacific between Lat. 15. and 21. S. and Long. 69.
and 75. W.; having on the north the departments of Lima,
3 u
522 ARE
Ares Ayacucho, and Puno; and on the east and south, Bolivia.
" || Its chief productions are silver, nitrate of soda, guano, sheep,
Aretino. alpaca wool, sugar, wine, and brandy. It is divided into
^ ^ z —1 ^ seven provinces. The chief town of the department has the
same name, and lies in the fertile valley of Quilca, 7775 feet
above the level of the sea, in Lat. 16. 30. S. Long. 71. 48.
W. This city is handsome and well built, with a cathedral,
a college, a hospital, several nunneries and convents, and a
bronze fountain in its great square. It has a very consider¬
able trade, with manufactures of woollen and linen goods,
and gold and silver ornaments. It is subject to frequent
earthquakes; but the climate is mild and salubrious. Be¬
hind the city rise three lofty mountains, one of which, called
the peak of Mist4, is an active volcano, and rises to the
height of 18,373 feet. Pop. 20,000.
ARES (vAras), son of Zeus and Hera, the god of war
among the Greeks, identified by the Romans with their own
Mars. From this word was derived dperij, virtue, as also
apawv, dpionros, &c., the earliest idea of excellence being
connected with martial superiority. ... r .
ARET7EUS of Cappadocia, a Greek physician of the
sect of the Pneumatists, who, according to some, lived in the
reign of Augustus; according to others, under T rajan or
Hadrian. He wrote, in the Ionian dialect, several treatises
on acute diseases and other medical subjects, some of which
are still extant. The best edition of his works is that of Boer-
haave, in Greek and Latin, with notes, printed in 1731; that
printed at Oxford in 1723, in folio, is also much esteemed:
and an excellent edition by C. G. Kuhn, was published at
Leipzig in 1828. « , .i
ARETALOGI, in Antiquity, a class of philosophers,
chiefly of the Cynic or Stoic school, who frequented the tables
of great men, and entertained them at their banquets with
disputations on virtue, vice, and other popular topics. These
are sometimes also denominated ( irculatorcs Philosophi.
Such a mode of life would naturally degenerate into that of
the parasite and buffoon; hence they are mentioned with
contempt by Juvenal, Sat. xv.
ARETHUSA, a celebrated fountain near the city of Sy¬
racuse, in Sicily, famous for the quantity of its waters, and
the number of fishes it contained. Many fables were in¬
vented by the ancients concerning this fountain. It was
said to have derived its name from Arethusa, the daughter
of Nereus and Doris, and the companion of Artemis (Diana),
who changed her into a fountain to deliver her from the pur¬
suit of her lover Alpheus. It was also believed that the river
Alpheus ran under or through the waters of the sea, without
mixing with them, from Peloponnesus to Sicily. Mr Bry-
done informs us that it still continues to send forth an im¬
mense quantity of water, rising at once to the size of a river,
but is entirely abandoned by the fishes it formerly contained
in such plenty. Mr Swinburne describes this once famous
fountain as a large pool of water near the quay, defended from
the sea by a wall, and almost hidden by houses on every
other side. The water is not salt but brackish, and fit for
no purpose but washing linen. “ Such,” says he, “ is the
celebrated fountain of Arethusa, whose soft, poetical name
is known to every reader.”
ARETINO, Guido, famous for his improvements in music,
lived in the eleventh century. He was born in the city of
Arezzo, in Tuscany ; and having been taught the practice of
music in his youth, and being probably retained as a choris¬
ter in the service of the Benedictine monastery founded in
that city, he became a monk professed, and a brother of the
order of St Benedict.
In this retirement he seems to have devoted himself to the
study of music, particularly the system of the ancients, and,
above all, to reform their method of notation. 1 he difficul¬
ties that attended the instruction of youth in the church
offices were so great, that, as he himself says, ten years were
ARE
generally consumed barely in acquiring the knowledge of
the plain song; and this consideration induced him to la- z-—
hour after some amendment, some method that might fa¬
cilitate instruction, and enable those employed in the choral
office to perform the duties of it in a correct and decent
manner. Were we to credit those legendary accounts that
are extant in old monkish manuscripts, we should believe
he was assisted in his pious intention by immediate commu¬
nications from heaven. Some speak of the invention of the^
syllables as the effect of inspiration; and Guido himself
seems to have been of the same opinion, by his saying it was
revealed to him by the Lord, or, as some interpret his words,
in a dream. Graver historians say, that being at vespers in
the chapel of his monastery, it happened that one of the offi- *
ces appointed for that day was the hymn to St John,—■
UT queant laxis REsonare fibris
Mira gestorum FAmuli tuorum
SOLve polluti LAbii reatum,
Sancte Joannes!
During the performance of the hymn, he remarked the
iteration of the words, and the frequent returns of ut, re,
mi, fa, sou, la. He observed likewise a dissimilarity be¬
tween the closeness of the syllable mi and broad open sound
of fa, which, he thought, could not fail to impress upon the
mind a lasting idea of their congruity; and immediately
conceived a thought of applying these six syllables to per¬
fect an improvement either then actually made by him, or
under consideration, viz., that of converting the ancient te-
trachords into hexachords. .
Struck with the discovery, he retired to his study, and
having perfected his system, began to introduce it into prac¬
tice. The persons to whom he communicated it were the
brethren of his own monastery, from whom it met with but
a cold reception, which he ascribed to envy. However, his
interest with the abbot, and his employment in the chapel,
gave him an opportunity of trying the efficacy of his method
on the boys who were training up for the choral service, and
it exceeded the most sanguine expectation. “ 1 o the ad¬
miration of all,” says Cardinal Baronius, “a boy thereby learnt,
in a few months, what no man, though of great ingenuity,
could hitherto acquire in several years.”
The fame of Guido’s invention soon spread abroad, and
his method of instruction was adopted by the clergy of other
countries. We are told by Kircher, that Hermannus bishop
of Hamburgh, and Elviricus bishop of Osnaburg, made use
of it; and by the authors of the Histone Litteraire de la
France, that it was received in that country, and taught in
all the monasteries in the kingdom. It is certain that the re¬
putation of his great skill in music had excited in the pope
a desire to see and converse with him ; of which, and of his
going to Rome for that purpose, and the reception he met
with from the pontiff, he himself has given a circumstantial
account in the epistle hereafter mentioned.
It seems that John XX., or, as some writers compute, the
nineteenth pope of that name, having heard of the fame of
Guido’s school, and conceiving a desire to see him, sent
three messengers to invite him to Rome. Upon their ar¬
rival, it was resolved by the brethren of the monastery that
he should go thither attended by Grimaldo the abbot, and
Peter the chief of the canons of the church of Arezzo. Ar¬
riving at Rome, he was presented to the holy father, who re¬
ceived him with great kindness, and honoured him with
several interviews, during which he interrogated him as to
his knowledge in music; and upon sight of an antipho-
nary which Guido had brought with him, marked with the
syllables according to his new invention, the pontiff looked
upon it as a kind of prodigy, and ruminating on the doctrines
delivered by Guido, would not stir from his seat till he hau
learned perfectly to sing off a verse ; upon which he t ec arec
that he could not have believed the efficacy of the method,
ARE
Aretino. if he had not been convinced by the experiment he had him-
self made of it. The pope would have detained him at Rome;
but labouring under a bodily disorder, and fearing an injury
to his health from the air of the place, and the heats of the
summer, which was then approaching, Guido left that city
upon a promise to revisit it, and explain to his holiness the
principles of his new system.
On his return home he visited the abbot of Pomposa, a
town in the duchy of Ferrara, at whose request he took up
his abode in the monastery. Here he composed a tract on
music, entitled Micrologus, i. e., a short discourse, which he
dedicated to Theobald, bishop of Arezzo; and finished, as
he himself at the end of it tells us, under the pontificate of
John XX., and in the 34th year of his age. Vossius speaks
also of another musical treatise written by him, and dedi¬
cated to the same person. Most of the authors who have
taken occasion to mention Guido, speak of the Micrologus as
containing the sum of his doctrine; but it is in a small tract,
entitled Argumentum novi Cantus inveniendi, that his de¬
claration of his use of the syllables, with their several mu¬
tations, and in short his whole doctrine of solmization, is to
be found. This tract forms part of an epistle to a very dear
and intimate friend of Guido, whom he addresses thus,
“Beatissimo atque dulcissimo fratri Michaeli,” at whose re¬
quest the tract itself seems to have been composed.
Whether Guido was the author of any other tracts is not
easy to determine. It nowhere appears that any of his works
were ever printed, except that Baronius, in his Annales Ec-
clesiastici, tom. xi. p. 73, has given at length the epistle from
him to his friend Michael of Pomposa, and that to Theo¬
bald, bishop of Arezzo, prefixed to the Micrologus; and yet
the writers on music speak of the Micrologus as of a book
in the hands of every one. Martini cites several manuscripts
of Guido ; namely, two in the Ambrosian library at Milan,
the one written about the twelfth century, the other less
ancient; another among the archives of the chapter of Pis-
toja, a city in Tuscany; and a third in the Medico-Lauren-
ziano library at Florence, of the fifteenth century: these are
clearly the Micrologus. Of the epistle to Michael of Pom¬
posa, together with the Argumentum novi Cantus inveni-
endi, he mentions only one, which, he says, is somewhere
at Ratisbon. Of the several tracts above mentioned, the
last excepted, a manuscript is extant in the library of Baliol
College, Oxford. (See Kiesewetter Hist, of Music ; trans¬
lated by Robert Muller: London, 1848, chap, ii.)
Arexino, Leonardo, one of the most learned men of the
fifteenth century, was secretary to the republic of Florence,
and translated from the Greek into Latin some of the Lives
of Plutarch, and Aristotle’s Ethics. He also composed three
books of the Punic war, as a supplement to those wanting
in Livy; the history of the transactions in Italy during his
time ; that of ancient Greece ; that of the Goths; that of
the republic of Florence ; and many other works. He died
in 1443, aged 74.
Aretino, Francesco, a man of great learning, and well ac¬
quainted with the Greek language. He translated into Latin
the Commentaries of St Chrysostom upon St John, and about
twenty homilies of the same father ; he also translated the
Letters of Phalaris into Latin, and wrote a treatise De Bal-
neis Puteolanis. He studied at Sienna about the year 1443,
and afterwards taught law there with such reputation that
he was called the Prince of Subtleties. He taught also in
the university of Pisa, and in that of Ferrara.
Aretino, Pietro, a native of Arezzo, who lived in the six¬
teenth century. He was famous for his satirical writings;
and was so bold as to direct his invectives even against so¬
vereigns, and from thence got the title of the Scourge of'
Princes. Francis I., the Emperor Charles V., most of the
princes of Italy, several cardinals, and many noblemen,
courted his friendship by presents, either because they liked
ARE 523
his compositions, or perhaps from an apprehension of falling Arezzo,
under the lash of his satire. Aretino became so insolent, that
he is said to have got a medal struck, on one side of which
he is represented, with these words, II divino Aretino ; and
on the reverse, sitting upon a throne, receiving the presents
of princes, with these words, Iprincipi tributati da popoli,
tributano il servidor loro, borne imagine that he gave him¬
self the title of Divine, signifying thereby that he performed
the functions of a god upon earth, by the thunderbolts with
which he struck the heads of the highest personages. He
used to boast that his lampoons did more service to the
world than sermons; and it was said of him, that he had
subjected more princes by his pen than the greatest had
ever done by their arms. Aretino wrote many irreligious and
obscene pieces; such are his dialogues, called Ragionamenti.
There is likewise imputed to him another very obscene per¬
formance, De omnibus Veneris schematibus. “ It was about
the year 1525 (says M. Chevillier, Origine de VImprimerie de
Paris, p. 224) that Julio Romano, the most famous painter
of Italy, instigated by the enemy of the salvation of man¬
kind, invented drawings for 20 engraved plates ; the subjects
are so immodest that I dare only name them. Pietro Aretino
composed sonnets for each figure. George Vasari, who re¬
lates this in his Lives of Painters, says he does not know
which would be the greatest impurity, to cast one’s eyes
upon the drawings of Julio, or to dip into the verses of Are¬
tino.” Some say that Aretino changed his libertine princi¬
ples ; but however this may be, it is certain that he composed
several theological or pious pieces. He wrote a paraphrase
on the penitential psalms, and another on Genesis ; the Life
of the Virgin Mary, and that of St Catharine of Sienna, and
of St Thomas Aquinas. His familiar Letters were collected
and published at Paris, in 6 vols. 8vo, 1609. He was
author likewise of various poetical pieces, among which is a
tragedy on the subject of the Horatii, possessed of consider¬
able merit. He died in the year 1556, at the age of 65.
AREZZO (the dxiCAOV&Arretium^rretinus,®* Aretinus),
a city of Tuscany, capital of a province of the same name,
situated on the Chiano, an affluent of the Arno, 40 miles
south-east of Florence. Lat. 43. 18. 6. N. Long. 11. 53.
35. E. It is the seat of a bishop and of a court of appeal;
and has a magnificent cathedral of the thirteenth century
with some fine monuments, many churches and cloisters,
several educational institutions, a surgical school, hospital,
library, and museum. In the principal square stands a mag¬
nificent building called Le Loggie, containing the custom¬
house, the theatre, town-hall, &c., with a portico 400 feet in
length. Its principal manufactures are woollen stuffs and
pins. Pop. 9500. Arezzo is the birthplace of many emi¬
nent persons, among whom were Maecenas, Petrarch, Vasari,
Bracci, Leonard Bruin, called Aretin, Guido the great im¬
prover of musical notation, and the naturalist Redi.
Arretium was one of the most ancient and powerful of the
Etruscan cities. History is silent as to the period when it
became subject to the Roman sway; but after the conquest
of Italy, Arretium was a military post of the highest import¬
ance to the Romans, as commanding the western entrance
into Etruria, and the valley of the Tiber from Cisalpine Gaul;
and here Flaminius was posted with his army to oppose the
advance of Hannibal in the second Punic war. On tlm
commencement of the civil war in b.c. 49, this was one of
the first places that Caesar occupied after crossing the Rubi¬
con. The only ancient remains in Arezzo are some small
portions of a Roman amphitheatre; and hence some sup¬
pose that the modern city occupies the site of the Roman
Arretium, but that the ancient Etruscan city of that name
was distant two or three miles to the south-east, where some
remains of what are called cyclopean walls are still visible.
Many valuable relics of antiquity have been found at Arezzo,
among which are numerous works in bronze, especially the
524 A R G
Arfe Chimsera and the statue of Minerva, which are now pre-
II served in the gallery at Florence.
Argentan. Pliny informs us that its pottery was celebrated; and
many specimens have been found there of a peculiar red
ware figured in relief, wholly different from the painted vases
of southern Etruria and Campania.
ARFE, Henrique, and Juan de, two celebrated artists
in silver of the times of the Emperor Charles V., and King
Philip II. of Spain. The magnificent custodia or tabernacle
for the host, on the altars of several of the Spanish cathe¬
drals, as at Sevilla, Cordova, and Toledo, &c., are by them.
The designs are architectural, with many well-engraved
figures, and an idea may be formed of their size, from their
each consisting of from six to eight cwt. of pure silver. The
first artist was grandfather of the second.
ARGAND, Aime, a Genevese, who, about 1782, in¬
vented the lamp known by his name. It has a hollow wick,
so as to admit air to both surfaces of the flame, by which the
heat and light are much increased. U ntil the coal-gas lamp
was known, the argand lamp was much used by chemists,
and also for illuminating houses. It has also been employed
in gas-burners, but consumes much gas.
ARGAUM, in Southern India, a village of Hyderabad,
or the territory of the Nizam. This place is celebrated for
the battle fought on the 28th November 1803, between the
combined forces of Scindia and the Rajah of Berar, and the
British army under the command of Major General Wel¬
lesley (afterwards Duke of Wellington), in which the Mah-
rattas were defeated with great loss. A medal struck in
England in 1851 commemorates the victory. Distant south¬
west from Ellichpoor 40 miles, north-east from Aurungabad
135. Eat. 21. 2. Long. 77.2. (e.t.)
ARGEI, or Argjei, in Roman Antiquity, thirty human
figures made of rushes thrown annually by the priests or
vestals into the Tiber on the day of the ides of May. Ac¬
cording to Dionysius of Halicarnassus, this custom was in¬
stituted to satisfy the scruples of the people when human
sacrifices to Saturn were abolished by Plercules. (Antiq.
Rom. i. 19, 38.)
ARGELES, an arrondissement in the department of the
Upper Pyrenees, in France, extending over 523 square
miles, or 334,698 acres. It is divided into five cantons, and
subdivided into 99 communes. Pop. in 1851, 42,558. The
chief city of the arrondissement, of the same name, is situ¬
ated in the beautiful valley of Lave dan, on the banks of the
Gave d’Azun.
ARGENSOLA, Bartolome Leonard de, a native of
Barbastro in Aragon, born in 1566. Fie studied at the
university of Huesca, embraced the ecclesiastical profession,
and became chaplain to Dona Maria of Austria. He was
the continuator of the Anales de Aragon of Zurita, the au¬
thor of a history of the conquest of the Molucca Isles, be¬
sides some poetical effusions, all which are commended by
Bouterwek for elegance and correct purity of style. His elder
brother, Lupercio, was secretary to the Conde de Lemos,
when viceroy of Naples, and left behind him poetic works of
merit not yet published. (Bouterwek, Geschichte.)
ARGENT, the common French word for silver. It
is used in heraldry to signify purity, beauty, and gentle¬
ness.
ARGENTAC, or Argentat, a town of France, in the
department of Correze, on the river Dordogne. Pop. 2076.
In .the vicinity are mines of coal and lead.
ARGENTAN, an arrondissement in the department of
the Orne, in France, extending over 729 square miles, or
466,690 acres. It comprehends 11 cantons, divided into
190 communes. Population in 1851, 106,854. The chief
city of the arrondissement is of the same name. It is situ¬
ated on an elevation in a beautiful plain, through which the
Orne runs. It contains 5425 inhabitants, who manufacture
A R G
thread-lace of a fine quality, some linen goods, and leather. Argenta-
Long. 0. 2. W. Lat. 48. 44. N. lius
ARGENTARIUS is frequently used in Roman Writers Ar„0,iauts
for a money changer or banker. The argentarii were ca- v <
pitalists, who made a profit either by the changing or lend¬
ing of money at interest. They had their tabernce or offices
in the forum Romanum, built there as early as the reign of
L. Tarquinius Priscus.
ARGENTEUIL, a small town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Seine and Oise, and capital of a canton. It stands
on the Seine, 11 miles north-east of Versailles. Pop. 4569.
It was to a nunnery in this town that Heloise retired after
the misfortune of Abelard. See Abelard.
ARGENTIERE, or Cimoli, the ancient Ki/woAis, one of
the Cyclades, is about 18 miles in compass, and very moun¬
tainous. Pop. 800. The Cimolia terra of antiquity is still
found here, and is formed into cakes, which are stamped with
the seal of the Grand Seignior. See Cimolia Terra.
ARGENTINE Confederation. See Plata, La.
ARGENTINES, a deity worshipped by the Romans as
the god of silver coin ; as iEsculanus, whom they made his
father, was the god of brass money, which was in use before
silver.
ARGENTUM Album, in our old customs, silver coin,
or pieces of bullion, that passed for money.
Argentum Dei, God’s 'penny, anciently signified earnest
money, or money given to bind a bargain; in some places
called erles or arles, and by the civilians and canonists arrhce.
ARGO, in Antiquity, the ship celebrated in ancient
poetry as that in which the Argonauts made their expedi¬
tion to Colchis in quest of the golden fleece. Jason having
happily accomplished his enterprise, consecrated the ship
Argo to Poseidon (Neptune), or, as others say, to Athena
(Minerva), on the isthmus of Corinth, where, they add, it
did not remain long before it was translated into heaven,
and made a constellation.
ARGOB AST, Louis Francois Antoine, a distinguished
French analyst, born in 1759 at Mutzig in Alsace. IFewas
professor of mathematics at Straasbourg, and author of the
Traite du Calcul des Derivations, a work of great merit.
This amiable man died on the 8th April 1803.
ARGOL, or Argal, the commercial name for crude tar¬
tar, which encrusts the sides of vessels in which wine has
been kept. It is much used in dyeing to dispose the stuffs
to take their colours the better.
ARGONAUTS, the name given to Jason and his compa¬
nions who, to the number of fifty, embarked in the ship
Argo. “ The designs of the Argonauts,” says Dr Gillies,
in his History of Greece, “ are veiled under the allegorical,
or at least doubtful phrase of carrying off the golden fleece ;
which, though easily explained, if we admit the report that
the inhabitants of the eastern banks of the Euxine extended
fleeces of wool in order to collect the golden particles which
were carried down by the torrents from Mount Caucasus,
is yet described in such various language by ancient writers,
that almost every modern who examines the subject thinks
himself entitled to offer, by way of explanation, some new con¬
jecture of his own. But in opposition to the most approved
of these conjectures, we may venture to affirm that the voy¬
age to Colchis was not undertaken with a view to establish
extensive plans of commerce, or to search for mines of gold,
far less to learn the imaginary art of converting other sub¬
stances into that precious metal; all such motives supposing
a degree of speculation and refinement unknown in that age
to the gallant but uninstructed youth of Thessaly. The real
object of the expedition may be discovered by its conse¬
quences. The Argonauts fought, conquered, and plundered;
they settled a colony on the shores of the Euxine, and car¬
ried into Greece a daughter of the king of Colchis, the cele¬
brated Medea, whose crimes and enchantments are con-
A R G
Argonauts demned to eternal infamy in the immortal lines of Euri-
Ar uiD P^es”
tguin. Argonauts of St Nicholas was the name of a military
order instituted by Charles III., king of Naples, in the year
1382, for the advancement of navigation, or, as some say,
merely for preserving amity among the nobles. They wore
a collar of shells inclosed in a silver crescent, from which
hung a ship with this device, Non credo tempori, I do not trust
time. Hence these Argonaut knights came to be called
knights of the shell. They received the order of St Basil,
archbishop of Naples, and held their assemblies in the church
of St Nicholas their patron.
ARGONNE, the old name of a district in France, now
included in the departments of Marne, Meuse, and Ardennes.
It may be described as a vast forest interspersed with a few
towns and villages, and hence called the Forest of Argonne.
ARGOS, an ancient name of Peloponnesus, from Argos,
one of the kings. Strabo derives the name from a Thessa¬
lian word signifying a plain.
Several ancient cities bore the name of Argos, particu¬
larly the capital of Argolis or Argeia. Argos was originally
the seat of nine petty sovereigns of the family of the Ina-
chides, the last of whom was expelled by Danaiis, whose
descendants were termed Belides. Agamemnon was king
of Argos during the Trojan war : but 80 years afterwards,
his descendants were deposed by the Heraclidae; and Argos
assumed a republican form of government, which it retained
until the dissolution of the Achaean league. The character
of this state contrasts unfavourably with some other of the
Grecian republics. It tyrannized over Mycenae, which it
destroyed 568 years b.c. : it did not join the Greek confe¬
deracy against Persia, and was constantly opposed to Sparta.
The great deity of the city was Hera, or Juno, who had a
grand temple there, existing in the time of Pausanias.
Argos was founded by Pelasgians; and remains of the
ancient architecture, commonly called Cyclopean, in a fine
state of preservation, may still be seen in its acropolis, on
the hill of Larissa, and its spur Deiras. The summit of
these eminences is crowned by the ruins of a castle, of the
times of the Lower Empire, but it has antique substructions.
The only other remains of antiquity at modern Argos are
inscriptions, fragments of sculpture, and architecture, scat¬
tered in the plain, and among the present houses. Argos,
as it was, is described in Pausanias ; as it is, in Col. Leake’s
Travels, vol. ii.; and Dodwell’s Pelasgic Remains.
The modern Argos is 5 miles north-west of Napoli di
Romania, in Eat. 37. 40. N. Long. 22. 44. E. It contains
about 8000 inhabitants.
Argos, surnamed Amphilochicum to distinguish it from
the preceding, was the capital of the territory of the Amphi-
lochians. It stood at the eastern extremity of the Ambra-
cian Gulf. When Augustus, after the battle of Actium,
founded Nicopolis, he removed the inhabitants of Argos to
that city. The modern village of Neokhori is supposed by
Col. Leake to occupy the site of this city.
ARGOSTOLI, a seaport town, capital of Cephalonia,
one of the Ionian islands. The town has lately been much
improved, and has a quay a mile in length, and a fine bridge.
Pop. 5000. Lat. 38. 10. 40. N. Long. 19. 59. 3. E.
ARGUIN, a small island in a bay of the same name,
situated on the western coast of Africa, near the southern
termination of the Great Desert. Major Rennell supposes
it to be the island to which the ancients, and particularly
Hanno, gave the name of Cerne. The Portuguese early
formed a settlement there, and even made it for some time
the principal point from which they attempted to penetrate
into the interior ; but the extensive deserts by which it was
bordered were very unfavourable for this object, and the
banks of the Senegal have been found more advantageous
in every respect. The shores round Arguin, however,
A R G 525
abound with valuable turtle, and the sea affords a consider- Argumen-
able supply of stock fish. Long. 16. 20. W. Lat. 20. 23. N. turn ad
ARGUMENTUM ad hominem, is that form of argu- nominem
ment which presses a person with the consequences drawn . ^
from Ins own principles, concessions, or conduct. ^rgylc-
ARGUN, Argan, or Ergon, a river of Tartary in the vAAAy
country of the Mongols, which rises from a lake called Dalai *
or Koulon-nor, situated in Long. 119. 14. E. and Lat. 49. N.
It is considered to be the original source of the Amur, and
forms the boundary between the Chinese and Russian em¬
pires.
ARGUNSKOI, a town and fortress of Siberia, in the
government of Irkutsk, on the west bank of the river Argun,
162 miles from its mouth.
ARGUS, in Fabulous History, was the son of Arestor, and
had 100 eyes, 50 of which were always open. Hera made
choice of him to guard lo, whom Zeus had transformed into
a white heifer; but Zeus, pitying lo for being so closely
confined, sent Hermes, who with his flute charmed Argus
to sleep, sealed up his eyes with his caduceus, and then cut
off his head. Hera, to reward his fidelity, transplanted his
eyes into the tail of the peacock, a bird which was sacred to
her divinity.
Argus-shell, a species of porcelain shell, beautifully va¬
riegated with spots, resembling in some measure those in a
peacock’s tail.
ARGUTLE, witty and acute sayings, which commonly
signify something further than the mere words at first sight
seem to import.
ARGYLESHIRE, or Argyllshire, a county on the
western coast of Scotland, comprehending not only an ex¬
tensive district on the mainland, but also a number of the
Hebrides or Western Isles.
The mainland lies between Lat. 55. 15. and 56. 55. N.,
and between Long. 4. 32. and 6. 6. W.; and its greatest
length from the Mull of Cantire to Lochiel is 115 miles, with
a breadth of about 66 miles. It is bounded on the north by
Inverness-shire, east by the counties of Perth and Dumbar¬
ton and the Firth of Clyde, south by the Irish Sea, and on
the west by the Atlantic Ocean. From the windings of the
numerous bays and creeks with which the land is everywhere
indented, it is supposed to have more than 600 miles of sea-
coast. This part of the county contains 2260 square miles,
or 1,446,400 acres.
The islands of Argyleshire belong to the Hebrides ; and
a more particular account of them will be found in that ar¬
ticle. See also Islay, Mull, Jura, &c. The islands have
a superficial area of 950 square miles, or 608,000 acres.
The entire country thus contains 3210 square miles, or
2,054,400 acres, of which only about 165,000 acres are cul¬
tivated. It is divided into six districts, viz., Argyle, Cowal,
Kintyre, and Knapdale, Lorn, Mull, and Islay ; and contains
51 parishes, and parts of two others.
The general features of the county are varied, and strik¬
ing in a high degree, consisting of lofty mountains, deep
glens, and inlets of the sea entering far into the land. To¬
wards the northern parts it assumes the wild and savage gran¬
deur so peculiarly characteristic of the Highlands of Scotland.
Mountains piled on mountains in magnificent disorder pre¬
sent a sublime, but, in an agricultural point of view, a very
unpromising aspect. Some of the mountains are among the
loftiest is Scotland; as Ben Cruachan, near Locli Awe
(3669 feet), Benmore, in Mull (3168), Cruach-Lussa (3000).
The inlets of the sea are very numerous; the principal of
which are Loch Fyne, Loch Linnhe, Loch Etive, Loch Su-
nart, Loch Leven, &c. The district of Kintyre enters into
the North Channel, and is almost divided from the mainland
at the narrow isthmus of Tarbet. The district of Cowal is
also nearly peninsulated by Loch Long on the one side, and
Loch Fyne on the other. The interior of the county is in-
ARGYLESHIRE.
526
Argyle- terspersed with a number of lakes, the principal of which is
shire. Loch Awe.—(See Awe.) The total area of fresh-water lakes
''— in Argyleshire is about 52,000 acres. The rivers, as might
be expected from the nature of the country, are all short and
rapid.
The mainland is chiefly composed of primary strata, con¬
sisting of gneiss, mica-slate, often containing chlorite and talc-
slate, quartz rock, and in some places clay-slate, and red sand¬
stone. The districts of Kintyre, Knapdale, Cowal, Glen-
orchy, and the eastern part of Lorn, present the five first-
mentioned, almost everywhere, until they meet the granite
on the northern side of Loch Etive, and the trap formations
of Western Lorn. These primary strata reappear in Appin,
and then they give place to clay-slate, which is extensively
quarried at Balachulish. Those primary rocks also form a
part of Sunart and Morven. Gneiss and mica-slate are the
general rocks on both sides of Loch Fyne ; and at the ferry
of St Catherine, opposite to Inverary, is the quarry of chlo¬
rite-slate of which the ducal castle is built.
Gneiss, mica-slate, and quartz-rock, are the principal strata
of the isles of Coll and Tirey, Colonsay, Oransay, and of Iona;
they are found also alternating with the clay-slate which con¬
stitutes the greatest part of islay, Scarba, and Jura. The
remarkable summits known as the paps of Jura, consist of
very regularly stratified quartz-rock, which, indeed, is the
fundamental rock of that island.
Granite, except in veins, is rather rare in Argyle. A con¬
siderable extent of this rock exists to the north and north¬
east of Loch Etive ; and at the south-west of Mull, the ex¬
treme end of the promontory of Ross, is a granitic mass
that seems to extend to the adjacent island of Iona. This
granite is hard and compact, well suited for building, and has
been quarried for the magnificent lighthouse erected on the
Skerry Vobr. Gneiss, mica-slate, and quartz-rock, rest on
the eastern side of the granite, and are interposed between
it and the trap formations of the island.
Clay-slate forms a large portion of some of the islands of
this county. A very durable and fissile species of this rock
has long been quarried in some of what have been locally de¬
nominated the Slate Islands. The western side of Lunga
consists of quartz-rock ; but on its eastern side is found a fine
roofing slate, similar in quality to that long wrought in the
small isle called Easdale, with which a great many houses in
Scotland are covered. These slates always contain bright,
hard crystals of iron pyrites. Luing, Seil, and Torosa, also
afford roofing slate, and a coarser sort that forms a good pav¬
ing flag, which seems associated with greywacke.
Trap rocks form no inconsiderable part of this county.
They occupy a wide district on the west side of Lorn, from
Milford Loch, stretching northward beyond the entrance of
Loch Etive, as far as Loch Creran. There they generally
appear as greenstone and trap-tuffa. They constitute about
nine-tenths of Mull. The western part of Ardnamurchan and
Morven, on the north side of Mull Sound, are also of trap
formations; as are the islands of Kerrera, Ulva, Gometra,
the Treshnish group, and the beautiful columnar cliffs and
caves of Staffa. To the same formation we must refer the
more distant isles of Canna, Muck, and Eig ; but on the two
former there seem to exist small vestiges of a lias limestone,
to which those green isles are probably indebted for their fer¬
tility. Eig, if it be allowed to notice it here, consists of a
huge bed of trap, through which the singular porphyritic
mass of the Scur abruptly projects to the height of 470 feet.
In the trap-tuffa of Canna, fragments of lignite or brown coal
are found. The rocks of the more considerable island of
Rum are strata of quartz rock and red sandstone, traversed
by numerous veins of basalt, in which most beautiful masses
of heliotrope occasionally occur. The trap in many places
also affords beautiful specimens of stilbite, mezotype, and
other zeolites. They all affect more or less the magnetic
needle, especially that of the Compasshill in Canna. In the A^e'
trap-tuffa at Ardtunhead in Mull, the Duke of Argyle, in v s ir°'
1850, discovered, alternating with basalt beds, three beds con-
taining petrified leaves of plants. This tuffa resembles much
the lava ashes of Auvergne.
Limestone is not an abundant product of Argyle. Con¬
siderable strata of a bluish limestone, however, alternate with
clay-slate in the central parts of Islay; and this valuable stone
forms the upper stratum of the long island of Lismore. A
white hard dolomite occurs as a bed in the primitive strata
on the south side of Iona. It takes a good polish, and is varie¬
gated with specks of noble serpentine and indurated stealite.
In Tirey, a flesh-coloured marble, spotted with dark green
hornblende, occurs in small quantity in gneiss. Argyle is
poor in metals. The only lead-mines now wrought are at
Strontian in Sunart. In these mines w ere discovered in the
last century the rare minerals strontianite and cross-stone.
In 1849 the Duke of Argyle discovered near Inverary, a vein
of arsenical nickel in mica-slate, which is now worked with
favourable prospects.
A barrenness of soil and scanty vegetation prevail chiefly
on the higher parts of the mountains, which exhibit great
masses of stratified rocks or groups in a columnar form.
Some of the glens are covered with large fragments of these,
which have been precipitated from the impending cliffs, and
consequently they afford scanty pasturage ; the greater part
of them, however, yield good grass. Others of them ex¬
hibit fertility, verdure, and cultivation, for miles, particularly
Glendarual, the most prolific valley of the county. Formerly
Argyleshire was interspersed with numerous woods, which,
uniting with the lofty mountains, formed the most romantic
scenery. But these have been almost all cut down or de¬
stroyed to make way for the introduction of sheep; and
planting has not, except in a few instances, been carried to
any considerable extent. Archibald Duke of Argyle and
his son planted very extensively in the neighbourhood of
Inverary, and several other proprietors have followed their
example ; nevertheless, one of the most striking features in
the aspect of the county is its want of wood. Remains of
ancient forests are still very extensive in various places ; and
these consist chiefly of oaks, ashes, pines, and birches.
The fallow-deer, which formerly abounded in the woods
and on the mountains, are now to be seen only in the pre¬
serves of a few gentlemen ; but red deer are still found in
considerable numbers in Glen Etive and in Mull. Roes are
pretty numerous in the northern parts of the county, and
both species of moor-game are also found in abundance.
The black cattle, which in former times ran wild on the
mountains, are now entirely confined to the low' grounds,
where their young are fed in winter by the proprietors. Fish
are not at all so abundant as is generally supposed; for al¬
though white fish are taken in considerable numbers, parti¬
cularly in the neighbourhood of Campbeltown, still the quan¬
tity is small compared with what is taken on other parts of
the Scottish coast; and Loch Fyne is the only inlet of the
sea distinguished for its herring-fishery. In 1851 the her¬
ring fishery at Inverary produced 35,325 barrels of cured
fish, and 4500 barrels of fish sold uncured ; while the white
fishery (cod, ling, &c.), 255,882 fish ; of which, 8658 cwt.
were dried, and 5000 cwt. were sold fresh. The number of
boats employed that year was 1445, manned by 4689 men,
and the fishings gave employment to 6432 persons. (Report
of Fishery Board, 1851.)
From its situation on the coast, the temperature of Ar¬
gyleshire is mild, but very moist and variable. The only
crops cultivated to any extent are here or big, oats, and
potatoes. The last form the staple food of the people,
and they have consequently suffered severely from the
recent failures of that crop. Bere is cultivated to sup¬
ply the numerous distilleries, which afford employment
A R G
Ai-gyle- to a considerable portion of the inhabitants. The chief
shire, branch of industry is the rearing of cattle and sheep. The
cattle, though of small size, are equal, if not superior, to
any other breed in the kingdom, and are in great demand
in the markets of the south, to which they are sent in im¬
mense numbers. Dairy husbandry is practised to some ex¬
tent in the southern parts of Kintyre, where there is a large
proportion of arable land. In the more elevated tracts,
sheep have very advantageously been substituted for cattle.
Until the middle of last century, the only sheep in Argyle-
shire were of the small native race, and their number was
inconsiderable ; but these have entirely disappeared, and are
now to be found only in the most distant islands of the He¬
brides. The blackfaced is the species that is now almost
universally reared. About the period above referred to,
coarse-woolled heath sheep were introduced into the higher
and more barren districts; and as it was soon discovered
that the scanty herbage of these gloomy mountains could
be converted into a much greater quantity of mutton than
of beef, besides yielding a valuable article of manufacture,
these hardy animals soon spread over extensive regions, upon
which cattle could barely subsist in the summer months;
and the income of the landed proprietors was augmented in
proportion.
The commerce of Argyleshire is very limited, its ex¬
ports consisting chiefly of raw produce : sheep, cattle, and
fish, form at least two-thirds of the whole; and slates, oak
bark, and kelp, constitute nearly the remainder. The im¬
ports are almost confined to the supply of necessaries, prin¬
cipally oatmeal and flour, and such articles of luxury as
habit has rendered scarcely less indispensable.
Notwithstanding its natural advantages, this county is
far from being characterized either by wealth or industry:
its manufactures are trifling. It was expected that the Cri-
nan Canal, which was cut across the peninsula of Kintyre
at an expense of L.140,000, shortening the voyage from
the West Highland and Hebridean ports to the River Clyde
nearly 200 miles, would cause an influx of wealth to the
county; but neither this nor the Caledonian Canal, which
gives access from the county to the German Ocean, has an¬
swered the expectations of the projectors, or contributed in
any great degree to the prosperity of Argyleshire. The
introduction of steam navigation has, however, recently
given a great impulse to agriculture and industry. There
is not now a loch, bay, or inlet of the county, but is in daily,
or at least weekly, communication with Glasgow; and cheer¬
ful villas and watering-places are rapidly rising on the shores
within a convenient distance of the western capital.
This county still contains many ancient monuments, which
display the warlike spirit of its former inhabitants. In the
course of the eighth and ninth centuries it was conquered,
along with the neighbouring isles, by the Danes and Nor¬
wegians. For five or six centuries it continued under the
dominion of Norway, and during that period was under the
direct administration of feudal chieftains, generally of Nor¬
wegian extraction, who each maintained an almost inde¬
pendent government. Along with the Hebridean Isles, all
the western parts of Argyle became the conquest of the
Scottish monarchs in the fourteenth century. Some time
after, Macdonald, the representative of this region, obtained
leave from the Scottish crown to hold his possessions as a
feudatory to that kingdom ; but his turbulent spirit involved
him and his family in repeated rebellions, which were at last
punished by the forfeiture of their estates, which, along with
their titles, were bestowed on the Campbells; and these
have ever since retained them in peace and loyalty. The
county of Argyle gives the title of Duke and Earl to the
chief of this family, who likewise holds several important offi¬
ces under the crown. The chief of Argyle in former times
could on occasion bring 3000 or 4000 fighting-men into the
A R I 527
field. This clan is numerous in Argyleshire, and there are a Argyras-
great number of castles and seats belonging to gentlemen pides
who hold of the duke, and not a few of whom claim alliance II
with his family. Ariadne.
The county returns one member to parliament, and forms
a synod with six presbyteries. Inverary, Campbelton, and
Oban, arc contributory burghs to Ayr. It is governed by
a heritable lord-lieutenant (Duke of Argyle), a lord-lieu¬
tenant and high-sheriff, about 55 deputy-lieutenants, a she¬
riff, and four substitutes. Sheriff-courts are held at Inverary,
Tobermory, Campbelton, and Fort-William; and circuit-
courts, four times a year, at Oban, Lochgilphead, Dunoon,
and Bowmore in Islay.
The population of Argyle has been decreasing since 1831,
from the extensive emigration that has been going on, prin¬
cipally to Canada. The following is the state of its popu¬
lation since the commencement of the present century, viz.,
in 1801, 81,277; 1811, 86,541 ; 1821, 97,316; 1831,
100,973 ; 1841, 97,371 ; 1851, 88,567.
ARGYRASPIDES (dpyvpdo-TriSes), a name given by
Alexander the Great to a division of his army which had
bucklers covered with silver. In this he was imitated by
Alexander Severus, who had bodies of men called Argy-
roaspides and Chrysoaspides.
ARGYRO-CASTRO, a town in Albania, in Lat. 40. 7.
N. Long. 20. 13. E. Here the late Ali Pasha built a strong
castle capable of lodging 5000 men. The town is estimated
by Holland and Hobhouse to contain 20,000 inhabitants.
Till 1811, it enjoyed a sort of rude independence. It is now
in possession of the Turks.
ARGYR OP ULUS, Joannes, a native of Constantinople,
was one of the principal revivers of Greek learning in the
fifteenth century. He removed to Italy in 1434, where he
obtained the patronage of Cosmo de’ Medicis, whose son
Pietro, and grandson Lorenzo, he instructed in Greek. In
1480 he removed from Florence to Rome, where he was
appointed to a philosophical chair, and died in 1486. His
principal works consist of Latin translations of Aristotle.
He was singularly prejudiced against the Latin authors, and
against Cicero in particular, to whom he denied any know¬
ledge of Greek or philosophy.
ARIADNAHA, festivals solemnized at Naxos and Cyprus
in honour of Ariadne. Some Naxian writers recognized two
distinct persons of this name; one who was married to Bac¬
chus in Naxos and deified after death, the other deserted
by Theseus. The festivals of each, accordingly, were at¬
tended with rites of a very opposite nature; those of the
first being celebrated with music and other expressions of
mirth, whereas the latter were observed with a show of
mourning. This festival is said to have been instituted by
Theseus, to atone for his ingratitude to Ariadne.—Plutarch,
in Thes.
ARIADNE was the daughter of Minos king of Crete,
and Pasiphae. Falling deeply in love with Theseus when
he arrived in Crete to deliver the young Athenians from the
Minotaur, she gave him a clue of thread by which he was
enabled to escape from the intricate mazes of the labyrinth,
Theseus slew the monster, and carried off Ariadne and her
young companions; but on landing at Naxos he treacher¬
ously abandoned her, though pregnant, and pursued his
course. Ariadne, overwhelmed with grief, destroyed her¬
self. According to another tradition, the god Bacchus found
her in Naxos, and filled with amazement at her surpassing
beauty, made her his wife; and at her death he placed her
bridal crown among the stars.
Several versions of this popular story are given in the
Theseus of Plutarch. It was a favourite theme with the
poets of antiquity, and furnished the subject of many ex¬
quisite works of ancient art; as also in later times it has
employed the pencil of Titian and other eminent masters.
528 A R I
A R I
Ariano ARIANO, a city of the Principato-Ultra, in Naples, with
!l several churches and convents, a cathedral, and a mountain-
Ariege. fortresSi ft stands on a steep hill in a pass of the Apen-
nines. It has manufactures of earthenware, and consider¬
able trade in wine and butter. Pop. 12,000.
ARIANS, followers of Arius, a presbyter of the church
of Alexandria about the year 315, who maintained that the
Son of God was totally and essentially distinct from the
Father; that he was the first and noblest of those beings
whom God had created, the instrument by whose subordi¬
nate operation he formed the universe, and therefore inferior
to the Father both in nature and dignity; also, that the
Holy Ghost was not God, but created by the power of the
Son. The Arians owned that the Son was the Word, but
denied that the Word was eternal. They held that Christ
had nothing of man in him but the flesh, to which the Aoyos
or Word was joined, which was the same as the soul in us.
See Arius.
The appellation of Arian has been indiscriminately ap¬
plied in more modern times to all those who consider Jesus
Christ as inferior and subordinate to the Father, and whose
sentiments cannot be supposed to coincide exactly with those
of the ancient Arians. Mr Whiston was one of the first
divines who revived this controversy in the beginning of the
eighteenth century. He was followed by Dr Clarke, who
published his famous book entitled The Scripture Doctrine
of the Trinity, in consequence of which he was reproached
with the title of Semi-Arian. Dr Waterland, who has been
charged with verging towards Tritheism, was one of his
principal adversaries. The history of this controversy may
be found in a work entitled An Account of all the consider¬
able Books and Pamphlets that have been wrote on either
side, in the Controversy concerning the Trinity, from the
Year 1712; in which also is contained an Account of the
Pamphlets ivritten this last year on each side by the Dis¬
senters, to the end of the year 1719; published in London
in 1720.
ARIAS Montanus, a learned Spanish divine, sent to
Antwerp by Philip II. of Spain to publish another edition of
the polyglott Bible after that of Cardinal Ximenes. After
finishing the work with approbation, he returned to Seville,
where he died in 1598.
ARICA, a district and town in Peru. It stands on the
coast in the vicinity of a vast sandy desert extending to the
foot of the Western Andes. The town is in a narrow valley,
watered by a small stream, to which it owes its fertility.
This valley is 18 miles in length. Arica is one of the few
seaports on this part of the coast of South America. Its
chief exports are wool, copper, and silver.
ARICINA, in Mythology, a surname of Diana, under
which appellation she was honoured in the forest Aricine,
so called from Aricia, a town of Latium, at the foot of the Al¬
ban Mount. Her temple stood on the margin of the lake
of Nemi.
ARIEGE, a southern department of France, formed out
of the ancient county of Foix, and parts of Gascony and
Languedoc. It is bounded on the south by the Pyrenees,
on the east by the departments of Pyrenees Orientale and
Aube, and north and west by that of Haute Garonne. Its
subdivisions, with their population, are as under:—
Arrondissements.
Communes.
Population in 1851.
Foix 
Pamiers...
St Girons.
141
114
81
92,671
82,197
92,567
20
336
267,435
From east to west its extent is 66 miles ; from north to south
49 miles ; and its area 1756 square miles.
The departments of Foix and St Girons are mountainous, Arienzo
and contain some of the loftiest peaks in France; as Pic
d’Estats, which is 10,811 feet; Montcalm, 10,512 feet; Serre, ^ - rion.
9592 feet; Monteleon, 9424 feet; Montvalier, 9120 feet.
This mountainous district contains many small valleys, and
two principal ones, which are watered by the Ariege and
Salat, considerable affluents of the Garonne, and are very
fertile and sedulously cultivated. The produce of the low¬
lands is grain, sweet chesnuts, apples, and peaches; but the
vines produce an inferior wine, which is wholly retained for
home consumption. The uplands afford abundant pasturage
for cattle, horses, mules, and sheep; and the mountain slopes
produce fine timber, oak, beech, ash, and pine. The de¬
partments of Foix and St Girons yield some copper, and the
most valuable iron mines of France, with a considerable quan¬
tity of lead, from which silver is extracted; and the streams
afford some grain-gold. The principal iron mines are those
of Ax, Taracon, and Yic-Dessus. Around the latter are
numerous smelting works, which have been actively carried
on for ages ; and the vicinity is studded with the neat houses
of the iron-masters and their numerous workmen, mingled
with the remains of feudal strongholds that once were of
importance on this frontier of Spain. (t. s. t.)
ARIENZO, a city of Naples, in the province of Lavoro.
It stands on a hill, with an ancient castle overlooking it: and
contains seven parish churches, a hospital, and 11,000 inha¬
bitants, including the populous suburbs.
ARIES, in Astronomy, a constellation of fixed stars drawn
on the globe in the figure of a ram. It is the first of the
twelve signs of the zodiac, from which a twelfth part of the
ecliptic takes its denomination.
Aries. See Battering-Ram.
ARIMANES, the evil god of the ancient Persians. Ac¬
cording to the doctrine of the magi, there are two supreme
principles—a good and an evil; the first the author of all
good, and the other of all evil: the former represented by
light, and the latter by darkness, as their truest symbols.
The good principle they named Yezad or Yesdan, and Or-
muzd or Hormizda, which the Greeks wrote Oromasdes ;
and the evil demon they called Ahriman, and the Greeks
Arimanes. Some of the magians held both these principles
to have existed from all eternity; but this sect was reputed
heterodox, the original doctrine being that the good princi¬
ple only was eternal, and the other created.
ARIMASPI (’ApLyao-rroC), a Scythian people described
by Herodotus as Cyclopes, living in the gold districts of the
Ural Mountains.—Lib. 4, 13, and 27.
ARIOLI, in Antiquity, a kind of prophets or religious
conjurers, who, by abominable prayers and horrible sacrifices
at the altars of idols, procured answers to their questions con¬
cerning future events. Isid. Orig. lib. viii. cap. 9. These
are also called harioli, and their operation hariolatio. Some¬
times they were denominated aruspices or haruspices. The
arioli were distinguished by a slovenly dress, disorderly and
matted beards, hair, &c.
ARION, a celebrated Lesbian lyric poet and musician,
the son of Cycles of Methymna. After gaining great repu¬
tation in Greece, he passed over into Italy and Sicily, where
he obtained the public prizes for poetry and music, and
amassed considerable wealth during his sojourn in the Graeco-
Italian and Sicilian states. At length he embarked in a ves¬
sel for his native country; but, on the voyage, the crew, to
obtain possession of his wealth, conspired to destroy him.
The only favour granted to the poet, when he begged for
his life, was permission to throw himself into the sea, after
performing one of his lyric compositions on the deck of the
vessel. A dolphin, it is said, attracted by the music, gam¬
bolled around the ship, and receiving the poet on its back,
bore him in safety to the shore near Taenarus, whence Arion
hastened to the residence of his friend Periander, tyrant of
A R I
Arion Corinth, a patron of poetry and the fine arts. Arion was
.11 well received by Periander, who gave orders to watch the
Ariosto. arrjva] 0f t}ie ship in which he had embarked. The crew,
when questioned where they had last seen Arion, affirmed
that they left him well at Tarentum ; but Arion appearing
suddenly in the garb he had worn before he leapt into the
sea, they confessed their villany, and were condemned to
crucifixion. The cautious Herodotus, without vouching for
its truth, states this to be the tradition of the Lesbians and
Corinthians ; and adds, that the votive offering of Arion, a
bronze figure of a man riding on a dolphin, is to be seen at
Taenarus.—Clio, 23, 24.
Arion, a fabulous horse, much more famous in poetic
history than Bucephalus in that of Alexander. Authors
speak variously of his origin, though they agree in giving
him a divine one. His production is most commonly as¬
cribed to Neptune.—See Pausan. viii. 25 ; Apollod. iii. 6.
ARIOSTO, Lodovico, one of the greatest poets of Italy,
was born at Reggio in Lombardy, on the 8th of Septem¬
ber 1474. His father was Niccolo Ariosto, commander of
the citadel of Reggio, and his mother Daria Malaguzzi of that
city, where the family still exists. He showed a strong incli¬
nation to poetry from his earliest years, but was obliged by his
father to study the law—a pursuit in which he lost five of the
best years of his life. Having obtained liberty to follow his
inclination, he applied himself to literature; intending to
study the classics under Gregorio da Spoleti. But after
having had the benefit of this learned man’s instructions for
a short time, during which he read the best Latin authors,
he was deprived of it by Gregorio’s removal to France as
tutor of Prince Sforza. Ariosto thus lost the opportunity
of learning Greek, as he intended. His father dying soon
after, he was compelled to forego his literary occupations to
undertake the management of the family, whose affairs were
embarrassed, and to provide for the subsistence and educa¬
tion of his nine brothers and sisters, one of whom was a crip¬
ple. He wrote, however, about this time some comedies in
prose, and some lyrical pieces. Some of these attracted the
notice of the cardinal Ippolito of Este, who took the young
poet under his patronage, and appointed him one of the
gentlemen of his household. This prince usurped the cha¬
racter of a patron of literature, whilst the only reward which
the poet received for having dedicated to him the Orlando
Furioso, was the question, Where did you find so many
stories, Master Ludovic? The poet himself tells us that
the cardinal was ungrateful; deplores the time which he
spent under his yoke; and adds, that if he received some
miserable pension, it was not to reward him for his poetry,
which that prelate despised, but to make some just compen¬
sation for the poet’s running like a messenger, with risk of
life, at his eminence’s pleasure. Nor was even this miser¬
able pittance regularly paid during the period that the poet
enjoyed it. The cardinal went to Hungary in 1518, and
wished Ariosto to accompany him. The poet excused him¬
self, pleading ill health, his love of study, the care of his pri¬
vate affairs, and the age of his mother, whom it would have
been disgraceful to leave. His excuses were not received,
and even an interview was denied him. Ariosto then boldly
said, that if his eminence thought to have bought a slave by
assigning him the scanty pension of seventy-five crowns a
year, he was mistaken, and that he might withdraw his boon
—which it seems his eminence did.
1 he cardinal’s brother, Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, now took
the poet under his patronage. This was but an act of simple
justice, Ariosto having already distinguished himself as a di¬
plomatist, chiefly on the occasion of two visits to Rome as
ambassador to Pope Giulio II. The fatigue of one of these
hurried journeys brought on a complaint from which he
never recovered ; and on his second mission he was nearly
killed by orders of that violent pope, who happened at the
VOL. in.
A R I 529
time to be much incensed against the Duke of Ferrara. On Ariosto,
account of the war, his salary of only 84 crowns a year was ^»»
suspended, and withdrawn altogether after the peace; in con¬
sequence of which Ariosto asked the duke either to provide
for him, or to allow him to go to seek employment elsewhere.
A province belonging to that sovereign, situated on the wild¬
est heights of the Apennines, being then without a governor,
Ariosto was sent thither in that character, and remained there
for three years. This office was no sinecure. The province
was distracted by factions and banditti, the governor had not
the requisite means to enforce his authority, and the duke
did little to support his minister. Yet it is said that Ariosto’s
government satisfied both his sovereign and the people con¬
fided to his care ; and a story is added of his having fallen
in, wffien walking out alone, with a party of banditti, whose
chief on discovering that his captive was the poet of Orlando
Furioso, humbly apologized for not having immediately shown
him the respect which was due to his rank.
Although he had little reason to be satisfied with his office,
he refused an embassy to Pope Clement VII. offered to him
by the secretary of the duke; and spent the remainder of
his life at Ferrara, writing comedies, superintending their
performance, as well as the construction of a theatre, and
correcting his Orlando Furioso, of which the complete edi¬
tion was published only in 1532. He died of a consump¬
tion on the 6th of June 1533.
That Ariosto was honoured and respected by the first men
of his age is a fact; that most of the princes of Italy showed
him great partiality is equally true ; but it is not less so that
their patronage was limited to kind words. It is not known
that he ever received any substantial mark of their love for
literature: he lived and died poor. He proudly wrote on
the entrance of a house built by himself,
Parva, sed apta mihi, sed null! obnoxia, sed non
Sordida, parta meo sed tamen asre domus;
which serves to show the incorrectness of the assertion of
flatterers, followed by Tiraboschi, that the Duke of Ferrara
built that house for him. The only one who seems to have
given anything to Ariosto as a reward for his poetical talent
is the Marquess del Vasto, who assigned him an annuity
of one hundred crowns on the revenues of Casteleone in
Lombardy; but it was only paid, if ever, from the end of
1531. That he was crowned as poet by Charles V. seems
untrue, although a diploma may have been issued to that
effect by the Emperor.
The character of Ariosto seems to have been fully and
justly delineated by Gabrielle, his brother:—
Ornabat pietas et grata modestia Vatem,
Sancta tides, dictique memor, munitaque recto
Justitia, et nullo patientia victa labore,
Et constans virtus animi, et dementia mitis,
Ambitione procul pulsa, fastusque tumore.
His satires, in which we see him before us such as he was,
show that there was no flattery in this portrait. In these
compositions (the interest of which is only equalled by the
elegance as well as naivete of the poetry, and the shrewd
observation of human nature, we are struck with the noble
independence of the poet. He loved liberty with a most jea¬
lous fondness. His disposition was changeable withal, as he
himself very frankly confesses in his Latin verses, as well as
in the satires.
Hoc dim ingenio vitales hausimus auras
Multa cito ut placeant, displicitura brevi.
Non in amore modo mens haec, sed in omnibus impar
Ipsa sibi longa non retinenda mora.
Hence he never would bind himself either by going into
orders or marrying, till towards the end of his life, when he
espoused Alessandra, widow of Tito Strozzi. He had no
issue by his wife, but he left two natural sons by different
mothers.
3 x
530 A R I
Aristseus His Latin poems do not perhaps deserve to be noticed:
li in the age of Flaminio, Vida, Fracastoro, and Sannazzaro,
Aristar- better things were due from a poet like Ariosto. His lyri-
chus. ca| compositions show the poet, although they do not seem
worthy of his powers. His comedies, of which he wrote
four, besides one which he left unfinished, are avowedly
imitated from Plautus and Terence ; and although natives
may admire in them the elegance of the diction, the liveli¬
ness of the dialogue, and the novelty of some scenes, few
will feel interest either in the subject or in the characters,
and none will approve the immoral passages with which they
are disfigured—a fault, however, less repi’oachful to the poet
than to the audience and patrons of theatrical representations
in those days.
Of all the works of Ariosto, the most solid monument of
his fame is the Orlando Furioso, the extraordinary merits
of which have cast into oblivion the numberless romance
poems which inundated Italy during the 15th, 16th, and
17th centuries.
The popularity which a poem, now shamefully neglected,
the Orlando Innamorato, by Boiardo, enjoyed in Ariosto’s
time, cannot be well conceived, now that the enthusiasm of
the Crusades, and the interest which was attached to a war
against the Moslems, have passed away. Boiardo wrote and
read his poem at the court of Ferrara, but died before he
was able to finish it. Many poets undertook the difficult
task of completing that magnificent work ; but it was re¬
served for Ariosto both to finish and to surpass his original.
Boiardo did not perhaps yield to Ariosto either in vigour or
in richness of imagination, but he lived in a less refined age,
and died before he was able to put a finishing hand to that
part of the poem which he had written under the impulse
of his exuberant fancy ; while Ariosto, on the other hand,
united to a powerful imagination an elegant and cultivated
taste. He began to write his poem about 1503, and after
having consulted the first men of the age of Leo. X., he
published it in 1516, in only 40 cantos ; and up to the mo¬
ment of his death never ceased to correct and improve both
the subject and the style. It is in this latter quality that
he excels, and for which Italians gave him the name of Di-
vino Lodovico. Even when he jests, he never compromises
his dignity; and in pathetic description or narrative, he
searches the reader’s deepest feelings. In his machinery he
displays a vivacity of fancy with which no other poet can
vie; but he never lets his fancy carry him so far as to omit
to employ, with an art peculiar to himself, those simple and
natural pencil-strokes with which he gives to the most ex¬
traordinary feats a colour of reality which conciliates our
reason without undeceiving our bewildered imagination.
The death of Zerbino, the complaints of Isabella, the effects
of discord among the Saracens, the flight of Astolfo to the
moon, the passion which causes Orlando’s madness, teem
with beauties of every species. The supposition that the
poem is not connected throughout is utterly unfounded;
there is a connection which, with a little attention, will be¬
come evident. The love of Ruggero and Bradamante forms
the main subject of the Furioso ; and every part of it, ex¬
cept some episodes, depends upon this subject. The poem
ends with the marriage of these two personages, (a. p—i.)
ARISTA1US, son of Apollo and Gyrene, who, for the
services he had rendered to mankind by his knowledge of all
profitable arts, was placed by the gods among the stars.
ARISTANDER, a famous soothsayer under Alexander
the Great, over whom he gained a wonderful influence by
the good success of his art. He had already had the same
employment at the court of King Philip ; and it was he
who explained better than his brethren the king’s dream after
his marriage with Olympias. (Plut. Alexi)
ARISTARCHUS, a Grecian astronomer of Samos, one
of the first who maintained that the earth revolves round
A R I
the sun. He was the contemporary of Cleanthes, the sue- Aristar-
cessor of Zeno. The opinion ascribed to him with respect chJ|8
to the motion of the earth is not to be found in his only ex- Arig]lides
isting work, namely his Treatise on the Magnitudes and Dis- v
tances of the Sun and Moon. A Latin translation of the
treatise ivepl geyeOCw was published by G. Valla, Venet. 1498,
and another by Commandine, Pesauri, 1572. The Greek
text, with a Latin translation and the commentary of Pap¬
pus, was edited by Wallis, Oxon. 1688, and reprinted in vol.
iii. of his works. There is also a French translation, with
the text, Paris, 1810.
Aristarchus of Samothrace, the most famous of Greek
grammarians and critics, flourished about 150 years b.c.
He received his education at Alexandria under Aristophanes
of Byzantium, and was the founder of a school of grammar
and criticism that flourished long at Alexandria, and after¬
wards also at Rome. The young Ptolemy Epiphanes and
Physcon were among his pupils. The labours of Aristar¬
chus were directed chiefly to the Greek poets, especially to
the works of Homer, his recension of which has been the
basis of the text in all subsequent editions down to the pre¬
sent day. In consequence of the ill-treatment experienced
by the learned at Alexandria in Physcon’s reign, he retired
to Cyprus, where he is said to have perished in his 72d
year, in attempting to cure himself of a dropsy by exces¬
sive abstinence.—See Dr Schmitz in Smith’s Diet, of Greek
and Rom. Biogr. and Mythol.
ARISTIDES, surnamed the Just, one of the most illus¬
trious characters of antiquity for purity and integrity, was
an Athenian by birth, and contemporary with Themistocles.
His father was Lysimachus, a man of middle rank. His cha¬
racter from his youth gave sure promise of that greatness to
which he afterwards rose. To a firm, resolute, and placid
temper, he added an utter contempt of dissimulation, and an
abhorrence of every thing dishonourable. He began very
early to meditate on subjects of government, and applied to
his studies with the greatest assiduity. He imbibed a strong
predilection for oligarchy upon becoming acquainted with
the laws of Lycurgus, which excited his admiration, and
gave him a distaste for the unlimited democracy then esta¬
blished in his native city. Themistocles, on the other hand,
favoured democracy; and it has been said that even at
school he was his constant antagonist on that point; but
this story is incredible because of the difference of age be¬
tween the two men. A perpetual opposition to one another
in all political points was the consequence of this difference
of opinion, when their abilities raised them to several im¬
portant stations in the state. It is related, that one day
having firmly opposed a proposal of Themistocles in the as¬
sembly, which in his own conscience he knew to be right,
on coming out he exclaimed, “ The affairs ot the Athenians
will never prosper till they throw both of us into the bara-
thrum’ (the dungeon for condemned criminals).
Aristides was present at the battle of Marathon, b.c. 490,
and was next in command among the Athenians to Miltiades;
and on that general’s proposing to join battle as soon as pos¬
sible, he seconded his motion with zeal. In the field he
distinguished himself by his valour and generosity; and
being left after the battle to secure the spoils, he executed
his trust with honour and fidelity, bringing all to the public
account, reserving nothing for himself. He was elected to
the important office of chief magistrate the year following ;
but, by the art of Themistocles, the high authority he had
attained by his merits was at length converted into a means
of overthrowing him, and he was accordingly banished by
ostracism, b.c. 483. As the Persians were meditating a new
invasion of Greece, he employed himself in his exile in en¬
couraging the Greeks to defend their liberties against the
invaders. At the critical moment when the hostile fleets
were facing each other in the straits of Salamis, Aristides,
A E I
Aristides, though still an exile, suspended all political animosities;
and upon understanding that it was the design of Themis-
tocles to fight the Persian navy in the straits, he waited
on him in private, proposed an oblivion of all past circum¬
stances, extolled his intentions, and gave him his sincere pro¬
mise to assist him to the utmost in effecting his designs.
There is an anecdote, that Themistocles, some time after
the battle of Salamis, acquainted the Athenians that he had
formed a scheme which, although it was of such a nature as
forbade his public avowal of it to them, was of inestimable
advantage to the state. They immediately ordered that he
should communicate it to Aristides. It was a project for
consuming the whole confederate fleet of Greece by fire, ex¬
cept their own ships ; that thus the entire sway of the sea
might be left to the Athenian navy. Aristides replied that
nothing could be more unjust, and at the same time nothing
more advantageous, than the scheme of Themistocles. Upon
this the people immediately determined to dismiss any fur¬
ther thought of it. Aristides, who must have returned from
exile before the battle of Plataea, was of considerable ser¬
vice in persuading his countrymen, who were elated with
their former successes, to submit to the superior power of the
Spartans, and in preserving peace and amity between the
confederate forces. He acquitted himself with high distinc¬
tion in the engagement, and was appointed after the victory
to determine a very dangerous dispute concerning the honour
of the day, which he conferred upon the Plataeans, giving up
the claim of the Athenians, the Lacedaemonians following
his example. On the rebuilding of Athens, he was the first
person to promote a law which divided the administration
among the citizens at large, and passed a law that the ar-
chons should be elected out of the whole body of the peo¬
ple, who had so highly merited the favour of the state.
Upon the continuation of the war with the Persians, Aris¬
tides, was sent, along with Cimon the son of Miltiades, to
take the command of the Athenian forces in the confede¬
rate army. Their mildness and humility, compared with
the haughty domineering temper of Pausanias, and other
Spartan commanders, so won upon the rest of the allies, that
a confederation was formed under the supremacy of Athens,
with the joint concurrence of the Ionian states. The nomi¬
nation of Aristides to lay an equal assessment upon all the
states for the purpose of defraying the expense of the war,
was a signal proof of the high opinion entertained through¬
out all Greece of his integrity and justice. The wisdom
and impartiality with which he performed this commission
gave universal satisfaction. On Themistocles’s falling under
the displeasure of the ruling party, Aristides would not con¬
cur in a capital prosecution of him; and instead of triumph¬
ing over an old enemy, he always spoke of him after his
banishment with the highest respect.
This great man died about 468 years b.c., according to
some at Athens, at an advanced age ; others say at Pontus,
where he was transacting public business. He was buried
at the public expense, his daughters received portions out of
the public treasury, and an estate in land was bestowed on
his son Lysimachus, in gratitude for the signal services which
Aristides had rendered to his country.
^ Aristides, P.JElius, surnamed Theodorus, a distinguished
Greek rhetorician, born at Adriani in Mysia about a.d. 117.
After studying at Athens under Herodes Atticus, he tra¬
velled through Egypt, Greece, and Italy. Though his health
was extremely delicate, he pursued his rhetorical studies with
unremitting assiduity, and acquired so great a reputation
that statues were erected in his honour by several of the
states he visited. His overweening estimation of his own
abilities, however, induced some persons to underrate his
merits, and exposed him to frequent enmities. He settled
at Smyrna; and when that city was ruined by an earthquake
a.d. 178, the eloquence of his appeal induced M. Aurelius
A R I 531
to assist the citizens in restoring it. In gratitude for this Aristides
service they would have heaped honours on Aristides, but II
he declined to receive anything but the office of priest of AristiP-
Asclepius, which he held till his death, about a.d. 189. His v pus' ,
Sermones Scicri contain several curious passages respect- ^ * v ^
ing the cures of the sick in temples, which have excited
considerable attention in modern times by their apparent
resemblance to certain effects said to be produced by Mes¬
merism, or, more properly, Hypnotism or nervous sleep.
Fifty-five of his orations and declamations are extant, and
two treatises on rhetoric, of little value. A complete edi¬
tion of his works was published by W. Dindorf, Lips. 1829,
3 vols. 8vo.
Aristides, Quintilianus, the author of a valuable treatise
upon music, who probably lived in the first century of our era.
The work is printed in the collection of Meibomius, entitled
Antiquce Musicce Auctores Septem, Amst. 1652.
Aristides, a painter contemporary with Apelles, flou¬
rished at Thebes about B.c. 360-330. He was the first,
according to Pliny, who expressed character and passion,
but was not remarkable for softness of colouring.
ARISTIPPUS, the founder of the Cyrenaic sect of phi¬
losophy, was the son of Aretades, and born at Gyrene in
Libya. He flourished about 380 b.c. The great reputa¬
tion of Socrates attracted him to Athens, where he attended
the discourses of that great teacher, whose practical philo¬
sophy he freely modified to suit the easy and sensual bent
of his own mind. His free and luxurious life was in accord¬
ance with his distinctive doctrine, that Pleasure was the
highest good of man. Though possessed of a competent
estate, he was the only disciple of Socrates who took money
for teaching. Upon leaving Socrates he went to TEgina,
where he lived even more luxuriously than before. Socrates
made frequent attempts to reclaim him, but in vain. In
TEgina Aristippus became acquainted with Lai's, the famous
courtezan of Corinth, for whose sake he took a voyage to that
city. He continued at TEgina till the death of Socrates. After
this he visited the court of Dionysius, tyrant of Sicily, where
he spent a considerable time, leading a life of unrestrained
enjoyment. On his return to Gyrene to visit his daughter
Arete, he fell sick and died at Lipara.
Many of his apophthegms are preserved. To one who
asked him, what his son would be the better for being a
scholar, “ If for nothing else,” said he, “ yet for this alone,
that when he comes into the theatre one stone will not sit
upon another.” When a certain person recommended his
son to him, he demanded 500 drachmas ; and upon the fa¬
ther’s replying that he could buy a slave for that sum, “ Do
so,” said he, “ and then you will be master of a couple.”
Being reproached because, having a suit of law pending,
he fee’d a lawyer to plead for him, “ Just so,” said he, “ when
I have a great supper to make I always hire a cook.” Being
asked what was the difference between a wise man and a
fool, he replied, “ Send both of them together naked to those
who are acquainted with neither of them, and then you will
know.” Being reproached for receiving money of Diony¬
sius, at the same time that Plato accepted only a book,
“ The reason is plain,” said he, “ I want money and Plato
wants books.”
The doctrine of Aristippus is summed up in the word
Enjoyment. The final end of man’s existence, according
to him, is the Good. Pleasure and pain are the two poles
of his being,—the one is essentially good, the other essen¬
tially evil. To follow the one and flee the other is the
whole duty of man. Pleasure is essentially present; the
hope of future good being always conjoined with fear. Free
and immediate abandonment to all the instincts of nature
alone leads to true happiness. Herein the doctrine of Aris¬
tippus differs from that of Epicurus, who inculcated the ne¬
cessity of a wise calculation of consequences, and a choice
532 A B I
Aristo of pleasures. Aristippus, again, held that all pleasures were
II equally good, whatever their origin, those of the body, as
Aristopha' more immediately realized, being higher in degree.
nes- Of the numerous works of Aristippus, of which a list is given
by Diogenes Laertius, none has been preserved. M. Luzac,
in his Lectiones Atticce, has shown that he was not the author
of the treatise on the Luxury of the Ancients, frequently
ascribed to him; nor of the Epistles given as his in the Socratic
collection of Leo Allatius.'—See F. Mentzius, Aristippus, Ac.,
4to, Halle, 1719 ; Batteux, Developpement, Ac., in vol. xxvi.
of the Mem. de V Acad, des Inscript. ; Kunhardt, Diss. Philos.
Histor. dc Aristipp. Phil. Mor. 4to, Helmst, 1796 ; and Wie-
land’s Aristippus, 8vo, Leipsic, 1800-2.
ARISTO of Chios, a Stoic philosopher, the disciple of
Zeno, flourished about 290 years before the Christian era.
He differed but little from his master Zeno. Rejecting
logic as of no use, and natural philosophy as being above
the reach of the human understanding, he confined himself
exclusively to morals. He founded a sect apart from that
of his master, which had but a brief existence. To him is
attributed the saying commented on by Epictetus and An-
tonine, that “ the wise man is like a good comedian, equally
capable of playing the part of Agamemnon, or of Thersites.”
—See Cic. de Leg, i. 13; efe Fin. ii. 13; iv. 17; Diog. Laert.
vii. 160, &c. Another philosopher of the same name, a
Peripatetic, was a native of Ceos, and lived about 260 b.c.
Cic. de Fin. v. 5 ; Diog. Laert. v. 70, 74 ; vii. 164.
ARISTOBULUS of Cassandria, one of the generals of
Alexander the Great; wrote a history of his expedition, of
which but a few imperfect fragments remain. He was re¬
garded as a writer of high veracity.
Akistobulus, a Jew of Alexandria, who lived about the
middle of the second century. He is remarkable as having,
along with Philo, set the example of that mode of interpre¬
tation which sought to find a harmony between the pagan my¬
thology and the doctrines of the Hebrew Scriptures. He is
said to have forged in the works of profane authors numerous
passages tending to prove that they had borrowed from the
Bible. This pious fraud deceived many of the Christian
fathers and of the heathen writers. Aristobulus wrote pure
Greek, unmixed with Hebrew idioms.
Aristobulus. See Jews.
ARISTOCRACY (aptcrroKparta, the rule of the noblest).
See Government.
ARISTO GIT ON, a famous Athenian, who, with Har-
modius, killed Hipparchus, tyrant of Athens, about 513 b.c.
The Athenians erected a statue to him. See Harmodius.
ARISTOLOCHIEJE, a natural order of Monochlamy-
dean plants, of which the chief genera are Aristolochia, and
Asarum, the medicinal qualities of which are purgative and
emetic.
ARISTOPHANES, a celebrated comic poet of Athens.
He was contemporary with Plato, Socrates, and Euripides;
and most of his plays were written during the Peloponnesian
war. His imagination was warm and lively, and his genius
particularly turned to raillery. He had also great spirit and
resolution, and was a declared enemy to the war party, and
to all the numerous reformers in politics and religion. The
Athenians suffered themselves in his time to be governed
by men who had no other views than to make themselves
masters of the commonwealth. Aristophanes exposed the
designs of these men with great wit and severity upon the
stage. Cleon was the first whom he attacked, in his comedy
of the Knights, performed in b.c. 425 ; and as there was
not one of the comedians who would venture to personate
a man of his great authority, Aristophanes played the cha¬
racter himself, and with so much success, that the Athe¬
nians obliged Cleon to pay a fine of five talents, which were
given to the poet. He described the affairs of the Athe-
A R I
nians in so exact a manner that his comedies may be re- Aristo-
garded as a nearly faithful picture of his time. For this rea- phanes.
son, when Dionysius king of Syracuse desired to learn the
state and language of Athens, Plato sent him the comedies
of Aristophanes. He wrote above 50 comedies, but there
are only 11 extant which are perfect: these are, Plutus,
the Clouds, the Frogs, the Knights, the Acharnians, the
Wasps, Peace, the Birds, the Ecclesiazusce or Female
Orators, the Thesmophoriazusce or Priestesses of Demeter,
and Lysistrata. The Clouds, which he wrote in ridicule
of Socrates, is the most celebrated of all his comedies.
Having conceived some aversion to the poet Euripides,
Aristophanes satirizes him in several of his plays, particu¬
larly in his Frogs and his Thesmophoriazusce. He wrote
his Peace in the 10th year of the Peloponnesian war, when
a treaty of 50 years was concluded between the Athenians
and the Lacedaemonians, though it continued but seven
years. The Acharnians was written with a view to set
forth the blessings of peace, and to dissuade the people
from intrusting the safety of the commonwealth to such
generals as Lamachus. Soon after, b.c. 415, he represented
his Birds, by which he pictured to the Athenians the de¬
plorable condition of their state and their political situation.
The Wasps was written after the loss in Sicily, which the
Athenians suffered from the misconduct of Chares. He
wrote the Lysistrata when all Greece was involved in war ;
in which comedy the women are introduced debating upon
the affairs of the commonwealth, when they come to a reso¬
lution not to go to bed with their husbands till a peace
should be concluded. His Plutus, and other comedies of
that kind, were written after the magistrates had given orders
that no person should be exposed by name upon the stage.
He invented a peculiar kind of verse, which was called by
his name, and is mentioned by Cicero in his Brutus; and
Suidas says that he also was the inventor of the tetrameter
and octameter verse.
Aristophanes was greatly admired among the ancients,
especially for the true Attic elegance of his style. The time
of his death is unknown ; but it is certain that he was liv¬
ing after the expulsion of the tyrants by Thrasybulus, whom
he mentions in his Plutus and other comedies.
There have been many editions of the works of Aris¬
tophanes. The editio princeps, printed by Aldus at Venice
in 1498, in folio, is a rare and beautiful volume. The best
edition is that of Brunck, printed at Strasburg in 1781-3,
in 4 vols. 8vo, and reprinted at Oxford in 1810. Nicode-
mus Frischin, a German, famous for his classical knowledge
in the sixteenth century, translated Plutus, the Clouds, the
Frogs, the Knights, and the Acharnians, into Latin verse.
Quintus Septimus Florens rendered into Latin verse the
Wasps, the Peace, and Lysistrata ; but his translation is full
of obsolete words and phrases. Madame Dacier published at
Paris, in 1692, a French version of Plutus and of the Clouds,
with critical notes, and an examination of them according to
the rules of the theatre. Theobald likewise translated these
two comedies into English, and published them with remarks.
Cumberland gave a translation of the Clouds in his Observer,
accompanied with an able view of the life and genius of the
author. A translation of the greater part of Aristophanes,
with introductions of considerable length, has been published
by Mr Mitchell, in 2 vols. 8vo, Lond. 1820-22.
Aristophanes of Byzantium, the founder of the Alex¬
andrian Critical School, who is said to have invented the
system of Greek accents and method of punctuation. He
was the master of Aristarchus the grammarian. He flou¬
rished in the reign of Ptolemy Epiphanes, about 200 years
b.c., and was the author of several exegetical and gramma¬
tical works which are lost.
533
AEISTOTL E.
Aristotle. The power of philosophy in fixing an impression of itself
on the world, appears, when attentively viewed, no less than
that evidenced in successful exertions of civil or military
talents. But there is a striking difference in the compara¬
tive interest excited by the philosopher himself, and by the
distinguished statesman or general. The personal fortunes
of the philosopher are not connected with the effects of his
philosophy. He has passed away from the eyes of men,
w hen his powerful agency begins to be perceived ; whereas
the statesman and the commander of armies are at once set
before us in the very effects which they produce on the
world; and the history which tells of their policy or their
conquests assumes almost the character of their biographies.
This contrast is strongly displayed in the instance of the
particular philosopher whose life we would now retrace. At
this day, after the lapse of more than twenty-one centuries from
the time when he flourished, we are experiencing the power
of Aristotle’s philosophy, in its effects on language and litera¬
ture and science, and even on theology ; and yet little satis¬
factory information can be obtained from antiquity respect¬
ing the philosopher himself. No account of him appears to
have been given until his celebrity had attracted envy as
well as admiration ; so that we are compelled to receive with
suspicion every thing beyond the simple detail of a few facts.
Stagirus,1 a Grecian city in the peninsula of Chalcidice,
colonized originally from the island of Andros, and after¬
wards from Chalcis in Euboea, was the birthplace of Aris¬
totle. His father was Nicomachus, the physician and friend
of Amyntas II. king of Macedonia; his mother Phaestis:
both of Chalcidian descent. The origin of his family is re¬
ferred to Machaon, son of Asculapius. Such a tradition of
descent, however, is but an ennobling of the fact that the
art of healing was the hereditary profession of the family.2
The date assigned to his birth is B.c. 384.
Being left an orphan in early youth, Aristotle appears to
have quitted his home and gone to the house of Proxenus,
a citizen of Atarneus, to whose guardianship he had been
committed; and with him to have continued until his sevens
teenth year, w hen he repaired to the great University of the
world at that time—the school of Plato at Athens. Differ¬
ent accounts are given of the commencement of his appli¬
cation to philosophy. By one it is ascribed to a direction
of the Pythian oracle.3 Others state that philosophy was
his last resource, when other schemes of life had failed ; that,
having exhausted a large patrimony, he became a military
adventurer, and after that a seller of drugs ; until at length,
on accidentally entering the school of Plato, he there re¬
ceived a sudden impulse to the studies of his future life.
These last statements, however, are not reconcilable with
the period of youth at which his discipleship to Plato began.
Nor are they consistent with the alleged fact, that his mind
had been from the first trained to philosophy by his father
Nicomachus.4
We can readily suppose that the extraordinary talent for
science, and laborious devotion to it, which his mature age
developed, would give some indications of themselves in his
earlier years. Hence the expressions attributed to Plato,
complimenting him as “ the intellect of the school,” and “ the Aristotle,
reader, and comparing his ardour and forwardness to the
spirit of a restive colt.5
He remained at Athens, a hearer of Plato, twenty years ;
leaving it only at the death of that philosopher, b.c. 348,
and then going to Atarneus. Disappointment at not suc¬
ceeding to the chair of Plato in the Academy, has been as¬
signed as the reason of his departure. All that appears,
however, is, that he left Athens in compliance with an invi¬
tation from Hermias,6 who, having been his fellow-disciple in
the school of Plato, had established himself at that time in
independence against the King of Persia, as Tyrant of Atar¬
neus and its neighbourhood. Here he spent the following
three years of his life ; when the unhappy end of his friend
Hermias, who fell a sacrifice to his ambition, and was exe¬
cuted as a rebel against Persia, compelled him to seek a re¬
fuge for himself by flight to Mitylene. Nor did he in
this extremity forget the ties of friendship which had con¬
nected him with the unfortunate Tyrant of Atarneus. To
support the fallen family, he married Pythias, the adopted
daughter, but variously described both as the sister and as
the niece,7 of Plermias.
From Mitylene he proceeded into Macedonia to the court
of Philip, and entered on a new scene of exertion, as the
preceptor of the future sovereign of the mightiest kingdom
of the ancient world—Alexander the Great, at that time a
youth of fourteen years of age. The call to such an office
argues the high reputation already attained by Aristotle for
philosophy ; though, doubtless, his introduction to the Mace¬
donian court must have been through the interest and fa¬
vour enjoyed there by his father Nicomachus. At what
time, indeed, his care of the youthful prince commenced, it
is not possible exactly to determine. A letter is extant, ad¬
dressed by Philip to Aristotle, which would imply that the
charge of the prince’s education had been committed to the
philosopher from the birth of Alexander. This is also far
more probable than that the charge should have been post¬
poned until the prince had reached his fourteenth year, the
period at which the actual residence of Aristotle at Pella is
dated. Philip states in that letter that “ a son is born to
him; that he is grateful to the gods, but not so much for
the birth of the boy, as that he was born in the time of
Aristotle ; trusting that, being nurtured and trained up by
the philosopher, he would be a worthy successor to his fa¬
ther’s glory and the conduct of affairs.”8 It is certainly very
possible that a plan of education proposed by Aristotle may-
have been carried on by others, until the more especial care
of the intellectual powers demanded his personal instruc¬
tions. The reception of the philosopher by the royal family
was most friendly and honourable to him. The high esti¬
mation in which he was held was shewn in the influence
he possessed at the Macedonian court. Philip, it is said,
gave him liberal supplies of money to enable him to pursue
scientific inquiries.9 He was most happy in the admiration
and affection of his pupil. Alexander valued his instruc¬
tions as those of a second parent; observing, that “he was no
less indebted to Aristotle than to his father; since it was
J It is also written Stagira and Stagiri. We have the authority of Herodotus and Thucydides for Stagirus.
2 Eiog. Laert. in Aristot.; Dionys. Halicar. De Demosth. et Aristot.; Ammon, in Aristot. 3 Ammon, in Aristot.
4 His father Nicomachus has the reputation of being the author of some philosophical works.
r> Diog. Laert. in Aristot.; Ammon, in Aristot.; Ailian. Var. Hist. iv. 9. 6 Commonly called Hermias the eunuch.
7 Aristippus, according to Laertius, says it was the mistress of Hermias that Aristotle married.
8 Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. ix. 3. The genuineness of the letter has been doubted, but without sufficient reason, if the only ground of
objection is, that it could not have been received by Aristotle at Mitylene,
9 jElian. Var. Hist. iv. 19. The statement of Hermippus (Diog. Laert. in Aristot.'), that Aristotle served in the capacity of ambassador
from the Athenians to Philip, seems inconsistent with other established facts of his life.
534 A R I S T
Aristotle, through his father indeed that he lived, but through Aris-
totle that he lived well.”1
It would be interesting to know what particular method
was pursued by Aristotle in the education of Alexander ;
but we have no exact information on this point. It appears
certain, however, that he made the cultivation of a taste for
literature the great principle of his instructions: and this
would be in conformity with the plan of education proposed
in his treatise of Politics. He is known, indeed, to have
made a new collection of the Iliad expressly for the use of
Alexander, and to have composed for him a treatise On the
Office of a King, not extant among his works. How deeply
the youthful king had imbibed the Homeric spirit in the
discipline of his early years, was evidenced in his after-life,
by the heroism with which his actions were conceived, and
the poetry which mingled with the realities of his eventful
history. The circumstances alone, that the Iliad was con¬
stantly at the pillow of Alexander during his expeditions,
and was treasured by him with extraordinary care in the
precious casket of the spoils of Darius,2 are characteristic of
the tone of mind which his preceptor’s instructions had, if
not formed, at least strengthened and improved. Nor is it
inconsistent with this ultimate effect, that Aristotle should
have communicated to his royal pupil even the abstruse doc¬
trines of his philosophy. For, that he did so, we have evi¬
dence in Alexander’s complaint, in a letter to Aristotle, of
the publication of the secret wisdom in which he had him¬
self been disciplined; and in the reply from Aristotle, “ that
the books alluded to were as if they had not been published,
since without his oral instruction they would be unintelli¬
gible.”3 Plutarch, indeed, attributes to Aristotle’s instruc¬
tions the fondness for medical study and practice remarkable
in Alexander.4
A life of such premature exertion as that of Alexander
left comparatively little time for the mere business of philo¬
sophical instruction. Succeeding to the throne of his father at
the age of 20 years, he was from that time immersed in affairs
of policy and war; and even previously, he had been for¬
wardly engaged in the services of the field, as also for a short
interval in the conduct of the government. Still the society
of Aristotle appears to have been cherished by him, so that
the philosopher continued a resident at the court for two
years after the accession of Alexander; leaving Macedonia
only on the occasion of Alexander’s setting out on his Asiatic
campaigns, B.c. 334.5 It is probable that Aristotle was in¬
disposed to the hurry and restlessness of military expedi¬
tions, and longed for a repose more congenial to his taste in
the philosophic bowers of the suburbs of Athens. Circum¬
stances also had prepared the way for the separation. For
though Alexander, it seems, never entirely lost his respect
for his preceptor, the cordiality of their intercourse had in
some measure abated. A commencement of alienation in
the feelings of Alexander had been evidenced.6 Aristotle,
accordingly, embraced the opportunity then offered of re¬
turning to Athens: and Callisthenes of Olynthus, his rela-
0 TLE.
tive and pupil, supplied his place among the party of philo- Aristotle,
sophers by whom the king was accompanied in the Asiatic
expedition.
It was fortunate for science that the intercourse between
the King and the philosopher was not broken off by their
separation. The conquests of Alexander presented singular
opportunities for a collection of observations on Natural His¬
tory. Under the superintendence, accordingly, of Aristotle
some thousands of persons, it is said, were employed in
making inquiries on the subject throughout Asia and in
Greece. And we have still valuable fruits of these inquiries,
in a History of Animals, in ten books, extant among the
works of Aristotle ; though this history must be but a small
part of the fifty volumes to which Pliny says it extended.7
In the absence, however, of Aristotle, an event occurred
which had the effect of exciting most unjust surmises against
him, and involving him in unmerited disgrace with Alexan¬
der. A conspiracy was formed against the life of the king
by some noble youths who attended on his person. The
conspirators were detected and punished. But the chief
blame of the whole affair rested on Callisthenes ; to whom
the education of the youths had been especially committed,
and under whose sanction, accordingly, they were conceived
to have acted in their traitorous designs. The imputation
wras the more credible, as Callisthenes had distinguished
himself by his opposition to the adulation of the courtiers,
and the rude freedom with which, in spite of the admoni¬
tions of Aristotle,8 he asserted his democratic principles.
How far he was really guilty may admit a doubt. A pre¬
text at least was afforded for the removal of an obnoxious
individual. Callisthenes was imprisoned, and died a vio¬
lent death. His connection with Aristotle gave a plea for
extending the charge to Aristotle himself; who, it is re¬
presented, became so fearful of the result to himself, after
the death of Callisthenes, as to have been actually instru¬
mental to the murder of the King. He is stated to have
sent a very subtle poison, called Stygian water, in a mule’s
hoof, the only material impregnable to it, to Antipater, and
thus to have occasioned the death of the King.9 The ac¬
count is sufficiently refuted by the real state of the case,
which shews that Alexander fell a sacrifice to his intense
exertions in an unhealthy climate. It was probably invented
and propagated by the rival sophists who surrounded the per¬
son of Alexander. To the same source may be ascribed the
first estrangement of the King, and his increased aversion
to the philosopher in consequence of the affair of Callisthe¬
nes. Alexander pointedly shewed his increased dislike, by
sending a present of money to Xenocrates; thus placing
that philosopher, as well as Anaximenes, whom he also now
more particularly noticed, in triumphant contrast with Aris¬
totle, as the objects of his patronage.10
In the mean time Aristotle was pursuing his proper path
of exertion at Athens as a lecturer in philosophy, in his own
school of the Lyceum. There is no good reason for supposing
that he was actuated in forming a separate school, as some
1 Plutarch in AUx. Diog. Laertius in Aristot. attributes to Aristotle himself a general expression to the same effect.
3 Plutarch in Alex, whence it obtained the name of “the Iliad,” s* rou vaforixos, “of the casket.”
3 Plutarch in Alex. Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. xx. 5. This literary jealousy on the part of Alexander appears also from a passage of
Aristotle, where, writing to Alexander (Rhet. ad Alex. 1), (if the treatise here referred to be really his), he says “ you have charged me
in your letter that no other person should receive this hook.” 4 Plutarch in Alex.
5 Ammonius, in his Life of Aristotle, asserts that Aristotle accompanied Alexander into Asia, and conferred with the Brahmans, where
he composed “ the two hundred and fifty Polities.” How much credit may be attached to this author, appears from his making Aristotle
a disciple of Socrates for three years, whereas Socrates had been dead sixteen years before the birth of Aristotle.
6 Plutarch in Alex. 7 Plin. viii. 16.
8 Aristotle is said expressly to have cautioned Callisthenes in the words of Thetis to Achilles {Iliad, xviii. 95):
CltivfAO(>os [xoi, nxo;, irmai, oi u.yoi>lvUi.
“ Quick, indeed, for me, will be thy fate, my son, if such are thy words.”
And generally to have admonished him to converse, either very seldom, or else most complaisantly, with the king. Valer. Maxim, vii. 2.
Diog. Laert. in Aristot.
9 Arrian. Exp. Alex. vii. 27.; Plin. xxx. 16; Xiphilin. in Caracalla; Qu. Curtius, viii. 6; Brucker, Hist. Crit. Philos, in Aristot.
10 Diog. Laert. in Arist.; Brucker, Hist. Crit. Philos, in Xenocrat.
ARISTOTLE.
Aristotle, have asserted, by contemptuous opposition to Xenocrates,
' or jealousy of the rhetorical fame of Isocrates.1 His own
fame already stood sufficiently high. Numbers resorted to
him for instruction. In the morning and evening of each
day he was thronged with hearers; the morning class con¬
sisting of his more intimate and peculiar disciples, the even¬
ing class of hearers of a more general description. The dis¬
tinction of these two classes corresponds with the difference
between his “ acroamatic”or “ esoteric” and his “ exoteric”
philosophy. The application of these terms to the writings
of Aristotle has been much controverted. The most simple
account of them appears to be, that the acroamatic or esoteric
were more of text-books, notices of various points of philo¬
sophy to be filled up by the previous knowledge of the
learner and the explanations of the teacher, as lectures ad¬
dressed to his own proper class; the exoteric were more
elaborate and popular disquisitions, more expanded in the
reasonings, more diffuse in the matter.2 His disciples ob¬
tained the appellation of Peripatetics; but the reason of
this is also controverted. Perhaps, like some other party-
names, or names of sects, it was originally given in con¬
tempt.3
The reputation of Aristotle at length rose to a dangerous
popularity. I he intolerant spirit of paganism viewed with
suspicion the spread of philosophical teaching, as tending
to unsettle the existing government through their effect on
the vulgar superstition. This had been strikingly shown at
Athens not long before the birth of Aristotle in the fate of
Socrates.4 In the case of Aristotle there were enemies
watching to apply the policy of the state to the cruel pur¬
poses which their envy had suggested. For twelve years,
it seems, no opportunity of attack presented itself; since he
continued his labours at Athens for that time. Probably the
name of Alexander had been itself a shelter to him against
their malice. But the alienation of the royal favour gave an
opening to their designs; and, on the death of Alexander,
B.C. 323, he became the marked objectofpersecution. Through
the agency of the hierophant Eurymedon, with whom was
associated a powerful citizen, by name Demophilus, a direct
accusation of impiety was brought against him before the court
of Areopagus. He was charged with introducing doctrines
adverse to the religion of Greece.5 It was alleged that he
had paid divine honours both to Hermias and Pythias; to the
former by a hymn in praise of his virtue, to the latter by cele¬
brating her memory (for she was then dead) with the Eleusi-
nian rites,6 and to both by statues of them erected at Delphi.
He saw that he had no chance of a favourable hearing against
so formidable a conspiracy, and that his death was fully de¬
termined by his enemies ; knowing too well the malignant
sycophancy7 which domineered at Athens. Instead, there¬
fore, of confronting the charge, he made his escape to Chalcis,
alleging to his friends, in allusion to the death of Socrates,
“ that he was unwilling to involve the Athenians in a second
crime agairist philosophy.”8 9
He did not long survive his retreat to Chalcis—little more,
piobably, than a year. He was then advanced in life, and Aristotle.
broken with bodily infirmities as well as with dejection of' v '
spirit. On the approach of death, he declared his wish, it
is said, with regard to his successor at the Lyceum. Theo¬
phrastus of Lesbos and Menedemus of Rhodes were the
most conspicuous candidates for that honour. But the dvino-
philosopher, avoiding a pointed rejection of either, delicately
intimated his preference of Theophrastus, by calling for
cups of Lesbian and Rhodian wine, and, when he had tasted
them, simply observing, ^8lwv 6 Aecr/Eo?, “ The sweeter is
the Lesbian. 1 he expression was the more appropriate
as sweetness was the characteristic of the style of Theo¬
phrastus.
The mode of his death is variously related. One account
is, that he died from vexation at not being able to explain
the current of the Euripus.10 Another story, less incredible
than this, asserts that he drank aconite, in anticipation of
the adverse judgment of the Areopagus.11 The only pro¬
bable account is, that he died from a natural decay ofthe
powers of the stomach, his constitution being worn out by
excessive watching and study. How exhaustless his ap¬
plication of mind was, may be judged from the anecdote re¬
lated of him, that in resting himself on his couch, he would
hold a brass ball in his hand in such a way, that the noise of
its falling into a basin underneath might disturb him from
his slumbers.12. Another anecdote to the same effect is, that
on some occasion of sickness, he observed to. the physician
prescribing for him, “ Treat me not as you would a driver of
oxen or a digger, but tell me the cause, and you will find me
obedient.”13
. His fellow-citizens showed great respect to his memory.
They conveyed his body to Stagirus, and erected a shrine
and altar over his tomb. In gratitude also for the restora¬
tion of their city, effected through his interest with the Ma¬
cedonian court, and the new code of laws which he had been
permitted to frame for them, they instituted a festival called
Aristotelea, and gave the name of Stagirite to the month
in which the festival was held. Plutarch says that even in
his time they showed the stone seats and shaded walks of
the philosopher.14 The grant of a gymnasium had been
among the advantages which he had obtained for his native
city.
Aristotle was twice married. After the death of Pythias,
by whom he had a daughter of the same name, he married
Herpyllis, a fellow-citizen. By Herpyllis he had a son, Ni-
comachus, who became a disciple of Theophrastus, but died
in battle at an early age.15 He adopted also as a son, Nica-
nor, the son of Proxenus, the friend of his youth, and by
the directions of his will gave his daughter Pythias to him
in marriage. Pythias, by her third husband Metrodorus,
had a son named after the philosopher.
In his extant will we have a pleasing evidence of his ami¬
able concern for his surviving family. It contains affection¬
ate provisions, not only for his wife and children, but for
his slaves also; expressly enjoining that no one of those who
1 Diog. Laert. in Aristot.; Cicero, Tusc. Qu. i. 4: Orator, iii. 35; Quinctil. Inst. Orat. iii. 1.
2 Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. xx. 5; Plutarch in Alex.
3 The practice of teaching in walking was not peculiar to Aristotle (ASlian. Var. Hist. i. 19; Diog. Laert. iii. 11; Brucker, Hist. Crit.
1 Inlosoph. vol. i p. 788). Indeed the term -reoiTuny was applied to “discussion” before the time of Aristotle. Aristophanes uses it
humorously in Han. 9i0, 951, in this sense. The custom appears to have been for the hearers to sit at the lectures ofthe philosophers.
Cleon, in Jhuc. m. 38, compares the assembly to “persons sitting spectators of sophists.”
6 rriC' ^ c' r u • 5 ®ee Orig611- con- Cels. i. p. 52, ii. p. 68.
7 Protanatloii ofthe mysteries was not an unknown occurrence at Athens. See Thuc. vi. 28, 61.
i <^tscrlJ)e^ by in a line from Homer, iv' oyyvr: ynpoarxii, truxov S’ tni crvxu, comparing it, with allusion to the etyrao-
l°gy 01 In® word, to the perpetual fruitage of the gardens of Alcinous.
8 Diog. Laert. in Aristot.; Ammon, in Aristot.; Origen. con. Cels. i. p. 51. edit. Cantab.: Allian. Var. Hist. iii. 36; Athenseus, xv. 16.
9 Aulus Gelhus, Noct. Att. xiii. 5.
ii TTUS^n, Martyr’ ad Grasc.; Greg. Nazianz. Orat. iii. p. 79; Bayle, Diet. art. Aristot. note z.
to Ji.eS^CT‘ ln ArlSt0t- ’ Sui<ias> Fabric. Bibl. Gr. vol. ii. p. 109; Diog. Laert. in Aristot.
Diog. Laert. in Aristot. 13 ^Elian. Var. Hist. ix. 23.
14 Plutarch in Alex. 16 Aristocles apud Euseb. Prcep. Ev. xv. 2.
536
ARISTOTLE’S
PHILOSOPHY.
Aristotle
Aristotle's
Philoso¬
phy-
had served him should be sold, but that each should be
freed on attaining manhood, according to his deserts.1
The fondness of the Greeks for apophthegm has handed
down some reputed sayings of the philosopher, such as the
following:—Being asked “ in what the educated differ from
the uneducated,” he said, “ as much as the living from the
dead.” Again, to the question, “ What grows old soon?”
he answered “ Gratitude“ What is hope ?” “ The dream of
one awrakened.” To one boasting that he was from a great
city, “ Not this,” he said, “ should one look to, but who was
worthy of a great country.” “ Some men,” he observed,
“ lived so parsimoniously as if they were to live for ever,
whilst others spent, as if they were to die immediately.”
Being blamed for giving alms to a person of no worth : “ It
was not to the man,” he said, “ I gave, but to mankind.”2
In body, Aristotle, if we may believe the accounts of his
person, was deficient in the requisite symmetry. He is de¬
scribed as having slender legs and little eyes. To these de¬
fects were added a feeble voice and hesitating utterance.3 Un¬
like philosophers in general of that age, he attended to the or¬
nament of his person. His hair was shorn ; he wore several
rings; and was elegant throughout in his dress.4 His health
was infirm; but he sustained it by habits of temperance, and
by that medical skill which he possessed in an eminent de¬
gree, so as to protract his life to the 63d year, b.c. 322.
Of his moral qualities, the zeal of philosophical rivalry has
transmitted the most discordant accounts. Some have been
as extravagant in their praises as others have been in their Aristotle
censures. By some, his patriotism, his affection for his
friends, and reverence for his preceptor Plato5—his mode¬
ration, and modesty, and love of truth—have been held up
to admiration. By others, again, no crime has been thought
too bad to be imputed to him. He has been stigmatized as
a parasite, as gluttonous, effeminate, sordid,6 ungrateful,
impious. Among his faults, too, have been mentioned a
sneering cast of countenance, and an impertinent loquacity.
In particular, he has been accused of assailing Plato with
captious questions, and forcing the old man, when in his
80th year, to retire to the privacy of his garden.7 Whilst,
however, the circumstances in which he lived, exalted as he
was by the favour of kings, and by eminence in philosophy,
afford a strong presumption that the dark side of the picture
has at least been overcharged,8 we have a more decisive
evidence to the truth of the favourable representations of
his character in the temper and spirit of his extant writings.
Throughout these, there is a candour, and manliness, and
love of truth, strikingly discernible; not professedly set
forth, but interwoven with the texture of his discussions,
and rather betrayed unconsciously than obtruding itself on
our notice, and demanding to be recognized. His ethical
writings, especially, breathe a pure morality, such as we find
in no antecedent philosopher ; a morality also avowedly prac¬
tical, and by which he would have stood self-condemned had
his own conduct been at variance with it. (r. d. h.)
Aristotle’s
Philoso¬
phy-
ARISTOTLE’S
Account of the Writings of Aristotle, and reception of his
Philosophy.
The preservation of the original copies of the writings of
Aristotle is a curious fact in literary history. Whilst the
philosopher distributed his other property to his surviving
family, he left the more precious bequest of his writings to
Theophrastus, his favourite disciple and successor in the Ly¬
ceum. By Theophrastus they were bequeathed to Neleus,
his scholar, by whom they were conveyed from Greece into
Asia Minor, to the city of Scepsis, where he resided. The
heirs of Neleus, to whom they next descended, were private
individuals, not philosophers by profession, who were only
anxious for the safe custody of their literary treasure. The
magnificence of kings had then begun to display itself in
the collection of libraries, and the works of genius were
sought out with an eager and lavish curiosity. It was a taste
happy for the cause of literature ; to which, perhaps, the
example of Alexander’s noble fondness for everything con¬
nected with intellectual energy had principally led. Aris¬
totle himself, indeed, is said to have been the first to form a
library.9 He was the first, probably, to form one on an ex¬
tensive scale. The Scepsians, into whose hands his works
had now fallen, fearful of the literary rapacity of the kings
of Pergamos, resorted to the selfish expedient of secreting
the writings under ground. The volumes remained in this
concealment until at length their very existence seems to
have been forgotten ; and they would thus have been lost
to the world, but for the accidental discovery of them after
the lapse of 130 years. His philosophy had been tradition-
PHILOSOPHY.
ally propagated; for we hear of Peripatetics at this time.
Portions, indeed, of his works must doubtless have continued
in circulation among the disciples of the Lyceum, serving
in some measure as a record of the principles of the sect.
Much may have been preserved from memory : for we have
little notion now of the impression made by viva voce in¬
struction, when it was the only channel of knowledge to the
generality. A Peripatetic philosopher, accordingly, Apelli-
con of Teos, whom Strabo, however, characterizes as a lover
of books rather than a lover of science—cjnXo/SifSXos gaXXov
rj (fnXoaocjiof'—purchased the recovered volumes, and efiec-
tually retrieved them for the wrorld. He employed several
copyists in transcribing them, himself superintending the
task. Unfortunately, much was irreparably lost, the writ¬
ings being mouldered with the dampness of the place in
which they had so long been deposited. In addition to
these damages of time, they were now further impaired
by misdirected endeavours to restore the effaced text of
the author.
The works of Aristotle, or rather the copies of them thus
obtained, were conveyed by Apellicon to Athens, their pro¬
per home, though no longer perfect in the text or such ex¬
actly as the author had left them. Here this collection of
them remained until the spoliation of the city by Sylla. The
library of Apellicon was a tempting object of plunder to the
Romans, who were now awakened to the value of literature ;
and Aristotle’s works accordingly were carried away to Rome
amidst the other rich spoils. At Rome they experienced a
better fortune. Tyrannic, a learned Greek, who had been
1 Diog. Laert. in Aristot.
2 Diog. Laert. in Aristot. The same author mentions an instance of Aristotle’s foiling the cynic Diogenes in some premeditated wit¬
ticism, and gives some expressions by which Aristotle characterized certain philosophers, such as calling Socrates “ a shortlived tyranny.”
The point of these passages, at any rate, escapes the modern reader.
3 Diog. Laert. tqkvXos tjjv (pavnv. 4 Hiog- Laert.; Ailian. Var. Hist. iii. 19.
6 Ammonius says he dedicated an altar to Plato, inscribing it to him as “ a man whom for the bad even to praise would he profane.”
6 Hence the story of his selling the oil which he had used medicinally about his person. (Diog. Laert. in Aristot.)
7 ALlian. Var. Hist. iii. 19. 8 See Aristocles apud Euseh. Prcep. Ev. xv. 2.
9 Strabo, xiii. The account given by Strabo has been much canvassed by modern critics.
10 Ibid. xiii. p. 609. Aristocles in Euseb. Prcep. Ev. xv. 2, speaks of Apellicon as the author of some writings on Aristotle.
ARISTOTLE’S
Aristotle’s a prisoner of war to Lucullus, and was then enjoying the
Philoso- freedom granted to him as a resident at Rome, was the
Phy. principal instrument in their future publication. Obtaining
access to the library of Sylla, he made additional copies of
the writings. His labours were followed by Andronicus the
Rhodian, who at length edited the collected works of Aris¬
totle, at a distance of nearly 300 years from the time when
they were composed.1
Meanwhile other sects in philosophy had sprung up, and
engaged the attention of the world. The Stoics and the
Epicureans, among others, had formed their respective par¬
ties. Platonism had obtained permanent establishment at
Alexandria. The disciples of Aristotle, on the contrary,
had to struggle against the disadvantage of the loss, except,
it seems, in some detached portions, of the authoritative re¬
cords of their master’s philosophy. When, however, these
records were fully published, they were studied with extra¬
ordinary eagerness. A multitude of commentators arose, who
exercised their acuteness and ingenuity in explaining the
sense of the philosopher. As Aristotle himself by his per¬
sonal teaching had transcended the fame of his contempo¬
raries, so his philosophy rose up from its long sleep to triumph
over every other that had previously engaged the public
mind. Platonism, indeed, modified as it was by Ammonius
and his successors, continued to be fostered in the early ages
of the Christian church, in consequence of the theological
cast which it had assumed, and its facility of accommodation
to Christian truth. But in the progress of the Church, when
Christianity needed to be maintained, not so much by ac¬
cession from the ranks of paganism, as by controversial ability
within its own pale, a more exact method was required. Here,
then, the philosophy of Aristotle asserted its value and its
pre-eminence.
But it was only a partial Aristotelic philosophy that was at
first established. His logical treatises had been studied during
the ascendancy of Platonism, for their use in arming the dis¬
putant with subtle distinctions, and enabling him accurately
to state his peculiar notions in theology. The same occasion
still existed for the acuteness of the expert logician, even
after the decline of Platonism, in the state of theological con¬
troversies. It was still, therefore, chiefly as a logical philo¬
sopher, through the several treatises which pass under the
name of the Organon, that Aristotle was known throughout
Christendom. In the west of Europe, indeed, the cloud of
ignorance which had covered the lands with thick darkness,
limited the attainments even of the learned to a narrow field.
The original language of Aristotle’s philosophy was gradually
almost forgotten ; and the generality were restricted to such
of his writings as were translated by the few learned men,
the luminaries of the long night of the middle ages. The
peculiar exigencies of the times, and the taste of the learned
themselves, led to the translation in particular of the logi¬
cal treatises. That on the Categories appears to have been
the one principally known among Christians. Nor were these
translations always made from the original Greek; but, on
the contrary, were in most instances versions of versions. For
its knowledge of Greek literature, the west of Europe was
indebted to Arabian civilization. The Arabians had, to¬
gether with their conquests in Spain, imported their know¬
ledge of the Greek philosophy, the seeds of which had been
scattered in the East by the learning of the Nestorian Chris-
PHILOSOPHY. 537
tians. Translations had been made into Arabic, of the Greek Aristotle’s
authors, and among these, of Aristotle. Jews at the same Philos°-
period were resident in great numbers in Andalusia, the . l)b^'
principal seat of Arabic literature. These, by their com- '
mercial intercourse with Christians and Mahometans, served
as a channel through which the Greek philosophy was car¬
ried on from the Spanish Arabians to the Christians of the
West. For the purpose of communication, the Arabic ver¬
sions of Aristotle were translated into Latin, the universal
language of early European literature. And thus was the
foundation laid of that Scholastic philosophy, through which
the dominion of Aristotle was afterwards extended over
Europe.
But the occupation of Constantinople by the Latins, in
the beginning of the thirteenth century, was the opening of
a new era in the literary history of Europe. Greater faci¬
lities were afforded by this event for the knowledge of the
Greek language. Aristotle began then to be no longer
known chiefly as a logician. His physical, metaphysical,
and moral treatises were more extensively explored and
studied ; though at first objection was made to the Physics
by the Papal authority. He was thenceforth recognized
under the title of Princeps Philosophorum. His logic, in¬
deed, maintained its ascendancy in the Schools of Europe;
but it was not applied exclusively, as at first, to Theology.
It was carried into those new subjects of inquiry which the
extended knowledge of his writings had introduced to the
learned. The spirit of disputatious subtilty, which, in the
beginnings of the Scholastic philosophy, had displayed itself
in the quarrels between the Nominalists and Realists, after¬
wards found employment in the application of logical prin¬
ciples to speculations in physics and metaphysics. At the
same time Theology became more and more corrupted by
the refinements of systematic exposition ; until at length the
accumulated mass of error became too evident to be borne,
and, among other causes, produced a re-action in the Re¬
formation of the Church.2
The abuse of his philosophy, thus manifested, tended greatly
to shake the empire which it had held over the minds of
men. Had Luther, accordingly, stood alone in the work of
reform, Aristotle would perhaps have been altogether ban¬
ished from the schools of the Reformed. But his rough¬
ness of hand was tempered, in this point as in others, by the
milder spirit of Melanchthon.
Melanchthon, whilst he had too deep an acquaintance with
classical literature not to feel the charm of the writings of
Plato, justly vindicated the superiority of Aristotle’s philoso¬
phy as a discipline of the mind. He therefore assisted in
supporting the established dominion of Aristotle in the
Schools ; whilst he rejected the errors to which it had ad¬
ministered.3 Afterwards the disputes among Protestants
themselves served to perpetuate that dominion : and, from
the same cause as before, the subtilties of the Logical and
Metaphysical treatises were studied rather than the more
practical parts of the philosophy. Thus, even after the la¬
bours of Bacon in dispelling the mists which the too ela¬
borate study of Aristotle’s system and method by the doctors
of the Middle ages, had diffused, his works continued to be
read and taught in Protestant Universities. His philosophy,
during an empire of centuries, had occupied so many posts
in the field of science and literature, that no other, however
1 Plutarch in Sylla; Bayle’s Diet. art. Tyrannic, note D; Brucker, Hist. Crit. Philos, vol. i. p. 799. Andronicus flourished about B.c.
60. The rise of philosophy at Rome was contemporary with him. Cicero in Tusc. Qu. i. 1, says, “ Philosophia jacuit usque ad nostram
astatem. ’ He speaks, too, in Fin. iii. 3, of finding “ commentaries quosdam Aristotelios,” in the villa of Lucullus. Athenaeus, i. p. 3,
says the books of Aristotle were purchased of Neleus by Ptolemy Philadelphus, for the library of Alexandria. This may also be true of
detached portions of Aristotle’s works, or copies of such portions.
2 Roger Bacon, Opus Majus, part i. p. 13, 19, ed. Jebb, Lond.; Lewis’s Life of Wickliffe; Lewis’s Life of Bishop Pecock; Mosheim’s
Eccles. Hist. vol. ii. p. 216, 218, Lond. 1823; Pegge’s Life of Bishop Grosseteste ; Recherches Critiques sur VAge et l Origine des Traduct.
Lat. d'Aristote, par M. Jourdain, p. 16, 81, 94, Paris, 1819.
3 Melanchthon in Aristot. et Platon, ii. p. 370, iii. p. 351; Bayle’s Diet. art. Melanchthon, note K.; Brucker, Hist. Crit. Phil. iv. p. 282.
VOL. HI. 3 Y
538 A KIS T 0 T L E’S
Aristotle’s great the improvement, could at once displace it. For thus
Philoso- we find eVen Bacon himself, in the process of counteracting
Phy- it, and introducing his “Interpretation of Nature,” com-
pelled to use a phraseology founded on the dogmas of the
Schools.
It is then of great importance to examine the system ot
Aristotle in its own authentic sources. Such an examination
will convince us, that the philosopher is not to be censured
for that depravation of philosophy to which he was made
subservient; but rather that, had his teaching been rightly
applied, and pursued in the spirit of its author, the School¬
men could hardly have been led into those airy and unreal
speculations which constituted their science ot Nature. We
are compelled, indeed, to take our estimate of it from such
imperfect and often confused relics as time has spared to us
out of a far greater mass of his original writings.1 Fortu¬
nately, however, those relics include a great variety, of
treatises, affording a specimen at least of his mode of philo¬
sophizing in every department of science.
State of Philosophy before Aristotle. General Character
of his Philosophy.
Aristotle was the first who really separated the different
sciences, and constituted them into detached systems, eacn
on its proper principles. Before his time philosophy had
existed as a vast undigested scheme of speculative inquiry,
fluctuating in its form and character according to the genius
and the circumstances of its leading teachers.
Thus the two great fountains of Grecian science,—the
Italic school, founded by Pythagoras—the Ionic, by Thales
—were both in principle mathematical; though, when we
look to their actual results, as they were moulded by their
respective masters, the Italic is characterized as the Ethical
school, the Ionic as the Physical. Both appear to have
been drawn from the same parent-source of Egyptian civi¬
lization and knowledge. The mystic combination of mathe¬
matical, physical, and moral truth exhibited in the ancient
theological philosophy of Egypt, found a kindred spirit in
Pythagoras. Hence that solemn religious light shed over
his speculations. Mathematical science was the basis of his
system. He conceived Numbers to be the primary elements
of all things; regarding all other objects of thought as
“ imitations,” or “representations,” of Numbers.2 But the
system, as a whole, was a mystic contemplation of the uni¬
verse, addressed to the moral and devotional feelings of
man. Thales was a philosopher of a much more simple cast.
Like Pythagoras, he was devoted to mathematical study.
He is said to have instructed the Egyptians how to measure
the height of their pyramids by means of the shadows; and
several of the theorems of the Elements of Euclid are at¬
tributed to him. But he did not, like Pythagoras, fall into
the error of confounding and blending the objects and facts
of the external world with the truths of abstract science. Ac¬
cording to him, it was sufficient to shew that water was the
element of all things. Fie sought no deeper cause in any
speculation concerning the mode in which this element sub¬
sisted. The successors of Pythagoras and Thales variously
modified the theories of those great masters. The physical
philosophy, however, of Thales, as the more simple and in-
PHILOSOPHY.
telligible, and probably also from the greater intercourse of Aristotle’s
Greece with its Asiatic colonies than with its Italian, espe- Phi,loso'
daily prevailed in Greece. Thus we find Socrates, who v
had been the disciple of Archelaus of that school, complain-
ing that the concerns of human life had been abandoned
for the subtilties of physics. In the hands of Socrates
philosophy resumed its moral complexion. Had it devolved
on Xenophon to take the lead as the successor and inter¬
preter of Socrates, things would probably have continued
in this course, and ethical science might henceforth have
triumphed in the Grecian schools. But the genius of Plato
succeeded to the rich patrimony of the Socratic philosophy.
And Plato was not one whose ambition could be content
with less than the reputation of founding a school, or whose
imagination could be tied down to the realities of human
life.3 The mystical theory of Numbers taught by Pytha¬
goras possessed a powerful charm for such a mind as that
of Plato. At the same time his power of eloquent discussion
found its own field of exertion, in speculaing on those moral
truths with which the lessons of Socrates had inspired him.
He had also been a hearer of Cratylus,4 5 and through him
had been instructed in the theory of the “perpetual flux”
of nature, the great doctrine of Heraclitus. Plato accordingly
applied himself to the combination of these various systems.
The theory of Pythagoras was to be retained consistently
with the perpetual change of all existing things according
to Heraclitus, and with the immutability of nature implied
in the Socratic definitions. Definitions could not apply to
any perceptible objects, if it were allowed that all such ob¬
jects were constantly changing. Nor could Numbers suffi¬
ciently account for that immense variety of objects which the
universe presented. There must therefore, it was concluded,
be some existences, independent of the perceptible universe,
the fixed objects of definitions ; and there must be also an
infinity of various archetypes, corresponding to the various
classes of external objects. Flence he devised his doctrine
of etSij, or Ideas ; a doctrine naturally suggested to an ima¬
ginative mind, by the fixedness and universality of the no¬
tions signified by language, as contrasted with the perpetual
variations of the external world. I o these abstract natures,
or Ideas, he assigned a real being, as objects of intellectual
apprehension; accounting for the existence of sensible things
from their “ participation” of them. Thus he raised a struc¬
ture of philosophy on a basis of metaphysics and logic con¬
jointly ; or, in other words, Philosophy, in its passage through
the school of Plato, had become a transcendental Logic or
Dialectic. Dialectic, the science, according to Plato, which
contemplates the Ideas themselves, was held forth to the
student as the dominant philosophy, the consummation and
crown of all sciences.0
Such was the state of Philosophy when Aristotle began
to teach, and in which he had himself been trained. But
it was not a system in which his penetrating mind could rest
satisfied. He thought too accurately, not to discover that
this cardinal doctrine6 of Platonism, the doctrine of Ideas,
specious as it was, was only a shadowy representation of
the objects of philosophy ;7 and that, in order to rest the
sciences on a sure basis, a more exact analysis of the prin¬
ciples of human knowledge was required. He accordingly
addressed himself to the task of developing a really intel-
1 Diog. Laert. in Aristot. avny^'l'1 ‘x<x-fvr\u<TTct. _ 2 Metaph. i. 6, ii. p. 848, Du Val. Metaph. P-
3 Aristotle (Rhet. ii. 23) mentions that Aristippus, alluding to Plato’s ambitious manner of expression on some point of p i osophy,
remarked «XX« u-w oy iroueos yiu.™, aAsv Ttiourov, “ our friend, at any rate (meaning Socrates), has nothing of the kind.
4 Cratvlus found fault with his master Heraclitus for saying that “ a man had never been twice on the same river; for no one, e
said “ had ever been even once.” (Metaph. iv. 5.) This was hut a natural extension of the doctrine of Heraclitus.
5 "ao* eyv Sa*£i £<pJIv £7®, US Spyxc; ro,S f, S/«X£*r/*» ip* ^
iviT&ia'&tt.i «XX’ lyut tiXos rui 'Epoiy icfn. (Plato, Republ. vi. p. 400, ed. Bekker.)
6 To h xupaXoaov xca ro xuooi rns UXurum, i ruv vovtuv Wagis. (Atticus Platonic, apud Euseb. Praip. Evan. xv. c. .)
7 T« yoi£ id?) %ougirw riprifffAariK y(*£ urn* (Aristot. Anal, Post, i. c. 22.j
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
539
Aristotle’s lectual system of nature, in the stead of that imaginary
Philoso- world of thought and knowledge which the lofty enthusiasm
, J of Plato had created.
He found the several sciences separated from their roots,
and vegetating only as stunted branches on a stock unna¬
tural to them. Even Dialectic itself, the master science,
was neglected. Its proper nature was mystified and over¬
looked in that medley of logical and metaphysical truth
which had usurped its name ; and its relation to the other
sciences was misapprehended. In overthrowing the doc¬
trine of Ideas, therefore, he had to make an entire reform of
philosophy. And, in fact, he did appear no less as a re¬
former of the ancient philosophy, than Bacon was of the
scholasticism of his day. In each case, idols were enthroned
in the niches and shrines of the temple of science ; and the
hand of a bold reformer was required to cast them down and
break them in pieces. If indeed we impartially consider the
case, we shall find that Aristotle was animated by the like
spirit to that which dictated the method of the Inductive
philosophy, and that his reform was directed to the like
points. It was his object, as well as Bacon’s, to recal men,
from their unprofitable flight to universals, to a study of the
actual course of nature ; and further to direct them into the
right path of discovery.
He was the first, accordingly, except in the case of Ma¬
thematics, to exhibit a particular science drawn out into
its proper system. There was, for instance, a great deal
of logical and of moral truth scattered through the writings
of Plato : but there was no regular statement of the prin¬
ciples either of logical or moral science, no distinct collec¬
tion of the proper facts of those sciences, until the treatises
of the Organon and the Rhetoric and Ethics of Aristotle ap¬
peared. We may easily conceive the arduousness and im¬
portance of this service in the cause of philosophy. For any
one person to have fully carried into effect such a design,
might well be thought impossible. And we shall not won¬
der, therefore, that in some instances he should have failed,
or have merely indicated the proper method to be pursued.
It was not indeed to be expected, that one trained in the
dialectical philosophy of Plato should have emerged at once
from the prejudices of that system. Aristotle, though pro¬
fessedly opposed to the realism involved in Plato’s doctrine
of Ideas, yet betrays the power of language over his own
speculations, by the importance which he attributes to ab¬
stract notions as the foundations of scientific truth. It is a
delusion, which the simple attention to the phraseology of
one language (and there is no evidence that Aristotle knew
any language but his own) is apt to produce. In the ana¬
lysis of words, we are apt to lose sight of the merely arbi¬
trary connection between them and the objects designated
by them, and to suppose that we have penetrated into the
nature of the thing, when we have only explored the no¬
tions signified by the term. Thus Aristotle, whilst he re¬
jected the Platonic theory of Ideas, still conceived that
there were certain immoveable principles, in the knowledge
of which true science consisted. He differed at the same
time from Plato in his estimate of their nature. Plato re¬
garded the Ideas as archetypes and causes of all sensible
and actual existences ; whereas Aristotle contemplates them
simply as causes or first principles from which all know¬
ledge is derived. He did not allow that these abstractions
had in themselves any objective reality or any active power ;
but he conceived that the speculation about them was an
insight into the secrets of Nature.
Philosophy, accordingly, under his hands, stripped of its me¬
taphysical mysticism, assumed a strictly logical aspect. The
foundations of science were laid in definitions of those es¬
sential natures which constituted the first principles of his
system ; and from these definitions the truths of the par¬
ticular sciences were to be deduced.
From this view of the nature of science, it followed that-Aristotle’s
he should employ Induction, rather to determine notions, Philoso-
than to arrive at general principles, such as in modern philo- phy- ,
sophy are denominated Laws of Nature. In order to dis-
cover a first principle, on which a system of science might
be raised, it was necessary to state exactly that conception
of the mind which belonged exclusively to any particular
class of objects. The stating such a conception was, in
the phraseology of Aristotle, the assigning of the Aoyos of
the cwo-ia, or the giving a definition of the object as to its
essence. A definition of this kind required an accurate
analysis of thought. Every notion common to other objects
was to be rejected; and after such rejection, that which
remained exclusively appropriate to the object under con¬
sideration, was to be assumed as the principle by which
its real nature was expressed. The process was not dissi¬
milar to that by which the truths of modern science are
elicited ; except that the Induction of Aristotle terminates
in universal notions ; whereas the Induction of Bacon ter¬
minates in general facts ;—such facts being the utmost that
can be obtained from outward observation of objects. It is
precisely indeed in this point that the great difference con¬
sists between the science of Aristotle and that of Bacon.
Aristotle, for example, inquires into the nature of light, and
endeavours to define it exactly as it differs from all other
natures. This definition is an expression of that principle
on which the whole nature of light is conceived to depend.
A modern philosopher pursuing the method of Bacon, ex¬
amines facts concerning it, and, distinguishing those which
really belong to it from those which do not, concludes from .
the remainder some general affirmative respecting it. A
modern philosopher often draws a conclusion as to the na¬
ture of a thing ; as when he infers that light is material, or
that the soul is immaterial. But then he does not hold such
inferences as principles in the sense of Aristotle ; nor does
he employ them to interpret the facts of a science. He ac¬
quiesces in such conclusions as ultimate principles. He
finds, for example, the facts belonging to the falling of
bodies on the earth’s surface, and to the revolutions of the
heavens, coincident in the same general law. He pro¬
nounces, therefore, that the principle signified by the term
gravity, whatever its nature may be, is the same in both
classes of facts. His conclusions at the same time in Na¬
tural Philosophy are independent of this assumption ; as
these would not be affected, though the principle of gravi¬
tation were proved to be different in the two cases. If you
overthrow, on the other hand, a speculative doctrine of the
ancient physics, all the conclusions of the system fall to the
ground.
We shall wonder the less at the peculiar complexion of
Aristotle’s philosophy, when we observe that even modern
philosophers have been by no means exempt from the
realism which language tends to suggest, and which might
almost be termed the original sin of the human under¬
standing.
Such, then, according to Aristotle, was the character of
philosophy, so far as it was purely theoretic. It furnished
the mind with the means of contemplating nature surely
and steadily, amidst the variety of phenomena which ex¬
ternal objects presented, by fixing it on abstract universal
principles, eternal and unchangeable.
But this was not the only view which he took of philo¬
sophy. He did not limit its use to contemplation ; though
contemplation was its proper function. He regarded it fur¬
ther under two other distinct points of view—as it studied
the principles either of effects produced, or those of human
actions. Thus, he distributes philosophy in general into three
branches : I. Theoretic ; II. Efficient; III. Practical. By
Theoretic, he denotes 1. Physics, 2. Mathematics, 3. Theo¬
logy, or the Prime Philosophy, or the science known by the
540
A RI S T 0 T L E’S PHILOSOPHY.
Aristotle’s modern name of Metaphysics ; by Efficient, what we under-
Philoso- S(-arK{ by the term Art, as Dialectic or Logic, Rhetoric,
v j Poetics ; by Practical, Moral philosophy, as Ethics and Po-
litics. Whilst, then, in order to a purely Theoretic philo¬
sophy, he endeavoured to present to the mind the primary
elements of thought, following the order and connections of
human reason rather than looking to the phenomena of na¬
ture, he had a different aim in the two other branches of in¬
quiry, and pursued a different method. In these, his aim
was to enable the student to realize some effect, or to attain
some good; in Efficient Philosophy, to lay before the mind
those principles which impart skill in the arts ; in Practical,
those by which the goods of life are attained, whether by
individuals or by societies. Thus, in both these branches
his object, though comparatively limited, was in fact the
same as that of Bacon—to increase human power by in¬
creasing human knowledge. He has accordingly adopted,
in pursuing them, the Inductive method. We find him in
these strictly attending to Experience—deducing his specu¬
lative principles from facts, and pointing out their applica¬
tion to the purposes of the arts and the business ot life.
Under the term Texvrj, indeed, which we translate Art, he
comprised much more than is understood by Art. Che¬
mistry, for instance, might justly be referred to this branch of
philosophy, so far as its principles are applicable to the pro¬
duction of any effect. In fact, it corresponds more nearly
with Science, in the acceptation of the word by Bacon, or
to what is understood by the term “ applied science.” For
Aristotle himself expressly asserts it to be the result of Ex¬
perience—observing, that memory of particular events is
the foundation of Experience, and that from several expe¬
riences Art is produced.1
So also, in his Practical philosophy, he directs us not to
seek a speculative certainty of principles, but to be satisfied
with such as result from the general experience of human
life. He further even gives express caution against treat¬
ing this department in the a priori method of his Theoretic
philosophy, in remarking that the abstract speculation con¬
cerning universal good was unprofitable in that kind of in¬
quiry.2 Had he viewed Natural Philosophy in its applica¬
tion to the arts, he would surely have introduced the Induc¬
tive method there also. Indeed he has done so, wherever
particular departments of nature are explored in his writings
in order to particular arts. But his works professedly treat¬
ing of Natural Philosophy belong to a higher speculation,
according to his estimate, than those which concern human
life. He conceived the things of the material world to be
unoriginated and indestructible in their essential nature, and
therefore the eternal objects of scientific truth,3 whilst every
thing belonging to man was temporary and variable. The
former, therefore, were not satisfactorily investigated until
they were referred to their primary fixed principles ; but of
the latter it was sufficient to obtain such knowledge as the
contingency of the objects admitted. He perceived, from
his accurate and extensive knowledge of human nature, that
there was no ground for that realism in Morals which the
more uniform aspect of the physical world tended to inculcate.
The immense variety of objects to which the appellation of
‘‘good” was applied, impressed on his acute mind the con¬
viction that there was no one fixed and invariable principle
implied by that term ; and that the truths of Moral Philo¬
sophy, accordingly, were to be sought simply in an obser¬
vation of facts, without endeavouring to trace the general Aristotle’s
facts thus collected to some further abstract principles. Philoso-
It will illustrate this arrangement of the sciences to look v Phy-
to the Theory of Causation, or the several classes into which 'v""—^
Ancient Philosophy distributed the principles of scientific
investigation. Now, the classes of such principles assigned
by Aristotle are, ls£, The Material, or that class which com¬
prehends all those cases in which the inquiry is, out of what
a given effect has originated. From the analogy which this
principle has to the wood or stone, or any actual matter,
out of which a work of nature or art is produced, the name
“ Material ” is assigned to the class. But it is not commonly
so termed by Aristotle, whose description of it is more pre¬
cise and just.4 Unfortunately the term “ Material” intro¬
duces a misunderstanding on this head. It may be sup¬
posed to mean something physically existing, some sensible
matter, as wood or stone ; whereas, according to Aristotle,
it denotes antecedents ; that is, principles whose inherence
and priority is implied in any existing thing.5 The Mate¬
rial cause, then, is properly an intellectual principle—one of
the elements into which the mind resolves its first rough
conception of an object.
The second class of Causes is that to which all inquiries
belong which respect the Characteristic nature of a thing.
To this Aristotle gives the name of eiSos, form or exemplar.6
It corresponds with what are termed in modern philosophy
“ laws of nature.” According to Aristotle, and the ancient
philosophy in general, it is the abstract essence or being of
a thing,—that primary nature of it on which all its pro¬
perties depend. Bacon, indeed, has retained the name
“ Form” in his Organum, and applied it to denote the
generalizations of his philosophy;7—a general fact, from
its excluding all merely accidental circumstances, being in
a manner the proper form of the particular facts from
which it is inferred, under all the variety which they may
exhibit.
The third Class of causes comprehends all inquiries into
the Motive or Efficient principles of a thing. It differs from
the Material cause—which it resembles so far as it is an in¬
vestigation of antecedents—in its reference to such antece¬
dents only as are the Means in order to an Effect. We may
contemplate a given effect as such, and not simply as a mere
event; and in that case we inquire into the poiver by which
it was produced, or the Motive cause. It is to this class
that the term Cause8 is popularly applied, by analogy from
the works of human art, in which we discern the connection
between means and results. Aristotle, however, did not
suppose that we could discover such necessary connection
in Nature; signifying by such a cause merely those prin¬
ciples under which all effects, as such, might be arranged.
The fourth class in the ancient theory of Causation is
what has obtained the appellation of the Final Cause, or, to
express it more after the mind of Aristotle, Tendency, or
an account of anything from a consideration of its perfect
nature or tendency. For example, when we appeal from
virtue militant in the world to virtue triumphant in heaven,
and explain the present state of moral disorder, by this ulti¬
mate view off virtue, or of the end to which it is tending,
we argue from a Final Cause in the sense of Aristotle. So,
again, when it is argued that the eye was formed for seeing,
because its nature is perfected in the act of seeing; or, in ge¬
neral, whenever it is inferred that such is the nature of a
1 Metaph. i. 1; Analyt. Post. ii. last chap. ^ Mag. Mor. i. 1; Eth. Nic. i. 6. 3 Ao.lyt. Post. i. c. 8; Ethic. Nic. vi. 7.
^ Nat. Ausc. ii. c. 3, to £| ou n iwtk^ovtoi, ii. c. 7. Analyt. Post. ii. c. 11, p. 170, Du Val. to tivuv ovrwv ayayKti tout uvea.
6 The premises of a syllogism accordingly are the material cause of the conclusion.
6 Thus he terms it also TaeahtynK, Nat. Ausc. ii. 2, Du Val. i. p. 330, the pattern, as it were, of the thing, or its archetype, in the
Injn(] 7 Bacon, Nov. Org. ii. 2.
8 The word cause is indeed, as has often been pointed out, only a verbal generalization of the different principles to which it is here
applied. The Greek word amov, “ account,” or “ reason why,” is nearer the truth.
ARISTOTLE’S
Theoretic thing, because it is best that it should be so. According to
I’hiloso- niodern views, Design is always implied in a Final cause. In
Phy- / Aristotle, it is an intrinsic Tendency in Nature, analogous to
the effect of Design.
The division of Philosophy adopted by Aristotle corre¬
sponds with this classification of Causes. Physical science,
as concerned about objects, of which one rises out of an¬
other, or is produced after another, is an investigation of
Material Causes. The inquiry is into the law of continua¬
tion and succession observed in the natural world,—what
the antecedents are in this course,—what the primary prin¬
ciples into which the succession of physical events may be
resolved.
The First Philosophy, including Theological, Metaphysi¬
cal, and Mathematical science, belongs to the Formal Cause.
It endeavours to draw forth that secret philosophy by which
the mind administers the world of its own ideas ; and, by
this process to arrive at those primary abstract forms which
are the originals, and patterns, as it were, of the various
actual forms of things throughout the universe.
Dialectical science, and the Arts in general, are inquiries
into Motive Causes, since it is by the Arts that human power
is exerted in producing certain effects. The principles of
Rhetoric, for instance, are the means by which persuasion is
effected. In order to produce any effect, we must observe
what acts, what moves, what influences—not simply what pre¬
cedes or follows in the order of nature ; and a study of this
kind constitutes what Aristotle calls Efficient philosophy.
The Final cause is the science of human actions, or Prac¬
tical philosophy. Actions, being the exertions of the in¬
ward principles of our moral constitution towards some end,
cannot be rightly estimated by vie wing them merely as effects,
but must be considered in their design or tendency. A com-
passionate action, for example, may, in its actual effect, be
productive of evil; but we cannot conclude as to the nature
of the action from this result. We must further inquire,
whether the result was coincident or not with the effect in¬
tended, or what it would have been, had the action been per¬
fect as the exertion of the principle ; that is, we must inquire
into its Final cause.1
But though this is the appropriate classification of the
principles of the several sciences, it does not follow that
any particular science is restricted to one particular mode
of speculation.2 The several kinds of Causes are all em¬
ployed as modes of analysis under the same head of philo¬
sophy.3 As all philosophy, indeed, ultimately refers to the
principles of the human mind, so far every science is a spe¬
culation of the formal cause. In Aristotle’s system of Phy¬
sics, the speculation of the Final Cause occupies princi¬
pal place, instead of being employed, as in modern philo¬
sophy, in subordination to the inquiry into the Material and
the other Causes.
Theoretic Philosophy.
Physics, Mathematics, Metaphysics.
In proceeding to examine the several sciences included in
this threefold division of Philosophy, and contained in the
extant writings of Aristotle, those which he has classed under
PHILOSOPHY. 541
the head of Theoretic philosophy, as being the only proper Theoretic
sciences in his view, naturally come first to be considered. Philos°-
These, then, are Physics, Metaphysics (or Theology), and phy' ;
Mathematics. “ s—
There is the less occasion for considering these sciences
distinctly, as Aristotle has not strictly maintained their se¬
paration, but has often blended their different principles in
the same discussion. In this department of philosophy he
receded less from the dialectical system of Plato, and felt
the influence of that system attracting him into its vortex.
As Plato, by drawing off the attention of the philosophical
inquirer from nature itself to the Ideas of his intellectual
world, was led to confound all the sciences in one philoso¬
phical reverie; so Aristotle, in the Theoretic branch of his
philosophy, looking to the primary principles of the sciences
as they exist in the human mind, rather than to the pheno¬
mena of each, overlooked their real differences in his mode
of treating them. The ground of this promiscuous discus¬
sion is to be found in that classification which he adopts of
the objects of these three sciences.4 They are all, in his view,
conversant about ra ovra, or things that are ; but differ¬
ing in the mode in which they abstract the notion of being
from existing things, The science which considers Being
in union with matter, or as it is evidenced under those va¬
riations which the material world presents, is Physics. That
which considers Being as it is conceived apart from the va¬
riations of the material world, though still not separate from
matter, is Mathematics. Lastly, that to which the name of
Metaphysics has been given by his commentators, but to
which Aristotle himself assigns the name of Theology, or
the First Philosophy, is the science which considers Being
apart both from the variations of the material world, and
from matter. It appears, therefore, that the object of his
inquiry in each of these three sciences is ultimately the
same. He is engaged in all, in investigating those univer¬
sal principles under which existing things are arranged by
the mind. For this is the meaning of the term Being in his
Philosophy. It stands for any of those conceptions by which
the various natures or properties of things as they exist, are
represented in the mind. These sciences, accordingly, not
differing fundamentally in his view, he was naturally led to
combine them in one general speculation.
Hence the abortive and futile character of his Physical
philosophy. Instead of looking to the phenomena of the
material world, he was employed in arguing from metaphysi¬
cal and mathematical data, from mere abstract notions, to the
realities of external nature. Thus, instead of being an in¬
vestigation of the laws of nature, his system was a vain fabric
of speculative reasoning from assumed principles. Whilst
he thought that he was discussing and stating truths of phy¬
sical science, he was only analyzing certain notions of the
mind, and accurately defining them. No other method, in¬
deed, is open to the philosopher, who would penetrate the
veil of the actual phenomena, and establish a certainty of
science beyond what is conceded to man, but that of abstract
Definitions. These being once laid down, the truths of
science follow by necessary connection; for they are then
the mere development of general assertions into the particu¬
lars implied in them, or connected with them. But, the cer-
1 The same principle applies to the arts also, so far as the skill in any art is exerted in action. We then judge of the art so exem¬
plified by its tendency to produce the proper effect; of the wisdom, for instance, of the politician by the adaptation of his counsels to
the welfare of his country—or of the military skill of the general by his plans—not simply by their result; which may accidentally be
untoward.
3 ATat. Ausc. ii. 7, ini kitiki ritnragis, wi/ii vcur/uv <ra si^ivou' x.a.i us •x’tx.fftx.s ooiayuv to S/a. ti, ctTCohuau, (pvrucas, rri» uXnv, to ulos, to
znwrxv, to a svsxk. ££££*•«< §£ tk t^ik us to iv oroXXaxis' x. t. A.
3 Thus an action may be analyzed into the affection exerted in it (the material or physical cause), the choice of the agent (the motive
cause), the end to which it tends (the final cause), the definition of the virtue to which it belongs (the formal cause); and yet the science
of the action is fundamentally an inquiry into the final cause.
4 Metaph. vi. 1, and xiii. chap. 1, 3, and 4. See also Nat. Ausc. ii. c. 2.
542
A RI S T 0 T L E’S PHILOSOPHY.
Theoretic
Philoso-
tainty and necessity of such conclusions are nothing more
than consistency with the original assumptions. It would
, be absurd to suppose them otherwise, because this would
be to contradict what has been already asserted. Aristotle
indeed expressly says, that truth of fact and truth of science
are not mutually implied in each other. “ Impossible and
possible, and falsehood and truth,” he observes, “ are either
hypothetical—as it is impossible for a triangle to have two
right angles, if this is so, and the diameter of a square is
commensurate with its side, if this is so,—or absolute. But
absolute falsehood and absolute impossibility are not the
same; since, for one not standing to say he is standing, is
false, but not impossible; and for a harper not singing to
say he is singing, is false but not impossible; but to stand
and sit at once, or for the diameter to be commensurate, is
not only false, but impossible.” 1 Still he sought to unite
both kinds of truth in his physical speculations ; and in the
vain attempt, lost sight of the absolute truth contained in
the facts presented to his observation.
The first portion of his Physics, contained in a treatise in
eight books, entitled Natural Auscultations, is devoted to
inquiries into principles ; with a view to ascertain those fun¬
damental conceptions from which all conclusions concern¬
ing physical objects were, in the a 'priori spirit of the whole
inquiry, to be deduced. Agreeably to this order, he sets out
with discussing the question, whether these principles should
be ultimately referred to one or more than one, and laying
down his own doctrine of three principles, under the es¬
tablished denominations of, 1. Matter, 2. Form, 3. Privation.
These are the principles which, as employed by his dis¬
ciples of the middle ages, have occasioned much undue
censure of the philosopher. His system, indeed, is suf¬
ficiently condemned in its hypothetical character, but is
guiltless of the absurdity which modern refinements have
cast upon it. These three principles rightly viewed are
general conceptions of the mind, as it endeavours to class
the various objects of the sensible universe, and to refer
the succession of events without itself to some ultimate
unchanging views within itself. It has been already stated
what is meant by a material cause, the ef ov or vkr) of Aris¬
totle. These principles, then, are only different modifica¬
tions of this cause. They are antecedents, or notions at
which the mind ultimately arrives, in an analysis of its com¬
plex notions of natural objects ; and therefore antecedents,
because they must be presupposed in every contemplation
of the natural world. The terms by which they are de¬
noted are merely analogical. Aristotle, proceeding on a prin¬
ciple of the Pythagorean school,—indeed the common doc¬
trine of philosophers before him,2—argues that, as contra¬
ries cannot generate contraries, there must be at least two
opposite classes of principles. In the changes observed in
the course of the world, one object is succeeded by another ;
something has passed away, something is produced. Two
fundamental notions, therefore, are involved in every con¬
templation of nature. These accordingly are expressed by
the terms Form and Privation ; imperfectly characterizing
these subtile abstractions, though justly, so far as the relation
denoted corresponds with that between the present form of
any material object and the previous forms superseded by
it. For example, a statue is a form constituted in the stead
of the rough block, and of that infinite multiplicity of figures
of which the marble in its unmoulded state was susceptible.
Of these it is, as it were, “ deprived,” in the act of producing
the statue. The analogy, however, is apt to induce us to
suppose that something positive is implied by the terms Form
and Privation in the language of Aristotle. Hence the ridi- Theoretic
cule with which the statement of Privation as a physical prin- Philoso-
ciple has been received. But if rightly understood, it holds Phy-
a just and important place in the physical philosophy of Aris-
totle. And to see the proper nature of it, it should be ob¬
served, that it applies no less to immaterial objects than to ma¬
terial.3 For instance, if we look at man physically, we observe
that he is capable of moral improvement. Supposing him,
then, civilized and improved beyond his ordinary state, we
perceive in such a case a transition from a state of barbarism
to a state of culture. The state of culture, then, is the
Form of which Aristotle speaks; the state of barbarism,
which may be in infinite varieties of Form, the Privation.
Or, a person becomes healthy from being diseased : health
is the Form superinduced; the Privation is of every species
of disease. But besides those principles which are excluded
in the physical constitution of anything, and so referred to
the head of Privation,—and those again in which the pecu¬
liar constitution of the thing is found to consist, and which
are therefore referred to the head of Form,—there are evi¬
dently other principles which remain the same in all varia¬
tions of Form. The internal nature of physical objects sub¬
sists under all external changes. The notion, therefore, by
which that nature is represented to the mind, must be re¬
spected, in accounting for the physical constitution of a
thing; as being an antecedent out of which it proceeded. To
this notion, or class of principles, by which the one common
nature of all physical objects is denoted, Aristotle applies
the name of vXrj, or matter: this notion being analogous to
the stuff or substance of which different works of human art
are constructed, as marble or brass is the material of which
different statues are made4.
Now, beyond these abstractions, it is impossible to pro¬
ceed in the speculation on physical existence. They com¬
prise, in fact, the whole of modern investigations in physics.
Modern physical science has followed an order exactly the
reverse of that of Aristotle. It has ended where he began.
But it has had these several principles in view. The abscis-
sio infiniti, prosecuted in the inductive method of philoso¬
phy, is analogous to the “ privation” of the ancient system.
It is a continued process of separating from any subject
under examination, those natures or principles which do not
constitute the proper nature of the subject, and thus gra¬
dually narrowing the inquiry more and more, until we have
at last obtained some ultimate fact, expressing the proper na¬
ture of the thing. This ultimate fact, accordingly, Bacon
terms the “ form” of the thing, adopting the received lan¬
guage, whilst varying its sense to denote the law or princi¬
ple by which it exists. It is the result which remains to be
affirmed, after rejecting and excluding other principles; or,
in other words, after the subject has been “ deprived” of all
those “ forms” in which its proper nature does not consist.
Again, Bacon directs that a collection be made of all those
“ instantim” instances to which the form in question seems
to belong. These instances, so far as they agree in this
respect, correspond with the Material principle of Aristotle.
They exhibit that common nature, in some one form of which
the particular nature sought must be found.
It is not meant here that Aristotle conceived of these
principles according to this view of them. The design of
his inquiry is, by an analysis of Nature, to obtain those fun¬
damental notions to which all the various notions involved
in the speculation of Nature might be referred. For
he explains things that have their being by Nature, to be
such as have in themselves a principle of motion and rest,
1 Be Coelo, i. 12, p. 449, Du Val. Also Metaph. xiii. 5; and v. c. 12.
2 Nat. Ausc. i. 6, p. 322, Du Yal. 3 Metaph. vii. 7, and 11; xiv. c. 8; o<ra trflXXa, vXnv p. 1003, Du Val.
4 Nat. Ausc. i. 8, 'H Si (pun;, iTriffTYiTYi kktk avKXoyia.r ai; ya.(> w^os a.v'SgiavTK %kXxo;, ti Tgoi xXimv l-t/Xov, » crat; to uXXo ti rcut
tXOVTOJV [/.0£<P'/IV, h vXn XUI TO OOfiO^OV l%U, or^ui XkSsiv tuv pogipnr \STUi K&TV TT^o; OUITIKV ‘-XU, xai TO Toh TJ, X.CII TO on.
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Theoretic as contrasted with works of art, the principle of which is in
Philoso- the artist.1 Aristotle’s object, accordingly, is to examine
this inherent principle of motion and rest, which is the na-
' ture of a thing, and to shew how it operates in producing
the various forms observed in the world around us. His error
was not unlike that of one who should profess to give an
account of visible objects solely from what they appear to
the eye, and who should accordingly describe such objects
as flat surfaces, variously shaded and coloured. From this
view of the object of natural philosophy, he was led to ac¬
count for the processes of generation and corruption, and
the changes which occur in bodies by alteration, increase
and decrease, local motion, mixture. Consequently, he
states the great principles of Matter, Form, and Privation, as
generalizations of those latent processes by which physical
effects are produced, rather than as principles by which the
investigation of nature must be guided. Hence the perverse
application of his physical philosophy in the middle ages to
work transmutations in nature. The labours of the alche¬
mists were nothing else but a practical realism founded on
the speculative principles of the philosopher.2
The discovery of the principle to which the denomina¬
tion of Form is assigned, is, in Aristotle’s system, as in Ba¬
con’s, the ultimate point of physical inquiry. The investi¬
gation of the principles of Matter and Privation is in order
to the discovery of the Form; which is thus the reAos, the
end, or completion of the process of nature. The principle
of self motion, or instinctive tendency, which, according to
Aristotle, is the proper object of physics, is then traced to
its effect on the thing produced, and w^e have obtained the
ovcna? or proper being of the thing.
From this view of the principle of Form, as the result of
a self-working power in Nature, results the peculiar charac¬
ter of Aristotle’s physical philosophy. He thought it evident,
from such facts as the provident care shewn by spiders,
ants, and other animals, and the service of the leaves of
plants in protecting the fruit, that nature intrinsically pos¬
sessed this power of working certain ends.4 The form, then,
of every physical object being the attainment of such an end,
and the form also constituting the being or nature of the
object, occasion was furnished for speculating a priori from
the supposed perfection, or view of what was best, in any¬
thing, to the form or law in which its nature consisted. This
mode of speculation was embodied in those maxims of an¬
cient philosophy, that “nature does nothing in vain that
“ nature always works the best that the case admits that
“ nothing by nature is imperfect.”5 The consequence was,
that the very point to be ultimately investigated was as¬
sumed at the outset of the inquiry, and the conclusions ac¬
cordingly were only hypothetically and not absolutely true.
And thus it is that Aristotle expressly admits the necessity
which belongs to physical truths to be hypothetical—depen¬
dent, that is, on the assumption of the end pursued by nature,
in like manner as the conclusions in mathematics are de¬
pendent on the assumption of definitions.6
It is curious to observe the traces of such a doctrine in
different systems of philosophy, as they appear under dif¬
ferent modifications. In some of the older theories, we find
543
indications of it in the hypothesis of two opposing principles, Theoretic
as love and enmity, by which it was proposed to solve those Philoso'
appearances in nature which were adverse to the notion of Phy-
the tendency of Nature to the best. In the systems of Par-  ^
memdes and Hesiod, love and desire—in that of Anaxagoras
intellect—were the expressions of this tendency. In the
philosophy of Plato, it was evidenced in the rejection of the
material world fiom the class of permanent and real exist¬
ences ; this doctrine being a ready transition from the no¬
tion which attributed the physical constitution of things to
their dependence on some primary ideal principles. Modern
deists have argued in the same way, when they have re¬
jected a Revelation because the things contained in it did
not correspond with what they had determined to be “ best”
in nature.7 In Aristotle, on the contrary, it was shewn in
the theory of the Eternity of the Universe. For if Nature
is an active principle, ever tending to realize in act the per¬
fect form of everything, the existence of the universe at all
times is necessary as a condition in order to this end.
The great doctrine of the ancient physics, that “ nothing
could be produced out of nothing,”3 required no distinct
consideration according to the theory of Aristotle. Inquir¬
ing into nature simply as a principle of motion, he was only
called upon to shew how those changes which took place in
the material world might be accounted for. It was no part
of his philosophy to demonstrate that any particular ele¬
ment, or combination of elements, was employed in the
laboratory of nature for effecting the various productions
and transmutations. All he assumes is, that some material
or other is employed in every instance, to effect that perfect
constitution of it in which its “ form” consists. An object, in¬
deed, is not a physical object, unless it is conceived in conjunc¬
tion with “matter.” If only it has “matter,”—that is, a nature
capable of affecting the external senses,—what particular
kind of matter it may have, is irrelevant to his inquiry.9 For
example, whether water or air must pre-exist in the produc¬
tion of the other of these two elements, is not the point with
which he is concerned. It is enough that there is in every
physical effect a principle of motion operating. It follows,
from the existence of such a principle, that there must be
also “matter;” otherwise the material effect—the effect
cognizable by the senses—would not have been produced.
The analogous inquiry in his system is, what principles
are prior in the order of transition, so that from their pre¬
sence^ or absence the constitution of any particular body re¬
sults ? What are those, in any instance, which never pass
into each other, and of which a physical object cannot be
deprived without its destruction ; and which may therefore
be regarded as elementary principles.
Hence his detailed investigation of Motion, in the tech¬
nical sense in which the term is employed in his philosophy.
In his system, changes of place or quantity or quality, gene-
ation and corruption, the action and passion of bodies, their
mixture, are all instances of Motion. Hence also his dis¬
cussion in his physics of questions which, in modern philo¬
sophy, are more properly regarded as the province of the
metaphysician ; as the nature of infinity, of time, and place,
&c.: all which subjects, however, belong to his inquiry,
MetarT'J\\\SC' l1' s' 1’ US °V'rr‘S <PV‘r‘-e0S “(X*! KM MTM-, TOU K»U<T§M KM flft/tU*, IV eo UTU^t, T^COS ttUTO, KM M KUTO.
2 U’ j 'fC-‘ ’ f rr° ‘7Ci^i Ta sX<!'"rx Kivycria; km rrairicus tjjv rau (putriKH vourccv mm vgK'yy.ceruuv. Also De Coelo, i. C. 2.
u/ovtJWaf'lu tra"substantiation is Wholly built on, and maintained by, a logical philosophy of this kind. The remark will readily
be extended to other refinements of scholastic theology. ^ ° j j
I J he <?bser^es> the tei™ nature is metaphorically applied to denote the being, ovmk, of anything. (Metaph. v. c. 4.)
, • ISC. 11. C. , MaX/o-ra s (favs^av fn rav k. r. X. De Anim. iii. C. 12, 'Evsza rov yao avrocvroc ry (punt, r, trvf/.'rroipK'rK iffrM
5 7,..’ ..? ya■ZP^Ktt^ITrr0', tvs yivinaos riXltrU-uirtis, Tu.urn') <peef/,iv rjjv cpuiriv mm iKKirrou, iurvip miS-omtov, iW'Trou, oixtu;.
6 £ , T”’ 11” CaP‘ q 12 5 D6 0cel°> 1 CaIJ’ 4’ and n- caP‘ 5> 8> 111 et Cor. ii. c. 10; Polit i cap. 1, 5.
8 Alt' hUSC:.1.1' caP- y< 7 See Bishop Butler’s Analogy, Introd. p. 9 ; also Origen. con. Cels. ii. p. 102, ed. Cantab,
cap 5 ^ 6aP‘ ’ ^ £11 £* [A.W ovro; ymstrSut jracv S avraf, a^sSav tzvocvrevv sitti xa/vav 'hoyy.K ruv iri^i (pumas. Also Nat. Ausc. i.
De Gen. et Cor, i. cap. 3, Ta Sij tcsutk, » rcioturtx, stick wtotiSipS-m, ouStv rov yug t^otov ^riroufciv, «XX’ ou to UTroKUfJt.svov.
544 A R I S T 0 T L E’S
Theoretic inasmuch as they are implied in the various processes of
Philoso- Motion.
P11)’- A speculative difficulty, however, occurred in the prose-
cution of this physical theory, like that which perplexed the
material philosophers in respect to the pre-existence of
matter. He had to account for the production by Motion
of “ a Form” not previously existing.1 This he explained by
the subtile distinction between potential and actual being.
This, in fact, is his analysis of Motion ; Motion being the
exertion in act of that intrinsic efficacy which is in a thing
to produce a particular Form. He speaks of this power in
Nature of working ends, as analogous to the skill of a phy¬
sician2 working his own cure. Nature, which is thus in his
view as a kind of life3 to all existing things, realizes in it¬
self those principles, which are inherent in its constitution,
before latent but now developed, when an actual effect takes
place. Nothing, accordingly, is produced, in his system,
which was not, though in another mode, before in existence.
What already existed potentially is produced into actuality
and manifested to our perception in some physical object.
To describe it in terms of modern philosophy, we should say
it was a transition from metaphysical existence to physical;
from the subjective to the objective ; from an object of the
mind only cognizable by the internal principles of oui con¬
stitution/to an object of the external senses;—the mind
perceiving the principle of motion as a principle, the senses
giving us the impression of the principle moving or operating
on matter.
This doctrine of potential being, transmitted by the specu¬
lations of the schools, and perverted to realism, has given oc¬
casion to represent a coincidence on this point in the sys¬
tem of Aristotle with the ideal theory of Plato, the very part
of Plato’s philosophy which Aristotle most directly opposed.
But it should be observed, that the forms of which Aristotle
speaks are not, like the ideas of Plato, separate existences,
constituent of physical objects. They are the philosophy
of nature considered as an instinctive principle of motion—
general principles under which the mind classes the effects
of physical power, analogously to its own operations when it
proceeds to realize in some outward act any idea which it
has conceived. . .
Leaving, then, the question as to the element or material it-
self, of which physical objects are composed, untouched, Aris¬
totle examines what principles reject and exclude one another
in the various changes of the material world. For these are the
causes of the transitions of one nature into another, and of
generation and corruption : the presence of one involving
the privation of all those forms of matter dependent on the
presence of the other. What these mutually excluding prin¬
ciples are, he decides by a reference to the sense of touch ;
that being the proper evidence to us of the existence of body.
Sight, indeed, may give us the first notices of the existence
of a material thing; but it does not inform us of the material
nature of the thing. This we infer from the resistance to
the sense of touch. Accordingly, Aristotle explains what is
sensible to be what is tangible.5 The contrarieties then as¬
certained by touch, and which account therefore for all the
different forms of matter, are hot and cold, dry and moist;
the first two as active principles, the last two as passive.
The touch, indeed, informs us of other contrarieties, but
they are all reducible to these four heads, with the excep¬
tion of light and heavy. The last are excluded from the
class of physical principles. For though, in common with
other ancient philosophers, he held them to be positive
PHILOSOPHY.
and absolute natures, he found, that they could not act Theoretic
on each other, and therefore could not effect any physical Philoso-
change. As hot and cold cannot co-exist, nor can moist i Ph^ /
and dry, these four principles admit only of four combina-
tions: and the effect of each combination is a different
element. The combination of hot and dry, is fire ; of hot
and moist, air; of cold and dry, earth ; of cold and moist,
water. Any one of these element may pass into another6
by the privation of one of the combined principles. In such
an event, the contrary principle, which had been only ex¬
cluded by the presence of its contrary, combines with the
remaining one. For example, water is transformed into air,
by the privation of cold, and the consequent combination of
hot with the moist which remains. Or both principles com¬
bined may be superseded by the two opposites, as when fire
and water may be changed into each other. Thus there is
a subordination of principles wherever the principle of mo¬
tion is exerted in act. First, there must be matter, that is,
a principle susceptible of the contrarieties; then the contra¬
rieties ; and last of all, the material elements themselves.7
When the change effected involves an entire change of the
material from which it proceeds, the process is that of gene¬
ration and corruption. But when the change is simply in
the affections of some existing body, as in the instance of a
person from being unmusical becoming musical, or of the
food of an animal being converted into its substance, the
process is that of alteration.8
Thus does Aristotle account for all the changes which
take place in the world immediately about us. Whether
we observe things generated, or altered in their sensible
qualities, or varied in bulk, or place (and to one or another
of these every physical effect may be referred), the changes
observed may be traced to the operation of a principle which
is either one of these four already mentioned, or some modi¬
fication of them. For all the intermediate principles be¬
tween two contrarieties, or the degrees of them, are to be
regarded as contrary, and capable therefore of effecting phy¬
sical changes in the same manner as the extremes.
But the changes which occur immediately in the world
around us, constituted, in the view of the ancient philosopher,
a very inferior part of the objects of physical science. I he
luminaries of the superior celestial world were regarded by
Aristotle as more excellent than man, and the study of their
laws as a higher employment of the intellect than the philo¬
sophy of human life.9 Besides, however, the intrinsic ex¬
cellence of this branch of physics, it demanded his attention
from its necessary connection with the development of his
theory of Motion. Now, all other physical changes imply
local change. Local change may therefore be inferred to
be prior to every other.10 Further, to keep up the constant
succession of generation and corruption which is carried on
in the world, and the passing of one nature into another,
there must be some principle ever in actual being. But, no
other than the revolution of the heavenly bodies continuing
incessantly, this alone exhibits a principle of local motion
adequate to the effect. Aristotle, accordingly, was led to
speculate on the motions of the heavens, in order to trace
up the propagation of Motion in this lower world, through its
successive impulses, to the First Mover. I his being dis¬
covered, his philosophy of Nature is completed : since Na¬
ture is then fully explored according to his analysis, as the
principle of motion and rest.
His whole astronomy is deduced from the notions of light¬
ness and heaviness, as intrinsic and absolute properties of
1 Nat. Ausc. iii.; De Gen. et Cor. i. cap. 3.
2 Nat. Ausc. it. cap. 8, MuXurru 2s "SriXeiv, ora.v ns lur^ivyi kv-tos savrsv rouru somiv » fviris.
3 Ibid. viii. cap. 1, Olov Z,m ns w<r«. rus <pv<ru vmurruai vtcuriv.
4 Ibid. viii. cap. 14. Du Val, vol. i. p. 414. 6 De Gen. et Cor. ii. c. 2.^
7 Ibid ii. C. 1, butts 2s ®«usv lXw nvu tuv (ra^Kruv rcov cuirSvrav, kXXk Tuunsv ov xu£i<rrri\i, U.XX' as/ p,sr ivKvnumios,x. T. .
8 Ibid\ L c 4. ^ f 2 Eth. Nic. Vi. c. 7. 10 Metaph. iii. c. 2, p. 860; Mag. Mor. i. c. 33.
6 Ibid. ii. c. 4.
A K I S T O T L E’S P H X L O 8 0 P H Y. 545
Theoretic bodies. He considers lightness the same as positive ten-
Philoso- dency upwards, and heaviness as positive tendency down-
Phy- wards. But this view implied that there were certain fixed
v—points, the extremes to which these qualities of bodies tended,
and in which bodies naturally rested as they possessed either
lightness or heaviness. Each of the material elements, ac¬
cordingly, had its proper place in the universe, correspond¬
ing to the degree of lightness or heavinesss which he con¬
ceived them to possess, both absolutely in themselves, and
relatively to each other. Fire he placed in the extreme point
upwards, earth in the lowest; air next to fire, and water next
to earth. Each of these elements, therefore, he argued, as
naturally tending either upwards or downwards, moved in a
straight line, and could not consequently move naturally in
a circle. Hence the earth must be at rest, and therefore be
the centre of the universe. For if it revolved round the sun,
as the Pythagoreans thought, it would be moving unnatu¬
rally, and therefore could not move eternally. Hence, also,
no revolving body could consist of any of the four material
elements. It must be some other material, some other ele¬
ment, to which circular motion was as natural as rectilineal
motion is to earth or fire.
On the ground of such speculative notions Aristotle
proceeded in constructing his system of the universe; in
opposition to the more enlightened conclusions of the Py¬
thagorean, and the records of Egyptian and Babylonian1
observations on the heavens. In some instances, indeed, his
view was more correct. He admits the spherical2 form of the
earth, from the evidence of lunar eclipses, in which he had
remarked that it always exhibits a curved outline; and in¬
fers its magnitude to be not very great,3 from the variation
of horizon consequent on a little variation of our position on
its surface. But, in acknowledging these facts he was in¬
fluenced by their accordance with his speculations a priori,
as he rejected or misinterpreted other facts from their re¬
pugnance to these speculations. For the spherical form of
the earth resulted from his theory of heaviness. It was the
effect of the tendency of all the particles of the earth to the
lowest point; this lowest point being a centre of the two op¬
posite hemispheres of the heavens. For, that the whole hea¬
vens were spherical, he supposed a necessary consequence
of the perfection belonging to them, a solid being the per¬
fect mathematical dimension. The tendency, consequently,
of all the particles of the earth to the lowest point, was a
tendency towards a middle ; or this lowest point would be a
centre round which the earth would adjust itself in a spheri¬
cal mass.
The reason assigned by Aristotle for the revolutions of
the heavens, as appears, then, is precisely opposite to that of
modern philosophy. He conceived revolution to be per¬
formed, not in consequence of a tendency to the centre, but
of the absence of any such tendency in the revolving body.
Revolution and gravity are, according to him, contradictory
terms. The motions of the several heavenly bodies result
from their being carried round by spheres, which consist of
this revolving element. That they do not revolve in them¬
selves he considers to be evident from the fact that the moon
always presents the same side towards us. They are incap- Theoretic
able indeed of motion in themselves, he argues, in being Philoso-
spherical, nature seeming purposely to have denied them all v ;
power of motion in giving them the form least apt for mo¬
tion. I hey revolve, therefore, from being bound in revolv¬
ing spheres, the first in order of which is that in which the
fixed stars are placed, and then the several planets (five in
number), the sun, and next to the earth the moon ;4 and to
account for the apparent irregularities in the motions of the
heavenly bodies, he supposes, following the theory of Eu¬
doxus,5 that there were as many additional spheres employed
in the revolutions of each body as it appeared to have dif¬
ferent motions.
The oblique motion of the sun, viewed in connection with
the successive renewals and decays of nature, as he ap¬
proaches or recedes from the earth, suggested the most ready
link for connecting the phenomena of the earth with those
of the heavens. It is, accordingly, to the revolution of the
sphere of the sun, that Aristotle ascribes the continuation of
generation and corruption in unbroken series, and the con¬
sequent perpetuity of being in the world around us. It
might be supposed that generation and corruption would be
carried on at equal intervals. But the unequal temperament
of material things prevents such a uniformity ; and occasions
that variety of duration, which we observe in different things
within the sphere of the moon, the sublunary world, or the
limits of Nature properly so called.6
Still, however, it remained to be explained what it was
that imparted to the sphere of the sun, as well as to the
several other spheres, their principle of motion. To every
thing that is itself moved there must be a mover: and the
successive motions, therefore, as communicated from sphere
to sphere, must be traced up to some first principle, itself
unmoved, in which they originate.
Here, then, we discern the close connection of Aristotle’s
Physics with his Metaphysics; and at the same time the
ground of his applying to the latter science the designation
of Theology. The several spheres of the heavens, differing
in element from the bodies of this lower world, and pursu¬
ing their unceasing and immortal revolutions, presented a
distinct class of ovcnai, beings, or substances, to the specu¬
lation of the philosopher. To ascertain that in which they
moved and had their being, was an inquiry, with regard to
them, analogous to his investigation of the principle of Mo¬
tion in the natural world. This principle of motion to these
celestial substances would be Being itself, or the very vital
Energy in which they had their being.7 At the same time,
in exploring this primary Being, he would be tracing those
general principles by which the mind held together the va¬
rious objects of physical contemplation to one primary law
or master-principle, in which, as in a single theorem, all the
truths of philosophy should be comprized.8
This intimate connection of Theology with Metaphysics,
in the Ancient Philosophy, was a natural consequence of the
separation which heathenism established between Theology
and Religion. In the civilized states of antiquity, Religion
was pursued only as a matter of policy, and not as a rule of
1 Metaph. i. 1. Herodot. Euterp. 109.
2 He speaks of it in Meteor, ii. c. 5, p. 562, as shaped like a tympanum.
3 Mathematicians, he says, had computed its circumference to be 400,000 stades, or about 40,000 miles.
4 The Pythagoreans connected with this notion the beautiful fancy of the music of the spheres. Aristotle expresses his admiration of
the thought, but denies its possibility. The stars move with the spheres, he says, like the parts of a ship with the ship, and therefore
can make no sound. (Be Ccelo, ii. 9.)
5 Metaph. xiv. c. 8. Eudoxus assigned fifty-five spheres on the whole; or, deducting those added to the sun and moon, forty-seven.
Aristotle only states this as what may reasonably be thought; leaving, he says, the assertion of its necessity to others more positive,
HTx,u£ori£ois, than himself, p. 1003, Du Val. Eudoxus of Onidus went into Egypt about 368 B.c. and introduced the regular astronomy
from Egypt into Greece. Aristotle gives him the high praise of recommending his theory of Pleasure as the Chief Good, by the distin¬
guished morality of his life. (Eth. Me. x. 2.)
6 Be Gen. et Cor. ii. c. 10. 7 Mat. Ausc. viii. c. 4, 5, 6, 8 ; Metaph. xiv. c. 6 and 7.
8 Metaph. iii. 2, ri y<x.t> a^iKarix.rri, xki h J/irvrig SavXaj uvruwiiv t«; aXXocf ^ikkiov, n rou riXovs xoci ruyuS-oti
Toiu.vrn.
VOL. III. 3 z
546 ARISTOTL E’S
Theoretic life to the individual. Whatever was the established creed
Philoso- 0f thg state, it was the recognized duty of the good citizen
Ph^ t to support as established.1 Not involving any question of
truth or falsehood in the particular creed adopted, it readily
admitted of any additions of superstition not repugnant to the
laws and manners of the state ; but imperiously rejected all
questioning of the fundamental assumption of the import¬
ance of that which was established.2 It may be said to have
been the great principle of their religion, that it should be
made no question of truth and falsehood. The religious in¬
stincts of the human heart were under such a system at once
gratified and diverted from their proper end. Their strength
was spent in the vain amusement of festal ceremonies, and
their purity corrupted by demoralizing orgies. In this state of
things, the better and wiser part of men were driven into a
metaphysical religion. They could not acquiesce in the views
of the Deity presented by the popular superstitions. Yet the
subject could not but recur to them in the reasonings of their
hearts, as soliciting earnest inquiry. They searched for God,
accordingly, not seeking what to do, but what to knoiv. What¬
ever the truth concerning Him might be, it was not to be ex¬
pressed in the uplifting of pure hearts and hands to Him.
Though the whole world might be found his temple, He was
not to be worshipped as the Holiness of their shrines. Though
the heavens were telling of his glory, and the stars were sing¬
ing together for joy at his presence, yet no praise was to
ascend to Him, the Lord of heaven and earth, in the perfumes
of their altars, or the poetry of their hymns. Thus devotion,
being banished from the heart, sought a refuge for itself in
the wilderness of a speculative theological philosophy. Hence
Socrates and Plato, and Aristotle and Cicero, and other illu¬
minated sages of heathenism, continued, without hypocrisy,
professors of the established religion, whilst they aspired after
a purer knowledge of God in the thoughtful abstractions of
their own intellect.
Looking, then, at the admirable order of the heavenly
bodies, the philosopher saw, in their unvarying regularity, the
immutable and eternal nature of the great Principle on which
their motions depended. He did not, it seems, attribute to
them a proper divinity in themselves ; for he refers their per¬
petuity of motion to the ultimate principle or First Mover,
the Deity of his system. But he speaks as if they possessed
a divine nature.3 He also says that we must think of them
as partaking of life and action. He must be supposed, how¬
ever, by such expressions, to be giving only an analogical
description of the perfection in which they display the effi-
PHILOSOPHY.
cacy of the First Great Principle. Contrasted with the un- Theoretic
stable things of the earth, they evidence the Principle of Mo- Philoso-
tion perpetually operating without interruption ; whereas the v ^ ^ ^ ;
successions of generations and corruptions about the earth
only approximate to the perpetuity of the heavenly motions.
We ought indeed to interpret in the same manner his ascrip¬
tion of power to Nature as a Principle of Motion. It seems
as if he was excluding the agency of Deity. But in truth he
is only tracing the mode of the operation of the First Prin¬
ciple. For he thinks that all things attain the good of their
nature, so far as they have something divine actuating them.
It is this divinity in them which is the primary source of all
perceptions of pleasure.4 Further, it is the indistinct appre¬
hension of the same that he supposes to be the motive of
exertion in all things that are capable of action, though they
may be unconscious of its being so.5 Hence it has been
maintained, that the doctrine of Aristotle differed but little
from the pantheism of the modern infidel.6 The operations of
Nature, then, as well as the revolving spheres of the heavens,
are divine, inasmuch as they illustrate more or less perfectly^
the animating principle of all Motion,—the operation of
Deity itself. At the same time, there is no notion of Deity-
inculcated under the idea of the Creator and Governor of
the Universe. It is simply as the Life of the Universe—the
Intellect—the Energy—as what gives excellence, and perfec¬
tion, and joy to the whole system—that his philosophy sets
forth the notion of Deity. I* is, in short, pure Being, ab¬
stracted from all matter, and therefore only negatively defined
as without parts or magnitude, impassible, invariable, eternal.
But whilst his system included no providence,7 it has the merit
of excluding the operation of chance and accident. These,
he observes, are not capable of being causes of any thing ;
they are merely descriptions of what takes place contrary to
some presupposed design, or some tendency in Nature.8
In his Metaphysics, properly so called, he considers this
First Principle strictly in a metaphysical point of view. His
professed object here is, to inquire into “ Being so far forth
as it is Being, and the general properties belonging to it as
such.”9 Having traced the changes which occur about the
earth to a fixed principle, he had presented one unchange¬
able point of view in which the human mind might contem¬
plate the vast and restless variety of physical objects. It re¬
mained for him, then, to examine this principle in itself,
in order to attain a sure and perfect science, the highest and
first Philosophy, in the knowledge of the fixed and immut¬
able, and necessary.
1 See Xenophon’s Memorab. iv. c. 4. The great rule of piety inculcated by Socrates is, nonius. See also Polyb. vi. 56.
2 Even Aristotle says that there are some who are not to be argued with; and mentioning such as require punishment rather than
argument, he instances in those who question “whether one ought to honour the gods, or love parents,” Top. i. See also i. c. 3.
3 Metaph. xiv. 8. p. 1003, “ It has been handed down by the primitive and ancient, left to those after them in the figure of fable,
both that these are Gods, and that the Divinity encompasses universal nature. But all else has been fabulously associated for influence
with the multitude, and for its use in respect to the laws and expediency. For they say that these are of human form, and like some
of the other living beings; and other things, they say, consequent on, and similar to those mentioned. From which accounts should one
separate and take that only which was first, that they conceived the first Beings to be Gods, he might consider it to have been divinely
said; and that, as probably each art and philosophy has been often discovered to the utmost and again lost, so also that these their
opinions, like relics, have survived up to the present time. Now our hereditary opinion, and that derived from the first men, so far only
is manifest to us.”
1 Eth. Nic. vii. C. 13, vrarrK yag ipvmi i%ti n Stiov, x. r. X.
5 Ibid. x. 3, ,<rus $£ *<*< sv to,s <?kv\o,', x. t. X.; also, Metaph. xiv. 7, p. 1000, Du Val; Polit. vii. 3, <r^aX? i tx°‘ *a;
Taj 0 xotpos, x. t. X.; also De Ccelo, i. 9. In Le Anim. i. 3, he substitutes “ the Deity,” where, according to his usual mode of speaking,
he would say “nature,” xatroi y tov 9ss», x. t. X. p. 625, Du Val.
6 See Bayle’s Diet., article Aristotle.
7 There is a passage in his Ethic. Nicom. x. 8, in which he alludes to the supposition of a divine superintendence, txipiXuu', but he
there evidently makes the appeal rhetorically, to recommend that cultivation of the intellect in which he places man s highest happi¬
ness. A further evidence of this is, his speaking of gods in the plural in that passage. At any rate, the superintendence bere spoken
of is distinct from what we mean by providence, as he does not suppose it extended over the bad as well as the good. In his Magna
Moralia, ii. c. 8 (Du Val, vol. ii. p. 185), he argues that the superintendence and benevolence of the Deity cannot be supposed the same
as good fortune, because it is not reasonable that the Deity should superintend, over the bad; and that we observe
the bad sometimes fortunate.
8 This view of Chance agrees with the remark in Thucydides, that “ we are accustomed to charge Fortune with whatever happens
sraja x«y«v, out of, or beside, the course of reason,” book i. chap. 140. Aristotle has expressed the same in his Rhetoric, i. c. 5, eirn St x<u
Xoyov aya9/vv xma
9 Nat. Ausc. ii. 6, 7, 8; Metaph. xiii. 8.
Theoretic
Philoso¬
phy-
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
This employment of the term “ Being” may give the ap-
perance of the investigation being concerned with positive
objective realities, independent of the human mind for their
existence. But though his mode of expression, and perhaps
his example in some parts of his Metaphysics, may have
afforded occasion to the ontology of the schools, he cannot
justly be charged with the realism and absurdity of that sys¬
tem. These may be traced chiefly to a circumstance already
adverted to—the introduction of Aristotle’s philosophy into
the Western Church by the medium of Latin translation.
The term oima, by which he denotes existence in the ab¬
stract, as distinct from any object of which it is affirmed,
having been rendered in Latin by substantia, it came to be
supposed that the natures or principles represented by the
term had a real subsistence. Thus the doctrine of Aristotle
respecting Being was understood in a sense precisely the
reverse of that which the philosopher himself intended. The
analogy on which the application of the term substantia to
metaphysical subjects was founded, became obscured by the
actual force of the term itself. Instead of its being regarded
as denoting only a relation between our conceptions corre-
spondingto that between a thing supported andwhat supports
it, the idea was suggested of an external objective reality, or
even of a material nature, as implied by the term.
Rightly, however, to understand Aristotle’s notion of Be¬
ing, as it is the object of his Metaphysics, we should distin¬
guish between Being as it is in nature generally, and as it
is conceived in the human mind. For it is in this last sense
that it must be understood, when it is stated to be the ob¬
ject of the universal science; since there is no other sense
in which Being which is not in anything can be affirmed,
but as it is the pure object of intellect, or exists in the in¬
tellect solely. Looking, then, at nature at large, we must
apply Being, in its first and proper sense, to individual objects
really existing; and, in a secondary sense, to the attributes
of such : because, the first notion of Being in nature is sug¬
gested by the actual existence of the object; and our next
notions result from the operations of our minds about the
object already presupposed in existence. But the case is
different when the objects whose being we are considering
are pure objects of intellect in themselves. Here the ab¬
stract notions of things are the first in order:1 these are, rela¬
tively to the mind, the realities about which it is engaged;
whereas the actual objects in nature are, in this point of view,
the secondary beings. The reason is, that an object of the
mind, as such, exists in its proper nature when it is entirely
abstracted from all matter, but loses that nature in propor¬
tion as it is viewed in any actual form of physical existence.
Hence, in the science of Metaphysics, the proper if not
the only substance, or owia, is the form or abstract nature
of things.2 This, as explained by Aristotle, is the exemplar
or representation in the mind of a thing as it exists in nature.
As, then, the primary substances in nature are the things
themselves as they are found and observed in nature, so the
primary substances in the world of the mind are those ab¬
stract forms by which the truth and reality of things are there
shadowed out. The science of Metaphysics, then, is strictly
conversant about these abstract intellectual forms, just as
Natural philosophy is conversant about external objects of
which the senses give us information.
The object, then, of Aristotle in his Metaphysics is, to ex¬
plain the nature of those general notions by which the mind
represents to itself, and translates, as it were, into its own
language, the objects without it, and speculates about them.
547
Hence, in technical terms, he speaks of this science as the Theoretic
science of First Causes—the First Philosophy—or by the Philos°-
general titles of Philosophy and Theology. A science such as ^ y
this, corresponds with what modern writers have designated v ^
the Philosophy of the Human Mind. They, indeed, have di¬
rected their attention rather to the powers and operations of
the Mind ; the study of which, in his view, belongs to Physics.
He, however, has confined himself—in those books at least
which, as a sequel to the Physical, have obtained, from that
circumstance, the name of the Metaphysical—to the objects
about which the Mind is immediately conversant.3
In this inquiry, Aristotle had to encounter two extremes of
opinion maintained by philosophers before him—the doctrine
of Protagoras, Empedocles, and others, who held that there
was no fixed standard of thought—no absolute reality,—but
that everything was relative to human perception ; and the
imaginative theory of Plato, which, by the hypothesis of
self-existent Ideas, introduced a subtile materialism into
the philosophy of mind, whilst, no less than the former
theory, it made the external world a land of shadows and
unrealities.
He points out the practical absurdity of the former opi¬
nion, according to which contradictories were equally true,
and every proposition was equally true and equally false—
by asking,4 “ why a man walks to Megara, and does not re¬
main still, thinking that he is walking; why he does not go
down a well or a precipice, as it may happen, the first thing
in the morning, but appears to use caution, as not equally
thinking the falling in to be good, and not good ?”5 Again,
that men do not regard all notions as equally true, is plain,
he observes, from this, that “ no one who may have supposed
himself during the night at Athens, when in Libya, walks
to the Odeum.”6 He refutes, however, this sceptical doctrine
more expressly, by distinguising between the reality of things
as they exist absolutely or relatively to our perceptions.
There may be no reality of Being, either in that which is per¬
ceived, or in the perception, these being affections of the per¬
cipient power. But it is impossible, that there should not
really exist some objects externally, which produce the per¬
ception, and are independent of perception. Whereas those
who make Being dependent on perception, by asserting that
whatever appears is true, imply that nothing would exist if
there were no living creatures.7 Hence it appears that Aris¬
totle virtually admits the distinction made by modern meta¬
physicians between the primary and secondary qualities of
matter. He affirms, that whilst we have ideas of things with¬
out us which are simply our own perceptions, or acts of the
perceiving mind, there must also be some really existing na¬
tures without us on which these perceptions are founded.
The Ideal theory of Plato tended to the same scepticism
as the doctrine of these elder philosophers, but on a different
principle. Plato destroyed all the certainty of our know¬
ledge, by fixing the objects of it entirely out of the range of
human intellect, and teaching men to abandon the informa¬
tion of the senses and experience, in the pursuit of abstract
Ideas, the imaginary archetypes or exemplars of the things
of the sensible world. He established in his system other
beings separate from nature as the objects of philosophy; whilst
his predecessors denied that there were any proper objects
founded in nature. But both he and they equally removed
all grounds of conviction from the mind of man. Aristotle,
accordingly, strenuously combats the doctrine of Ideas as
adverse to all sound speculation. He loses no opportunity,
in the course of his discussions, of alluding to it and refut-
1 Metaph. xiii. c. 4, t»?v Se -r/iuTnv s/^xa^sv i-ritrTv/Ativ toutoiv aval, xaS-’ otrov ovtk tk u vox a fa it a. unit, aXX’ ou% fi iti^ov ti-
2 Ibid. vii. 5. 3 Ta TO. <$v<nxoi. 4 Ibid. iv. c. 4; Du Val, ii. p. 876.
6 Ibid. iv. c. 5. 6 Ibid. iv. 4, 5.
7 Ibid. iv. 5, to ftiv ovv p,tiTi ra ai&riTa avat, //.viti too ato’^np.aTK, lo'as rov yap aitrSxvofiivov vaS-os tovto irrr to Ss tx uvoxiiftiva fin
aval a voia tvjv attrSninv, xai avtu aio’Svjo'iaii, adt/vxTov.
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
548
Theoretic ing it.1 He speaks of it as overthrowing all science, by mul-
Philoso- tiplying, instead of reducing to certain definite principles, the
Pliy- variety of the objects of contemplation. “ It is like,” he says,
J “ any one wishing to reckon, but who, thinking himself un¬
able when he had less, should make more, and then reckon.”2
The Ideal theory was, as has been before remarked, a mo¬
dification of the Pythagorean theory of Numbers, or a mix¬
ture of logical and mathematical truth. Hence the impor¬
tance assigned by Plato to Mathematics, as introductory to
the philosophy of the Ideas. The theory of Pythagoras was,
it seems, purely mathematical. It appears to have been an
application of the properties of numbers to the solution of the
phenomena of the universe. Plato proceeded a step further,
and endeavoured more distinctly to account for the great va¬
riety of objects by the help of the abstractions of language.
Still he retained so much of the mathematical conception as
to make the knowledge of the Ideas dependent on the know¬
ledge of mathematics; describing the objects of mathematics
as intermediate to the Ideas and sensible objects.3 Aristotle
shews, then, in opposition both to the Pythagoreans and to
Plato, that there are no such principles as Numbers or Ideas
really existent in Nature as primary and constituent elements
of things.
There is no point, in fact, on which Aristotle has spoken
more plainly than in denying a separate existence to those
secondary natures, which, in the language of the Schools, were
afterwards called Universals. It is to individuals alone that
he allows a real existence.4 Pie remarks, that when any
principle is asserted of several things, it is by analogy; as in
fact there are distinct principles in each distinct thing; “ for
the particular is the principle of the particulars in each thing.”5
Thus, “whilst the universal man is the principle of man, Peleus
is the father of Achilles—your own father of yourself.” In
things generically distinct, as colours and sounds, the principles
differ, but are the same by analogy. In things specifically
the same, the principles differ, not in species, but as they are
distinct in each individual; e. g., the matter, the form, and
the moving power, are distinct in this and that man; but in the
general principle, tw kcl6o\ov Aoyu, they are the same.” So
clearly has he laid it down, that none but individuals have a
positive absolute existence, and that all other beings are rela¬
tive to these, and results of the operation of our minds about
them.
In extending our survey to the several subjects included
in the metaphysical books, we must remember, that the
science of which he is treating had hitherto been blended
with logic under the general name of Dialectic. It was hardly
to be expected, therefore, that Aristotle, in making the sepa¬
ration, should altogether forget the prejudice which had
united them. Nor must we wonder, therefore, that much of
the work should be employed in discussing the meaning of
terms, and in observations addressed rather to the dispu¬
tant in words, than to the inquirer into principles of philo¬
sophy. But we should be too hasty in judgment, if we con¬
demned such discussions as foreign to the purpose of the
metaphysician. The accurate examination of the notions ex¬
pressed by such terms as being, oneness, sameness, contra¬
riety, power, is illustrative of the connections of our ideas;
for these terms are not dependent on the peculiarities of any Theoretic
one language, but are uniform characters of human thought. Philoso-
It is a curious and important inquiry, accordingly, to ascer- Ph)’-
tain that connection of ideas of which these terms are the
expressions; to trace, for example, the various modes of
thought to which the term contrariety applies, or which are
characterized under the description of qualities.
The inquiry, then, into Mind, considered in itself as a prin¬
ciple of life, and thought, and action, forms no part of Aris¬
totle’s Metaphysics. In his philosophy such an inquiry be¬
longs to Physics; since he regards Mind only as a principle
connected with matter. This inquiry he has prosecuted in
a Treatise On the Soul, or Life, and in several smaller trea¬
tises On the Parts and Motions of Animals, On Perception,
On the Duration of Life, Youth and Old Age, Life and
Death, Respiration, Memory, Sleep and Waking, and
On Dreaming. To these should be added the book On
Physiognomy, and his larger work the Treatise on Animals;
which, though properly a work of Natural history, is also illus¬
trative of the nature of Soul, or the living principle in all
animated, material beings. In these several works, there is
less of mere speculation, and a more distinct evidence of that
power of real philosophy, the Swazis avaXxnLK-q, which he so
eminently possessed. We find him stating and examining
facts,6 drawing from them conclusions in the spirit of a mo¬
dern inquirer, though at the same time with the severe accu¬
racy of his own method.
The ingenuity of the ancient philosophers was exhausted
in attempting to assign the nature of the Soul or living prin¬
ciple. There was no one of the elements, except earth, which
did not find its advocate in some theory of the Soul. It was
represented also as a combination of all elements; or as blood;
or intrinsic motion; or a harmony and conjunction of contra¬
ries. Aristotle, pursuing the method of his Physics, wisely
avoids endeavouring to refer the soul to any particular class
of material objects; explaining the nature of it, as it instances
the union of the two principles, matter and form, in a com¬
mon result. It is an instance of the principle of matter, so
far as there must be an organized body susceptible of life in
everything that lives. It is an instance of the principle of
form, so far as that nature, in which the life of the crea¬
ture consists, is perfectly developed in the animated body.
His definition, accordingly, maintains the distinctness of body
and soul7 as two principles combined, without defining what
the soul is in itself. He illustrates their union by the ana¬
logy of the eye and the sight.8 There must be the eye in
order to sight; but the eye, though perfect in its structure,
is not an eye unless the principle of sight be superadded.
Thus, considering the principle of life as distinct from the
organization with which it is connected, he proceeds to in¬
quire into its laws, by examining the mode of its operation.
He divides its mode of operation into five classes, according
to the objects about which it is exercised. It is, 1st, a prin¬
ciple of nutrition, in which respect it is common to vege¬
tables and animals ; 2dly, of perception ; ‘idly, of appetites
and affections; A tidy, of intellect; otldy, of locomotion.
Wherever there is perception, there are also, he states, ap¬
petites and affections ;9 and consequently all these modes of
1 Gen. et Cor. ii. 9; Analyt. Post. i. 8, 19; Pth. Nic. i. c. 4; Metaph. xii. 4, 5; Atticus apud Euseb. Prcep. Evang. xv. c. 13; Plutarch
adv. Colotem.
2 Metaph. i. c. 7, and xi. c. 4. 3 See Plato De Repub. vii.; Aristot. Metaph. xii.
4 Categ. c. 5; Metaph. vii. c. 13; Annul. Post. i. 31.
® Metaph. xiv. 4 and 5, to Ixko-tov jckT ixotorov.
6 He speaks of this part of his philosophy as an inquiry; t»v tvs /Vto^kv. De Anim. i. 1.
7 De Anim. ii. 2, xco hx tout a kkXus iToXug.Za.tovtnv, oh coxu /xvts kviv ctoj/uutos iivki, y,vTt trap.* ti ^u^v' ceopu ptv yao ovk ioti, traipuros 2s
n, x. t. X. p. 633, Du Val. EvTsXt^uxv appellat novo nomine, quasi quandam continuatum motionemet perennem. (Cicero, Tusc. Qu. i.)
8 De Anim. ii. 1, s; yxg vv o oipB-ocXpot Z,mov, ipu^v x.t aurai jjv v o\}/is, x. t. X. p. 631.
9 Ibid. ii. 3, u 2’ xitrSviris tovtm v^ovv ti xxi Xvorv, x- r. X. p. 633. De Animal. Motione, c. 10, he compares the operation of the
soul on the different parts of the body of animals, to a well-ordered state, in which the various offices are regularly administered without
requiring the presence of the monarch on each occasion. (P. 709, Du Val.)
A R I S T O T L E’S
Theoretic operation of the living principle are evidenced in brutes, with
Philoso- the exception of intellect, which belongs to man exclusively.
Phy- His observations on Perception are highly important, as
tending to shew the existence of living powers in animals,
distinct from the organs by which those powers are displayed.
He affirms that there is always a medium interposed between
the perceiving power and the object perceived,—appealing
to the sense of sight. Sight, he observes, is not produced by
placing the object on the eye, nor yet can be produced by
the object itself at a distance. It must result, then, from
something intervening between the eye and the object, so as
to make an impression from the object on the eye. He mis¬
takes, indeed, the nature of this medium, conceiving light
to be the active development of the nature of transparency
in some body, as in air or water,1 and not material or cap¬
able of motion.2 But the conclusion itself is just. And
it serves to shew that the eye3 perceives only as an instru¬
ment of communication with external objects to an internal
power of the soul. The senses which appear to militate with
this conclusion are those of touch and taste. For these seem
to be produced immediately, without any interposed medium.
But there is no reason, he argues, to conclude the flesh to
be the feeling power in itself4 * because it acts instantane¬
ously. For an artificial membrane spread over the body
would produce the like instantaneous effect: and supposing
the air to grow all around us, we should in like manner have
immediate perception of all objects of sense, and thus ap¬
pear to have perceptions of sight, and hearing, and smelling,
by one sense.
Perception, then, according to Aristotle, is the power of
the soul to receive immaterial impressions from material ob¬
jects ; as the wax receives impressions of a seal without the
brass or gold of which the seal is made. The impressions
thus received, he regards, as the basis of all our knowledge ;
insomuch that a creature destitute of perception would be in¬
capable of understanding and learning. Touch* is the sense
indispensable to existence, and the only one so indispensable.
All the other senses, he says, have been added for the good
and perfection of the animal—tov ev ivexa. The sensations
are distinct, however, from the ideas of the mind. The sen¬
sations in themselves are never delusive. The same thing
is always sweet or always bitter. But the same sensations
may be followed by different ideas in different minds. To
a sick person, what is naturally sweet may seem bitter, or,
from accidental position with respect to the spectator, an ob¬
ject may appear different from what it is; as, for example,
the diameter of the sun. To the ideas thus formed imme¬
diately from Perception, Aristotle gives the name of phan¬
tasms ; and the power of Perception thus modified he calls
phantasia or Imagination.6 The delusiveness sometimes at¬
tributed to the senses themselves originates in this faculty of
Imagination consequent on sensation. Together with me¬
mory, it constitutes the whole intellectual nature of brutes.
In man it furnishes the first notices in order to the operation
of his intellect. By the operation of the intellect on these
notices the first simple ideas are formed, from which the mind
proceeds to its complex and general notions.
In considering the nature of the intellect, Aristotle intro-
PHILOSOPHY. 549
duces an important distinction between the mere capacity or Theoretic
faculty of knowledge, and the actual knowledge possessed I’h*'080-
by the mind; or between the intellect and the principles v ^ y' ;
ot the intellect. He employs the well-known illustration of V 1*"~
a writing tablet in which nothing is actually written,” to
distinguish the thinking faculty in itself from the thoughts
with which it is furnished. But he does not suppose, as this
illustration might suggest, that ideas are objects distinct from
the mind itself. Where the object of thought is itself im¬
material, as when the mind is reflecting on itself, there, he
observes, the thinking power and the object of thought are
the same.7 He conceives, however, that the mind is cap¬
able of existing without thinking,8 and consequently does
not resolve the whole understanding of man into conscious¬
ness. Hence, according to him, whilst the passive intellect,
or the mind, as it consists of principles with which the senses
have furnished it, perishes, the active intellect, the power it¬
self by which we think, exists in its proper nature when sepa¬
rate, and is immortal and eterna*1.9
It may be perceived, from this view of Aristotle’s Theory
of Soul, or Life, how far he acknowledged the Immortality of
man. So far as the nature of man is purely intellectual, he
conceived it capable of existing separately from matter, and
in some sense divine. But so far as it consists of affections,
which he describes as A.oyoi evvXoi, principles in matter, he
regarded it as mortal and necessarily perishable with the body.
He pronounces nothing on the nature of that immortality
which he thus attributes to the intellect, speaking of it in a
rhetorical manner rather than with the precision of philoso¬
phy. At any rate, as only asserting an immortality of such
an abstract and undefined nature, he seems not unjustly to
have been represented as opposed to Plato on the doctrine
of the Immortality of the soul.10
As Aristotle included under Physics animate as well as
inanimate nature, he has carried the historical part of his
natural philosophy into both these departments. His His¬
tory of Animals has been already mentioned. It is the pre¬
cious relic of an extensive work, for which the materials
were furnished to him by the conquests and the magnifi¬
cence of Alexander. This fact alone excites an interest in
favour of the work. And this interest is fully sustained by
the variety of curious information contained in it respecting
the structure and the habits of animals, indicating a power
of the most minute observation.11 He is said also to have
written a work on Comparative Anatomy. There are ex¬
tant among his works further illustrations of the animal eco¬
nomy, in treatises on the motion, the walking, the parts, and
the generation of animals. In inanimate nature he has ex¬
plored the causes of meteors, comets, earthquakes, of the
rainbow, and other phenomena of the atmosphere, in a work
on Meteorology. He has also separately discussed the na¬
ture of Colours, and of the objects of Hearing.
To this catalogue must be added two works which do not
strictly fall under either department of nature, The Pro¬
blems, containing queries chiefly on subjects belonging to
Natural Philosophy, with brief answers,—a curious work,
illustrative of his vast reach of observation, and his extraor¬
dinary sagacity in searching out the reasons of things ; and
1 J)e Anim. ii. c. 7, ii ivTi%.i%ua tov ^wupavous poo; am, p. 369. Dc Seusu ct Sensil. c. 2.
2 Be Anim. ii. c. 7.
3 The eye, he says afterwards, sees only, n 2;a®avsj, so far forth as it is transparent, no otherwise than water or air. (Be Sens, et
Sensil. p. 664, Du Val.)
4 Be Anim. ii. c. 11. p. 644.
6 He considers natural talent as connected with the delicacy of this sense. (Z)e Anim. ii. c. 9, p. 642.)
6 Ibid. iii. c. 3 and 4; Metaph. iv. c. 5. The term imagination must here be understood in the most general sense.
7 Ibid. iii. C. 5, ton g.tv yoc^ tuo avsu vXn; to ocvto itti to voovv xoci to voov//,£voy, p. 653.
8 Ibid. TOV 2t 0.7! OC.il VOilV TO Oc.IT 10V iOTtlTXlOCT iOV, p. 653.
9 Ibid. iii. 6.
10 Origen c. Cels. ii. p. 67, ed. Spenc.
11 It was the authority followed by Pliny in his Natural History. Pliny, viii. 16, says in allusion to it, “vir quern in iis magna secu-
turum ex parte prcefandum reor.”
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
550
Efficient a tract against the doctrines of Xenophanes, Zeno the Elea-
Philoso- and Gorgias.1 2
v / In Mathematics he has left very little. The only treatises
extant under this head are, The Mechanical Questions, and
a book On Indivisible Lines; both very inconsiderable works.
But he had been trained in the school of Plato, whose thresh¬
old was not to be passed by the uninitiated in geometry ;
and had attained a perfect skill in the method of mathema¬
tical investigation then known. We do not want, indeed,
more proof of this than is to be gathered from passages in
his Physics, in which we find him sometimes establishing
conclusions by steps of mathematical demonstration.
Efficient Philosophy.
Dialectic, or Logic.
Aristotle, as was before remarked, was the first to separate
the proper science of Dialectic or Logic from that confusion
with Physics and Metaphysics in which it had been entan¬
gled and perverted. In doing this he laid the foundation of
a sound and practical Logic. There was a basis of truth, he
saw, in the doctrine of Plato, which referred our knowledge
of all sensible objects to certain abstract universal ideas, the
objects of pure intellect. But he saw also that Plato had
entirely overthrown the right application of the doctrine,
by imputing to these universal a positive and distinct being.
Instead of treating them simply as principles of classification
and grounds of knowledge, Plato’s creative genius built the
world out of them, resolving all other existences into these as
the primary essences and causes of all things. Having stated,
then, the proper nature of these universals to be that of con¬
ceptions of the mind, by which it represents to itself things,
not in that variable character in which they appear, but as
they really are, Aristotle further considers them, in the
treatises of the Organon, as they are employed dialectically,
or are subservient to discussion and the communication of
knowledge between man and man. There was indeed an¬
other view of the application of abstract principles, and prior to
that of their employment in discourse, remaining to be con¬
sidered. This was their use in enabling the mind to con¬
nect the phenomena of Nature, or as they are the causes of a
proper scientific knowledge. But the state of philosophy in
his time did not lead him to such an inquiry. It was reserved
for an age of more diffused civilization, and the adventurous
spirit of Bacon, to display the principles of that analysis by
which the mind arrives at sound general principles, and ob¬
tains a real science of Nature. The practice of colloquial
discussion on questions of philosophy, recommended as it
was by the instructiveness and interest of the conversations
of Socrates, attracted the attention of Greek philosophers to
the mode of producing conviction by tracing out the con¬
nections and consequences of given statements. Aristotle,
accordingly, was diverted from the study of the method of
Investigation, to explore the application of general principles
to the business of Argument. In pursuing this inquiry, he
has laid down the principles of a logical science, applicable
to the inferences of the reasoner from probabilities, as well
as the most rigid demonstrations of the mathematician.3
Dialectic, in its original sense (for the term Logic is
only of modern use), is the method of deducing the proba¬
bilities on either side of a question, which is so framed as to Efficient
involve one of two contradictory propositions in the an- Philoso-
swer, according as the affirmative or negative of it is taken.4 Ph>'-
The discussions to which the term Dialectic refers being ^
carried on by a series of questions and answers, the design
of the art was to furnish the means of sustaining these in¬
tellectual exercises, by supplying not only principles of cor¬
rect reasoning, or rules of Logic properly so called, but vari¬
ous modes of proof and helps to the invention of arguments.5
To have a ready command of propositions on any given
point, and the objections against it, so as to be completely
armed for debate, was the perfect accomplishment of the
dialectician. This most obvious application of the science
produced unfortunately, in the haste to supply arms for the
disputant, instead of a philosophy of Reasoning, a misnamed
science, conversant chiefly about the intricacies of verbal
quibbling. Zeno the Eleatic, Euclid of Megara, and Antis-
thenes, took the lead in framing systems according to this
view. Nor do the Dialogues of Plato, though rich in ex¬
amples of reasoning, suggest anymore just and exact method.
Hence the Logic which prevailed at the time of Aristotle,
and which, from the partial acquaintance with his writings,
continued, even after his improvements in this branch of
philosophy, to be the system of the Greek schools, was a
mere collection of subtile points of argument, without any
attempt to analyze the process itself of argument. His Dia¬
lectic is the reformation of that irregular and perplexed sys¬
tem. Whilst he adopts and explains the general notion of
the science, as a method of defending or impugning an opi¬
nion, he takes a larger, more philosophical view of the sub¬
ject ; investigating the grounds, both in the nature of lan¬
guage and in the connections of thought, on which all argu¬
ment must rest. Hence his just boast, that “ with regard to
the dialectical art, there was not something done and some¬
thing remaining to be done,—there was absolutely nothing
done ; for those who professed the art of disputation resem¬
bled the rhetoricians of Gorgias’s school: for as these com¬
posed orations, so the other framed arguments which might
suit, as they imagined, most occasions. These their scholars
soon learned. But they were in this manner only furnished
with the materials produced by the art,—the art itself they
did not learn.” He goes on in the same passage to observe
that “ upon Rhetoric much had been written of old ; but on
syllogizing or reasoning, absolutely nothing; the whole of
what he had composed on that subject was from himself
—that he had “ derived no benefit from former labours
expressing his hope, accordingly, that what he had “ left
undone would be forgiven, and that what had been dis¬
covered would meet with a favourable acceptance.” 6
It is a singular fact in the history of science, that his la¬
bours in this arduous work should have suffered an unjust
depreciation in modern times, by being estimated in contrast
with the analysis of Bacon. According to his own chal¬
lenge, and as the reason of the case suggests, they admit
only of comparison with the efforts of his predecessors, and
of the Stoics, who, though following him, wrought upon
the ancient model of the science, and elaborated that to its
perfection. If we compare the method of Aristotle with
what is known of the wrangling discipline of the Stoics, we
shall then judge with more fairness of the philosophical cha-
1 So called in contradistinction to Zeno the Cittian, founder of the Stoics, from Velia in Italy, his birthplace.
2 The treatise on plants edited with his works is acknowledged by critics not to he the work of Aristotle, hut of Theophrastus. The
treatise Be Mundo may also he regarded as now decidedly rejected from the number of his works, as also the Collection of Wonderful
Narrations and perhaps the Fragment on the Winds; the internal evidence of these tracts being against their imputed authorship. It
is probable' that the works of Theophrastus were mixed with those of Aristotle, from the fact of Theophrastus having had some volumes
of Aristotle’s bequeathed to him, and having used them in the composition of his own. _
3 Anal. Prior, i. c. 1 and 30. Anal. Post. i. c. 11. ToP- vm- caP- 2-
5 Top. viii. cap. 5 et ult.; Cicero Be Fin. ii. cap. 6, and Top. ad Treb. cap. 2.
6 Soph. Flench, ii. last chapter.
A RI S T O T L E’S PHILOSOPHY.
551
Efficient racier of his labours. His disciples were content to be igno-
Philoso- rant of such a method as the Stoics taught,1 though, from its
Phy- untoward prevalence down to the time at least of Cicero, it
has probably been confounded with that of Aristotle, and
thus reflected its disrepute on his more scientific system.
With the method, however, of Bacon, the Logic of Aris¬
totle has no natural rivalry. In the period of literature pre¬
ceding the researches of Bacon, it happened that ingenious
men, with a natural devotedness to the studies by which
their minds had been moulded, sought to resolve the mys¬
teries of science by a profound Aristotelic philosophy.
Thus were principles of physics and metaphysics mixed up
with the theory of argumentation; as, on the other hand,
principles belonging to argumentation had been previously
applied to the analysis of nature. The writings of Aristotle
were regarded as a kind of Scriptural philosophy, beyond
which there was no appeal in controversies of science.2 And
when an authority of this kind is once established, it is easy
to see that a mere verbal philosophy will soon follow. Ex¬
pounding and commenting on the text of the master super¬
sedes the questioning of Nature; just as a mere textual theo¬
logy supersedes an enlarged study of the facts, and truths,
and scheme of Divine Revelation. But this perversion is not
to be regarded as the tendency of Aristotle’s philosophy.
Practically, indeed, he does not keep clear of the seductions
of realism. But in him realism is only a practical infirmity.
Theoretically, he was perfectly aware that “ the subtilty of
Nature far exceeds the subtilty of human intellect;3 and that,
accordingly, to ascertain what things are, we must know
them otherwise than dialectically. He would have dialec¬
tical skill employed for the purpose of stating and examining
the questions and difficulties belonging to a subject—not to
supersede an acquaintance with phenomena.4 He observes,
that when, in inquiries concerning what a thing is, men are
ignorant of the circumstances connected with it, they pro¬
nounce only logically and emptily;5 thus pointing out the
futility of applying an instrument of discussion to the real
business of philosophical investigation. So far, then, as dia¬
lectical art, by sifting a question thoroughly, clearing up ap¬
parent inconsistencies, and pointing out where the truth lies,
may be regarded as an organ of philosophy, so far Aristotle
authorizes the inquirer to employ it. It may serve as the pre¬
cursor and companion of investigation, but not as the sub¬
stitute. And thus he describes it as a method of “ trying,”
Trtipao-TiKT); whereas philosophy is a method of “ knowledge,”
yvupio-TiKr].6 It is quite opposite to his idea of dialectical art
to suppose it capable of furnishing the principles of the
several sciences. These, he expressly says, belong to the
sciences themselves, by which they must be supplied to the
dialectician according to the matter in hand.7 To the phi¬
losophical disputant they are the data with which he sets
out; or rather, so far as he is concerned with them, the hypo¬
theses, which he proceeds to discuss in their various points
of view, tracing their connection with, or opposition to, other
principles.8 * Aristotle, therefore, evidently did not intend
that the philosopher, as such, should rest in mere logical
speculation. And though he has not provided in his writ¬
ings an instrument of Investigation, giving only indirect Efficient
hints of such a method, he supposes it resorted to in prac- Philoso-
tice by the philosopher. His Logic, accordingly, instead of ( Ph> '
bemg put in contrast with the Novum Organon, is to be re-
garded as an auxiliary system, introductory to the latter, and
tending to enforce its use.
The error of the Schoolmen in applying logical principles
to the philosophy of Nature, arose from their misconception
of the nature of philosophical truth. They do not seem to
have been aware that philosophical principles are but expe¬
dients which the mind adopts for connecting and arranging
the various objects of Nature. Otherwise, they would have
seen that a science conversant about the connections of our
notions expressed in language, could not suffice for the in¬
vestigation, properly so called, of other sciences. When
the facts of this science were reduced to certain principles,
the whole object of the science was accomplished. The re¬
sult would be a scientific use of thought and language for the
purposes of debate and speculation. To carry this philosophy
into other matters, was an incongruity like that of combining
principles of mathematics and ethics.0 There was at the
same time a ground for their error, in the universality of
language, as the medium by which the truths of every science
are expressed; and its comprehensiveness and extent, as it
has the power of signifying by single terms an immense va¬
riety of objects. These imposing attributes of language
gave at least the semblance of philosophizing to their a priori
speculations. But could they have studied the writings of
their master in a freer spirit, their acute minds would have
seen the real use to which the universality and comprehen¬
siveness of language might be applied, without trespassing
on the legitimate province of Investigation.
A slight consideration of the nature of language may suf¬
fice to show the proper business of the dialectician. Lan¬
guage is the record of the observations of mankind on the
course of nature. It is, as it were, a popular philosophy.
Whatever may be its origin—whether words be merely con¬
ventional signs, as Aristotle teaches,10 or have a foundation
in the nature of the things denoted by them—still, their
application to observed objects and facts in Nature, is the
result of the operation of the human mind; and words, in
this use of them, are the creations of the intellect. The in¬
tellect takes up and applies the existing signs furnished by
language, however derived, to mark and preserve for its
future direction the dictates of its past experience. Thus,
the application of the term “ burning” to the observed effect
of fire on a combustible body, is an act of the mind record¬
ing its experience of that effect. Having recorded its ex¬
perience by this term, it thenceforth uses the term as a
substitute for the actual experience. Proceeding on that
fundamental law of human belief and action, that all things
will continue in their observed course, it trusts to the word
thus obtained as a guide to future conduct. It is sufficient
to say that anything “ burns,” to give us a representation of
the effect of fire, and direct us in our actions with regard to
that thing. Accordingly, by the use of terms, observations,
in themselves individual facts, are generalized. The term,
1 0lc?r,0 lntroduces Cato in the character of a Stoic, speaking of the Peripatetics as deficient in acuteness, “on account of their igno¬
rance of dialectic.” (7>e Fin. iii. cap. 12.) 6
J Where a disputant quoted a passage from this philosopher, he who maintained the Thesis durst not say Transeat, but had either to
deny the passage, or explain it in his own way. (Bayle, Diet., art. Aristot.) He refers, in evidence of this, to the Courses of Philosophy,
printed in the sixteenth century.
3 Bacon, Nov. Org. i. aph. 1.
4 so™etlme® expressly adverts to the difference between conclusions drawn s* T«v tunoutw and £* r&v Xoyw, as He Gen. et Cor. ii.
cap. 10; Eudem. i. cap. 6.
3 He Anim. i. cap. I p. 617, Du Val. 6 MetapK iv. cap. 2.
7 Anal. Pr. i. cap. 30; Anal. Post. i. cap. 1, 3, 9.
Bacon rightly describes the invention which belongs to Logic, in saying, “ Inventio enim dialectics; non est principiorum et axio-
matum praecipuorum, ex quibus artes constant, sed eorum tantum, quse illis consentanea videntur.” (Nov. Org. i. p. 82.)
Aristippus complained of mathematical science, that it gave no account of goods and evils. (Metaph. iii. c. 2.) As unreasonable is
the complaint of the barrenness of invention of the Aristotelian logic. 10 He Interpret.
552 ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Efficient originally the record of a single experience, serving practi-
Philoso- cally in the stead of a repeated experience, comes to stand
for a number of individuals. From its practical application
to a multitude of similar events, it obtains a speculative mul¬
tiplication as the general expression of many particulars, or,
in short, becomes a class-term.
It is thus that language may be regarded as a popular
philosophy of nature. Each term denoting some observed
object or event, is a general principle, connecting the several
objects or events to which it admits of being equally applied.
Whilst it practically enables us to judge and act in a num¬
ber of individual cases, it also speculatively presents the
means of anticipating a number of particulars, as notions im¬
plied in it; or, in other words, is a theory of the particulars
which it signifies.
But when we have once obtained a variety of terms, thus
representing in each of them a multitude ot particulars, we
can further generalize our observations by reflection on the
notions themselves, and recording our observations on these,
in like manner as on the real objects and events of nature.
We then notice whether the notions implied by one term,
are distinct from, or are included in, the notions implied by
another: and, accordingly, we regard the terms respectively
signifying them, as classes, either totally distinct, or more
or less extensive. We observe, for instance, wdiether the
terms, “ man,” “ animal,” “ vegetable,”—all being records
of our observations on nature,—give us information of the
same particulars, or of others entirely different: and we find
that “man” and “animal” are but different views of the
same individual, as for instance of Socrates; whilst the term
“vegetable” is no expression of any observation whatever
on the same individual. We find that “animal” represents
to us more individual objects than “ man;” so we regard it
speculatively as a class including in it “ man ;” and both the
terms “ man” and “ animal,” as classes entirely distinct from
the class “ vegetable,” because none of the observations re¬
ferred to in either of the former are the same with those
referred to in the latter.
These principles of language are the data on which the
logical system of Aristotle is constructed. It is evident,
from the mere statement of them, that there is such a thing
as a scientific application of language, and the notions which
it expresses, to the purpose of argumentative instruction. It
is thus clearly seen to act as an instrument of knowledge by
its very nature, independently of any art in the use of it.
And it is for the philosopher, therefore, to inquire how it
acts in producing this effect.
Now, in order to such a science, the first step appears to
be, to reduce our various observations on existing things
into some definite classes. We thus bring them out of that
perplexing infinity which defies all grasp of the intellect,
and obtain a few general notions under which the whole
intellectual world may be surveyed. These classes will re¬
present to us the different forms or modifications of Being,
so far as Being is capable of expression in language. The
next step is to examine the principle of Classification in
itself, and notice the varieties of form which it takes ; as the
observations that are made on any individual give us more
or less extensive, more or less invariable and scientific, view's
of the individual. The first step leads us to the Predica¬
ments or Categories, general designations under which all
the various abstractions of the mind are conveniently ar¬
ranged for the purpose of the logician. These constitute,
as it were, the fixed land-marks by which he may know the
limits of each notion with which he has to do in any discus¬
sion. They are the great sections in the geography of the
intellectual world which it is his office to explore and de¬
scribe. The next step leads us to the Predicables, or va¬
rious modes of classing the same object. Here we enter on
that part of the science wrhich is purely logical. In the ar¬
rangements of the Categories, the inquiry is partly metaphy- Efficient
sical, partly logical. We are there philosophizing on the Philoso-
notions of the mind in connection with language. But here, Phy-
we examine the principle of classification evidenced in lan- '
guage, in itself, and endeavour to obtain comprehensive
views of all the varieties of form under which it appears.
Thus far the science of Dialectic wgs-skgtched out before
the time of Aristotle. The Py thagorean philosopher, Archy-
tas of Tarentum, has the merifof having instituted those ar¬
rangements of the objects of the intellect, which Aristotle
adopted under the title of The Categories. The authority,
however, of Simplicius, the commentator in the sixth cen¬
tury, on which such a work is ascribed to Archytas, is ex¬
tremely questionable. The truth appears to be, that the
arrangement itself was of ancient standing in Greek Philoso¬
phy, but was unknown as to its origin. It may, however,
have been derived through the Pythagoreans, whose mathe¬
matical studies gave a colour to all their speculations ; as the
tenfold division, corresponding with the decimal notation of
Arithmetic, would indicate. Whilst the classification, then,
was adopted by Aristotle, the discussion of it is evidently
throughout his own ; strikingly displaying that acuteness of
discrimination which is a great characteristic of his mind.
The number of the Categories may be deduced from the
following considerations. We may contemplate an object
either as to what it is, or what it has; as to its nature, or as
to its attributes. 1. If we contemplate it as to its being or
nature, it may be regarded, ls£, either as a whole complex
independent being in itself; or, ‘Idly, partially under someab-
stract peculiar point of view which still represents its nature,
but only indistinctly and inadequately. Under both these
aspects it is a being or substance that wre contemplate. Being,
then, evidently, is of two kinds—Primary and Secondary.
Individuals and units, existing alone and independently, are
primary beings—those natures which are abstracted from
them, and which by generalization become universals, not
existing independently of the individuals in which they are
observed, are secondary beings. Being or substance, then,
under this twofold division, constitutes the 1st Category.
The remaining nine, which are the following: 2. Quantity ;
3. Quality ; 4. Relation ; o. Place ; 6. Time ; 7. Situation ;
8. Habitude or Condition ; 9. Action ; 10. Passion or Suf¬
fering, are all so many different affections or attributes of
Being. Each head then, is separately considered by Aris¬
totle, and its limitation exactly drawn. The treatise being
further introductory to the whole method of disputation, a
method not simply of reasoning, but of producing conviction
on any subject, he prefaces it with pointing out, in what sense
alone one notion, or rather the term which represents it, can be
logically predicated or said of another; and at the end, in that
portion of the work which has been called the Post-predica¬
ments, subjoins explanations of the notions “opposite,” “con¬
trary,” “ prior,” “ co-existent,” “ motion,” “ having;” as the
terms denoting them were understood in the Greek language.
There is no distinct treatise of Aristotle on the heads of
Predicables. This classification, like that of the Categories,
is doubtless of ancient date in the schools of Greece. He
assumes it as familiarly known, and where accordingly he re¬
fers to it with explicitness, it is chiefly to shew its applica¬
tion to the purpose of disputation ; as in the first book of his
Topics. Here we have nothing to do with individuals as
such. We are in the region of universals, and the question
is, by what differences they are characterized. Now univer¬
sals, or the classes which they denote when expressed in
terms, can only differ in respect of that which is contained
under them. They may combine a number of individuals
in one view, differing only numerically from one another ; or
they may combine several classes, and other classes again may
combine these. Thus the ascent may be made continually
to a higher class, above which no other appears. Take for
Efficient example an action. The first universal formed by abstraction
i oso- fi.om it might be the notion of Temperance ; a second would
i 1 be that of Virtue; a third would be that of Habit. The
first then is a species ; the second, as well as the third, is a
genus, comprising, as each does, not only individuals, but
classes under them. Again, when several such classes are
combined in an ascending scale, there must be points of dif¬
ference distinguishing the lowest, which is the species, from
the genus immediately above it, and a lower genus from a
higher genus. These points of difference then, also univer-
sals, constitute the class of Predicables called differentia, from
the service which they perform in relation both to the species
and the genus. And thus the genus and differentia put to¬
gether are said to make up the species ; and when stated in
words, become the definition of the class to which it applies.
Jiut there are universals still of a different character from
these. They are such as result from the investigation of any
individual or class from tracing it in its relations and conse¬
quences, and circumstances. We thus obtain the two addi¬
tional classes of “ Property and Accident.” The 4th head,
roperty, classes all those universals which respect indeed a
given nature or being, but not the whole of it, including un¬
der it whatever may be observed to result from the three
former classifications. The 5th head, Accident, is the ge¬
neral designation of any circumstances in which an obiect
may be observed, which do not result from its being or con¬
stitute any part of its nature, but present it in a particular
• case, or as it exists at a given time or occasion.
This five-fold division (reduced by Aristotle to the four
heads of Property, Definition, Genus, Accident, on the
ground that Differentia is not distinct from Genus), had its
especial importance in the ancient schools of philosophy, and
m those of the middle ages. When logic, under the name
of dialectic, was regarded as at once a method of philosophy
and an art of disputation, there would be a demand for de¬
finitions ; and questions would be raised as to what was the
wbat tbe species of the object under discussion ; how
it differed from others under the same genus—what were its
properties- what its circumstantials. Accordingly, in that
portion of the Organon which is strictly dialectical, The
lopics, much of the work is conversant about these several
heads. They are valid and useful principles to us, both for
the purpose of exact logical division and definition in their
application to the business of investigation and systematic
development of a science. But for the process of Reason¬
ing it is enough that the relative extent of the terms con¬
nected in the several propositions be explored, and to see
that they rightly express the great fundamental relation of
genus and species—or of class extending over class—the
general over the particular—the more general over the less
general.
In the Categories, then, we have the Metaphysical Being
o t nngs, so far as it is denoted by language, drawn out into
its various modes, and distinctly characterized in each. In
ic ieac s or classes of Predicables, we have the Dialectical
or Logical Being, or the various modes of existence created
)y anguage, through its power of comprising multitudes un-
c er single terms. If, for example, we say “ Socrates is wise,”
the metaphysical being here asserted is an abstraction of the
mind coming under the category of Quality: we are speak-
mg of Socrates, not as he is individually, but as the quality
o wis om exists in him. But in the same expression the
dialectical or logical being asserted is, the existence of So¬
crates as an individual in the class to which the term “ wise”
be ongs. And thus the verb is, as connecting the two ex¬
tremes of a proposition, the subject and the predicate, is
technically termed the copula.
It is highly important to observe this distinction between
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
553
rfthewhX1 rW10^ being aS the riSht understanding Efficient
pendent on it p1110 °f ProP°fltlons and syllogisms is de- Ehiloso-
I e ident on it. Every proposition then, viewed logically is
he reference of one class of objects to some othefclass in
the case of an affirmative,—the exclusion of one class from
another, m the case of a negative. The “ being,” or the
not being, is the being implied or not implied in a certain
term. The schoolmen, unfortunately, neglecting the distinc¬
tion here adverted to, and thus reverting to that confusion of
logical and metaphysical science which Aristotle’s whole phi¬
losophy had laboured to remove, included both kinds of beim?
under the common term “ universals.” Evidently, however
it cannot properly be said of Being, as it is apprehended by
the mind, that it is a universal. A notion of the mind is
in itself an individual; and its extension to more objects than
one is an effect of the mental power of generalization. But
the logical being is by its very nature a universal; since a
term, so far as it is a sign, comprises in its extent every indi¬
vidual that admits of being referred to it as a class.
Accordingly, to examine propositions logically, we have
only to inquire into the relative extent, or relative exclu¬
sion, of the terms conjoined in it. In this point of view, all
propositions, on any subject whatever, are reduced to four
kinds;—Universul Affirmative, in which one class is affirmed
of the whole of another ; Universal Negative, in which two
classes are mutually excluded; Particular Affirmative, in
which one class is affirmed of some of the particulars in¬
cluded in the other; Particular Negative, in which one
class partly excludes another. These are the only varieties
of form under which any two classes of objects can be
combined in affirmations or negations. Every proposition,
accordingly, in order to be brought under the survey of
Logic, must be referred to one or another of these forms
as the case may be. Hence we may proceed to examine
these ultimate forms to which propositions are reducible
independently of the things themselves about which the
PrODOSitions DTP i dnr] rlraxir 1 ^ • 1 • • i
* ^ duuut which me
propositions are ; and draw from them logical principles
applicable to every particular case. Thus, the form of a
Universal Affirmative, “ every A is B,” in which the letters
A and B are put as the representatives of any objects what¬
soever, is the proper datum, from which the whole logical
nature of any Universal Affirmative Proposition may be ex¬
plored. So also with regard to the remaining abstract forms.
Aristotle, accordingly, in his treatise on Interpretation
and in the commencement of his Prior Analytics, has thus
examined the nature of Propositions, and deduced practical
rules by which their force as principles employed in reason¬
ing may be readily ascertained.
It has been objected to him, that he resorted to these ab¬
stract symbols rather than to more familiar means of illus¬
tration, in order to leave the truths of the science partially
veiled. There may be some truth in the assertion, that he
aid not intend his written works to be accessible to the public
without oral exposition. But it does not apply here. The
obserration already made on the nature of logical being, may
be sufficient to clear up any misconstruction on this point.
1 he principle of classification, which is all that Logic, as the
science of reasoning, is concerned with, could not be ex¬
amined so scientifically and clearly in any other way as in
that which expresses the principle itself nakedly. Every
thing e se is irrelevant to the matter in hand. So far as any-
t nng else is attended to in a proposition, so far the mind is
diverted from the logical point of view. His use of symbols,
therefore, is only an illustration of his accurate and perfect
method of developing the science.1
In his Prior Analytics he passes on to the consideration
of Syllogisms, or arguments logically viewed. Here it is
that the logical theory is properly unfolded. Syllogisms are
VOL. III.
u imeduin0 sj mbols in logic rests on the same footing as their use in geometry and algebra.
4 A
554
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Efficient the perfect developments of the theory of language, as lan-
Philoso- o-uage consists of signs expressive of Being,—manifestations
phy’ of the general fact, that every term denoting Being is the re-
presentative of a class of observations more or less extensive,
on some subject.1 This theory is first intimated in the or¬
dinary use of single terms. It is next more disclosed in the
connections of terms i. e., in propositions affirming or deny¬
ing one term of another. It is lastly laid open in the syl¬
logism, in which the principle of classification is fully exem¬
plified as the tie of connection between two terms affirmed
or denied of each other. ,
Since, then, the evidence of the connection subsisting be¬
tween the terms brought together in any affirmation or ne¬
gation is the point in every argument; it is evident that the
reasoning on any subject whatever may be exhibited ab¬
stractedly from the particular subject about which it is. Terms
can only be connected as they are classes more or less ex¬
tensive, relatively to each other ; and this relative extent is
evidenced at once, as before shewn, by the abstract forms o
the propositions in which they are connected. Three ab¬
stract propositions, accordingly, in which the terms whose
connection is explored, are, first («. e., in the two premises),
separately stated in their relation to some intermediate
class or middle term,—and then in their relation to each
other (*. e., in the conclusion), as it is the result of their pre¬
mised relations to the intermediate class,—will enable us,
without reference to any other consideration, to judge of the
conclusiveness of the argument. The Syllogism is nothing
more than this abstract statement of an argument.
Aristotle examines all the varieties of form which argu¬
ments thus abstractedly stated, or syllogisms, admit; whether
from the position of the middle term in the premises, or from
the different combinations of the four great classes of propo¬
sitions ; pointing out, under what arrangement of the middle
term, what particular modes of argument alone are valid. From
his whole examination, the conclusion results, that, under
whatever form an argument may be expressed, the principle
of the reasoning is the same in every case; each instance de¬
veloping the theoretic power of language, according to which
every term, so far as it denotes Being, is a class, more or less
extensive, of observations on the thing whose being it denotes.
This ultimate principle of all reasonin g is commonly stated in
the form of a theorem, enunciating that “whatever is predicated
(affirmed or denied) universally, of any class of things, may
be predicated in like manner of anything contained in, or signi¬
fied by, that class.” This is that form of it known by the scho¬
lastic designation of the “ Dictum de Omni et Nullo. From
the mode in which this principle has been introduced in sys¬
tems of Logic founded on the method of the school-authors,
a prejudice has been excited against Aristotle, as if he had
employed the principle in establishing the conclusiveness of
arguments already granted to be conclusive. Aristotle, how¬
ever, does not introduce the principle in any formal manner,
as a dogma or a priori ground of logical truth. On the con¬
trary, it pervades the whole of his system, as resulting from
every part of his inquiry. He is only concerned to shew
that every argument, however varied in its mode, or form,
is reducible to a form by which the truth of the theory
shall be evidenced in it. Syllogisms are not proved by the
principle ; but the principle itself is proved by the nature of
the syllogism, as any other philosophical truth is deduced
from varied observations and experiments. In short, by his
reference to the principle, he does not prove the conclusive¬
ness of a given argument, but accounts for it.
It is necessary to observe that most of the technical
phraseology of modern treatises of Logic is derived, not from
Aristotle immediately, but second-hand, from the scholastic
expositors of his philosophy. These, in carrying the notions Efficient
of his Physics and Metaphysics into the science of Logic, 11 (
obscured, by the strange dialect in which the truths of the , i ;
science were thus delivered, its proper nature as an art of
language. Thus, according to them, we hear of the “sub¬
stance,” and “ matter,” and “ form,” both of propositions and
of syllogisms, and other such misapplied designations. On
the contrary, the technical expressions of Aristotle himself
are extremely few, and those strictly appropriate to the sub¬
ject, elucidating the characteristic nature of a science con¬
versant about words as they are signs of thought. The
scholastic method, however, from its long usurpation, has so
ingrafted itself on our modes of writing and speaking, that
some acquaintance with it is in fact become necessary to
us at this day; and may so far, therefore, be regarded as
constituting a legitimate part of modern logic. But when
the cumbrous technicalities of this system are made a
ground of objection to the Aristotelic logic, it may be ex¬
plicitly answered, that these are not parts of Aristotle s
system, as it is found in the original, but the refinements of
his commentators.
Having pointed out the several classes of Syllogisms into
some one or more of which every valid argument must fall,
Aristotle, in pursuit of the adaptation of his method to the
business of disputation, proceeds to shew the various expe¬
dients in argument resulting from the consideration of these
abstract forms. This part of his subject is prosecuted through
the remainder of the first book of his Prior Analytics and
the second of the same treatise.
The examination of Syllogisms is followed up in the Pos¬
terior Analytics by an inquiry into Demonstration ; and in
the Topics, into arguments founded on probable premises.
The full discussion of the Syllogism was premised by him,
inasmuch as the syllogistic process is common both to de¬
monstration and to probable conclusions ; and accordingly,
as the more general subject of investigation, claimed the first
notice in a scientific treatise of Dialectic. Properly, indeed,
being the only part of the science which is really universal,
belonging to argumentation as such, under whatever form,
whether by induction, example, or enthymeme (all of which
are only different modes of expression of the syllogism), and
whether the premises assumed be necessary or probable,—
it is the only province to which the science of Reasoning, in
its strictest sense, extends. In examining further the na¬
ture of demonstration and of probability, we depart from the
rigorous limits of the science of Reasoning, and approach
those of Rhetoric. But it is useful, at the same time, to ex¬
amine these subjects as detached from Rhetoric, and in their
connection with Logic; so far as we then confine our attention
to the mere force of different kinds of argument on the un¬
der standiny ; whereas Rhetoric combines also the view of
them in their effect on the will. We then consider them as
they are capable of producing either knowledge or opinion ;
whereas in the latter case, we look at them in that complex
result which is implied in persuasion. It was for the former
purpose that they were required for the disputant: and thus
it is that the consideration of them forms an important part
of the several dialectical treatises which pass under the
name of the Organon. For the same reason the concluding
treatise on Sophisms is directed not only to the solution of
Fallacies which may exist in the syllogistic process, or in
reasoning, strictly viewed as reasoning, but to such also as
may be traced in arguments where the process itself, the
pure logic of the case, is perfectly correct.
The discussion of Demonstration is an exposition of the
nature of Science, E7rtcrr>//x>7, as it was understood by the an¬
cient philosophers. They restricted the application of the
i A proposition that is false is truly a proposition, whereas what is called an invalid argument is strictly no argument at all, because
it does not exemplify the classification implied in the logical connection of terms.
A R I S T O T L E’S PHILOSOPHY.
555
Efficient term to the knowledge of necessary truths ; such truths as,
Philoso- when known, were known at the same time to be incapable oi
Phy- being otherwise. Aristotle, then, is employed, in the Posterior
Analytics, in discussing the nature of the principles on which
Science, as it was then understood, must be built.
Here he had to encounter perplexities and misconceptions
introduced into the subject by the Platonic philosophy. In
Plato’s system knowledge was mere reminiscence. It was a
penetration of the mind through the veil of sensible things
interposed between itself and the realities of the intellectual
world—its return to those purer perceptions which it had en¬
joyed before its present union with a body. This doctrine
was altogether founded on a fallacious view of the nature of
Demonstration. Because in Demonstration the conclusion
is necessarily implied in the premises, it was conceived that a
science or proper knowledge of any particular was in all cases
founded on a knowledge of the general principles in which
it was implied. But this was an inversion of the actual order
of knowledge, which commences with the particular, and ends
in the general. In mathematical and metaphysical science
the two things coincide ; the notions of our mind being, on
the one hand, in themselves particular facts, from which we
may argue to general principles ; and, on the other hand, in
their application to the business of philosophy, being the
general principles of our knowledge. But Plato argued from
this coincidence in these sciences in general, and therefore
confused Demonstration with the scientific arrangement of
facts. Aristotle, we find, was not free from the same fault
in his Physics ; but in his theory of Demonstration he has
strictly provided against it. He has here pointed out the
difference between the proof of matter of fact and matter of
abstract speculation. Instead of inculcating the necessity
of establishing every conclusion in Science by syllogism or a
demonstrative process, he shews that all Demonstration pro¬
ceeds on assumed principles; which principles, accordingly,
must be obtained from observations generalized, and not by
a process of reasoning from the general to the particular.1
There is one part of the work which deserves a more par¬
ticular notice, as throwing light on his whole method of phi¬
losophizing, while it shews how far he approximated to the
Induction of modern philosophy. To obtain an accurate no¬
tion of the being of any thing, we require a definition of it.
A definition of the thing corresponds, in Logic, with the es¬
sential notion of it in Metaphysics. This abstract notion,
then, according to Aristotle, constituting the true scientific
view of a thing,—and all the real knowledge consequently
of the properties of the thing depending on the right limita¬
tion of this notion,—some exact method of arriving at de¬
finitions which should express these limitations, became in¬
dispensable in such a system of philosophy. But in order
to attain such definitions, a process of induction was re¬
quired—not merely an induction of that kind which is only
a peculiar form of syllogism, enumerating all the individuals
implied in a class instead of the class itself—but an induction
of a philosophical character, and only differing from the In¬
duction of modern philosophy so far as it is employed, not in
the limitation of facts, but of the notions of the mind in their
expression by words.
There are, then, two kinds of Induction treated of by
Aristotle. The first, that of simple enumeration. Its use is,
where we have not beforehand ascertained a class to which
we may refer the subject under consideration, and the search
is in fact for a middle term. In this case, then, a collec¬
tion of all the individuals which are supposed to make up
the class, serves instead of a middle term. Assuming, ac¬
cordingly, that these individuals are equivalent to the class,
we draw the conclusion, that what has been affirmed or de¬
nied of each of these collected individuals may be affirmed ,
or denied of the class, or the universal which they represent.
This, then, is nothing more than a syllogism. There is no
process of investigation involved, but it is assumed, that we
have found the assertion made, true in all the individual in¬
stances ; and the induction itself is simply the process of
bringing them under a common principle.
But there is also a higher kind of Induction employed by
Aristotle, and pointed out by him expressly in its subser¬
viency to the exact notions of things, by its leading to right
definitions of them. As it appears that words, in a logical
point of view, are classes, more or less extensive, of observa¬
tions on things, it is evident that we must gradually approxi¬
mate towards a definition of any individual notion, by assign¬
ing class within class, until we have narrowed the extent of
the expression as far as the case requires.2 The first defi¬
nitions of any object are vague, founded on some obvious
resemblance which it exhibits compared with other objects.
This point of resemblance we abstract in thought, and it
becomes, when expressed in language, a genus or class, un¬
der which we regard the object as included. A more at¬
tentive examination suggests to us less obvious points of re¬
semblance between this object and some of those with which
we had classed it before. Thus carrying on the analysis,
—and by the power of abstraction giving an existence to
those successive points of resemblance,—we obtain subal¬
tern genera or species, or subordinate classes included in
that original class with which the process of abstraction com¬
menced. As these several classifications are relative to
each other, and dependent on the class with which we com¬
menced, the definition of any notion requires a successive
enumeration of the several classes in the line of abstraction ;
and hence is said technically to consist of genus and differ¬
entia ; the genus being the first abstraction, or class to
which the object is first referred, and the differentia being
the subordinate classes in the same line of abstraction.
Now, the process by which we discover these successive
genera in forming a definition, is strictly one of philosophi¬
cal Induction. As in the philosophy of nature in general,
we take certain facts as the basis of inquiry, and proceed by
rejection and exclusion of principles involved in the inquiry,
until at last,—there appearing no ground for further rejec¬
tion,—we conclude that we are in possession of the true
principle or nature of the object examined; so in the phi¬
losophy of language, in drawing forth an exact outline of any
notion, we must proceed by a like rejection and exclusion
of notions implied in the general term with which we set
out, until we reach the very confines of that notion with
which our inquiry is concerned. This exclusion is effected
in language by annexing to the general term denoting the
class to which the object is primarily referred, other terms
not including under them those other objects or notions to
which the higher general term applies. For thus, whilst each
successive term in the definition, in itself, extends to more
than the object so defined, yet all viewed together do not;
and this their relative bearing on the one point marks out and
constitutes the being of the thing.3 This is thus illustrated
by Aristotle:—“ If we are inquiring,” he says, “ what magna¬
nimity is, we must consider the instances of certain magnani¬
mous persons whom we know, what one thing they all have
so far forth as they are such ; as,—if Alcibiades was mag¬
nanimous, or Achilles, or Ajax,—what one thing they all
have ; say ‘ impatience under insultfor one made war, an-
Efficient
Philoso¬
phy-
1 Analyt. Post. ii. c. ult. 7, 4, i. 13.
2 Ibid. ii. C. 13, Zi?teiv it in triCxtwovTa tin tcc o/iom %a.t aiiaipogct, *(orov rt airarra ravTor t^eiicnv, x. r. X- p* 175, Du V al.
3 Analyt. Post. ii. C. 13, u\ ixatrrov flit txi xhtov «jravr« it (tn ext srXfov' ravruv ya§ otxayxri outriav titai too xgaypuros, p. ,
Du Val.
556 A R I S T 0 T L E’S
Efficient other raged, the other slew himself: again, in the instances
Philoso- of others, as of Lysander or Socrates,—if here it is, ‘ to be un-
, P y' altered by prosperity or adversity taking these two cases,
I consider, what this ‘ apathy in regard to events,’ and 4 im¬
patience under insult,’ have the same in them. If now they
have nothing the same, there must be two species of magna¬
nimity.”1 . So, again, he suggests a similar process in order
to ascertain the nature of anything. He directs that the in¬
vestigation should commence from the genus; since, hav¬
ing discovered the properties or sequences of the genus, we
have also the sequences to the next class in the series,—
and so on from that class to the next below in order,—until
by this continued process we reach the individual object exa¬
mined. In the course of investigation, also, he observes,
that we should attend to whatever is common, and examine
to what class of objects that belongs, and what classes fall
under it ;2 and for the same reason select analogies ; since,
in both these instances, we obtain genera, under which the
object investigated may be arranged. The process is vir¬
tually the same as if we should investigate a fact or law of
nature. But the Induction of Aristotle, having for its ob¬
ject to determine accurately in words the notion of the be¬
ing of things, proceeds, according to the nature of language,
from the general, and ends in the particular; whereas the
investigation of a law of nature proceeds from the particular,
and ends in the general. In the process each kind of In¬
duction is an analysis. But logical Induction is synthetical
in the result, whilst philosophical induction is analytical
throughout. The former labours to particularize as much
as possible, counteracting the uncertainty occasioned by the
generalizations of language, whilst the latter is engaged in
penetrating the confused masses in which objects first pre¬
sent themselves to the mind, and exploring their most ge¬
neral and characteristic form. Thus the induction of Aris¬
totle was strictly eTraywyr), or the bringing in of notion on
notion, each successively limiting the application of the pre¬
ceding one in regular series, so as at length to present a
distinct notion of the object defined.3 The notion thus ob¬
tained in words is the logos, or expressed reason of the be¬
ing ot the thing; and hence perhaps the prevalence of the
name Logic4 as appropriate to this branch of science, instead
of the more general and ancient designation of Dialectic,—
which expresses rather the application of the science to the
ancient mode of disputation, than its philosophical nature.
It would appear, then, that Bacon has not done justice
to Aristotle in the contemptuous manner in which he has
spoken of the Induction taught by Aristotle. It is certainly
limited in its design, as having chiefly in view the correct
statement ot the particular notions on which an inquiry
turns, rather than the discovery of new truth : and it is not
set forth with that fulness of method with which Bacon enter-
prised the Novum Organum. But it is sound and valid so
tar as it reaches ; and it shews that Aristotle was not intent on
corrupting philosophy with Logic, but rather on applying
Logic to that very purpose which Bacon himself so much in¬
sists on the bringing the intellect even and unprejudiced
to the business of Science. Of the application of Induction
in its full philosophical extent, Aristotle presents abundant
specimens, and particularly in his treatises on Ethics and
Rhetoric. His discussion of the Passions in the latter trea¬
tise is a masterpiece in that way. He sets out, indeed, ab¬
stractedly with definitions of the several passions, but these
are the results at which he has arrived by Induction ; being
obtained, as his subsequent observations shew, by a close
interrogation of Nature ; by examining accurately what be¬
longs, or does not belong, to each particular passion,—and
thus eliminating its exclusive character and proper nature.
PHILOSOPHY.
Rhetoric. Efficient
As the Speculative Sciences had been confounded under Philoso-
a vague notion of dialectic, so had Rhetoric, in the ostenta- Phy-
tious study of it prevalent before the time of Aristotle drawn
into its system the practical sciences of Politics and Ethics.
Observations had been accumulated on the mere accessories
of the art; but the proper business of the rhetorician—the
inquiry into the argument itself of which a composition must
consist—had been overlooked. Aristotle had therefore to dig
a foundation for the fabric of a real science of Rhetoric. He
had to clear away misconceptions; to shew the data on
which Rhetorical science must proceed, and the relative im¬
portance of its several parts.
He commences/accordingly, with pointing out the nature
of its connection both with Dialectical and Moral science.
It is first and most directly connected with Dialectic, in¬
asmuch as it a general method of providing arguments on
any subject whatever. As Dialectic examines and discusses
the principles of various sciences, considering them in their
relations as principles in the abstract, and not as the prin¬
ciples of this or that science, and is so far equally conversant
about all subjects; so Rhetoric inquires generally into the
nature of the principles of Persuasion, and therefore is also of
equal application to the various subjects of human thought.
In the discussion of these abstract principles under the
head of Dialectic, it is found that they are referable to two
general classes—that they are either probabilities or ne¬
cessary truths. And Aristotle, accordingly, after having ex¬
plained the nature of Syllogism, or the more general con¬
nection of principles, winch is independent of their peculiar
nature, proceeds to investigate the nature of deductions as
drawn from necessary principles or from probabilities. The
consideration of this distinction anticipates in some measure
the province of Rhetoric, touching on the point, as has been
observed, in which Rhetoric differs from Logic strictly so
called. As the science of eloquence, its office is to specu¬
late on the effect of different principles in producing per¬
suasion, and not simply on their abstract relations; and there¬
fore it must examine the force of arguments, whether pro¬
bable or necessary, in their influence both on the judgment
and the will. Principles, in short, as they are grounds
of Credibility, and not as they enter into a reasoning pro¬
cess, constitute its proper subject. In this respect it coin¬
cides with a part of the ancient Dialectic. But it differs,
again, from Dialectic, inasmuch as it is connected also with
Moral Science. In Dialectic the force of man’s moral nature
on his opinions is not considered. Will such or such a con¬
clusion result from such or such arguments, according to the
procedure of the human intellect in forming its judgments?
is the whole inquiry of Dialectic. But Rhetoric further con¬
siders, what is the practical force of such and such argu¬
ments ? what effect are they found to have in actual expe¬
rience ?—not according to their mere speculative truth, but
as acting on the complex nature of man. Practically, it is
found that questions are not examined on their positive me¬
rit as simple questions of truth, but with feelings and senti¬
ments thwarting or aiding the discernments of the intel¬
lect. Here, then, is opened a wide field for a philosophical
inquiry of a peculiar character, distinct from Dialectic, and
yet strictly founded on it, and implying it throughout, as well
as of the highest importance in order to the success of truth
in the world. This inquiry is what Aristotle institutes under
the head of Rhetoric.
He has evinced the most perfect comprehension of the na¬
ture of the science which he had undertaken to develop, in
holding it, as he does, in exact balance between the two
sciences of Dialectic and Morals with which it is associated.
1 Anal. Post. ii. c. 13, p. 175, Du Val. 2 post, H. c. 14, 3 Prior, ii. c. 23.
Aristotle uses the adverb \oytx.a(f as in Met. vii. c. 4, and elsewhere; but not the noun KoyiKti to denote the science, and only Ataxixrixs.
ARISTOTLE’S
Efficient There is much of logical matter in the course of his inquiry,
Philoso- and still more of ethical. But he never suffers us to forget
that we are not examining those sciences in themselves under
the head of Rhetoric, but in their relations to a science com¬
pounded of both. He would have the rhetorician versed in
Dialectic, and deeply acquainted with human nature. But
he is intent on shewing how he is to apply his knowledge
of both these sciences to the proper business of Rhetoric—
the influence on the heart and mind of the person addressed.
It is not a vague and popular knowledge of those sciences
which he is inculcating throughout, but a popular application
of authentic principles drawn from them both, and a popular
application founded on a deep philosophy of human nature.
This philosophy consists in an investigation of the kinds
of Evidence by which the minds of men are commonly
swayed in accepting any conclusion proposed to them, and
of those principles of their moral nature which generally in¬
duce belief. The whole, accordingly, is an inquiry into
what is probable, or rather what is credible and persuasive,
to a being so constituted as man.
Rhetoric, then, does not consider arguments as they are
abstractedly necessary or probable. Such arguments appeal
to the intellect alone ; and the result from such is, either a
full conviction, or a presumption of some point in question.
Rhetoric, on the other hand, looks to probability in the re¬
sult. Whether an argument be necessary or probable in
principle, is comparatively of no consequence to the rheto¬
rician, provided it be persuasive in its effect. He has to
consider, therefore, only a probability of this kind—on what
grounds men commonly believe an argument to be just, or
are influenced by any statement.3 Now men are found to
receive arguments as conclusive on two different grounds—
from considering them either as logically sound, deducible
from admitted principles, or as coincident with some pre¬
vious observation or fact. Hence the distinction between
probability and likelihood ; probability denoting conclusions
proved by some reason alleged ; likelihood denoting con¬
clusions grounded on matter of fact, the conclusion being
something like what has been experienced. Aristotle dis¬
tinguishes these two kinds of rhetorical arguments as pro¬
babilities, eiKora, and signs, o-^/xeia. The precise nature of
the distinction he explains more fully in his Analytics.2 In
his Rhetoric he directs our attention rather to those practi¬
cal forms which the two classes assume in Enthymemes and
Examples ; Enthymemes being probable arguments which
state a conclusion with the reason of it, but without the
formality of a syllogism; such as occur in familiar rise ; Ex¬
amples, arguments in which a conclusion is drawn from par¬
ticular facts or observations.
He points out, accordingly, the force and propriety of
Enthymemes and Examples, as modes of producing convic¬
tion, both in themselves, and relatively to each other, ac¬
cording to the subjects in which they may be employed.
And as Enthymemes are the more comprehensive head—
for, in fact, every argument from Example is in principle
an Enthymeme, the example cited being the reason of the
conclusion,—he dwells more explicitly on the nature of
Enthymemes. These he distinguishes in respect of the
principles from which they are drawn. These principles
maybe, 1. Entirely abstract, unconnected with any particular
subject, and equally common to all subjects; or, 2. They may
belong to particular subjects, and the sciences of those sub¬
jects. Instances of the former class, called by the general
name of I opics, or common places, are conclusions of the pos-
PHILOSOPHY. 55',
sibility of any thing from abstract considerations of possi- Efficient
u tyV 7 .^existence of anything from the existence of Phil^o-
that which implies it more or less, &c. Instances of the latter, ,
eibrj, or specific I opics, are conclusions drawn from the na-
tine of human actions, or from some principle of govern¬
ment or commerce, or whatever it may be to which a
speaker or writer has occasion to refer.
The matter of proof, or the grounds of Credibility in them¬
selves, being obtained, it comes, in the next place, to be con¬
sidered how this proof is acted on and modified in the re¬
sult by the complex nature of man, on whom the result is
to be produced. The subjects then, to which rhetoric pro¬
perly applies, are those in which there is some opening for
the action of the moral feelings. In questions of pure
science the intellectual powers alone are concerned. There
is no personal application to the individual; no reference
to his own experience for the proof of the principles, as is
the case with all inquiries involving human conduct; where
a fairness of judgment is as much required in order to an
acknowledgment of the principles, as a clearness of intel¬
lect. Whatever may be the nature of a mathematical enun¬
ciation or a fact in chemistry, when it is once stated and
proved, there is no question whether we approve or disap¬
prove it. Its truth is suffered to rest on its proper footing.
But a conclusion respecting our own nature, or involving
our own conduct, immediately calls all our moral principles
to the survey of it. Our hopes, and fears, and wishes, are
heard pleading for or against it. Here, then, is the proper
province of the rhetorician. He is to furnish principles to
the advocate by whom the case is to be laid before these
internal judges ; to suggest how to prepare the evidence for
their reception ; and by his knowledge of their former judg¬
ments, to enable him to present the truth before them in
such form, that it may obtain a fair hearing, and be affirmed
in their decisions.
For the convenient arrangement of rhetorical arguments,
Aristotle divides Rhetoric into three different kinds, accord¬
ing to the different occasions on which it was employed
among the Greeks:—1. The Deliberative, or its use in
political debates ; 2. The Judicial, or its use in popular as¬
semblies, as those of Athens, in which the people collec¬
tively exercised the judicial functions ; 3. The Demonstra¬
tive, or its use in panegyric and invective, when the orator
had to gratify his hearers by the display of eloquence.3 In
these several heads of inquiry he has given an admirable ac¬
count of the motives by which mankind at large are com¬
monly actuated in their conduct and opinions. And here
we should notice the peculiar complexion which the Happi¬
ness and the Virtue, described in this part of his philosophy,
assume. He is led to speak of Happiness4 as the great ob¬
ject of human desires—the point from which all views of
expediency obtain their colouring. Here, however, he is
not concerned to illustrate that Happiness to which the aim
of mankind should be directed, but that which is in fact
sought in the world as it is. He therefore portrays those
various forms with which self-love commonly invests the idea
of happiness. For it is evidently more to the purpose of the
orator, whose object is to carry his point, to conform his ar¬
guments to the views entertained by his hearers, however
theoretically false, than to a more just theory, of which thev
have no conception. Virtue, again, is here a law of Honour.5
It is an appeal to those right feelings which exist in the na¬
ture of man, by which virtue is approved and vice disap¬
proved. Independently, however, of discipline and cultiva-
\V hen it is asserted, that Dialectic is concerned about truth, and Rhetoric about opinion, thi,s must be understood to mean that Rhe¬
toric has for its object to discover, not what any particular thing is, but what will give a persuasion or belief that it is. At the same time,
those principles on which such a persuasion depends, are real truths about which the science is conversant.
Anal. Prior, ii. cap. ult; Rhet. ad Alex. cap. 9, 13, 15. 3 RheU p cap. 3 &c . Rhet. ad Alex. cap. 2-6, 35- 38.
4 Rhet- l- caP- 5- 5 Ibid. i. cap. 9.
558
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Efficient tion, these feelings are not found in fact always duly exerted.
Philoso- There is ground, therefore, for a popular kind of Virtue, in a
phy- philosophical survey of those principles by which the human
heart is commonly swayed in its decisions of right and wrong.
This popular law of right is at least an approximation to
perfect virtue. It is an irregular and uncertain application
of the criterion of approbation, which belongs to true virtue
alone ; leading to a preference of the more ostentatious vir¬
tues to the less obviously praiseworthy; and to the exalta¬
tion of some qualities merely specious, or even faulty, to the
rank of virtues, through the want of discrimination and cor¬
ruption of principle in the world. Thus Virtue becomes, in
the popular view, a power of benefiting others,1 rather than
an internal habit of self-moderation. Men acquiesce in that
general notion of it, under which it most strikes their atten¬
tion, and calls forth their admiration. Such, then, is the
kind of Virtue to which the orator must make his appeal.
He cannot calculate on finding the bulk of his hearers moral
philosophers, or persons whose sentiments have been highly
cultivated. He must therefore proceed on those broad prin¬
ciples which may be presumed to exist in the heart of every
man though imperfectly cultivated. It is to these he must
conform his arguments, if he would produce that impression
which he desires.
Further, as the habits of thinking and feeling among men
are found to be affected by peculiarities of circumstances,
it is necessary for the orator to have studied also t re va¬
rieties of human character, and to have reduced these to
general principles for his practical direction. Aristotle, ac¬
cordingly, has not lost sight of this point in his Rhetoric,
but has shewn a keen observation in the outlines which he
has given of the effects of different governments, different
periods of life, different worldly fortunes, in modifying the
human character. . . .
He had strongly condemned former rhetoricians tor mak¬
ing the whole art consist of an appeal to the Passions. At
the same time, he was aware that such an appeal was a ne¬
cessary part of the orator’s address ; and that no arguments,
no merely intellectual proofs, could avail, independent y
of this. To overlook, indeed, the affections in arguments
concerning human conduct, is to disregard the authoii-
ties to which the whole process of proof is ultimately ad¬
dressed. Wherever evidence is not absolutely irresistible,
and there is room for doubt,—though the object be simply
to induce belief,—the hearer naturally proceeds in his ana¬
lysis of the evidence, until he brings it home to himself, and
finds it issuing in something natural to his own character
and feelings. This it is that at last determines the waver¬
ing balance. The philosophy of Rhetoric, therefore,^ re¬
quired some outlines to be given of these ultimate arbiteis
of all rhetorical questions. And we are indebted accord¬
ingly to his masterly view of the subject, for an accurate
and beautiful delineation, in the course of this treatise, of the
leading Passions of human nature. Of its excellence as a
specimen of the Inductive method of philosophizing we have
already spoken. # .
In treating both of the Virtues and of the Passions, Aris¬
totle’s view was to enable the orator, not only to recommend
his arguments to the moral sentiments and feelings of an
auditory, but to bring also to their support the natural and
just prejudice from Authority. We involuntarily ascribe to
one who appears in the character of an instructor, the ad¬
vantages of superior knowledge and kind intentions. The
prejudice in favour of Authority is thus reasonably founded
on a respect for wisdom and virtue. It is important, then,
to the orator to avail himself of this prejudice. There must
be nothing to counteract, in those addressed, the natural
tendency to believe the speaker. On the contrary h.s whole hff c^n
address must conspire to this end. It must gtve the .mpres- ^
sion that he is a man of intellectual ability, as well asof
right sentiments and feelings. Hence Aristotle dedimed a
distinct class of rhetorical proofs under the head of, 1. htkos,
or character; 2. The Pathos, or appeal to the passions; and 3.
The Demonstration, or argumentative proof as such, consti-
tutin<>- the two other heads. He thus shews, on the whole,
how a speech may at once carry conviction, interest the feel¬
ings of the hearer, and give the weight of personal authority
to the speaker. . , . ,, c
In the popular views of Rhetorical science, the subjects o
style and method engross an undue importance. We are
thus led to think that eloquence consists in the skilful use
of the ornaments of style, in the flow of periods, and the
structure of a composition advantageously distributing its
lights and shades. The attention is diverted from the mate¬
rial itself of eloquence, the strong framework of argument,
without which no eloquence can subsist. Aristotle, in pro¬
ceeding to the discussion of style, has cautiously maintained
the subordination of this part of Rhetoric to the proper busi¬
ness of the art—Persuasion ; treating it as a necessary con¬
descension to the weakness of the hearers. If, however, the
manner in which we express our thoughts may contribute
to the reception of our assertions and arguments, and it be
allowed that the principles of Taste are real parts of the human
constitution,—the consideration of style must necessarily
enter into a philosophical system of Rhetoric. I he effect
of the style is part of the whole result of the composition on
the mind of the hearers, and is so far, therefore, an ingredient
in that Probability or Credibility about which Rhetoric is
conversant. „ , . r ± ^
In conformity with this view of the importance of style,
Aristotle lays down perspicuity as the great principle of good
composition. It is with him “ the virtue of sty e. e
ornaments of language, whetherfrom the structure of periods,
or from the various modes of thought by which a point, 01
a propriety, or a dignity, or an animation, is imparted to
a subject, are explained in reference to this fundamental
^^Nor has he left unconsidered the arrangement of the parts
of a speech; though this also was in his opinion scarcely a
legitimate portion of the art. Former rhetoricians had en¬
cumbered their systems with numerous artificial divisions,
giving precise rules for the composition of each distinct head.
Aristotle’s more exact method admits no other divisions than
the Proposition and the Proof; the former founded on the
necessity of stating the subject of discussion, the latter on
the necessity of proving the point stated: though he after¬
wards allows the convenience of a fourfold division into 1.
The Proem or Introduction ; 2. The Proposition ; 3. I he
Proof; 4. The Epilogue or Peroration.
So deeply and fully has the science of Rhetoric been con¬
sidered by Aristotle. His treatise on the subject, the Rhe¬
toric, in three books, addressed to his disciple Theodectes,
and his Nicomachean Ethics, are perhaps the most perfect
specimens of systematic sciences extant in ancient or modern
literature. For extent and variety of matter, the Rhetoric
may be ranked even above the Ethics. It has been just y
characterized as “ a magazine of intellectual riches. Nothing
is left untouched” says one who could well appreciate the
value of the work, “on which Rhetoric, in all its branches,
has any bearing. His principles are the result of extensive
original induction. He sought them, if ever man did seek
them, in the living pattern of the human heart. All the
recesses and windings of that hidden region he has explored;
all its caprices and affections—whatever tends to excite, to
1 Rhet. i. cap. 9, «f£r» R tern twee/tx, elf So*", irog.o,,** ctyabav puXaKTixrr x«
iravreiv fffgi a'avra.
I Suvccpts (vigytTix* sroxxwv xa« ptyaXav, xa«
2 Rhet. iii. 2. Poetic, c. 22.
A R I S T O T L E’S P HIL O S O P H Y. 559
Efficient ruffle, to amuse, to gratify, or to offend it—have been care-
Pbiloso- funv examined. The reason of these phenomena is demon-
I,hy- strated; the method of creating them is explained. The
whole is a text-book of human feeling; a storehouse of taste;
an exemplar of condensed and accurate, but uniformly clear
and candid, reasoning.”1 It is professedly adapted to the
business of the orator, that being the original occasion of an
art of Rhetoric. But it is in fact a body of precepts for good
writing, furnishing authentic principles of criticism in every
department of prose composition. His smaller treatise in
one book, entitled The Rhetoric to Alexander, the genuine¬
ness of which is questionable, is more strictly a science of
political eloquence, being written, as the introductory address
would intimate, in obedience to the King, who had requested
a work of that description.2 The same philosophical views
of eloquence may be traced in this work; but more popularly
set forth, with less of technical precision, and more of illus¬
tration from examples.
Poetics.
No work of Aristotle has been more justly estimated than
the fragment which has survived to us under the name of
his Poetics. Imperfect as it is, it has been uniformly re¬
garded as the great authority of the laws of criticism in poetry:
subsequent writers having only extended and illustrated the
principles laid down in it. The excellence of this little work,
which is only one book of the three of which the whole trea¬
tise is said to have consisted,3 shews how much we have to
regret the entire loss of his other works on the same subject.
The treatises On Tragedies and On Poets, mentioned in the
catalogue of Laertius, probably contained much valuable in¬
formation concerning Greek writers, whose works, perhaps
whose names in some instances, have not been transmitted
to us.
That portion which time has spared of the Poetics, is al¬
most exclusively confined to the consideration of dramatic
poetry. But the philosopher, with his usual depth and reach
of thought, has here laid a broad foundation of principles
applicable to the whole subject. He derives the nature of
poetry in general from the principle of Imitation inherent in
man. Two natural causes, he says, appear to have originated
poetry; the natural power of imitation,—and the pleasure
which all men take in imitation, that is, in recognizing like¬
nesses between distinct objects. These two causes thus
stated by him are in fact but one principle: the pleasure
resulting from imitation being the principle itself of imitation,
viewed in its tendency or proper effect, the production of
pleasure : though, in the language of his philosophy, the first
would be the motive cause, the second the final. The science
then termed Poetics, is that which treats of the method by
which the natural principle of Imitation obtains its proper
and full expression; or a collection of observations on the
mode by which pleasure is produced in imitations of which
language is the instrument. Hence the business of the Poet
is stated by Aristotle to consist in representing things, not
“as they have been, but as they ought to beand there¬
fore is described by him as of a more philosophical and ex¬
cellent nature than that of the historian.4 The pleasure of
Imitation will not be answered, unless a likeness be recognized
between the objects and events described, and the objects
and events observed in the general course of nature. Other¬
wise it will be a mere pleasure in the execution, or in some
circumstance of the work. The poet, therefore, in order to
accomplish the end of his art, must possess a philosophical Efficient
power of observation. He must have compared objects and
events, and detected points of resemblance, and thus formed
for himself general principles on which he may proceed to ■' ”
model his ideal world. At the same time he differs from the
philosopher much in the same way in which the orator differs
from the dialectician. He has not to consider what is ab¬
stractedly like in things, but what will be viewed and felt as
like in its effect on the sentiments and feelings of men. There¬
fore it is that his creations are clothed with a beauty and
loveliness surpassing nature. The resemblances which he
shadows out partake of those hues, which the imagination,
and the feelings, and every beautiful and noble sentiment
of the heart of man, reflect upon them.5
These fundamental notions of the art pervade the system
of Aristotle’s Poetics, though, from the briefness of the work
in its present imperfect state, they are by no means fully
developed in it. In the work, indeed, as it now is, the basis
of the poetic imitation—the actions, passions, and manners,
of which a poem is descriptive—are exclusively considered;
and we have no inquiry, as in the Rhetoric, into the princi¬
ples of human nature by which the pleasure resulting from
the imitation is modified in its effect. From this circum¬
stance, as well as from his accounting for the pleasure of poetry
on the ground of a natural delight in tracingout resemblances,
Aristotle has been sometimes thought to have placed the
excellence of a poem in the mechanism of its story,6 and to
have neglected altogether the intrinsic poetry of thought
and expression. But we shall not do justice to the compre¬
hensiveness of his views, if we estimate them by the limits
of the present work. He seems here to have premised only,
what ought naturally to occupy the first place in a philoso¬
phical system of the art.
It must be remembered, also, that Greek Poetry was es¬
sentially dramatic. It was expressly composed with a view'
to public recitation or exhibition ; and in poetry of this kind,
the character of the incidents would hold a much greater
importance than in poetry intended chiefly to be read. The
incidents would here hold a place analogous to the thoughts
and expressions of the poem submitted to the contemplative
study of a reader. This may further account for Aristotle’s
laying so much stress on the interest of the plot in Tragedy
The definition of Tragedy given by Aristotle is remark¬
able, as savouring more of the spirit of Plato’s philosophy
than of his own. Describing its nature as it differs from Epic
poetry and from Comedy, he further characterizes it as, “ by
means of pity and fear, accomplishing the purification of such
passions.”7 The purification of the soul was the object to
which Plato directed the noble enthusiasm of his philosophy.
By converse with the ideas of the intellectual world, he would
have the soul disenchanted of the spells which bound it to
sensible objects, and cleansed of the impurities of its earthly
associations. Aristotle’s description of the effect designed
in tragedy, applies this doctrine to the particular emotions
of the soul produced by pity and fear. His idea appears to
be, that Tragedy, by presenting the objects of those passions,
without the grossness and the violence with which they are
attended in actual life, teaches us to feel the passions in that
degree only in which an impartial spectator can sympathize
with us. By familiarity with these pure abstractions—the
true philosophy of the passions so called forth—a moral effect
is worked on the heart; the mimic occasions on which it is
rightly exercised serving as a real discipline of purification.
1 The late Bishop Copleston of Llandaff, in his Defence of the Studies of Oxford, p. 27. 2 Rhet. ad Alex. c. 1.
3 Du Val’s Aristotle, ii. p. 82. 4 Poet. c. 9. 6 Poetic, c. 4, 9, 25.
6 Poetic. C. 6, OUV XCU 010V o /uvSoc ms TgayuSizs.
Hid. c. 6, it; tKtov x.ui fx/Qoo xtguivovtrx t»v tbv touvtuv 7ru&ry.a.Tuv xaS'afcjy. So, again, in his Politics, viii. 7, he speaks o jiuri
fication” as an effect of music. There he promises to explain his meaning when he comes to treat of poetry; but no explanation occurs
in the Poetics.
560 ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Practical The question, on what the peculiar pleasure of tragic inci-
Philoso- c{ent depends, is not distinctly considered by Aristotle. But
) it may be accounted for on his principles; from the view al-
' ready given of the purification effected by tragedy, and that
which he elsewhere gives of pleasure as the result of every
affection rightly exerted. That moderation of the passions
of pity and fear which tragedy has for its aim, is that due
exertion of them to which pleasure has been attached by
nature. There is nothing then to disturb or interfere with
the pleasurable emotion; as happens when those passions
are excited in the real occasions of life.
Practical Philosophy.
Ethics.
It has been already observed, that under the head of Prac¬
tical Philosophy, Aristotle treats of those sciences which are
conversant about the goods of human life. According to
this view, the practical sciences are reducible to two : 1.
Ethics; by which man is furnished with the principles be¬
longing to his natural good as man ; 2. Politics ; which in¬
quires into the principles on which the constitution of Socie¬
ties may be made subservient to the same end. Economics
ought perhaps to be stated as a third branch of science under
this head. But in the view of Ancient Philosophy, it natu¬
rally falls under Politics ; inasmuch as it strictly means the
regulation of families; the family being considered as the
commencement or element of the association of men in cities
and states.1
In taking a review of Aristotle’s Ethical system, it would
be injustice to the philosopher to withhold the expression of
admiration of the real wisdom displayed by him in this de¬
partment of science. We are little aware, living as we do
in the sunshine of gospel-truth, what a reach of thought it
required, in those times, to see the science of Ethics in its
proper light, as a discipline of human character in order to
human happiness. The ethical writings of Aristotle, com¬
posed amidst the darkness of heathen superstition, abound with
pure and just sentiments. Instead of depressing man to the
standard of the existing depraved opinions and manners, they
tend to elevate him to the perfection of his nature. They
may indeed be studied, not only as an exercise of the intel¬
lect, but as a discipline of improvement of the heart; so
much is there in them of sound practical observation on hu¬
man nature. They are directed, it must be allowed, solely
to the improvement of man in this present life. But so just
are the principles on which he builds that improvement, that
we may readily extend them to those higher views of our
nature and condition to which our eyes have been opened.
And no greater praise can be given to a work of heathen
morality, than to say, as may with truth be said of the Ethi¬
cal writings of Aristotle, that they contain nothing which a
Christian may dispense with, no precept of life which is not
an element of the Christian character; and that they only
fail in elevating the heart and the mind to objects which it
needed Divine Wisdom to reveal.
He has left three principal treatises in this department of
philosophy, familiarly known by these names: 1. The Nico-
machean Ethics, or Ethics addressed to his son Nicomachus,
in ten books;2 2. The Magna Moralia, in two books; 3. The
Eudemian Ethics, or Ethics addressed to Eudemus, in seven
books; besides a short popular tract (probably a summary Practical
by another hand), On the Virtues and Vices. The Nico- Philoso-
machean Ethics exhibits the most formal and complete de- Ph5’-
velopment of his theory, and is the work on which his fame
as a Moral philosopher is chiefly rested. The other treatises
are entirely coincident with this in the views taken of the
subjects discussed, and often coincident also in whole pas¬
sages.
It is well known with what eager but unprofitable sub-
tilty the inquiry into the Chief Good was prosecuted by the
Greek philosophers. The speculation proceeded from a
misapprehension of the nature of Moral Philosophy. They
thought, consistently with their method in Physics, that, as
every action of human life appeared the pursuit of good,
there must be some common principle of good, the consti¬
tuent of the moral nature of Actions. Again, as the object
pursued when attained becomes an end in which the action
rests, occasion was given for inquiry into the Ends of ac¬
tions, and comparing them, and finding out the ultimate End.
Hence they were busied in exploring the several objects of
human pursuit, and drawing conclusions as to their relative
goodness and finality in the order of pursuit. It is easy to
see what a field for ingenuity was opened in determining
the point where the two notions of the Best and the Final
coincided; and in this consisted the determination of the
Summum Bonum, or Chief Good.
Now Aristotle examined human Actions with a more phi¬
losophical eye. He readily saw through the vain realism of
those speculations which supposed either some one Idea of
Good, or some common quality of good to exist in every
thing that was called good.3 He was aware, also, that when
the “ ends” of action were spoken of, it was not with refer¬
ence to some ulterior object, as was implied in all those
theories which laid down a speculative definition of the Chief
Good ; but that it was the very nature of a Moral Action,
to be in itself an End.4 Hence he turned aside from that
track of inquiry which had misled his predecessors, with the
exception of Socrates, and struck out for himself a new path
of Moral Science. He has thrown his preliminary views,
indeed, into a form resembling that of the speculative moral¬
ists, in unconscious deference to the prejudices of the
method in which he had been trained. Thus he sets out in
his Nicomachean Ethics with a sketch of the Chief Good as
the final and perfect end of all Actions. And this may
give the idea, that in reading this work we are examining
a system of the same kind with the Greek Moral Philo¬
sophy in general,—a view of it which Cicero5 appears to
have taken ; since he speaks of Aristotle’s having united
two objects as together making up the Chief Good of man.
On looking, however, closely into his actual investigation,
we find it very different in its pursuit; the agreement be¬
ing only in the technical form of the argument.
The Chief Good6 which he is intent on establishing is,
the principle or general nature of Actions as such. He
investigates, that is, the law according to which Actions
attain the good which is their object; and which, as being
the end really designed in all Actions, whatever may be the
immediate particular end sought in each, is the great final
cause of all—the End of ends. He speaks of moral virtue
as conversant about Affections and Actions, irepi iro.0'rj koli
1 Theophrastus is probably the author of the first book of the treatise of Economics, edited among the works of Aristotle. (Niebuhr’s
Hist, of Rome, Transl. vol. i. p. 15.) The latter part of that book, indeed, does not pretend to be more than a restoration of the Greek
text from a Latin translation. The second book is acknowledged to be spurious.
2 His son Nichomachus has been represented as the author of some of the books of this treatise. Cicero {De Fin. v. 5) is inclined to
allow him this credit, but without any good reason.
3 Eth. Nic. i. c. 6; Mag. Mor. i. c. 1, 2.
4 Ibid. vi. c. 2, 5, x. c. 6; Folit. vii. c. 3, 13 ; Cicero de Fin. ii. c. 22, “ Id contendimus, ut officii fructus sit ipsum officium.”
5 De Fin. ii. c. 6; see also Euseb. Prcep. Evang. xv. c. 3 and 4.
6 Laertius mentions, in the Catalogue of Aristotle’s writings, a treatise, irspi rayaS-ou, in three books.
Practical Trpafets.1 In strictness, however, Actions, or Affections as
Philoso- they are exerted in act, are the only proper subject of
Pby*, Ethics; which is conversant about Affections, inasmuch as
^ Affections are implied in Actions. Actions are Affections
exerted towards some object, and comprehend, accord¬
ingly, both external and internal acts,—as well those which
are only known to the conscience of the agent, as those
which are open to the observation of men. An action,
then, according to Aristotle, is good, in which an Affec¬
tion attains its object; and, in that case, the Action itself
may be regarded as a reAos or End; the Affection being
realized, completed, satisfied, in it. Accordingly, it may
be inquired, how the Affections really obtain their objects,
when exerted towards them, or in action; or what consti¬
tutes an Action an End. But this is a very different inquiry
from one that, by comparison of particular objects, searches
after some definite sole object of pursuit. In this it is pre¬
supposed, that every object of a natural Affection is an ulti¬
mate end, or an object in which that Affection, whatever it
may be, when exerted rests, as in its natural good. It is
sought, then, to ascertain how this is so ; what that principle
is, by which any Action whatever is really a Good in itself
and an End. Such a principle is analogous to the Chief
Good of the speculative moralists; because it exhibits Actions
in that point of view in which their goodness consists, or in
which they accomplish that good towards which the Affections
naturally tend. But it differs, so far as it restricts the no¬
tion of the Chief Good to no one distinct class of objects.
It is simply a general account of the right constitution of
man’s moral nature exemplified in the multitude and variety
of individual instances of Actions. As Newton does not
inquire what Gravity is, but develops the law by which it
acts ; so Aristotle does not give an abstract notion of the
Chief Good, but explores the principle by which it is realized
in human life. He thus obtains a view of it independent
of any speculative opinions concerning the Chief Good or
Happiness of man. His theory leaves the notion of Happi¬
ness entirely relative.2 The philosopher and the unedu¬
cated, the rich and the poor, the barbarian and the civilized,
each individual, in short, under whatever modifications of
human life he may be conceived to exist, must, so far as he
obtains the good attached to the exertion of an Affection," or
performs a perfect Action, exemplify that law, or ultimate
principle, which constitutes an Action a perfect Action, or
Good.
His several treatises of Ethics consist of a development
of this his characteristic view of human good. He had ob¬
served how mankind, through the force of passion and evil
habits, mistake and pervert their proper goods. Ethical phi¬
losophy, he thought, might be applied to correct this mis¬
apprehension of men—to reform this perversion. The force
of sound practical instruction, at least, might be tried. He
wished therefore to propose to their view the real goods in¬
tended for them by the constitution of their nature, and to
call the attention of each individual to the pursuit of these
in his own particular case. His design throughout accord-
ingly is, to direct the principles of man’s moral nature to¬
wards their proper objects in such a way that they may rest
in these objects as ends, and thus attain the proper good of
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
man. \V hen all the principles are so regulated that this
effect takes place in each, the collective result is, in such a
case, Happiness, or the entire and consummate Good of man.
W hence he takes occasion to describe Happiness in general
ei ms, as Energy of Soul,” i/ar^s evepyeta,3 or “ the Powers
of the Soul exerted in act” “according to Virtue,” or, if there
are several virtues, “ according to that which is best and most
perfect. I he mode of description is drawn from his physical
p ilo*ophy. It is founded on a notion of some intrinsic power
in the sou! working like the operations of the natural world
His theory of Happiness, then, contemplates this process of
the soul at its termination, where the proper nature of the
Soul as an Active Principle is fully developed. The truth
is, we have then a general fact, representing the result in
all particular instances in which an Affection is found pro¬
perly and effectually exerted in act. He takes, indeed, into
his estimate of the Chief Good, the effectof the circumstances
of the world on the virtuous exercise of the powers of the
Soul; adding to his description the condition of “ a perfect
life,”4—or an adequate duration of life, and adequate oppor¬
tunities,—for the development of the moral principles. This,
however, is but to assert, that the law by which man attains
the Happiness of his nature, must, in order to be judged of
truly, be contemplated in its tendency—m the effect that it
would realize, if it acted freely, without impediment from
the world. To think that external goods are causes of hap¬
piness, he says, is like imputing the excellence of the music
to the lyre rather than to the art of the musician. Pros¬
perity, he also observes, has its limit in reference to happi¬
ness, since it may be excessive, and in that case would be
an impediment to happiness.5 Phis necessary qualification
of the expression in his sketch of the Chief Good, gives the
appearance of his including prosperity to a certain extent as
a constituent of the Good. Whereas in this point, as well
as in the whole form of his inquiry into the Chief Good, he
is only following the abstract method of Ancient Philosophy.
In reality he is pursuing a course of investigation strictlv
inductive. The terms themselves, “ a perfect life,” carry on
the idea of the soul’s working out its perfection, in which
piocess the perfection of its physical existence would neces¬
sarily constitute a part.
Thus, too, the notion of Pleasure, considered as an ab¬
stract good, is distinctly examined in his Ethics.6 The
practice of Ancient Philosophy obtruded the question on
his notice ; whether Pleasure was to be identified with hap¬
piness, 01 was to be regarded as an evil. He accordingly
formally discusses it; refuting the existing opinions on the
subject, and establishing, that pleasure is a good, so far as
it necessarily accompanies the exercise of every natural
principle ; and consequently, that the highest pleasures
are attached to the exercise of the highest principles. The
discussion itself is thrown into a form highly abstruse and
speculative. But the conclusion at which he arrives is en¬
tirely practical, and of the greatest importance in order to
a just theory of Virtue. It amounts to this, that the mere
gratification of every natural Affection, by its exertion in
action, is not to be distinctly proposed and aimed at as the
end of that Affection. 1 his would be to grasp at the result,
and neglect the means in order to it.7 For, the gratifica-
561
Practical
Philoso¬
phy.
1 Eth. Nic. ii. c. 3, 6, 9, &c.
ThIorye-8bheSTS\0hevad1oytSat<t?Um-n HaPPines+s.” pol. Philosophy, B. i. ch. 6) are an excellent illustration of Aristotle’s
of hapi>mes8 commo",o au n,“ *”d ““ ^
z Eth. Nic. i. 7. XV • 4 TKl 1 ' *7 n
6 Thirl ie7viil‘tir^s.r'j • to „ , 10ia.\. I, cy fiiaTthtiu ; X. 7, XaCovtrx iomoc 0iov Tthtiov.
ibia. a. c. /, vu. id, x. c. 8 ; Eudem. vi. c. 13; Polit. vii. 1 and 13, iv. ll. ^ H
Ibid. vn. c. 11—14, x. c. 1-5, i. 8; Mag. Mor. ii. c. 7.
shall arrive at it b^makinoAt' ^u?Pose’ tray^nf=> some place were pointed out to us in the distance. We may imagine that we
insunerible difficufties • whereas h lmm.e la e. obJech ancl shaping our course directly towards it. But such a course might lead into
reached ’ ^ Soing along the road leading to it, though circuitous and indirect, it will be safely and surely
VOL. III.
4 B
562 ARISTOTL E’S
Practical tion is, as explained by him, the mere result of the adapta-
Philoso tion of the affection to its object,—something accruing and
consequent on the attainment of the object,—not the object
itself. It is the completion of the process of nature involved
in an Action.1 2 The attainment, therefore, of the highest
pleasure attached to our nature, presupposes that the per¬
fect work of Virtue has been performed, in adjusting the
Moral and Intellectual Principles to their objects.
In proceeding to expand this outline, or “type” as he
calls it, of his Ethical system, Aristotle appears to have
adopted the language of the Pythagoreans, according to
which Virtue was defined a “Disposition or Habitude of Pro¬
priety or that state of man’s moral nature in which all the
Affections are in their due measure and proportion. Ana¬
lyzing the moral principles into, 1. Affections, 2. Powers, and,
3. Dispositions, he rejects the first two classes of principles
as inadequate to the production of Virtue ; and directs at¬
tention to the Dispositions as its proper seat. He observed
that the Dispositions were subject to modification by custom
or habit,—that a moral character did not precede, but re¬
sulted from moral actions ; and that a character so formed
alone enabled one to act morally. As it was thus evident
that virtuous habits were the bond of connexion between
virtuous action and virtuous principle in the agent, he con¬
cluded, that the principle by which the soul “energized,”—
by which its Affections were perfectly exerted in act,—was,
in its general nature, a Disposition, or Habitude, influ¬
encing the Choice.
He had observed also, that in every instance in which
Good resulted from the exercise of the Affections, due re¬
gard was had to the person of the Agent, to the occasion,
to the matter in hand, to the persons respected in the ac¬
tion, to the purpose, &c.; that thus, the virtuous character
consisted in its power of due adjustment to all the circum¬
stances of the case in every action. On the ground, then,
of this general fact, he further concluded the nature of Vir¬
tue to consist “in a mean relatively to ourselves,”—rela¬
tively, that is, to the individual agent in each instance.3
The abstract mode of expression is a continuation of the
same physical notion under which his theory of the Chief
Good is represented. The soul, when truly virtuous, is
conceived to tye wrought to a temperament or mean state,
all its Affections and Actions being in their due proportions
to one another, and to the whole nature and circumstances
of the individual man.
To determine, however, this due measure of the Affections,
is the great question of Ethics. An exercise of Reason is
implied in the adjustment of the Affections and Actions, so as
neither to exceed nor fall short of the due measure on each
occasion, and of that particular function indeed of Reason
which is conversant about the affairs of human life, and which
we call Prudence. Aristotle, accordingly, includes in his out¬
line of Virtue, the statement that “the mean” must be “de¬
fined by Reason, and as the prudent man would define it.”
Still the question remains, what is the standard of adjustment
—what the criterion of the mean, as a mark to which the
moral aim is to be directed ?
Now, the instances in which this self-moderation belong¬
ing to the character of virtue is observed, become in them¬
selves the objects of Approbation, exciting in us sentiments
of love, esteem, admiration, honour, sympathy, &c. Hence
PHILOSOPHY.
the various expressions introduced into Moral Philosophy, of Practical
fitness, propriety, proportion, the decent, the fair, the hon- Philoso-
ourable, the amiable, the expedient, &c.; the adoption of ph^,
one or more of which tests of the morality of Actions, has
given its peculiar complexion to different systems. Aris¬
totle contemplates these sentiments of Approbation, not as
they are in themselves, but as they are outwardly evidenced
by the Praise accompanying certain Actions.3 It is clear that
men commonly praise some actions and censure others.
Where men—not any particular class of men, but society at
large—agree in praising any action,4 there the action so com¬
mended may be regarded as good in itself, and an evidence
of virtuous principle in the agent. The approbation thus sig¬
nified was expressed in the Greek language by the term
koAov,5 to which we have no perfect counterpart in our lan¬
guage, though the word “ honourable” if understood in its
full meaning, may sufficiently represent it.
Aristotle proceeds to apply this criterion to the discrimi¬
nation of the several virtues; a distinct class of objects of
the Affections constituting in his system the ground of a dis¬
tinct virtue.
His enumeration of the virtues is incomplete. It is, how¬
ever, chiefly intended as an evidence by induction, of that mo¬
deration of the affections—“ the mean”—in which the nature
of Virtue consists. His division, indeed, of Virtue is physical
rather than logical—an enumeration of the parts of virtue
rather than of the kinds of it. His method, accordingly, did not
require of him a complete statement of all the particulars com¬
prised under the general term Virtue. He has been accused of
attending chiefly to the splendid virtues. He was probably
led, by the very criterion which he employed, as well as by
his view of the connection between Ethics and Politics, to
sketch more prominently those particular virtues which re¬
commend a man in society. And thus he has sketched beau¬
tiful outlines of those charms of familiar intercourse—affabi¬
lity, frankness, agreeableness.6 His introduction, indeed, of
these qualities among the virtues of his system, is a striking
evidence of the practical nature of that virtue which he in¬
culcates. It is a virtue which is not to be forgotten in any
part of a man’s daily life. Whilst it nerves his arm in dan¬
gers, distributes his bounty, shields him against temptations
of pleasure,—it unbends him in the hours of leisure, and is
ever on his tongue, whether gravely pronouncing in his asser¬
tions and judgments, or playing in the sallies of his wit. These
very instances shew that he did not regard splendour as the
exclusive attribute of virtue. On the contrary, he expressly
speaks of it as the heightening and decoration of the seve¬
ral virtues, and as excellent because it presupposes all other
virtues in their perfection.7 Another evidence ot his not
being exclusive in his regard to the more showyAdrtues, is
his treating of Gentleness.8
He selects the virtue of Justice9 for more particular dis¬
cussion. He distinguishes it as a particular virtue from the
whole of Virtue, which it denotes relatively,—in its being the
moderation of the love of gain or self-interest. Seduced,
however, by the example of Plato, he departs, in his mode
of treating this virtue, from the strict province of Ethics into
that of Politics. The Justice which he explains is a politi¬
cal virtue, applicable to the citizens of a common state, rather
than to man as man. And this confusion of ethical and po¬
litical justice has led him into a speculative refinement, which
1 Pleasure, accordingly, is defined by Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, i. 11, physically, as “ a kind of motion of the soul, and a full and per¬
ceptible constitution into the proper nature.”
2 Eth, Nic. ii. 6, i^is Trpoaipenxri, ev y-ttrornri cvvot fn 7rpo( riyxs.
3 Ibid. i. cap. ult., ii. cap. 5, 8, 7 ; De Virt. et Vit. p. 291. 4 Ibid. x. cap. 2, o yup ram tovto nvai <pxy.iv.
5 Ethic, passim; Rhet. i. cap. 9. 6 Eth. Nic. iv. cap. b, 7, 8.
7 Ibid. iv. cap. 3, eo/ke yiv cuv m /ucyaAo^v^ia. ciov *.o<ryac tic uvai tcjv apntvv yti^ovJ yap avra; raid xju ov yivtrxi avsu cxiiva*' Stct tovto
XxXirov Trj aXnQiia. yeyaXo^v^ov aval ov yap cloy ts avtv KaKcxayaBias-
8 Ibid. iv. cap. 5. 9 Among his lost treatises was one on Justice, in four books. (Diog. Laert.)
A RI S T O T L E’3
Practical involves a difficulty in reconciling the notion of Justice with
Philoso- his theory of Virtue. Looking at Justice as a dispensing
phy- power, he observed that it was concerned about “ a mean,”
in things themselves, in apportioning to each person his exact
due, whether of reward or punishment. On the ground of
this fact he points out that Justice is not “a mean,” as the
other virtues are, but is “ of the mean”—not in itself “ a
relative mean,” but “ relative to a mean.” Had he consi¬
dered Justice solely as a moral habit; he would have seen
that the distinction was unnecessary: since in this point of
view it conforms precisely to his general notion of virtue in
being a principle of self-moderation. There is, however, a
foundation for the remark in the circumstance, that Justice
admits of greater exactness in its exercise than other virtues.
“ The rules of Justice,” says an excellent writer,1 “ may be
compared to the rules of Grammar; the rules of the other
virtues to the rules which critics lay down for the attain¬
ment of what is sublime and elegant in composition.” In
the other virtues we are thrown more on our sense of pro¬
priety in forming our practical decisions. In justice we have
evident facts before us—the merit or demerit of individuals
in themselves ; and these form an external standard to guide
us in our conduct, over and above our internal convictions of
right. So far, then, Justice may be regarded as “of the
mean,” besides being also a point of propriety, or a mean
within ourselves. Aristotle, it should be observed, had no
other more appropriate word distinct from “Justice” to ex¬
press “ honesty” or “ integrity,” and consequently was led to
generalize too far in his analysis of Justice.
Aristotle’s discussion of Friendship2 is open to similar ob¬
jection. He has considered it in its outward effects as a
social principle akin to Justice—to which Justice is subordi¬
nate and supplementary—rather than as an internal ethical
principle, the moderated exercise of benevolence in the
heart itself. His observations, however, on the subject ad¬
mirably illustrate the importance of Friendship to the right
constitution of society—the various modifications of the be¬
nevolent principle in the different relations of human life—
together with the peculiar amiableness of virtue in itself. In
the last respect, indeed, the discussion forms an essential
part of his Moral Philosophy, as it tends to show his con¬
viction that the moral principles have their seat in the heart.
Indeed, this part of his Ethics, as well as his inquiry into
Justice, should be accurately studied by all who would ob¬
tain just views of the comprehensive character of the Virtue
of his system. Together they comprise a body of relative
duties. Under Justice would be classed the duties of “re¬
ligion, memory of the dead, filial reverence, patriotism, civil
obedience, veracity, honesty,” &c.,3 so far as these duties flow
from claims on our respect, and are prescribed by human
laws; under Friendship, the same duties as they are prompted
by sentiment and feeling, and are known by the names of
piety, gratitude, benevolence, fidelity, generosity, &c. Hence
the character of Virtue, in the little compilation on the Vir¬
tues and Vices which passes among his works ; that “ it is
of Virtue both to benefit the woi’thy and to love the good;
and to be neither apt to punish nor revengeful, but merciful,
and placable, and indulgent: and thus there follow on Vir¬
tue, kindness, equity, candour, good hope ; moreover, such
qualities as, to be domestic, friendly, social, hospitable, phi¬
lanthropic, and a lover of what is honourable.”4
His theory, then, of Virtue must be regarded as involving
a minute and distinct attention to all the particular virtues.
And herein appears its great excellence, as contrasted with
PHILOSOPHY. 563
those of some modern philosophers, who have endeavoured Practical
to trace up all the virtues to some one principle of our nature, PhiLso-
as benevolence, or self-love, or prudence. All such theories v ]
are in truth mere accommodations of language, by which 7 ^
different classes of phenomena are arranged under the same
terms; the effect of which is to give a shadowiness to the
form of virtue, instead of striking it out in distinct outline.
Aristotle’s theory is the law by which these different princi¬
ples are held together in fact—the common process by which
the operation of each virtue is carried on ; and which, when
realized in the character of a man, gives him the command
of all the virtues.
The ancient Moral Philosophy sought, like the Modern,
to resolve Virtue into some one principle. But the endea¬
vour of the ancients was chiefly to ground it on some In¬
tellectual principle. Socrates contended that the virtues
were instances of Prudence or Knowledge, (fipovycreis, or Aoyoi,
or tmorrj/jLai. Aristotle shews the foundation of this miscon¬
ception, in explaining in what respect the production of virtue
might be regarded as the work of the intellect. Each vir¬
tue consisting, as he shews, in the adjustment of the action
to all the circumstances of the case, the virtue of an action
must depend on the practical judgment of the individual
agent; and an agent who is uniformly virtuous must exhibit
this practical judgment uniformly operating, enabling him
readily to decide on the point in which the virtue of acting
lies.5 This operation of the intellect on moral objects he de¬
signates as the intellectual virtue of Prpctence or Wisdom.6
When he speaks of it as “ defining” or bounding the mean
in which virtue consists ;7 he implies that, as/l speculative
definition presents to the mind an exact notion of the thing
defined, so the principles supplied by Prudence give clear
perceptions of the moral nature of an Action. For example,
suppose a man to have received some evident'wrong—some
injury done to him without provocation! The Affection of
Resentment naturally leads him to requite the injustice on his
assailant. But by what method of action he should do so,
is a matter of question. He must know exactly in what way
his Resentment should be shewn, in order to act virtuously;
besides having, as his general principle, the inclination to act
virtuously.8 He must, therefore, have had some experience
of human life—some practical knowledge of the nature of
Actions which have been generally approved as fulfilling the
end of this Affection. An experience, then, of this kind, ap¬
plied to the exercise of all the Affections, and operating in¬
variably on the conduct, constitutes the Prudence of Aris¬
totle’s system. It is thus intimately connected with the
moral principles, as the moral principles are with it. It is
the combined result, in the intellectual part of our nature, of
all the virtues of the heart; as, on the other hand, Prudence
is the diverging of the intellect through the various virtues
of the heart. Hence his conclusion, that it is impossible to
be properly good—Kvpiws ayaOov—without Prudence ; or to
be prudent without moral Virtue ; and consequently, that all
the Moral virtues are inseparable, inasmuch as the possession
of all is requisite for the perfecting of Prudence,9 and with
Prudence they all follow.
In this account of Prudence is to be traced the principle
of Moral Obligation involved in Aristotle’s theory of Virtue.
He considers the Moral virtues as those of the inferior part
of the soul, and therefore as formed to obey ; whereas the
intellectual principles, as being purely rational, have, as
such, an intrinsic authority. Prudence, accordingly, being
the intellectual virtue employed in conjunction with the
1 Adam Smith, Theor. of Mor. Sentim. part iii. chap. 6. 2 Eth. Nic. viii. ix.
3 Be Virtut. et Vit. 4 j)e yiirt. et Vit. p. 296, Du Val. 6 Polit. vii. 13.
6 "Sofia means Philosophy rather than what we understand by wisdom.
7 Eth. Nic. ii. 6, upiirjx.mi xoyp v.ai as av o fpoviftis opnriu. 8 Mag. Mor. ii. c. 7; Eth. Nic.
9 Eth. Nic. vi. c. 13, x. c. 8; Eud. v. c. 12.
A RI S T 0 T L E’S PHILOSOPHY.
564
Practical moral in the production of Virtue, is, from its nature, su-
Philoso- preme over its associated principles, and demands of right
Phy- their submission to its dictates.1 It must be confessed that
such a ground of obligation is merely theoretic; and so
Aristotle himself perceived it to be.2 As a principle of ob¬
servation and reflection, it resembles in some measure the
supremacy of Conscience ; but it does not come up to the
force of that master-principle. Conscience rewards and pun¬
ishes by its judgments, carrying with it a sense of merit and
demerit; whereas the dictates of prudence carry no such
sanction in them. Properly, however, the notion ot “ Obliga¬
tion” is inapplicable to his system. Not inculcating Morality
as a law, but as a philosophy, or art of life, he was not called
upon to shew why it should be obeyed as a law. It was enough
for him to point out, from observations on human conduct,
that it is in fact obeyed by all who attain their real good.
But though the principle of Conscience has no place in
his theory, it is certainly implied in his test of virtue and
vice—the praise and blame of mankind. The universal con¬
sent of mankind on these points he regards as decisive of
the Moral nature of an Action. But this is to allow a stan¬
dard of right and wrong inherent in human nature, or what
is equivalent to a Conscience. If all agree in praising a
certain modification of the Affections, and in blaming an¬
other, it is clear that there must be some common principles
in all to serve as the bases of these unanimous judgments.
The same conclusion results from his admission of Disposi¬
tions or Capacities of virtue, and of the existence of natural
virtue, in man, antecedent to the proper formation of it in the
character. Indeed, his analysis of Prudence is decisive of his
real view of this point. Not only are the principles on which
Prudence is to speculate to be drawn from the heart; but
the very deduction of these principles to the particular cases
of conduct involves moral perceptions. For how else is the
precise point in which the “ mean” lies—in which the due
measure of the Affection exerted consists—to be ascer¬
tained ? If the virtue of the Action consisted in an abso¬
lute mean, a mere intellectual process, such as that of Arith¬
metic or Geometry, might ascertain it. But the mean in
question being neither more nor less than what is proper,
this- implies a sense of propriety. Right conduct, according
to him, is not such because it is neither excessive nor de¬
fective ; but is neither excessive nor defective because it is
right. This is plain from his induction of the several vir¬
tues, in which he shews that there is a “mean,” because there
is a point of propriety; so that a Moral perception must pre¬
cede every decision on Moral questions. It is of the great¬
est consequence, in order to a right understanding of his ac¬
count of Virtue, to observe this necessary dependence of the
knowledge of the “ mean,” on the adjustment of the moral
principles to their objects. The want of attention to it has
led to absurd objections against Aristotle’s theory. He has
been interpreted, as if he had said that we could have too
much courage, too much liberality, &c.; which notion pro¬
ceeds on the false assumption, that the mean laid down by
Aristotle is a quantity ; whereas it is only a proportion or
correspondence existing between the principles of the agent
and the objects of those principles.3 The term “ mean,” in
fact, as employed by Aristotle, is merely negative, marking
the exclusion of all unchastened, inordinate, or undue feel¬
ing from the character of Virtue.
But though his system is defective as an authoritative law,
it develops a much nobler theory of duty than the philo- Practical
sophy which rests our obligation to virtue on a ground of Philoso-
inter'est. The “ Prudence” of Aristotle’s Ethics must be un- v PhV )
derstood as widely different from the prudence of such a ^
theory. The Prudence which he teaches is no calculation
of consequences. It is a practical philosophy of the heart;
inseparably connected with the love of that conduct which
it suggests. Whereas, when we are taught to act on the
ground of interest, the prudence then inculcated is a mere
intellectual foresight of consequences, independent of any
exercise of the heart.4 Such a system, whilst it overthrows
the distinction between right and wrong as a fundamental
principle, requires either a very comprehensive power of in¬
tellect in order to its practical adoption, or an express reve¬
lation from the Deity, declaring the good and evil conse¬
quences annexed to particular actions. These are conditions
which sufficiently expose its futility as a sole guide to duty.
The heart of man leaves far behind this morality of conse¬
quences, and decides, even before the action itself has its
birth, whether it is morally right or wrong. The appeal to
the revealed will of the Deity is not only a petitio principii,
inasmuch as no will of the Deity can be ascertained and
proved divine, without the previous admission of principles
of right and wrong; but is refuted by the simple fact, that
theories of Virtue, such as that of Aristotle, have been de¬
vised by men who had no positive belief in a Divine Provi¬
dence. Independently of the excellence of such theories,
the mere fact of their existence as accounts of Human Duties
is sufficient for the argument. That “ the difference, and
the only difference,” between an act of prudence and an act
of duty "is, “ that, in the one case, we consider what we shall
train or lose in the present world—in the other case, we con¬
sider also what we shall gain or lose in the world to come
—is an assertion, disproved at once by the fact, that Aris¬
totle saw a difference between the two acts, independently
of that consideration on which the notion of duty is there
made to rest. Whether he has stated the difference cor¬
rectly or not, is immaterial to this point.
The principle of Self-love has also been well illustrated by
Aristotle in its relation to Virtue. He distinguishes between
the culpable form of it, or selfishness, and that form of it
which is auxiliary to virtue. Self-love, then, in its good
sense, may be acted on by the virtuous man, whose character
is already framed on the principle of “the honourable;” and
in that case, he shews, it will be coincident with Benevolence;
since the person so pursuing his own interest will also effec¬
tually promote that of others. But this is not the case with
the bad man; since, in pursuit of his views of self-interest,
the bad man will at once injure himself and others by com¬
pliance with bad passions.6 It is further evident from the
above, that he does not admit of Benevolence being made
a principle of conduct, otherwise than as it presupposes
other moral principles, and is regulated consequently in its
exercise by a prevailing regard to the “ honourable” or right.
He has also enforced his primary notions of Duty by point¬
ing out the proper amiableness of virtue, both as the only
sure tie of attachment between man and man,7 and as the
only thing which produces tranquillity, self-satisfaction, and
delight, in a man’s own bosom. On the latter point, indeed,
he speaks almost in terms descriptive of the joys and pangs
of Conscience.8 So justly has he embraced in his view the
most powerful auxiliary principles, without exalting them,
1 Eth. Nic. i. c. 13, iii. c. 12 ; Polit. via. c. 14. 2 Eth. Me. x. c. 9.
3 Eudem. iii. cap. 7; Eth. Me. ii. cap. 6, o wXfovaffi, ^dts tXMirti, tov Seovrot—a-To^aa-Tixn yt ovaa rov ftitrov.
4 A moral philosophy of this kind is in fact a revival in a new form of the theory of Socrates, which made virtue a science. It over¬
looks the affections in the production of virtue, as the theory of Socrates did.
6 Paley’s Mor. and Pol. Philos, book ii. chap. 3. 6 Eth. Me. vol. ix. cap. 8 ; Mag. Mor. ii. 13, 14; Polit. ii. 3.
7 See Bishop Butler, Serm. i. f
8 Eth. Me. ix. cap. 4, Ei S»i to ovrai \tav vttiv a3-?uov, tptvx.Tiov tw* /u.o%§-tipia\> iiuriTstpitiac, x.ai Tnipcniov tyitixn fivaC ovru yap
xai Ttpot avrov tpiKixas av ix.01 *at s'Tfp«v ipt\os yivoire. Eudem. vii. cap. 6.
Practical as some philosophers have done, to an undue place, by mak-
Philoso- ing the Theory of Virtue to rest on them.
. ) Such, then, is that account of Virtue which Aristotle’s
Practical Philosophy develops. He delivers it as the theory
of perfect conduct—as that which is exemplified in opera¬
tion whenever human good is realized in life. It is at the
same time, it should be observed, both an account of the Na¬
ture of Virtue, and of the internal process of Man’s Consti¬
tution by which Virtue is produced. The affections being
all habitually moderated by Prudence, Virtue is the result;
and in that Moderation consists the Nature of Virtue.
He was not, however, inattentive to the fact, that the
speculative perfection of a practical rule is not realized in
Human Life. He was aware that a complete subordination
of the Affections to the principle of Prudence was a task of
difficulty above the efforts of Man as he is. So also his view
of Vice, as that state of man in which his principles are en¬
tirely corrupted,1—the affections being conformed to evil, so
that he continually and insensibly2 chooses evil rather than
good,3 is a philosophical limit of the extent of human depra¬
vity, and not an account of Vice as it actually exists in the
world.4 It is indeed a just conclusion, from experience of
that degradation to which our nature is brought—the har¬
dening of the heart, as the Scripture terms it, by the habitual
violation of duty. As the end, therefore,—as the perfect
form of vice,—this state of the heart demands to be sketched
out by the moralist, to give the full truth and cogency to
his admonitions. His outlines of virtue must be drawn from
Virtue realized in its tendency—from that condition of it in
which it is the attainment of man’s Chief Good; as Vice, on
the other hand, must be contemplated where it stands fully
confessed as man’s Chief Evil. There may be a virtue above
Man’s nature, as there may be a vice below it; and Aristotle
notices both these extremes. But neither of these presents
a standard of human excellence or human depravity, and
therefore requires no distinct consideration in an Ethical trea¬
tise. The actual virtues, however, and vices of men, as they
are observed in the world, exhibit an endless variety of modi¬
fications within the theoretic limits of Virtue and Vice. The
Affections are more or less brought into subjection to the ra¬
tional principle in different individuals; and men are praised
and blamed in proportion as they have established this com¬
mand over themselves, or have impaired and lost it. Hence
a secondary or inferior kind of virtue results, as well as a less
odious vice. As it is in the indulgence of the sensual affec¬
tions that human frailty is most seen, Aristotle distinguishes
this secondary virtue and vice by contrast with the particular
virtue and vice of I emperance and Intemperance ; as if they
were simply what we express by Continence and Incontin¬
ence. But his distinction of their nature is a general one,
and belongs to the whole character of Virtue and Vice.5 But
in admitting a morality of this nature, he laboured under a
speculative difficulty. Socrates had denied the existence of
any such imperfect vice, on the ground, that the virtues were
sciences ; and that it was impossible for a man to act against
his knowledge of the best. Aristotle, who, though not agree¬
ing with Socrates in regarding the virtues as sciences/ still
admitted an intellectual process in the production of Vir-
AKISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
565
tue, felt himself required to explain how this higher principle Practical
was ever overpowered by the weaker, as it is in the in- PhiIoso-
continent man. In the course of this explanation, he has , phy‘
touched on the true philosophy of those facts in which the
principles and practice of men are evidenced at variance.
He has accounted m some measure for the apparent anomaly
of the same person exhibiting such contrasts of character—
at one time commanding the passions, at another yielding
to them. For he delineates, it should be observed, under
the characters of “the continent” and “incontinent,” not
two different persons, as in the case of “ the temperate” and
intemperate, but what will usually be the same person at
alternate intervals ; since no one can very long remain either.
For by the one course continued long, and the habit conse¬
quently formed, a person will become the “ temperate” man,
by the other the “ intemperate.”
The question of the freedom of the Will has been admir¬
ably treated by Aristotle. It is discussed as it ought to be
in a treatise of Moral Philosophy, independently of those
metaphysical difficulties with which it is commonly over¬
laid. What the nature of human Will is, whether free or
necessary, according to our abstract notions of liberty or
necessity, forms no part of his inquiry. He points out
simply, what are the classes of actions in which an agent is
generally held not responsible for his conduct; and excluding
these, decides on the remainder—that, since in these, men
are held responsible (as is shewn by the praise and blame,
reward and punishment, attaching to their conduct), the
actions are voluntary. This is the extent to which the in-
quiry, so far as it is strictly ethical, ought to be carried.
Whether we speculatively conclude the Will of man to be
free or necessary, practically we must regard it as free. For
to act on that supposition accords with the facts of human
life: whereas, to act on the theory that we are under a ne¬
cessity, would lead us against the practice of mankind, which
treats persons as responsible for their actions. Aristotle in¬
deed argues, that though the question be decided in the nega¬
tive, it leaves the relative nature of virtue and vice on the
same footing. If their virtues may still be imputed to men,
so may their vices.7 But he more distinctly affirms the volun¬
tary nature both of virtue and vice, on the ground that the
'^PXVi the principle of the action, is e</’ pyiv—in ourselves—
in our own power. Thus, though the virtuous or vicious
habits that men have formed may dispose them to a particu¬
lar course of behaviour, so that, as under their influence,
they cannot act otherwise, yet the actions so performed are
voluntary; because it was in their power to pursue or forbear
from that course of conduct which led to the settled habit,
and to the corruption of their moral principles.
I he principle thus described as “in ourselves,” is, in Aris¬
totle’s Philosophy, the Motive of action. It is that from which
the effect in the conduct originates; and it comes, there¬
fore, under that class of principles, which constitute the
Motive or Efficient Cause. The term, Motive, however, is
popularly applied to the object or end of an Action,8 which
being something external to ourselves, or at least capable
of being so viewed, gives occasion to question the voluntary
nature of Actions. An aim, indeed, at a particular end is
2 S Tit J11’ CQP‘.8, H apiT>’ ^X^P101 Tnv apx**, y) ntv pBeipei, r> <f£ vi. 5, Eari yap « kccxix p&xpTur>
g W Rhet. ii. 4? r« J'f ^txXitTTa khkoi, vkio-tk, oacrBnTK, ecLjua xa/ ottppotrvvyi. This insensibility
JY i * conflrmed habiG and the same result takes place in regard to virtue. The moral principles are less felt, as mere inter-
p mcipies when perfected in the character; operating as it were without thought or effort, in the conduct. See Bishop Butler’s
Analogy, chapter on Moral Discipline. 1
4 Ibid ' CaP’r^’ i“EV, ouv ” &Y-po'trtc*.'Ovx. <p«vfpov' ini rrof to ptEv yap orapa orpoKipurtv, to $s x<xt« orpoaipftriy tor/v.
^ £Ta, P' ’ B:TavTa y* TP> aUT4> wrapou yap av Svymto efiai’ to yap xaxov xai avro aoroKKotri, o\ox\npoy r, apopmoy
7 S' C' i '\Eudlm\ V-i' i Eudem- m- c- 11. 6 Eudem. vii. c. 13 ; Elh. Nic. vii. c. 3.
t«. in. c. which is in substance the conclusion of Bishop Butler (4nal. p. 1. chap, on the Opinion of Necessity). The whole
doctrine of this chapter is coincident with the views of Aristotle, and illustrative of them.
a ej spea s of. piivate happiness’ as “ a motive.” (Mor. and Pol. Phil. b. ii. c. 3.) We use the term correctly when we say that
am ition or aiance is a person s motive, but not in saying that power, or interest, or happiness, is so; for these are ends.
566 A E. I S T 0 T L E’S
Practical implied in every Action; and on the End sought depends the
Philoso- morality or immorality of the Action. But, in strictness, it
l,h-v- is the Choice alone that moves the agent.1
But the principles employed in the production of Moral
virtue are not the whole of our internal nature, nor are they
the highest principles. And Aristotle’s theory implies the
exertion of all; and further, if there be a relative superiority
among them, a preference of the higher. The moral virtues,
according to the theory of Plato which he adopted, having
their seat in that part of the soul which w as termed irrational,
—or only rational as it was capable of obedience to Reason,
—were the virtues of the inferior part. Accordingly, the
greatest Happiness must result from the exertion of the In¬
tellectual principles. Analyzing these into the five heads of,
1. Science, or the knowledge of Demonstrative Necessary
Truth; 2. Art, or the knowledge of Contingent Truth in
the operations of man ; 3. Prudence, or the knowledge of
Contingent Truth in the conduct of Life ; 4. Intelligence, or
the knowledge of First Principles; 5. Wisdom or Philo¬
sophy ; he assigns the pre-eminence to the last, as the per¬
fect combination of Science and Intelligence, and as having
for its objects the highest natures.
That a philosopher, living amidst the disorder and mi¬
sery occasioned by the want of true Religion, should have
sought for a perfection of happiness out of the troubled
scene in which moral virtue is disciplined, cannot excite our
wonder. The calm regions of philosophical contemplation
—sapientum templa serena—presented a natural refuge to
the anxious mind, eager to realize its own abstractions in
some perfect form of human life. It was a search, indeed,
after that happiness which Revelation has made known to
man—a happiness out of his present sphere of exertion and
duty, where he might obtain the full end, or consummate
good, of his being. Aristotle accordingly describes the pur¬
suit of this ulterior happiness, as the “ immortalizing” of our
nature ; as the living according to what is divine in man ; as
what renders a man most dear to the Divinity, most god¬
like.2 Not attributing, however, any real immortality to the
nature of man, he could only draw his notion of perfect hap¬
piness from a view of the present life.3 In this view, the In¬
tellectual virtues are undoubtedly entitled to the preference ;
though experience must have convinced him, that even these
are not without their alloy.4 He by no means, however, re¬
gards the exercise of the Intellectual virtues as an exemption
from the necessity of cultivating the Moral. The happiness
of the Theoretic life is the highest privilege of man’s nature.
Still the practice of the Moral virtues is enjoined, that each
person may perform his part as a man living amongst men.
No philosophy but that of Aristotle has so justly maintained
this proposition. Plato would lead his followers into the
indolent reveries of mysticism ; the Stoics would reduce
theirs to indifference about human things ; the Epicureans
would absorb theirs in the fulness of present delights ; Cicero
would degrade the higher functions of the contemplative life
below the ordinary moral duties, confounding the dignity and
the indispensableness of an employment. But Aristotle ele¬
vates the aim of man to that happiness which, as purely in¬
tellectual, is inadequate to the wants of a nature consisting of
body and soul; whilst he calls him also to the strenuous dis¬
charge of the duties belonging to that compound nature, and
to his actual condition in the world.
Politics.
The experienced inefficiency of ethical precepts in them¬
selves to produce morality in the lives of men, and the con-
PHILOSOPHY.
sequent appeal to some external sanction for their enforce- Practical
ment, led to such works among the ancients as the Politics PMloso-
of Aristotle. The Christian observes the same fact, and PhJ-
draws from it a strong argument for the necessity of a Divine " v —1
Revelation. Aristotle and other Greek philosophers looked
to the influence of Education directed by civil laws and
institutions, and to the rewards and punishments of civil
government, as the great instruments for bringing man¬
kind to that course of action in which their real interest con¬
sisted.
In ascribing this moral force to the law of the state, Aris¬
totle adopted the current notion of Ancient Philosophy, which
confounded moral and political good. 1 he good ot man as
an individual was conceived perfectly coincident with his good
as a citizen; and the science of Politics, therefore, was treated
as including under it that of Ethics. Had not philosophers
been misled by their extreme pursuit of abstract speculation,
they could hardly have thus blended together the distinct ob¬
jects of moral and political science in one common theory.
They would have seen that the social union could only indi¬
rectly promote that good of man which belongs to his inter¬
nal nature ; that it could reach no further than to the protec¬
tion of the individual from external aggression on his per¬
son and property, and allowing him the unobstructed exer¬
cise of his virtue. “ Civil government,” says Bishop Butler,
“ can by no means take cognizance of every work which is
good or evil; many things are done in secret, the authors
unknown to it, and often the things themselves; then it
cannot so much consider actions under the view of their be¬
ing morally good or evil, as under the view of their being
mischievous or beneficial to society ; nor can it in any wise
execute judgment in rewarding what is good, as it can, and
ought, and does, in punishing what is evil”
In consequence of this misapprehension of the end of the
social union, the Political philosophy of Greece was not a
system of jurisprudence, nor any discussion of questions
affecting the policy of particular states. It was a specula¬
tion concerning the Perfect Polity—a theory of social happi¬
ness considered as the result of positive institutions and laws.
Ingenious men amused themselves with fancying how so¬
ciety might be modelled, so as to exhibit an ideal optimism ;
instead of attending to the real phenomena of human life,
and deducing from them the right administration of Society
under its existing forms.5
Aristotle, accordingly, constructed a theory of Politics on
this delusive principle. Proposing to himself the Perfect
Polity, as that in which the virtue and happiness of the man
and the citizen exactly coincide, he proceeds to sketch out
the form of it, and thus to obtain an outline of the institu¬
tions on which his ethical system must depend for its support.
But he was not so fascinated by the theory on which he
worked, as to overlook the practical nature of the science.
He complains of his predecessors, that however well they
might have treated the subject in other respects, they had
at least failed in the useful. They had contented them¬
selves with devising forms of polity which could only be
realized with a concurrence of every favourable circum¬
stance : whereas the usefulness of the science required the
delivery of principles such as were practicable in existing
cases. We know, indeed, from the titles of other works
on Politics which he is said to have written, The Polities
of One Hundred and Fifty-eight States, four books On
Laws, and two books On the Political JManf that he did
not consider the subject as exhausted in the theory of a per-
feet polity. The observations, too, on Justice and on Civil
1 Eth Nie vi c. 2 ; Eudem. ii. c. 11: Metaph. vi. c. 1. 2 Eth. Xic. x. c. 7 and 8. .
3 Ibid. x. c. s’, it rov (ru»fl*T(iU K T. x. . . 4 See Bishop Butler’s Sermon On the Ignorance of Man.
s Draco however and Pittacus, were only framers of laws, and not of polities. (Anstot. Poht. 11. c. ult.) ,
6 These’works are mentioned by Diogenes Laertius. A portion of the Polities of One Hundred and Fifty-eight States, relating to t
constitution of Athens, has been preserved by Julius Pollux.
A R I S T O T L E’S PHILOSOPHY.
5o7
Practical Policy, contained in his Ethics and Rhetoric, are proofs manner analogous to the due moderation of the affections Practical
Philoso- of the sound practical views with which he contemplated in the virtuous character. A “ mean” is to be attained in Philoso-
Phy- the subject. And even in the work now before us, which the one case as in the other. phy.
^develops his professed theory of Politics, the substance of Agreeably to this view of his mode of speculation on the
the inquiry is, judicious and enlightened instructions of subject, he describes the Perfect Polity as a mixture of
policy, drawn from experience of human nature, and ap- Oligarchy and Democracy—as a state which appears to be
plicable to all times and circumstances. From its connec- both these forms of government, and yet neither of them •
tion with his Ethics, it was intended, probably, to be ap- in which, no one of the component elements of Society has
plied by each individual in the practical business of Edu- preponderance, but the claims of freedom, of wealth and of
cation. He wished the student to obtain that scientific know- virtue,3 are all duly considered. A form of government
ledge of the effects of institution and discipline on the hu- which is thus a “ mean” throughout, he designates by the
man character, which might assist him in the treatment of name of “ Polity” or commonwealth ; appropriating to it the
the particular cases of his own experience.1 It thus har- general name, and thus distinguishing it as the perfect form,
monized completely with his Ethics; the object of which the proper constitution of a ttoAis, a City or State;—a city
was, as has been shewn, to enable each man to attain his or state being the “ end” of the Social union,
own particular good by a general knowledge of the real If, indeed, the promotion of virtue, were the direct and
good of man. proper object of the Social union, as Aristotle conceives, it
The perfect polity sketched by Aristotle is a theory of must be allowed, that that only can be a perfect constitu-
the end to which man, viewed in his social capacity, at its tion of Society, in which the standard of political rights is
best estate, and unimpeded by external obstacles, may be the same with that of moral right. In this ultimate perfect
conceived to tend. It is a view of the End or reXos in his form, upon such a supposition, the science of Politics be-
Political system, corresponding to his account of the Chief comes absorbed in that of Ethics. The community in this
Good in his Ethics. He arrives at it by the same train of case acts as the dispenser of the laws of morality; and its
thought which led him to his account of the Chief Good, honours and its penalties are but the channels through which
He considers, first, that man, independently of any calcula- virtue works its own rewards of happiness, and vice its own
tions of expediency, is naturally a political being ;2 as in punishments of misery.4 But this is, as was before observed,
his Ethics he assumes that man is endued by nature with to intrude on a province far beyond that of political science,
active principles tending to his own good. He admits that Schemes for the moral perfection of Society belong to the
Expediency is instrumental in cementing the union among wisdom of a Providence more than human, working good
men, but does not rest society on this principle ; wisely out of evil, and, from a boundless survey of all the relations
judging that man is induced originally to associate with man of things, accomplishing important results by means appa-
by various internal principles of his nature, and not simply rently incompetent or even adverse. Man, in his designs of
by motives derived from reflection on his wants. Such mo- moral good, has only to attend closely to the mechanism
tives are in truth only secondary causes, and auxiliary to the placed under his observation—to use the appointed means
former ; in like manner as the principle of self-love is auxi- —to cultivate given powers—to provide against foreseen
liary to the natural affections on which virtue is founded, consequences ;—and then, having done his part, to trust that
As, then, in his Ethics, he went on to inquire what principle the happiness, which must surely be the end of the whole
rendered actions perfect, exhibiting them as attaining the end under a wise and good Providence, will be the final result
for which Nature had constituted the Affections ; and as this of his well-ordered exertions. Thus, it is manifest to our
principle formed the ChiefGoodofhis Ethical system; so in view, that from the ungoverned passions of men evil will
his Politics, he carries on his view of the social nature of ensue. Society, therefore, may lawfully be employed as an
man to the point where the union to which it tends appears instrument for preventing this misery, so far as external
self-sufficient and perfect. The mode in which the social means can reach it; and so far, too, it may encourage virtue,
principles might be found to operate in this ultimate case and indirectly promote human happiness.5 But let it pro-
would present the perfection of Social Virtue. And from pose to itself “what is best” as the distinct aim of its con-
this specimen of Social Virtue would be deducible right stitution; and it bewilders itself with theories, no one of
forms of government, institutions, and laws, just as the rules which will probably realize the expectations conceived of it;
of right moral conduct are drawn from the whole moral na- whilst, on the contrary, some evil must certainly ensue from
ture of man contemplated in its perfection. artificial attempts on so large a scale. For it is impossible,
To put ourselves, accordingly, into that posture of mind as Aristotle himself observes, but that, “from false good in
in which Aristotle contemplated the subject, we must sup- the outset, real evil must at length result.”6 He is quite
pose the case of a Society analogous to that of an indivi- consistent here, however, with the rest of his philosophy,
dual. The analogy between the principles of the heart, as Excluding from the course of nature a Providence distinct
a constitution, or system of related principles tending to a from Nature itselfj he proceeded, according to his system, to
common end, and the elements of a political community, attribute an internal self-adjusting power to Society consi-
could not but be familiar to the mind of a disciple of Plato, dered as a work of Nature. The maxim, that “ Nature does
who delighted in drawing his outlines of moral virtue from nothing in vain,” is at the base of his moral and political
the imagery of social life. But Aristotle, though some- philosophy, as well as of his physical. The perfect polity is
times imitating the beautiful language of Plato in his an illustration of this maxim. It is the perfecting of the
ethical descriptions, has inverted the analogy, and framed self-provisions of Nature in man considered as a social being,
his representation of a perfect society after the resemblance The real excellence, however, of Aristotle’s theory of the
ot the internal constitution of the heart. We must imagine, Perfect Polity consists in this ; that if w e admit a Divine
then, the various members of a community, when brought Providence, to whose foresight we ascribe the final cause or
to the standard of perfection implied in the notion of a Per- ultimate tendency of the social union, it is a negative descrip-
fect Constitution, all obtaining their respective dues, in a tion of the policy which should be pursued in every well-
1 Eth. Nic. x. c. ult. 2 p0ut' i. 2, iii. 6.
3 Nobility, according to Aristotle, is “ancient wealth and virtueor “the virtue and wealth of ancestors;” and does not, in his
view, therefore, form a distinct head of claims. According to Laertius, he wrote an express treatise, lUpi Euyevcixf, in one book.
4 Ilishop Butler’s picture of a perfectly virtuous kingdom will readily occur here. (Analogy, part i. chap. 3.)
6 Polit. i. cap 2, fj<ni pev ovt » opy.n, *. r. 6 Polit. iv. cap. 12, v. cap. I.
568
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Practical constituted state. It points out the manner in which the
Philoso- public welfare must be sought; that is, by not making any
phy. one of the objects commonly pursued in the political world
the sole or chief object of pursuit to the community. On the
hypothesis, that the happiness of the world is the care ot
Him who ordered it, every society should be so constituted
as that no appointment of Providence be overlooked, but
every part of the social machinery be brought into action.
The love of conquest, for instance, will not be the aim ot
such a state. Such a policy would employ its military re¬
sources only, to the exclusion of its other materials ot hap¬
piness. Aristotle particularly points out this in the instance
of Lacedemon, whose whole policy was framed tor war;
whereas, as he observes, a state should be adapted for living
well in peace, and enjoying that repose which is the end ot
its engaging in war.1 Nor, again, will the mere accumula¬
tion of wealth be the express aim of the state in its whole
policy. Such a ruling principle would tend to degrade the
great mass of the population, and to undo the very connec¬
tion itself between the members of the community, by push¬
ing the boundaries between the rich and poor to the ex¬
tremes of opulence and pauperism; of which condition ot
things the natural result is, the tyranny of an Oligarchy.
Lastly, if even liberty is made the exclusive aim of state
policy, unhappiness is the sure result. Whilst the mem¬
bers of the community grasp at an unrestrained liberty,
they disregard the various gradations ot society, by which
the sphere of human duties is enlarged, and the greatest se¬
curities against violations of liberty are provided; and thus
a wild Democracy usurps the place ot a just Polity. Now,
Aristotle’s theory excludes all such gross schemes of policy.
It admits only the general pursuit ot the public welfare ;
which, like the private happiness sketched in his Ethics, is
not to be made a distinct object under any particular form,
but must be the general pursuit ot the whole organization
of the society; as private happiness is the result of the ge¬
neral regulation of all the moral principles. It is tiue, that
he supposes a society to constitute itself in order to its own
moral perfection and happiness; and herein is the error of
his theory. But this notion being a substitute in his system
for a Divine Providence, it did not imply that the individual
members of the community should propose to themselves,
as their direct object of pursuit in life, that happiness to
which the social system, as a whole, should tend. It was to
be brought about by that mysterious agency which, from not
admitting a real Providence, he was compelled to ascribe
to Nature.
This is further illustrated in his description of the three
right forms of government, and the three improper or devi¬
ations from the former. He admits that the public welfare
may be promoted under other forms—under a Monarchy or
an Aristocracy, as well as under “ the Polity” or common¬
wealth. These three forms are indeed coincident in prin¬
ciple, according to him; being variations produced by
differences in the character of the people among whom they
arise.2 The perfect “ Polity” presupposes an equality among
the members of the society,—that all are capable in turn ot
governing, as well as of being governed. But there may in
some cases be marked differences between a family, or an
individual, or a class of individuals, and the bulk of the
people; and in these cases the rule of justice requires that
there should exist in the former a monarchy, in the latter
an aristocracy. So far, indeed, does Aristotle carry this
principle as to say, that any single person eminent in worth
above the rest of the community, as one of a more divine
nature, ought to have entire obedience from the rest, and
to be perpetual Sovereign.3 The three forms, then, of Mon¬
archy, Aristocracy, and Commonwealth, are right; because,
being founded on the relative merit of the members of each
society, and the standard of merit being virtue, the rule of
justice is maintained in them. The public good follows,
therefore, not from the ascendancy of this or that principle
in the government in each case, but from a due regard to all
subsisting relations in the state. But in the correspond¬
ing perversions of these right governments—in a Tyranny
an Oligarchy, and a Democracy—particular principles pre¬
vail, and particular interests, accordingly, are consulted, to
the violation of justice and the sacrifice of public good.
Aristotle appears the only political theorist among the
ancients who never lost sight of the moral nature of man in
his speculations. The systems of other theorists, as Plato,
Phaleas of Chalcedon, Hippodamus of Miletus, and the con¬
stitutions of Lacedemon, Crete, and Carthage, for the most
part treated Human Society merely as a physical mass, capable
of being moulded into particular forms by the mechanism of
external circumstances. Aristotle, on the contrary, lays the
chief stress on the force of “ customs, philosophy, and laws,”4
for producing the best condition of society. Still as, in his
Ethics, in order to the development of his theory of the
Chief Good of man, he supposes a condition of human life
adequate to the exercise of the moral powers ; so, in his Po¬
litics, he supposes a concurrence of circumstances favour¬
able to the existence of the perfect Polity.0 In this theory
as in that, there must be no impediment from without to
the operation of the principles. Here, as in the Ethics, the
production of the desired effect is the combination of three
principles—Nature, Habit, Reason.0 Iherefore, also, as
there must be certain elements of virtue in the heart in order
to the moral improvement of an individual, so there must
be the proper elements of the perfect social life in the com¬
munity where the perfect commonwealth is to be reared.
Then, upon these natural principles of the head and heart,
a course of public Education is to proceed, disciplining the
members by habit and by reason to the perfection of the
social character, in a manner analogous to the discipline by
the individual of his own character.
We find the same fundamental agreement with the moral
system of the Ethics, in the method of Education proposed
by Aristotle for the citizens of the perfect Polity. 1 he ma¬
turity of the intellectual powers is here also to be the end
to which the system tends. The members of the community
are to be trained so as to be capable ot enjoying the leisure
and repose of a peaceful state. This they are to regard as
their ultimate proper sphere of happiness ; whilst at the same
time they are disciplined to the virtues of that active life, by
which alone the permanence of their tranquillity can be se¬
cured. It is obvious how this harmonizes with the doctrine
of the Ethics, which sets forth the happiness of the Theoretic
life as the highest bliss of man’s nature, but not indepen¬
dently of the practical duties of common life. For thus he
directs the course of training through which the young must
pass, to commence with the body ; then to proceed to the dis¬
position of the heart, and to end with the intellect; the infe¬
rior principles being disciplined in subordination to, and w ith
reference to the higher. Even the sports of childhood were
not neglected by him in the scale of Education. He would
further provide for the best bodily constitution of the citizen,
by regulating the period of marriages with a view to a healthy
offspring, and the care of the mothers during pregnancy.
Here, indeed, we are shocked at finding in such an author
a sanction to infanticide and abortion. The law, he says,
should forbid the nurturing of the maimed ;7 and where a
Practical
Philoso¬
phy.
1 Polit. ii. cap. 9, vii. cap. 14. 2 Ibid. ill. cap. 17.
4 Polit. ii. cap. 3. 6 Ibid. vii. cap. 1, 12.
7 Polit. vii. cap. 16, taiu icfco! rcrrpa/ttvov rpnftin.
3 Ibid. iii. cap. 13, p. 355. Du Val.
6 Ibid. vii. cap. 13.
ARISTOTLE S PHILOSOPHY.
Practical check to population is required, abortion should be produced
Philoso- before the quickening of the infant; no law of morality he
Phy- thinks, forbidding it at this period.1 These are striking in-
stances of the infirmity of a philosophy, which substitutes an
intrinsic agency in Nature for the counsels of an intelligent
Divine Agent working on Nature. According to such a phi¬
losophy, everything adverse to the perfection of Nature is a
stumbling-block. On the hypothesis of a Providence, the
good and the evil may be contemplated with equal assurance
that “ the best” will in the end prevail. In the former case
human reason removes, suppresses, destroys; in the latter
it moderates, counteracts, overrules; doing nothing with rash
violence, but gently conspiring with the appointed course of
things, in opening a way for good out of the evil. In Aris¬
totle, the immoralities here noticed are, moreover, at dwect
variance with the precepts and spirit of his Moral philosophy.
Again, the same moral complexion characterizes both the
public and private discipline of the philosopher. The hon¬
ourable, to Kct/W, predominates over both. By this standard
every institution, whether of bodily or mental exercise, is to
be regulated. No illiberal arts, such as required manual
rather than intellectual skill, are to be taught. Not even are
the liberal sciences to be pursued excessively, or with ex¬
clusive devotion to any particular ones, or with mercenary
views ; the occupation of leisure being the end proposed by
the system of education. What was useful or necessary was
to be learned, but in subserviency to the honourable ; and
the honourable rather than the useful or necessary.2 Hence
the stress laid by Aristotle on the arts of Painting and Music.
It was, in the result, a general cultivation of the mind by
literature combined with moral discipline, and not the storing
it with particular sciences, which his system of Education
contemplated. He saw that the tendency of particular studies
was to contract the mental powers to that particular range
of vision to which they were confined : whereas he sought
rather to impart a largeness and masculine strength to the
understanding, commensurate with the varied demands of
the world in which human life is cast. It was what we should
express by the education of the accomplished gentleman,—
of one who, exempt from the drudgery of life, and having his
actions freely at his own disposal, might be qualified for the
highest functions to which nature has destined man in form¬
ing him a moral and social being. For it should be observed,
that Aristotle throughout supposes an entire immunity from
all servile employments, both to the happy man and the happy
citizen.3 According to his view, a large proportion of man¬
kind are physically incapable, either of the happiness of moral
beings, or of that of social life. Persons so imperfectly con¬
stituted he conceives to be wholly dependent on others, and
to be by nature relative beings or slaves; their proper nature
being comprised in this relationship of dependence.4 To
this class, accordingly, he would commit all the labours of
agriculture, of the mechanical arts, and the market, and all
menial offices: whilst others, more gifted by nature, enjoy
leisure for the proper duties of man, in the various relations
of a moral and social being.5
The justification of the condition of slavery is thus rested
by Aristotle on abstract grounds. He viewed it as an institu¬
tion of nature ; differing in this from other philosophers, and
from the popular notion of his own countrymen, who either
founded it on the right of conquest, or on an assumed ori¬
ginal difference between Greek and Barbarian. This was
569
a far more liberal view of the subject than that which pre- Practical
vailed generally in his time. For it implied, that no one had Phil°so-
a right to retain another as his slave who was not thus phy- v Phy; ,
sically dependent. Every one had a right to be free, who
was capable of enjoying freedom in the performance of the
duties for which man in his perfection was constituted. This
doctrine further imposed on the master a strict moral atten¬
tion to his slave. The slave was thrown on him not only
for support, but for direction in his duties.6
That Religion should have formed no part of the busi¬
ness of Education in his system, was further consistent with
his Ethics. The Moral koAov terminated in the perfect ful¬
filment of all those relations in which man was placed as a
being of this world. It was heightened by the considera¬
tion, that Gods might delight in looking down on such per¬
fection, and that in its highest state it resembled the excel¬
lence of divinity. But it did not strike its roots into, or
draw its nourishment from, Religion. Nor did the koKov of
Social life. The accomplished citizen might be taught to
contemplate himself in the thoughtful activity of a philoso¬
phical leisure, as holding a dignified station among men, ana¬
logous to the divine principles which maintain the order of
the universe.7 But there was no connection between his
social virtues and his religious system. The religious colour¬
ing was only the borrowed light of Philosophy. All active
Religion was consigned to the instrumentality of a particular
body of men—the Priests. The obligatory force of Reli¬
gion was recognised; but being lodged in an external esta¬
blishment, as its depository and sanctuary, reverence was
sought for it by outward bonds of respect, by the privileges
of the order to whose care it was intrusted, and the splendour
of its public spectacles. Aristotle, accordingly, treats the
subject merely as one of policy. He observes, that no one
of the rank of a mechanic or peasant should be appointed
a Priest, since it was necessary that the gods should be
honoured by the citizens; and he points out the import¬
ance of the religious character to the absolute sovereign of
a state, in order to the obedience of the subject.8
Aristotle’s account of his theoretic Polity leaves off ab¬
ruptly at the end of the 8th book; and the treatise is thus,
as now extant, an imperfect development of his views. But
the theory of the Perfect Polity is only a part of the very
valuable materials of the Politics. The work embraces a wide
survey of the social nature of man. Throughout, indeed, it
may be studied as elements of the philosophy of History. It
lays open the principles of preservation and decay inherent
in the different constitutions, and points out the common
principles on which the maintenance of civil order, under
any form whatever, must essentially depend.
Nor has the study which now obtains the name of Poli¬
tical Economy been overlooked by Aristotle. The nature
of Money, and of the wealth to which it has given rise, par¬
ticularly attracted his attention. It may suffice to shew how
accurately he thought on the subject, to observe that his ac¬
count of the origin of Money,—tracing it to its service, as
a common measure of value in exchanges, and as a con¬
ventional substitute for a demand for commodities,—has been
adopted by the author of the celebrated work, The Wealth
of Nations?
On the whole, justly to appreciate the labours of Aristotle
in Political Science, we should compare them with the ela¬
borate and eloquent works of Plato on the same subject the
1 Polit. vii. 16, Trpiv a<(T0mriv fyyivia&ix.i xai £cj»v, {Ju.T'oiE<<rfla< Jei t»v a^jSXcjtriv, x. r. X. 2 Ibid. Vll. cap.
3 Eth. Nic. x. cap. 6, 7; Polit. iii. cap. 6, iv. 4. 4 Polit. i. cap. 3, 6.
6 Ibid. vii. cap. 9. 10. 6 Ibid. i. cap. 13, »ou9ethteo» yup ^axxov touj $ov\ovs » rove itkiSks.^'
7 Polit. vii. cap. 3, 2^oX« yap «v o Srioc xaXa; x«J iras o Mo-pco;, ois oux (ion d;ciT(pix.ca orpcc^ti; or a. pa. tk; oiY.ua; vaf avrav. >MC
hominum ad duas res, ut ait Aristoteles, ad intelligendum et agendum, esse natum, quasi mortalem Deum.” (Cicero I)eim. u. cap. .;
8 Polit. v. 11, vii. 9. In CEconom. i. 5 (probably the work of his disciple Theophrastus), slaves are spoken of as the c ass or w om
especially sacrifices and festivities should be appointed,
9 Ibid. i. 9 ; Eth. Nic. v. 5. Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations, book i. chap. 5.
4 p
VOL. III. u
570 ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
Practical Dialogues entitled The Republic and The Laws, and espe-
Philoso- eially The Republic. Aristotle evidently had this work be-
P ^ , fore him in the composition of his own, and in several places
}jas ma(}e express allusions to it. His two treatises of the
Nicomachean Ethics and the Politics, convey incidentally
a refutation of the errors in moral and political philosophy
contained in Plato’s speculations. It is but a small portion
of Plato’s Republic which belongs to Politics; the bulk of it
being devoted to moral and metaphysical discussions. Aris¬
totle’s more exact philosophy discriminates the subjects
strangely though beautifully blended in that episodic work.
He has taken much of what is excellent in the treatises of
Plato into his own ; but at the same time has the merit of
originality, in the correction and enlargment, as well as sys¬
tematic arrangement, of the principles there diffusely de¬
livered. He acknowledges, referring to the Dialogues of
Plato, that all the discourses of Socrates have in them “the
admirable, and the exquisite, and the inventive, and the
searching;” whilst he claims a right to discuss them, on the
ground, that “ for everything in them to be right was per¬
haps difficult.”1
Plato’s theory was metaphysical throughout. That one¬
ness which he sought to establish in his perfect Republic was
an abstract unity, the realizing of which constituted, in his
view, the best Polity; as the realizing of the one self-existent
“ idea” of good constituted the morality of actions. Thus,
his Magistrates are philosophers, and his Virtue is wisdom.
A character, on the other hand, decidedly practical, pervades
the moral and political disquisitions of Aristotle. They are
immediately adapted to the actual needs of man. They have
not, on this very account, that peculiar charm which belongs
to Plato’s writings. The imaginative perfection shadowed
out by Plato, imparts an interest even to his subtile disputa¬
tions, and engages the feelings of the reader, amidst the
reluctance of his judgment. And thus his works tend to a
practical effect, in opposition to their speculative character.
But Aristotle, throughout intent on the business of human
life, forbears to seize the imagination with romantic pictures
of excellence, either in man individually, or in society. He
points out such happiness as is attainable, or at least to which
human endeavours may reasonably be directed, in that con¬
dition of the world in which man has been placed. His dis¬
cussions on moral subjects are accurate observations, and
powerful reasonings, applied to things as they are. But this
character renders them of more general use than Plato’s
speculations. The man of genius and of sensibility might
feel a stronger stimulant to moral and social energies from
the study of the animated pages of the Republic. But the
generality of mankind would undoubtedly obtain a more
ready help in the duties of life, from the practical principles
of conduct delivered in the less ambitious philosophy of
Aristotle.
CONCLUSION.
Design of Aristotle's Philosophy—Style of his Writings—
His Obscurity—Method of Discussion—Originality.
From the review which has been taken of the extant writ¬
ings of Aristotle, it would appear that the great object of
the philosopher was to discipline the mind by a deep and
extensive course of literature. The various inquiries em¬
braced in those writings,—the unwearied research into sub¬
jects the most repulsive from their abstruseness, or the most
interesting from their connection with the feelings and ac¬
tions of men,—the richness of illustration from the volumes
of ancient genius, and from observations of mankind with
which they abound, are so many proofs of the noble object
proposed in his philosophy. It may be fully concluded that Practical
it was not the mere sophist of former days, or the disputant Philoso-
on any given question, that Aristotle aimed to accomplish. Phy-
His object was, like that of Socrates, to render man really
wise, by a cultivation of all the moral and intellectual powers
of the soul; in order that the great moral of the whole—
the good towards which Nature tends—might be realized in
each individual so instructed and disciplined. Agreeably to
this view is the answer attributed to him, when, on being
asked what advantage had accrued to him from philosophy,
he replied “ To do without constraint what some do through
the fear of the laws.”2
Some of his works appear to have been written in the
form of Dialogue. These were probably of the class called
Exoteric ; that form being more adapted to the purpose of
explanation and fuller discussion,—which seem to have been
characteristics of the Exoteric treatises,—in contrast with the
concise and suggestive form of the Esoteric or Acroamatic.
Among his works are also mentioned Epistles to Philip, to
Alexander, Olympias, Hephsestion, Antipater, Mentor, Ar-
iston, Themistagoras, Philoxenus; besides a collection en¬
titled Epistles of the Selymbrians. A hymn in praise of *
the virtues of his friend Hermias has been already noticed;
which formed matter of accusation against him on the ground
of impiety. It has been preserved by Diogenes Laertius.
It consists of twTenty-three lyric verses, celebrating Hermias
among the heroes who had sacrificed their lives for the cause
of virtue. Laertius has also preserved four lines inscribed
by him on the statue of Hermias erected at Delphi. His
poetical talent was further displayed in verses addressed to
Democritus, and in the composition of an elegy ; of both
which poems the first lines are given by Laertius. The
titles of various other works, or parts of works, occur in the
catalogue of his writings. So laborious, and so diversified,
were the literary pursuits of this great philosopher. These
were works, too, written, we must remember, not by a se¬
questered individual, enjoying the privacy of a privileged
leisure like the Priests of Egypt, but amidst the agitation
and troubles of Grecian politics, or in the courts of princes.
We may well, therefore, wonder at the abstractedness of
mind, the single-hearted zeal of philosophy, which thus
steadily pursued its course, creating its own leisure, and
keeping the stillness of its own thoughts. Probably, indeed,
such writings could hardly have been produced, except with
a concurrence of such opposite circumstances. They imply
at once the man of the world and the retired student,—
ample opportunities for the contemplation of human nature
in the various relations of life, familiarity with the thoughts
of others by reading and conversation, as well as intense
private meditation, that communing with a man’s own heart,
which alone can extort the deep secrets of moral and meta¬
physical truth.
The style of his writings bears the impress of his devotion
to the real business of philosophy. The excellence of his
style is, we believe, the last thing to attract the notice of his
readers; and yet, as a specimen of pure Greek, it is found
to stand almost unrivalled. The words are selected from
the common idiom; but they are employed with the utmost
propriety; and by their collocation are made further subser¬
vient to the perspicuity and force of his meaning. There
is nothing superfluous, nothing intrusive, in his expressions;
but the very ornaments add to the terseness of the style.
The metaphors and illustrations employed are apt and strik¬
ing analogies, availing as arguments, whilst by their simpli¬
city they familiarize the truth to the mind. That these ex¬
cellencies should escape the notice of the reader engaged
1 Polit. ii. 6. To jtttv mpmov jravre? cl tov 'Zax.puTovs koyci, xcti to xo/xpov, *«( to xaivoTO/UOV, xoct to ^nrnTixoT' xk\uc St
icroc ^ccXitov.
- l)iog. Laert. in Aristot.
ARISTOTLE’S PHILOSOPHY.
. . in the matter itself of the author, is a proof of the strict
Philoso adaptation of the style to the matter. We can imagine, that
phy. to the Greek reader nothing could have been easier than to
„ j apprehend the meaning of the philosopher. To the modern,
the necessity of studying the language gives an apparent
hardness to expressions, whose propriety depends on an ac¬
curate perception of the genius of the language. Thus,
what was a facility to the ancient reader is a difficulty to
the modern, until the latter, by study of the language, has
brought himself as much as possible into the situation of the
former. This observation will be illustrated by a compari¬
son of the style of Plato with that of Aristotle. Plato’s style,
undulating with copiousness of diction, is more attractive to
the modern reader; his meaning is often more readily ap¬
prehended at the first glance, by the number of expressions
which he crowds on a point, and their accumulated force of
explanation. But in Aristotle, if we miss the force of a term
or a particle,1 or overlook the collocation of the words, we
shall sometimes entirely pervert his meaning.
There are, however, passages in which Aristotle departs
from his usual conciseness, and approaches towards the elo¬
quence of Plato. The concluding chapters of his Nicoma-
chean Ethics may here be particularly pointed out; or a
part of the ninth book of that treatise, in which, evidently
imitating Plato, he compares the tumult of uncontrolled pas¬
sions to the disturbance of civil sedition. There is a dignity
and a pathos in these passages, controlled by the general
character of severe precision belonging to his style, yet ad¬
mirably harmonizing with it. Sometimes, indeed, his style
is chargeable with too strict a conciseness, as well as, on the
other hand, with prolixity. These opposite faults are in him
the same in principle ; resulting from the pursuit of extreme
accuracy ;—an error in composition, compared by himself to
that illiberality, which consists in too close an attention to
minute matters in contracts.2
Nor can it be denied that there is considerable obscu¬
rity in the writings of Aristotle. It is important, however,
to distinguish this obscurity from that of mere style. It
is an effect of the peculiar design with which he appears
to have composed them. Some are evidently outlines for
the direction of the philosopher himself and his disciples
in their disputations—notices of points of inquiry rather
than full discussions of the subjects. This is very observ¬
able in the Metaphysics, the Nicomachean Ethics, and the
Rhetoric. Sometimes he contents himself with a reference
to his exoteric discussions.3 It is probable that the most
important works of his philosophy were not published in
his lifetime; and that they thus constantly remained by
him to receive improvements which further observation
might suggest. This may partly account for some abrupt¬
ness in those treatises. In our progress through them, we
come to discussions which we had not been led to ex¬
pect by anything previous in the work. The seventh book
of the Ethics, for instance, appears to have been an after¬
thought ; and so also the eighth and ninth of the same trea¬
tise. The work might have been regarded as complete in
571
itself without them. In the Metaphysics, indeed, we can Practi cal
hardly judge what was the exact arrangement of the work; Philoso-
since it has descended to us in an imperfect, irregular form.
But there are like marks in it of successive additions from 7 '
the author.4 The fact that the writings of Aristotle were
left to Theophrastus, and not to his own relatives, would
further imply, that they were intended primarily for those wlio
had been trained in his school, and by whom his philosophy
would be rightly transmitted. The immediate occasion of
this reserved mode of writing may have been the jealousy
of rival philosophers,5 * or the dread of pagan intolerance.
His method of discussion is conformable with the princi¬
ples proposed in his Dialectical treatises. It is throughout a
sifting of the opinions and questions belonging to the subject
of inquiry, by examining each in its several points of view',
and shewing the consequences involved in it. Accordingly,
generally, before fully stating his own conclusions, he considers
what may be urged on both sides of the question, putting the
objections strongly and fairly, and giving the most candid
construction to the views of his predecessors.® The difficulties
proposed he sometimes briefly removes in passing on, having
just glanced at them ; at other times he devotes several sen¬
tences to their explanation. This, which is his method in
parts of his system, is only a specimen of what is the col¬
lective result of the whole. His philosophy, dialectically
viewed, is an analysis of the theories proposed by the philo¬
sophers who had preceded him. Consistently with this, he
commences sometimes with observations on logical grounds,'
or those views of a thing implied in the classifications which
language expresses ; and afterwards inquires into the subject
physically or philosophically; when the discussion proceeds
on principles of physics or philosophy in general.
With respect to the originality of his writings, there can
be no doubt that he derived important aid from the labours
of his predecessors, and especially from those of Plato. An
accurate examination of his writings will convince the reader,
that they are the productions of one who had deeply drunk
of the fountain of Plato’s inspiration. But they shew at the
same time such a disciple as we may suppose the spirit of
Plato would have delighted in ; one who cherished the au¬
thority of the preceptor, and yet had the courage to love the
truth still more ;8 one who thought it necessary to consult
what others had said wisely and truly before him, and yet
would examine a question finally with an independent discri¬
minative judgment.9 Estimating his philosophy thus, we may
pronounce it to be truly his own. It was the fruit of his
own sagacious, penetrating mind. A sufficient proof of this
is his disagreement with Plato on the theory of Ideas,—the
Origin of the universe,—and the Immortality of the soul.
He has been charged, indeed, with invidious opposition to
Plato, with corruption and misrepresentation of the tenets
of his predecessors. Jewish writers have even absurdly ac¬
cused him of plagiarism from the books of Solomon.10 But
there is no real foundation for these charges; they are at
best but surmises; and they are fully contradicted by the
internal evidence of the writings themselves. (r. d. h.)
1 It is probable tbat the number of his distinct works has been made to appear larger than it really is, by the circumstance of parts
of those now extant being described by the titles of the particular subjects to which they refer, and thus represented as separate treatises.
2 Metaph. ii. 3. 3 Eth. Nic. i. C. ult., XcytTM St irtpi kvt»s x.at tv rote t^artpiKot; Xoyoi; apKOWTu; tvttx, xki ^pna-rtov a.urm';.
Ibid. vi. 4, wfcTEuo/Kty St kui vrtpi a-nrov xaj ro<f ti'aTtpix.ois Xoyot;. l)e Ccelo, i. 9, tv toi; tyx.vx.Xiot; tpiXocotpyiptcitri. Eudetn. i. 8.
4 Niebuhr {History of Home, trans. p. 16) remarks this particularly of the Rhetoric. _
5 Valerius Maximus, viii. 14, reprehends Aristotle’s sensitiveness on this point, mentioning his annoyance at the authorship of his
Rhetoric being imputed to Theodectes, to whom he had presented the work for publication, and his care to assert his right to the treatise
in a subsequent work. 3 Metaph. iii. 1 ; Topic, i. 2 ; Ccelo, ii. 13, &c.
7 Ibid. vii. 4; Polit. vii. 5. Occasionally he illustrates from etymology, as in deducing w&o? from tS-or (Eth. Nic. ii. 1)> truippoirvvti irova
cu^tiv fpovutriv (Eth. Nic. vi. 5). “ It is a practice with us all,” he observes (Coelo, ii. 13, p. 467), “ to pursue an inquiry, not as it belongs
to the thing, but relatively to an opponent in argument.” ,
8 Eth. Nic. i. 6, ufjopoiv yap ovroiv <piXt>tv, oamv orpoTi/j.'xv tw aXxStioiv. This is also the sentiment of Plato, Rep. x. axx ov orpoytTvc
uXH$-tiu( TipriTto; avxp. 9 He Ccelo, i. 10, to yap tipnvnv x.aTaSixa£tcr§-iu Soxav, x.. r. X.; Polit. ii. 6; Metaph. xiv. 8, p. u a '
10 Brucker, Hist. Grit. Phil. vol. i. o. 794. This was merely to excuse their own adoption of his philosophy, as Brucker observes.
572 A E I A E I
Aristoxe- ARISTOXENUS, a Peripatetic philosopher, and native
nus of Tarentum. He studied under Lamprus, Xenophilus,
Arithmetic ant^ Aristotle 5 anc4 according to Suidas, was the author of
\ ^ ^ , 453 works on music, philosophy, and history. The only
one of these that is now known is his Elements of Harmonics,
in three books, of which Meibomius published an edition with
Latin translation and notes in his Antiquce Musicce Auctores,
Amsterdam, 1652. This is considered the best edition of
Aristoxenus’s work, although it is imperfect; for part of each
book is wanting, and great confusion occurs from transposi¬
tion of passages. The Abate J. Morelli, librarian of St Mark’s
library at Venice, published fragments of Aristoxenus’s Ele- Aristoxe-
ments of Rhythm from a MS. in that library, Venice, 1785. nus
By the term ap/xovla, the ancient Greeks did not mean har- II
mony in the modern sense of that word as applied to music, Arithmetic
but the system of sounds upon which melody for voice or
instrument was founded. It is remarkable that Aristoxenus,
after asserting that the ear is the sole judge of harmonic
[melodic] intervals, should have plunged into a system of
false calculations of these intervals. He, like the other Greek
writers on music, has given us no information regarding the
practical parts of the art, either in composition or performance.
ARITHMETIC
Is a science which explains the properties of numbers, and
shows the method or art of computing by them.
I.—HISTORY OF ARITHMETIC.
In the early periods of society a vast mound of earth, or
a huge block of stone, was the only memorial of any great
event; but after the simpler arts came to be known, efforts
were made to transmit to posterity the representations of
the objects themselves. Sculptures of the humblest kind
occur on monumental stones in all parts of the world, suffi¬
cient to convey tolerably distinct images of the usual occu¬
pation and employments of the personages so commemo¬
rated. The next step in the progress of society was to re¬
duce and abridge those rude sculptures, and thence form
combinations of figures approaching to the hieroglyphical
characters. At this epoch of improvement the first attempts
to represent numerals would be made. Instead of repeat¬
ing the same objects, it was an obvious contrivance to
annex to the mere individual the simpler marks of such re¬
petition. Those marks would of necessity be suited to the
nature of the materials on which they were inscribed, and
the quality of the instruments employed to trace them. In
the historical representations, for instance, which the Mexi¬
cans and certain Tartar hordes painted on skins, a small
coloured circle, as exhibiting the original counter, shell, or
pebble, was repeated to denote numbers. But on the Egyp¬
tian obelisks the lower numbers, at least, are expressed by
combined strokes. Curve lines were not admitted in the
earliest rudiments of writing. Even after the use of hiero¬
glyphics had been laid aside, and the artificial system of al¬
phabetic characters adopted, the rectilineal forms were still
preferred, as evidently appears in the Greek and Roman
capitals, which, being originally of the lapidary sort, are
much older than the small or current letters. One of the
most ancient sets of characters, the Runic, in which the
northern languages were engraved, combines almost exclu¬
sively simple strokes at different angles.
The primary numeral traces may, therefore, be regarded
as the commencement of a philosophical and universal cha¬
racter, drawn from nature itself, and alike intelligible to all
ages and nations. They are still preserved, with very little
change, in the Roman notation. Those forms, prior to the
adoption of the alphabet itself, were no doubt imported by
the Grecian colonies that settled in Italy, and gave rise to
the Latin name and commonwealth. Assuming a perpen¬
dicular stroke | to signify one, another such g | would ex¬
press tivo, the junction of a third g | | three, and so repeat¬
edly till the reckoner had reached ten. (See Plate LXXII.)
The first class was now completed, and to intimate this the
carver threw a dash across the stroke or common unit; that is,
he employed two decussating strokes X t° denote ten. He
next repeated this mark to express tiventy, thirty, and so
forth, till he finished the second class of numbers. Arrived
at an hundred, he would signify it by joining another dash
to the mark for ten, or by merely connecting three strokes
thus [L Again, the same spirit of invention might lead
him to repeat this character in denoting two hundred, three
hundred, and so forth, till the third class was completed.
A thousand, which begins the fourth class on the Denary
Scale, was therefore expressed by four combined strokes
M, and this was the utmost length to which the Romans
first proceeded by direct notation.
But the division of these marks afterwards furnished
characters for the intermediate numbers, and hence greatly
shortened the repetition of the lower ones. Thus, having
parted in the middle the two decussating strokes X denot¬
ing ten, either the under half fc, or the upper half V?
was employed to signify five. Next, the mark [L for an
hundred, consisting of a triple stroke, was largely divided
into [” and either of which represented fifty. Again,
the four combined strokes M, which originally formed
the character for a thousand, came afterwards, in the pro¬
gress of the arts, to assume a rounded shape fre¬
quently expressed thus QiO> by two disparted semicircles
divided by a diameter. This last form, by abbreviation on
either side, gave two portions cl and lo to represent five
hundred.
It was an easy process, therefore, to devise a universal Origin of
character for expressing numbers. But the task was very Roman nu-
different to reduce the exhibition of language in general mei'als-
to such concise philosophical principles. This attempt
seems accordingly to have been early abandoned by all
nations except the Chinese. The inestimable advantage
of uniting again the whole human race, in spite of the
diversity of tongues, by the same permanent system of
communication, was sacrificed for the easier attainment of
representing by artificial signs those elementary and fu¬
gitive sounds into which the words of each particular dia¬
lect could be resolved. Hence the Alphabet was in¬
vented, which had very nearly attained its present form at
the period when the Roman commonwealth was extending
its usurpation over Italy. About that epoch a sort of re¬
action seems to have arisen between the artificial and the
natural systems ; and the numeral strokes were finally dis¬
placed by such alphabetic characters as then most resem¬
bled them. (See Plate LXXII.) The ancient Romans
employed the letter I to represent the single stroke or
mark for one; they selected the letter V, since it resem¬
bles the upper half of the two decussating strokes or
symbol, for five ; the letter X exactly depicted the double
mark for ten ; again, the letter L was adopted as resem-
A R I T H M E T I C.
573
History, bling the divided symbol for fifty ; while the entire sym-
bol, or the tripled stroke, denoting an hundred, was ex¬
hibited by the hollow square the original form of the
letter C before it became rounded over. The quadrupled
stroke for a thousand was distinctly represented by the
letter M, and its variety by the compound character do,
consisting of the letter I inclosed on both sides by C, and
by the same letter reversed ; a portion of this, again, or lo,
being condensed into the letter D, expressed five hundred.
The letters C and M, beginning the words Centum and
Mille, might have a farther claim to represent an hundred
and a thousand; but the coincidence was merely acci¬
dental, since these terms migrated probably from the
Greek words ixarov and yfKia.
This was the limit of numeration among the early Ro¬
mans ; but, in the progress of refinement, they repeated
the symbols of a thousand to denote the higher terms of
the Denary Scale. Thus, ccloo was employed to repre¬
sent ten thousand, and ccclooo to signify an hundred
thousand, the letter I, inclosed between the c o, being, for
the sake of greater distinctness, elongated. Again, each
of these being divided, gives loo for five thousand, and
looo for fifty thousand. These characters, however, were
often modified and abbreviated in monumental inscrip¬
tions. By drawing a horizontal line over the letters, their
value was augmented 07ie thousand times. In the plate so
often referred to, we have endeavoured, from the best
authorities, to exhibit, under the title of Lapidary Nume¬
rals, a complete specimen of the various contractions used
by stone-cutters among the Romans. It was customary
with them, for the sake of abbreviation, to reckon, as rude
tribes are apt to do, partly backwards. Thus, instead of
octodecem and novemdecem, the words for eighteen and nine¬
teen, they frequently used duodeviginti and undeviginti, as
more elegant and expressive. This practice led to the
application of deficient numbers, an improvement scarcely
to be expected from a people so little noted for invention.
Instead of writing nine thus, VIIII, by joiningto five,
they counted one back from ten, or placed I before X.
In the same way they represen ted^/orty, and four hundred,
ninety, and nine hundred, by XL, and CD, XC, and CM.
Such, we have no doubt, is the real account of the rise
and progress of the Roman numerals. It perfectly agrees
with the few hints left us by Aulus Gellius, who express¬
ly says that I and X were anciently represented by one
and two strokes; though philologers, misled by partial
glimpses, have indeed given a very different statement.
Priscian the grammarian, who flourished in the reign of
the emperor Justinian, asserts that the mark I was only
borrowed from the Athenians, being adopted by them as
the principal letter of the word MIA, or one, the M of
which is considered as mute; that V or U was employed
by the Romans to denote five, because it is the fifth vowel
in the common order; that X was assumed to represent
ten, as being the tenth consonant, and likewise following
the V; that L was taken to signifyyz/b/, being sometimes
interchanged with N, which, as a small letter, expressed
that number among the Greeks; that C was adopted to
mark an hundred, because it is the first letter of the word
centum ; that D, being the next letter of the alphabet, was
employed to signify hundred; and that M was bor¬
rowed from the Greek letter X for XIAIA, or a thousand,
only that it was rounded at the ends to distinguish it
from the symbol for ten.
After the system of Roman numerals, however, had
acquired its full extent, the solicitude of superstition long
preserved some traces of the rudest and most primitive
mode of chronicling events. At the close of each re¬
volving year, generally on the ides of September, the
Praetor Maximus was accustomed, with great ceremony,
to drive a nail in the door on the right side of the temple History,
of Jupiter, next that of Minerva, the patron of learning
and the inventor of numbers. On such occasions they
elected a dictator for the sole purpose of driving the sacred
nail, and beginning a more propitious year. Hence the
expression of Cicero—Ex hoc die, clavum anni movebis.
As the Chinese constructed the Swan-pan on the prin- Chinese
ciples of the Roman Abacus (See Abacus), so they numerals-
likewise, at the remotest epoch of the empire, framed a
system of numerals in many respects similar to those
which the Romans probably derived from their Pelasgic
ancestors. This will appear from the inspection of the
characters engraved on Plate LXXIL It is only to be ob¬
served that the Chinese mode of writing is the reverse of
ours ; and that, beginning at the top of the leaf, they de¬
scend in parallel columns to the bottom, proceeding, how¬
ever, from right to left, as practised by most of the Ori¬
ental nations.
Instead of the vertical lines used by the Romans, we
therefore meet with horizontal ones in the Chinese nota¬
tion. Thus, one is represented by a horizontal stroke,
with a sort of barbed termination ; two by a pair of such
strokes ; and three by as many parallel strokes ; the mark
for four has four strokes, with a sort of flourish; three
horizontal strokes, with two vertical ones, form the mark
for five; and the other symbols exhibit the successive
strokes abbreviated, as far as nine. Ten is figured by a
horizontal stroke, crossed with a vertical score, to show
that the first rank of the Denary Scale was completed;
an hundred is signified by two vertical scores, connected
by three short horizontal lines; a thousand is represented
by a sort of double cross; and the other ranks, ascending
to an hundred millions, have the same marks successively
compounded. In addition to the figures in the Plate, we
shall here givejfec similes of a complete set of numerals,
printed with metallic types in 1814, at Serampore, in the
Elements of Chinese Grammar, by the Reverend Dr
Marshman. In these characters, it will be perceived that
each symbol has, for the sake of distinction, a small zero
or 0 annexed to it-
One,
Two,
Yih.
Irr.
Three,     San.
a
Four, tzg Se.
Five, Ll Ngoo.
o
Six, '/\ Lyeu.
Seven, -b Ts'hih
Pah.
Eight, j\^
Nine, K Kyeu.
Ten,
A Hundred,
A Thousand,
Ten
Thousand,
A hundred
Thousand,
A Million,
Ten
Millions,
A hundred
Millions,
I'll King,
o
Kyai.
The numbers eleven, twelve, &c. are represented by put¬
ting the several marks fox one, two, &c. the excesses above
ten, immediately below its symbol. But to denote twenty,
thirty, &c. the marks of the multiples two, three, &c. are
placed above the symbol for ten. This distinction is pur¬
sued through all the other cases. Thus, the marks for
two, three, &c. placed over the symbols of an hundred or of
574
ARITHMETIC.
History, a thousand, signify so many hundreds or thousands. The
character for ten thousand, called wan, appears to have
been the highest known at an early period of the Chinese
history; since, in the popular language at present, it is
equivalent to all. But the Greeks themselves had not
advanced farther. In China, wan wan signifies ten thou¬
sand times ten thousand, or an hundred millions; though
there is also a distinct character for this high number. In
the eastern strain of hyperbole, the phrase wan wan far out¬
doing a thousand years, the measure of Spanish loyalty, is
the usual shout of long live the emperor ! The Chinese
character chad for a million, though not of the greatest an-
tiquity, is yet as old as the time of Confucius. The cha¬
racters for ten and for an hundred millions are not found
in their oldest books, but occur in the imperial dictionary.
Such is the very complete but intricate system of Chi¬
nese numerals. It has been constantly used, from the
remotest times, in all the historical, moral, and philosophi¬
cal compositions of that singular people. The ordinary
symbols for words, or rather things, are, in their writings,
generally blended with skill among those characters. But
the Chinese merchants and traders have transformed
this system of notation into another, which is more con¬
cise, and better adapted for the
details of business. The changes
made on the elementary charac¬
ters, it will be seen, are not very
material. The one, two, and three,
are represented by perpendicular
strokes ; the symbols for four and
Jive are altered; six is denoted by a
short score above an horizontal
stroke, as if to signify that Jive,
the half of the index of the scale,
had been counted over ; seven and
eight are expressed by the addi¬
tion of one and two horizontal
lines; and the mark for nine is
composed of that for six, or per¬
haps at first a variety ofyfoe, join¬
ed to that of four.
To represent eleven, twelve, &c. in this mode, a single
stroke is placed on the left of the cross for ten, and the
several additions of one, two, &c. annexed on the right.
From twenty to an hundred, the signs of the multiples
are prefixed to the mark for ten.
rr
ftf
X
n
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Forty.
Fifty.
Seventy.
rf-
+
F
F
Twenty-one
Thirty-one.
Forty-one.
Fifty-one.
Seventy-three.
The same method is pursued through the hundreds,
the marks of the several multiples being always placed on
the left hand before the contracted symbol of puli, or an
hundred. The additions are made on the right, with a
small cipher or circle (o), called ling, when necessary, to
separate the place of units. The distinction between two
hundred and three and five hundred and thirty deserves History,
to be particularly remarked.
11 Two hundred.
Five hundred.
 w Seven hundred
A similar process extends to the notation of thousands,
but for ten thousand the character wan is abbreviated.
As a specimen of their combination, we select the follow¬
ing complex expression,
o o i)}
which denotes five hundred and forty-three millions, four
hundred and seventy-five thousand, and three. The same
number would be thus represented in the regular system
of Chinese notation :—
-If T
Here the first column on the right hand presents the marks
for fifty and four, with the interjacent character wdn, or
ten thousand; the next column to the left has the several
marks for a thousand, three, and an hundred ; the middle
column exhibits the symbols of forty and of seven ; the
adjacent column repeats the character wdn, or ten thou¬
sand, and then presents those for five and a thousand;
and the last column has the symbol ling, or the rest, which
fills up the blank, with the mark for three.
The last expression seems abundantly complicated,
and yet it is unquestionably simpler and clearer than the
corresponding notation with Roman numerals, as repre¬
sented below.
IG0G0G3G • CCCCCI330G3 •
CCCCClOOOOO * CCCCCI0G003 •
CCCCCI30000 • CCCCI0033 •
CCCCIOOG • CCCCI003D • CCClOOO •
CCCIOGG • CCClODO • CCClGDO
1000 • CCIOD • CCIDG • 100 • III.
From such an intricate example, the imperfection of the
Roman system will appear the more striking.
The abbreviated process of the Chinese traders was
probably suggested by the communication with India,
where the admirable system of denary notation has, from
the earliest ages, been understood and practised. The
adoption of a small cipher to fill the void spaces was a
most material improvement on the very complex charac¬
ter ling, used formerly for the same purpose.
About the close of the 17th century, the Jesuit mis¬
sionaries Bouvet, Gerbillon, and others, then residing at
the court of Pekin, and able mathematicians, appear to
IJ O'
R
R
iT
Two hundred
and three.
■ Five hundred
and thirty.
-^1 Seven hundred
and eighty-tivo.
ARITHMETIC.
575
History, have still farther improved the numeral symbols of the
Chinese traders, and reduced the whole system to a de¬
gree of simplicity and elegance of form scarcely inferior
to that of our modern ciphers. With these abbreviated
characters they printed, at the imperial press, Vlacq’s
Tables of Logarithms, extending to ten places of decimals,
in a beautiful volume, of which a copy was presented by
Father Gaubil, on his return to Europe, about the year
1750, to the Royal Society of London. From this very
curious work, the marks in Plate LXXII. entitled Im¬
proved Chinese Numerals, were carefully copied. No
more than nine characters, it will be seen, are wanted;
the upright cross + for ten being a mere redundancy.
The marks for one, two, and three, consist of parallel
strokes as before ; an oblique cross X denotes four ; and
a sort of bisected ten signifies five. This symbol again,
being contracted into the angular mark ^1, and com¬
bined with one, two, or three strokes drawn below it, re¬
presents six, seven, or eight; and still more abridged and
annexed to the sign of four, it denotes nine. The dis¬
tinction of units, tens, hundreds, &c. is indicated by
giving the strokes alternately an horizontal and vertical
position, while the blanks or vacant bars are expressed
by placing small zeros. The very important collection
of logarithmic tables just mentioned was printed by the
command of the emperor Kang-hi, a man of enlarged
views, who governed China with dignity and wisdom du¬
ring a long course of years. This enlightened prince was
much devoted to the learning of Europe, and is reported
to have been so fond of calculation as to have those
tables abridged and printed in a smaller character, which
precious volume he carried constantly fastened to his
girdle. The emperor Kien-long, who, after a beneficent
reign of 60 years, in the decline of a protracted life
spontaneously resigned the imperial office to his son, dis¬
covered a similar taste for the mathematical sciences.
Greek nu- The Greeks, after having communicated to the founders
merals. of Rome the elements of the numeral characters which
are still preserved, again exercised their inventive genius
in framing new systems of notation. Discarding the
simple original strokes, they sought to draw materials of
construction from their extended alphabet. I hey had no
fewer than three dift’erent modes of proceeding. ls£, I he
letters of the alphabet, in their natural succession, were
employed to signify the smaller ordinal numbers. In this
way, for instance, the books of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey
are usually marked. But the practice could scarcely be
older than the time of Aristotle, who, it is well known,
first collected and arranged those immortal poems, in the
edition of the Casket, for the use of his illustrious pupil
Alexander the Great. 2d, The first letters of the words
for numerals were adopted as abbreviated symbols. Ihus,
employing capitals only, I, being retained as before, to
denote one, the letter H of RENTE' markedyfoe, the A of
AEKA denoted ten, the Hof’EKATON, anciently written
HEKATON, expressed an hundred, the X of XIAIA a
thousand, and the letter M of the word MTPIA represent¬
ed ten thousand. A simple and ingenious device was used
for augmenting the powers of those symbols; a large H
placed over any letter made it signify five thousand times
more. Thus, | A | denoted fifty thousand, and | \\\ five hun¬
dred thousand. See Plate LXXII. 2>d, But a mighty
stride was afterwards made in numerical notation by the
Greeks, when they distributed the twenty-four letters of
their alphabet into three classes, corresponding to units,
tens, and hundreds. To complete the symbols for the nine
digits, an additional character was introduced in each
class. The mark s, called episemon, was inserted among
the units, immediately after s, the letter denoting five ;
and the koppa and sanpi, represented by 5 > ■A , or ^ ter¬
minated respectively the range of tens and of hundreds, or History,
expressed ninety and nine hundred. This arrangement
of the symbols, it is obvious, could extend only to the ex¬
pression of nine hundred and ninety-nine; but, by sub¬
scribing an iota under any character, the value was aug¬
mented a thousand fold, or by writing the letter M, or the
mark for a myriad, or ten thousand, under it, the effect
was increased ten times more. This last modification was
sometimes more simply accomplished by placing two dots
over the character.
Such is the beautiful system of Greek numerals, so
vastly superior in clearness and simplicity to the Roman
combination of strokes. It was even tolerably fitted as an
instrument of calculation. Hence the Greeks early laid
aside the use of the abacus; while the Romans, who
never showed any taste for science, were confined, by the
total inaptitude of their numerical symbols, to the practice
of the same laborious manipulation.
It should, however, be remarked, that the Greeks dis¬
tinguished the theory from the practice of arithmetic,
by separate names. The term Arithmetic itself was re¬
stricted by them to the science which treats of the nature
and general properties of numbers ; while the appellation
Logistic was appropriated to the collection of rules framed
to direct and facilitate the common operations of calcula¬
tion. The ancient systems of arithmetic, accordingly,
from the books of Euclid to the treatise of Boethius and
the verses or commentaries of Capella, are merely specu¬
lative, and often abound with fanciful analogies. Pytha-Mystical
goras had brought from the East a passion for the mysti- properties
cal properties of numbers, under the veil of which he pro-^im-
bably concealed some of his secret or esoteric doctrines.
He regarded Numbers as of divine origin, the fountain ot
existence, and the model and archetype of all things. He
divided them into a variety of different classes, to each ot
which were assigned distinct properties. They were prime
or composite, perfect or imperfect, redundant or deficient,
plane or solid; they were triangular, square, cubic, or
pyramidal. Even numbers were held by that visionary
philosopher as feminine, and allied to earth; but the oda
numbers were considered by him as endued with mascu¬
line virtue, and partaking of the celestial nature. He
esteemed the unit, or monad, as the most eminently sacred,
and as the parent of all scientific numbers ; he viewed two,
or the duad, as the associate of the monad, and the mother
of the elements; and he regarded three, or the triad, as
perfect, being the first of the masculine numbers, compre¬
hending the beginning, middle, and end, and hence fitted
to regulate by its combinations the repetition of prayers
and libations. As the wowac? represented the Divinity, or
the Creative Power, so the duad was the image of Matter ;
and the triad, resulting from their mutual conjunction,
became the emblem of Ideal Forms.
But the tetrad, or four, was the number which Pytha¬
goras affected to venerate the most. It is a square, and
contains within itself all the musical proportions, and ex¬
hibits by summation all the digits as far as ten, the root of
the universal scale of numeration; it marks the seasons,
the elements, and the successive ages of man ; and it like¬
wise represents the cardinal virtues, and the opposite vices.
The ancient division of mathematical science into Arith¬
metic, Geometry, Astronomy, and Music, was fourfold,
and the course was therefore termed a tetractys or guf"
ternion. Hence, Dr Barrow would explain the oath familiar
to the disciples of Pythagoras, “ I swear by him who
communicated the Tetractys.” ^ .
Five, or the pentad, being composed of the first ma e
and female numbers, was styled the number of the world.
Repeated anyhow by an odd multiple, it always re-ap¬
peared ; and it marked the animal senses and the zones
of the globe.
576 A R I T H
History. Six, or the hextad, being composed of its several fac-
tors, was reckoned perfect and analogical. It was likewise
valued as indicating the sides of the cube, and as entering
into the composition of other important numbers.
Seven, or the heptad, formed from the junction of the
triad with the tetrad, has been celebrated in every age.
Being unproductive, it was dedicated to the virgin Mi¬
nerva, though possessed of a masculine character. It mark¬
ed the series of the lunar phases, the number of the planets,
and seemed to modify and pervade all nature.
Eight, or the octad, being the first cube that occurred, was
dedicated to Cybele, the mother of the gods, whose image
in the remotest times was only a cubical block of stone.
Nine, or the ennead, was esteemed as the square of the
triad. It denotes the number of the Muses, and, being
the last of the series of digits, and terminating the tones
of music, it was inscribed to Mars.
Ten, or the decad, from the important office which it per¬
forms in numeration, was, however, the most celebrated for
its properties. Having completed the cycle and begun a
new series of numbers, it was aptly styled apocatastasic or
periodic, and therefore dedicated to the double-faced Janus.
The cube of the triad, or the number twenty-seven, ex¬
pressing the time of the moon’s periodic revolution, was
supposed to signify the power of the lunar circle. The
quaternion of celestial numbers, one, three, Jive, and seven,
joined to that of the terrestrial numbers two, four, six, and
eight, compose the number thirty-six, the square of the
first perfect number six, and the symbol of the universe,
distinguished by wonderful properties.
But it would be endless to recount all the visions of the
Pythagorean school; nor should we descend to notice such
fancies, if, by a perpetual descent, the dreams of ancient
philosophers had not, in the actual state of society, still
tinctured our language, and mingled with the various in¬
stitutions of civil life. Not to wander in search of illus¬
tration, we see the predilection for the. number seven
strongly marked in the customary term of apprenticeships,
in the period required for obtaining academical degrees,
and in the legal age of majority.
Numerical The Chinese appear, from the remotest epochs of their
fancies of empire, to have entertained the same admiration of the
the Chi- mystical properties of numbers that Pythagoras imported
from the East. Distinguishing numbers into even and
odd, they considered the former as terrestrial, and partak¬
ing of the feminine principle Yang ; while they regarded
the latter as of celestial extraction, and endued with the
masculine principle Yn. The even numbers were repre¬
sented by small black circles, and the odd ones by similar
white circles, variously disposed, and connected by straight
lines. See Plate LXXII. The sum of the five even
numbers two, four, six, eight, and ten, being thirty, was
called the number of the Earth ; but the sum of the five
odd numbers one, three, five, seven, and nine, or twenty-five,
being the square offive, was styled the number of Heaven.
The nine digits were likewise grouped in two different
ways, termed the Lo-chou and the Ho-tou. The former
expression signifies the Book of the River Lo, or what the
great Yu saw delineated on the back of the mysterious
tortoise which rose out of that river : it may be conceived
from this arrangement.
Nine
Four Two
Three Five Seven
Eight Six
M E T I C.
Nine was reckoned the head, and one the tail, of the History,
tortoise; three and seven were considered as its left and
right shoulders; and four and two, eight and six, were
viewed as the fore and the hind feet. The number five,
which represented the heart, was also the emblem of
Heaven. We need scarcely observe, that this group of
numbers is nothing but the common magic-square, each
row of which makes up fifteen.
As the Lo-chou had the figure of a square, so the Ho-
tou had that of a cross. It is what the emperor Fou-hi
observed on the body of the horse-dragon which he saw
spring out of the river Ho. The central number was ten,
which, it is remarked by the commentators, terminates all
the operations on numbers.
Seven
Two
Five Three Ten Four Nine
Five
One
Six
The Greek system of notation proceeded directly as far
as ten thousand, comprising four terms of the Denary
Scale ; but by subscribing M, the initial letter of yupa, it
was carried over another similar period to signify hun¬
dreds of millions. But the penetrating genius of Archi- Extended
medes quickly discerned the powers and unfolded the notation
properties of such progressions. In a curious tract, en-
titled Ifayyirrig or Arenarius, this philosopher amused him- n^e(jes
self with showing that it was possible, assuming the es¬
timation of Aristarchus of Samos, and other astronomers
of that age, to represent the number of particles of sand
which would be required to fill the sphere of the universe.
He took the limit of the ordinary numeral system, or ten
thousand times ten thousand, that is, an hundred millions,
as the root of a new scale of progression, which therefore
advanced eight times faster than the simple denary nota¬
tion. Archimedes proposed to carry this comprehensive
system as far as eight periods, which would therefore
correspond to a number expressed in our mode by sixty-
four digits. From the nature of a geometrical progres¬
sion, he demonstrated that proportional numbers would
range at equal distances, and consequently that the pro¬
duct of any two numbers must have its place determined
by the sum of the separate ranks,—a principle which in¬
volves the theory of logarithms.
The fine speculation of the Sicilian philosopher does
not, however, appear to have been carried into effect; and
without actually performing those calculations, he con¬
tents himself by pointing out the process, and stating the and by
approximate results. But Apollonius, the most ingenious Apollo-
and inventive, next to Archimedes, of all the ancient ma- mus‘
thematicians, resumed that scheme of numeration, sim¬
plified the construction of the scale, and reduced it to a
commodious practice. For greater convenience, he pre¬
ferred the simple myriad as the root of the system, which,
therefore, proceeded by successive periods, corresponding
to four of our digits. The periods were distinguished by
breaks or blanks. That most important office which, in
the modern system of notation, the cipher performs, by
marking the rank of the digits, was indeed unknown to
the earlier Greeks. They were hence obliged, when the
lower periods failed, to repeat the letters Mu. or the con¬
traction for pupa, ten thousand. Thus, to express thirty-
four trillions, they wrote X3 Mu. Mu. Mu. To signify units
separately, it was customary with them to prefix the mark
M°. or the abbreviation for monad.
The procedure of the Greek arithmetician was neces¬
sarily slower and more timid than our simple yet refined
mode of calculation. Each step in the multiplication of
One
ARITHMETIC.
577
History.
Greek
mode of
calculation.
complex numbers appeared separate and detached, with-
out any concentration which the moderns obtain, by carry¬
ing forward the multiples of ten, and blending together
the different members of the product. In ancient Greece,
the operations of arithmetic, like writing, advanced from
left to right; each part of the multiplier was in succession
combined with every part of the multiplicand; and the
several products were distinctly noted, or, for the sake of
compactness, grouped and conveniently dispersed till after¬
wards collected into one general amount.
Pappus of Alexandria, in his valuable Mathematical
Collections, has preserved a set of rules which Apollonius
had formed, for facilitating arithmetical operations. These
are, in the cautious spirit of the ancient geometry, branch¬
ed out into no fewer than twenty-seven propositions,
though all comprised in the principle formerly stated by
Archimedes, That the product of two integers of different
ranks will occupy a rank corresponding to the sum of the
component orders. Suppose [t were to be multiplied into
a, or forty into two hundred: Take the lower correspond¬
ing characters d and /3, or four and two, which were called
vud/AMi or radicals, the one depressed ten times, and the
other an hundred times, and multiply their product »j, or
eight, successively by the ten and the hundred, or at once
by a thousand, and the result is r\ or eight thousand.
We shall take an example in multiplication, affording
more variety than such as occur in Eutocius, which gene¬
rally consist in the mere squaring of numbers. Let it be
required to multiply eight hundred and sixty-two by five
hundred and twenty-three. The operation would be per¬
formed in this way.
» f /3
(p x y
f/, <y a
a s’
But the Greek notation was not adapted for the descend- History,
ing scale. To express fractions, two distinct methods
were followed. 1. If the numerator happened to be unit,
the denominator was indicated by an accent. Thus 8 sig¬
nified one fourth, and xe' one twenty-fifth; but one half being
of most frequent recurrence, was signified by a particular
character, varying in its form, C, Z, C', or K. 2. In other
cases it was the practice of the Greeks to write the de¬
nominator as we do an exponent, a little above the deno¬
minator, and towards the right hand. Thus, /S"* intimat¬
ed two-elevenths, and era?"05 eighty-one, of an hundred and
twentij-one parts.
As an illustration of the management of fractions, we
select an example somewhat complicated, from the com¬
mentary which Eutocius of Ascalon wrote about the third
century of our era, on the Tract of Archimedes concerning
the quadrature of the circle. Let it be required to mul¬
tiply the mixed number one thousand and thirty-eight with
nine-elevenths, by itself.
a X rj Q1*
a, a X rj $'*
g K y 7! a <; tj /3'“
M M M
sr f<5 /3 s' y v 3' $■'“
MM''
y/3($£)<rf/j%d ?m
M M '
ys’vo'fAt'ds’ s’1*
a t 7] ft*
X v d s‘x
x 3 s'*
Ot <T f/j
@ V
S’
S’
tot
Zzcc
£ 7T S'
^£4 S a X S
In the first range, 9 multiplied into w, being the same
as the product of eight and five augmented ten thousand
times, is consequently denoted by //- or 9 multiplied
into § gives the same result as five times six increased a
thousand fold, and therefore expressed by y or ^; and 9
multiplied into (3 eviden-tly makes a thousand, or a. In
the second range, x multiplied into u gives the same pro¬
duct as eight repeated twice and then augmented a thou¬
sand times, or denoted by a v ; x multiplied into is equi¬
valent to six repeated twice, and afterwards increased an
hundred fold or, expressed by ct, a; and x multiplied by (3
gives forty, the value of /i. In the third range, 7 multi-
nlied into co produces twenty-four hundred, which is de¬
noted by a; y multiplied into £ makes an hundred and
eighty, or g <r; and, lastly, y multiplied into gives the
symbol for six. Collecting the scattered members into
one sum, the result of the multiplication of eight hundred
and sixty-two by five hundred and tiventy-three is "g s’« x r,
or four hundred and fifty thousand eight hundred and fifty-
six.
7 X 7] a, tr v a. £'*
M
or, r X 71 a 7 v j3 X^**
M
It is to be observed, that, to multiply the several inte¬
gers by the fraction nine-elevenths, amounts to their mul¬
tiplication by nine, and the subsequent division by eleven.
The excesses being two and six-elevenths, are denoted by
/3'“ and r'“, while the product of the fraction itself
gives eighty-one of an hundred and twenty-one parts, ex¬
pressed by ‘ffcdKa.
But the laborious operations that such complex frac¬
tions required were afterwards superseded by the use of
sexagesimals, which, we have already observed, the astro¬
nomers, and especially Ptolemy, had introduced. “ The
division of the circumference of the circle into three hun¬
dred and sixty equal parts or degrees was no doubt ori¬
ginally founded on the supposed length of the year, which,
expressed in round numbers, consists of twelve months,
each composed of thirty days. The radius approaching to
the sixth part of the circumference would contain nearly
sixty of those degrees; and after its ratio to the circum¬
ference was more accurately determined, the radius still
continued to be distinguished into the same number of
divisions, which likewise bore the same name. As calcu-
4 D
voi.. in-
578
ARITHMETIC.
History, lation now aimed at greater accuracy, each of these sixty
divisions of the radius was, following the uniform progres¬
sion, again subdivided into sixty equal portions called
minutes; and, repeating the process of sexagesimal sub¬
division, seconds and thirds were successively formed.
The operations with sexagesimal fractions were performed
in the descending scale, on a principle quite similar to
that which Archimedes had before laid down. Each pe¬
riod of the multiplier, still proceeding from the left hand,
was multiplied into a period of the multiplicand; and this
product was then thrown to a rank depressed as much as
the descents of both its factors. Thus, minutes multi¬
plied into seconds produced thirds; and seconds multiplied
into thirds produced fifths.” Edinburgh Review, vol. xviii.
p. 200.
As an exemplification of this process, we shall take the
question proposed by Theon to find the square of the side
of a regular decagon inscribed in a circle, or the chord of
thirty-six degrees, which, according to Ptolemy’s compu¬
tation, measured, in sexagesimal parts of the radius, thirty-
seven degrees, four minutes, and fifty-jive seconds. The
multiplication is thus effected :
vz
vz
CtT
(3a'c
PfAq is <y^
/2xz (TZ
yzz
otroz
l zz
Here in the first line, multiplied into in the place
of units, gives ur^d or thirteen hundred and sixty-nine de¬
grees ; into b on the next bar, gives or one hundred
and forty-eight minutes; and Ag into vs on the lowest bar
gives /3Xc, or two thousand and thirty-five seconds. In the
second line h multiplied into x£ gives the product as
before; b multiplied into b, both of them on the bar of
minutes, gives /s- or sixteen seconds ; b into vs gives ox, or
two hundred and twenty thirds. Lastly, in the third line
the vs on the bar of seconds, multiplied successively into
and b, produce, as before, /3X« and ox on the bars of se¬
conds and thirds; and vs multiplied by itself gives yxe, or
three thousand and twenty-five fourths. These several pro¬
ducts being reduced and collected together, formed the
total amount of <pos b id i xt, or thirteen hundred and se¬
venty-jive degrees,ybMx mwmXQ's,,fourteen seconds, ten thirds,
and twenty-five fourths; but all the terms below seconds
were omitted in practice as insignificant.
This calculation is laborious and intricate, yet with a
very few terms it approaches to a considerable degree of
accuracy. One of the most elegant theorems in ele¬
mentary geometry demonstrates that the side of a regu¬
lar decagon, inscribed in a circle, is equal to the seg¬
ment of the radius, divided in extreme and mean ratio.
Wherefore the square now computed should be equal to
the product of sixty, or the radius, into twenty-two de¬
grees, minutes, and five seconds, the smaller seg¬
ment; that is, equal to thirteen hundred and seventy-five
degrees and five minutes, from which it differs only by the
defect of less than one minute.
The Sexagesimal Arithmetic was, therefore, a most va¬
luable improvement engrafted on the notation of the
Greeks. The astronomers of Alexandria and Constanti¬
nople continued to employ it in all their calculations, and History,
were afterwards imitated by succeeding observers among
the Arabians and Persians. The mode of working sexa¬
gesimals had thus become generally known and reduced
to practice ; but we owe the first distinct treatise on those
fractions to a very extraordinary character,—Barlaam, a
Calabrian monk, the friend and Greek preceptor of the
famous Petrarch, and a man of learning and vigorous in¬
tellect, who laboured by his writings and his missions to
re-unite the Eastern to the Western church. This ad¬
venturous personage, whose wayward conduct and dark
features betrayed a lurking ferocity, met with a most
singular fate. Being overtaken by a tremendous thun¬
der-storm, while crossing the Adriatic Sea, he lashed him¬
self to the mast of the bark, and was, in this situation,
struck dead by a flash of lightning. The event happened
in 1348 ; but Barlaam’s tract on sexagesimals, neatly com¬
posed in six books, after the strict manner of the ancients,
and entitled generally Aoyianxri, or Computation, first ap¬
peared in a Latin version at Strasburg in 1572, though
not published complete with the Greek text until the
year 1600, when it was edited at Paris by Chambers of
Eton, from a manuscript procured fx-om the Continent by
the zeal of Sir Henry Savile.
To facilitate the operations with sexagesimals, it seemed
indispensable to have a more extensive multiplication table,
that should include the mutual products of all the num¬
bers from one to sixty. This was actually constructed
about the middle of the sixteenth century by Philip Lans-
berg, a Dutch clergyman, and has been exhibited since in
various forms by Dr Wallis and others. In the mean
time a material change had been effected in the subdivi¬
sion of the radius of the circle, from which the sexagesi¬
mal system had taken its rise. Purbach, the great re¬
storer of mathematical science, instead of making the ra¬
dius to consist of 216,000 seconds, as Ptolemy and suc¬
ceeding astx-onomers had done, stopt shoi’t at sixty de¬
grees, and distinguished each of these by a repeated cen¬
tesimal division, into ten thousand equal parts. Regio¬
montanus advanced a step farther, and, rejecting the sexa¬
gesimal admixture, divided the radius at once into a
million of parts, thus following out an arrangement purely
decimal. The subdivision into degrees, minutes, and se¬
conds, was henceforth confined to the circumference it¬
self ; and when logarithms came afterwards to be adapted
to those fractions, they received the appellation, once ge¬
neral, though now restricted, of Logistic. But the sexa¬
gesimal subdivision had nearly been rejected altogether.
Our very meritoiuous counti’yman Mr Briggs, in comput¬
ing his canon of logarithms, followed in another branch
the example of Purbach, by distinguishing each degree of
the circumference into an hundred minutes, and each of
these again into an hundred seconds; and we cannot help
regretting that this easy and obvious improvement had
not been generally embraced at the time it was proposed.
The French mathematicians have lately gone farther, and
endeavoured to pursue to its utmost extent the decimal
subdivision first introduced by Regiomontanus. They be¬
gin with dividing the quadrant into an hundred instead of
ninety degrees; and then following the plan of Briggs,
they successively divide each degree into an hundred mi¬
nutes, and each minute into an hundred seconds. But the
advantages which might arise from the adoption of this
plan are not sufficient perhaps to outweigh the manifest
inconvenience that must attend it in the present advanced
state of the science; and notwithstanding the sanguine
dreams of some of its projectors, we cannot indulge the
expectation of ever seeing it obtain a general and durable
currency.
“ The Greek arithmetic, then, as successively mould-
ARITHMETIC. 579
History, ed by the ingenuity of Archimedes, of Apollonius, and
V—' Ptolemy, had attained, on the whole, to a singular degree
of perfection, and was capable, notwithstanding its cum¬
brous structure, of performing operations of very consider¬
able difficulty and magnitude. The great and radical de¬
fect of the system consisted in the want of a general mark
analogous to our cipher; and which, without having any
value itself, should serve to ascertain the rank or power of
the other characters, by filling up the vacant places in the
scale of numeration. Yet were the Greeks not altogether
unacquainted with the use of such a sign; for Ptolemy,
in his Almagest, employs the small o to occupy the acci¬
dental blanks which occurred in the notation of sexagesi¬
mals. This letter was perhaps chosen by him, because
immediately succeeding to v, which denotes 60, it could
not, in the sexagesimal arrangement, occasion any sort of
ambiguity. But the advantage thence resulting was en¬
tirely confined to that particular case. The letters, being
already significant, were generally disqualified for the pur¬
pose of a mere supplementary notation ; and the selection
of an alphabetic character to supply the place of the ci¬
pher may be considered as an unfortunate circumstance,
which appears to have arrested the progress towards a
better and more complete system. Had Apollonius classed
the numerals by denary triads instead of tetrads, he would
have greatly simplified the arrangement, and avoided the
confusion arising from the admixture of the punctuated
letters expressing thousands. It is by this method of
proceeding with periods of three figures, or advancing at
once by thousands instead of tens, that we are enabled
most expeditiously to read off the largest numbers. The
extent of the alphabet was favourable to the first attempts
at enumeration; since, with the help of three intercala¬
tions, it furnished characters for the whole range below a
thousand; but that very circumstance in the end proved
a bar to future improvements. It would have been a most
important stride to have next exchanged those triads into
monads, by discarding the letters expressive of tens and
hundreds, and retaining only the first class, which, with
its inserted episemon, should denote the nine digits. The
iota, which signified ten, now losing its force, might have
been employed as a convenient substitute for the cypher.
By such progressive changes the arithmetical notation of
the Greeks would at last have reached its utmost perfec¬
tion, and have exactly resembled our own. A wide inter¬
val no doubt did still remain ; yet the genius of that acute
people, had it continued unfettered, would in time, we
may presume, have triumphantly passed the intervening
boundaries. But the death of Ptolemy was succeeded by
ages of languor and decline; and the spirit of discovery
insensibly evaporated in miserable polemical disputes,
till the fair establishment of Alexandria was finally over¬
whelmed under the irresistible arms of the Arabs, lately
roused to victory and conquest by the enthusiasm of a
new religion.” {Edinburgh Review, vol. xviii. p. 203.)
History of The ingenuity and varied resources of the ancient
the denary Greeks were the main causes which diverted them from
numerals, discovering our simple denary system. Having attained
a distinct conception of the powers of the geometrical
progression, and even advanced so far as to employ their
small o to fill the breaks of a period, nothing seemed
wanting but to dismiss the punctuated letters, and those
for tens and for hundreds, and to retain merely the direct
symbols for units, that is, the first third part of their al¬
phabet. Here, however, those masters of science were
stopt in their career; and the Eastern Empire presents a
melancholy picture of the decline and corruption of hu¬
man nature. Ingenuity had degenerated into polemical
subtlety, and the manly virtues which freedom inspires
were exchanged for meanness and self-abasement.
Some writers, misled by very superficial views of the History,
subject, have yet ascribed the invention of the modern
numeral characters to the Greeks, or even to the Romans.
Both these people, for the sake of expedition, occasionally
used contractions, especially in representing the numbers
and fractions of weights or measures, which, to a credu¬
lous peruser of mutilated inscriptions, or ancient blurred
manuscripts, might appear to resemble the forms of our
ciphers. But this resemblance is merely casual, and very
far indeed from indicating the adoption of a regular de¬
nary notation. The most contracted of the Roman writ¬
ings was formed by the marks attributed to Tiro or Se¬
neca, while that of the Greeks was mixed with the sym¬
bols called Siglce ; both of which have exercised the pa¬
tience and skill of antiquaries and diplomatists. In the
latter species of characters were kept the accounts of the
revenues of the empress Irene at Constantinople. But
the modern Greeks appear likewise to have sometimes
used a simpler kind of marks, at least for the low num¬
bers. The continuator of Matthew Paris’s History relates,
that “ in the year 1251 died John Basingstoke, archdea¬
con of Leicester, who brought into England the numeral
figures of the Greeks, and explained them to his friends.”
It is subjoined that they consisted of a perpendicular
stroke, with a short line inserted at different heights and
at different angles, signifying units on the left and tens on
the right side. The figures themselves are scrawled on
the margin of the text; but they are evidently so differ¬
ent in their form, and so distinct in their nature, from the
modern ciphers, that one cannot help feeling surprise to
see an author of any discernment refer the introduction
of the latter to Basingstoke.
It cannot be doubted that we derived our knowledge of
the numeral digits from the Arabians, who had themselves
obtained this invaluable acquisition from their extended
communication with the East. Those deserving people
who, under the name of Moors or Saracens, had for many
centuries cultivated Spain, were most ready to acknow¬
ledge their obligation to the natives of India, who, accord¬
ing to Alsephadi, a learned Arabian doctor, boasted of
three very different inventions—the composition of the
Golaila Wadamna, or Pilpay’s Fables—the game ot
chess—and the nine digital characters. Still much ob¬
scurity hangs over the whole subject. Two distinct in¬
quiries naturally present themselves :—1, At what period
did the Arabians first become acquainted with those cha¬
racters ; and, 2, What is the precise epoch when the know¬
ledge of them was imparted to the Christian nations of
Europe. We shall take a short review of both these
questions.
1. Gatterer, the late ingenious and very learned Pro-Proofs of
fessor of History at Gottingen, in his Elements of Univer- their l nth-
sal Diplomacy, maintains that our ciphers were only pri-an ongin*
mordial letters, invented by Taaut or Theut, and known
to the ancient Egyptians and Phoenicians, being still dis¬
tinctly observed, as he asserts, in the inscriptions painted
on the coverings of the oldest mummies; and that after¬
wards, along with other branches of science, they passed
to the Oriental nations, among whom they were preserved,
till the victorious arms of the Mussulmans penetrated to
India, and brought back those precious monuments of ge¬
nius. But we cannot believe that a contrivance so very
simple, and so eminently useful, as that of the nine digits,
if once communicated, could ever again be lost or ne¬
glected. Pythagoras and Boethius merely contemplated
the properties of numbers, and seem not, in their calcula¬
tions, to have gone beyond the use of the Abacus. An
early intercourse had no doubt subsisted between the
people of Egypt and of India, and a striking resemblance
may be traced in their customs, their buildings, and their
ARITHMETIC.
580
History, religious rites. But the characters exhibited on the
Egyptian monuments bear no indication of the Denary
System, and are, like the Roman and Chinese numerals,
abridged representations of objects, rather than arbitrary
signs.
That the occupiers of Hindostan, and the nations com¬
municating with them, have for ages been acquainted with
the use of the denary notation, cannot be disputed. But
was this an original discovery, or at what distant epoch
was it first introduced among them ? The easy credulity
of European visitors encouraged the Brahmins to set up
very lofty pretensions respecting the antiquity of their
science. Among other treasures, they boasted the pos¬
session, from time immemorial, of an elementary treatise
on arithmetic and mensuration, composed in Sanscrit, and
called Lilawati, of such inestimable value as to be as¬
cribed to the immediate inspiration of heaven. But the
researches of our ingenious countrymen in exploring that
sacred language of India have dispelled some illusions,
and greatly abated the admiration of the public for such
eastern learning. From what we have been able to ga¬
ther, the Lilawati is a very short and meagre performance,
loaded with a silly preamble and colloquy of the gods. It
begins with the numeration by nine digits, and the supple¬
mentary cipher or small o, in what are called the Deva-
nagari characters; and it contains the common rules of
arithmetic, and even the extraction of the square root, as
far as two places of figures; but the examples are gene¬
rally very easy, scarcely forming any part of the text,
and only written on the margin with red ink. Of frac¬
tions, whether decimal or vulgar, it treats not at all.
The Hindoos pretend that this arithmetical treatise was
composed about the year 1185 of the Christian era. The
date of a manuscript, however, is always very uncertain.
We know, besides, that the oriental transcriber is accus¬
tomed to incorporate without scruple such additions in
the text as he thinks fit. Nor will any of the criteria
which might ascertain the age of a manuscript apply to
the eastern writings, where the composition of the paper,
the colour of the ink, and the form of the characters, have
for ages continued unchanged.
If the exuberant fancy of the Greeks led them far be¬
yond the denary notation, it seems probable that the
feebler genius of the Hindoos might just reach that de¬
sirable point, without diverging into an excursive flight.
Though now familiar with that system, they are still un¬
acquainted with the use of its descending decimal scale;
and their management of fractions, accordingly, is said by
intelligent judges to be tedious and embarrassed. In
Plate LXXII. (on the left hand, and near the bottom), we
have given the Sanscrit digits, and have placed over them
the numeral elements from which they might be formed.
These consist of a succession of simple strokes, variously
combined as far as nine. The resemblance to the Deva-
nagari characters appears very striking. From these,
again, the common Hindoo and the vulgar Bengalee di¬
gits are evidently moulded, with only slight alterations of
figure. The Birman numerals, which we have copied
from Symes’s Embassy to the Kingdom of Ava, are mani¬
festly of the same origin; only they have a thin, wirey
body, being generally written on the palmyra-leaf with
the point of a needle.
It appears, from a careful inspection of the manuscripts
preserved in the different public libraries of Europe, that
the Arabians were not acquainted with the denary nume¬
rals before the middle of the thirteenth century of the
Christian era. They cultivated the mathematical sciences
with ardour, but seldom aspired at original efforts, and ge¬
nerally contented themselves with copying their Grecian
masters. The alphabet of the Arabians had been em¬
ployed for expressing numbers exactly in the same way History,
as that of the Greeks. The letters, in their succession,
w'ere sometimes applied to signify the lower of the ordi¬
nal numbers ; but more generally they were distinguished
into three classes, each composed of nine characters, cor¬
responding to units, tens, and hundreds. Though, like
most of the Oriental nations, the Arabians write from
right to left, yet they followed implicitly the Greek mode
of ranging the numerals and performing their calculations.
With the same deference they received the other lessons
of their great masters, and very seldom hazarded any im¬
provement, unless where industry and patient observation
led them incidentally to extend mensuration, and to rec¬
tify and enlarge the basis of astronomy.
It seems highly probable, therefore, that the Arabians
did not adopt the Indian numerals until a late period, and
after the torrent of victory had opened an easy communi¬
cation with Hindostan. They might derive their infor¬
mation through the medium of the Persians, who spoke
a dialect of their language, had embraced the same reli¬
gion, and were, like them, inflamed by the love of science
and the spirit of conquest. The Arabic numerals, ac¬
cordingly, resemble exceedingly the Persic, which are
now current over India, and there esteemed the fashion¬
able characters. But the Persians themselves, though no
longer the sovereigns of Hindostan, yet display their su¬
periority over the feeble Gentoos, since they generally
fill the offices of the revenue, and have the reputation of
being the most expert calculators in the East. It should
be observed, however, that, according to Gladwin, these
accountants have introduced a peculiar contracted mode
of registering very large sums, partly by the numeral cha¬
racters, and partly by means of symbols formed of abbre¬
viated words. Yet Sir John Chardin relates that the
Persians have no proper terms to express numbers beyond
a thousand, which they merely repeat, as our young arith¬
meticians often do, to signify a million or a billion.
The Indian origin of the denary numerals is farther con¬
firmed by the testimony of Maximus Planudes, a monk of
Constantinople, who wrote, about the middle of the four¬
teenth century, a book on practical arithmetic, entitled
Aoy/ffr/xjj Ivdncri, or Yripopoya xar i] Xsyo^svT) gsyaKr\,
that is, “ the great Indian mode of calculating.” In his
introduction he explains concisely the use of the charac¬
ters in notation. But Planudes appears neither to have
received his information directly from India, nor through
the medium of the Persians, the nearest neighbours on
the eastern confines of the Greek empire. It is most pro¬
bable that he was made acquainted with those numerals
by his intercourse with Europe, having twice visited, on
a sort of embassy, the Republic of Venice; for, of two
manuscripts preserved in the library of St Mark, the one
has the characters of the Arabians, and the other has
that variety which was first current in Europe, while
neither of them shows the original characters used in
Hindostan.
2. But the most important inquiry is to ascertain the Their in-
period at which the knowledge of our present numeralstroduction
was first spread over Europe. As it certainly had pre-int°Eu-
ceded the invention of the art of printing, the difficulty ofroPe-
resolving the question is much increased by the necessity
of searching and examining old and often doubtful manu¬
scripts. Some authors would date the introduction of
those ciphers as early as the beginning of the eleventh
century, while others, with far greater appearance of rea¬
son, are disposed to place it 250 years later.
While the thickest darkness brooded over the Christian
world, the Arabians, reposing after their brilliant con¬
quests, cultivated with assiduity the learning and science
of Gi’eece. If they contributed little from their own
ARITH
History, store of genius, they yet preserved and fanned the holy
fire. Nor did they affect any concealment, but would
freely communicate to their pupils and visitors that pre¬
cious knowledge which they had so zealously drawn from
different quarters. Some of the more aspiring youth in
England and France, disgusted with the wretched trifling
of the schools, resorted for information to Spain; and
having the courage to subdue the rooted abhorrence en¬
tertained in that age against infidels, took lessons in phi¬
losophy from the accomplished Moors. Among those
pilgrims of science, the most celebrated was Gerbert, a
monk, born of obscure parents, at Aurillac, in Auvergne,
but promoted by his talents successively to the bishoprics
of Rheims and of Ravenna, and finally raised to the papal
chair, which he filled during the last four years of the
tenth century, under the name of Sylvester II. This ar¬
dent genius studied arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy
among the Saracens ; and, on his return to France, charg¬
ed with various knowledge, he was esteemed a prodigy
of learning by his contemporaries. Nor did the malice
of rivals fail to represent him as a magician, leagued with
the infernal powers. Gerbert wrote largely on arithmetic
and geometry, and gave rules for shortening the opera¬
tions of the Abacus, which he likewise termed Algorismus.
In some manuscripts the numbers are expressed in ci¬
phers ; but we are not thence entitled to infer, as many
writers have done, that he had actually the merit of in¬
troducing those characters into Europe. The context of
his discourse will not support such a conclusion. The
figures were not, we have seen, still known to the Ara¬
bians themselves ; and must have long afterwards been
inserted in those copies for the convenience of tran¬
scribers.
Nor can we safely refer the introduction of Arabic
figures to our famous Roger Bacon, whose various attain¬
ments and unwearied research after genuine knowledge
raised him far above the level of his contemporaries, but
who, to the disgrace of his age and country, suffered a
sharp persecution and a tedious imprisonment, on the ri¬
diculous charge of practising the redoubted acts of magic.
But the writings of Bacon really discover no proofs of his
acquaintance with the denary notation ; and the fact com¬
monly stated as an irresistible evidence in his favour bears
a very different interpretation. An almanack, now pre¬
served in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, and containing
numerals in their earliest forms, has, by the credulity of
after-times, been, with all other feats and inventions, ascrib¬
ed of course to the great necromancer. But unluckily
this production is marked with the date 1292, the very
year on which Bacon, after a lingering illness, expired;
and it besides professes to have been calculated for the
meridian of Toulouse, and had consequently been imported
without doubt from France.1
About the same period John of Halifax, named, in the
quaint Latinity then used, Sacro-Bosco, who had likewise
travelled, wrote his treatise De Sphccra, in some copies of
which the numbers are given in ciphers. But it appears
from examination that such abbreviations were introduced
by the license of transcribers.
There is little doubt that the Arabic figures were first
M E T I C. 581
used by astronomers, and afterwards circulated in the History,
almanacks over Europe. The learned Gerard Vossius
places this epoch about the year 1250 ; but the judicious
and most laborious Du Cange thinks that ciphers were
unknown before the fourteenth century ; and Father Ma-
billon, whose diplomatic researches are immense, assures
us that he very rarely found them in the dates of any
writings prior to the year 1400. Kircher, with some air
of probability, seeks to refer the introduction of our nu¬
merals to the astronomical tables which, after vast labour
and expense, were published by the famous Alphonso,
king of Castile, in 1252, and again more correctly four
years afterwards. But it is suspected that, in the origi¬
nal work, the numbers were expressed in Roman or Saxon
characters. Two letters from that enlightened but ill-
requited prince, to our Edward I., which are preserved in
the Tower of London, have the dates 1272 and 1278
still denoted by those ancient characters.
In the tenth volume of the Archccologia, the Rev. Mr
North has given a short account of an almanack preserv¬
ed in the library of Bennet College, Cambridge, and con¬
taining a table of eclipses for the cycle between 1330 and
1348. There is prefixed to it a very brief explication
of the use of numerals, and the principles of the denary
notation ; from which we may see how imperfectly the
practice of those ciphers was then understood. The figures
are of the oldest form, but differ not materially from the
present, except that the four has a looped shape, and the
five and seven are turned about to the left and to the
right. The one, two, three, and four, are likewise, per¬
haps for elucidation, represented by so many dots thus,
. .. while five, six, seven, and eight, are signi¬
fied by a semicircle or inverted 3 with the addition of
corresponding dots—3. 3 : 3 Nine is denoted by 0 ;
ten by the same character with a dash drawn across it;
and twenty, thirty, or forty, by this last symbol repeated.
As a farther evidence of the inaccurate conceptions
which prevailed respecting the use of the digits in the
fourteenth century, we may refer to the mixture of Saxon
and Arabic numerals which was copied from some French
manuscripts by Mabillon, as exhibited in Plate LXXII.
The Saxon X, signifying ten, is repeatedly combined with
the ordinary figures; and XXX, XXXt, are immediately
followed by 302, and 303, which must have been there¬
fore intended to signify thirty-two and thirty-three, the
force of the cipher not being still rightly understood. It
should be observed, that the Greek episemon or Fau, for
the number six, had come to be represented by a charac¬
ter similar to G. The Saxon dates are taken from the
Danish and Norwegian registers, preserved in Suhm’s
Northern Collections.
One of the oldest authentic dates in the numeral cha¬
racters is that of the year 1375, which appears written by
the hand of the famous Petrarch on a copy of St Augus¬
tine that had belonged to that distinguished poet and
philosopher. The use of those characters had now begun
to spread in Europe, but was still confined to men of
learning. We have seen a short tract in the German lan¬
guage, entitled De Algorismo, and bearing the date 1390,
which explained with great brevity the digital notation
1 Nothing appears to be worse founded than the attempts to represent the elder Bacon in the light of an original inventor. Not¬
withstanding the obscurity of his writings, it needs but a little criticism to dispel the conceits fomented by national partiality. Friar
Bacon advances no claim even to the discovery of gunpowder, which has been so gratuitously ascribed to him. On the contrary, he
admits that the boys in his time were acquainted with the use of this substance in fire-works; and he merely pretends, in a sort of
anagram, to give a receipt for making it stronger and better than ordinary.
After the chief ingredient in the composition of gunpowder, under the mistaken names of natron or nitrum, and saltpetre or rock-salt,^
had been imported from the East, probably through the intervention of the Crusaders, its disposition to explode in the contact ot
inflammable matters, if not communicated along with it, could not remain for any time a secret. The explosive lorce was a very
different and a far more important property, which is perhaps rightly attributed to Schwartz, a German monk, who, in the course of
his experiments, stumbled on it about the middle of the fourteenth century.
582 A R I T H
History, and the elementary rules of arithmetic. What is very
remarkable, the characters in their earliest form are
ranged thus, 0, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, from right to left,
the order which the Arabians would naturally follow. But
it was not very easy to comprehend at first the precise
force of the cipher, which, insignificant by itself, only
serves to determine the rank and value of the other digits.
The name, derived from an Arabic word signifying vacui¬
ty, is sufficiently expressive ; yet a sort of mystery, which
has imprinted its trace on language, seemed to hang over
the practice, for we still speak of deciphering, and of writ¬
ing in cipher, in allusion to some dark or concealed art.
After the digits had come to supply the place of the Ro¬
man numerals, a very considerable time probably elapsed
before they were generally adopted in calculation. Ihe
modern practice of arithmetic was unknown in England
till about the middle of the sixteenth century. But the
lower orders, imitating the clerks of a former age, were
still accustomed to reckon with their counters or awgrym
stones. In Shakspeare’s comedy of the Winters Tale,
written at the commencement of the seventeenth century,
the clown, staggered with a very simple multiplication,
exclaims, that he will try it with counters.
Arithmetic was long considered in England as a higher
branch of science, and therefore left, like Geometry, to
be studied at the university. Most of the public or gram¬
mar schools of the south were, on the suppression of the
monasteries, erected a little after the Reformation, during
the short but auspicious reign of Edward VI. They were
accordingly destined by their founders merely for teach¬
ing the dead languages; and the too exclusive pursuit
of the same system is now one of the greatest defects in
the English plan of liberal education.
It cannot be doubted that the calendars composed in
France or Germany, and sent to the different religious
houses, were the means of dispersing the knowledge of
Arabic numerals over Europe. The library of the Univer¬
sity of Edinburgh has a very curious almanack, presented
to it, with a number of other valuable tracts, by the cele¬
brated Drummond of Hawthornden, beautifully written on
vellum, with most of the figures in vermillion. It is cal¬
culated especially for the year 1482, but contains the suc¬
cession of lunar phases for three cycles, 1475, 1494, and
1513, with the visible eclipses of the sun and moon from
1482 to 1530 inclusive. The date of this precious manu¬
script, which had once belonged to St Mary’s Abbey at
Cupar in Angus, is easily determined, and we have copied
from it the oldest numerals exhibited in Plate LXXII. I o
these we have subjoined fac-similes from Caxton s Mir-
rour of the World, and a wooden cut from Shirwood s
Ludus Arithmomachice, given in Dibdin’s Bibliotheca
Spenceriana.
The college accounts in the English universities were
generally kept in the Roman numerals till the early part
of the sixteenth century ; nor in the parish registers were
the Arabic characters adopted before the year 1600. The
oldest date which we have met with in Scotland is that of
1490, which occurs in the rent-roll of the diocese of St
Andrews ; the change from Roman to Arabic numerals
occurring, with a corresponding alteration in the form of
the writing, near the end of the volume. The old cha¬
racters in Plate LXXII. are copied from a manuscript his-
M E TIC.
tory of the Scotish Bishoprics, apparently written about Notation
year 1550.' ('• *••) Nuia-
tion.
H.—OPERATIONS OF ARITHMETIC.
Chap. I.—Notation and Numeration.
The first elements of arithmetic are acquired during our
infancy. The idea of one is the simplest of any, and is
suggested by every single object. Two is formed by
placing one object near another; three, four, and every
higher number, by adding one continually to the former
collection. As we thus advance from lower numbers to
higher, we soon perceive that there is no limit to this in¬
creasing operation ; and that, whatever number of objects
be collected together, more maybe added, at least in ima¬
gination ; so that we can never reach the highest possible
number, nor approach near it. The idea of numbers,
which is first acquired by the observation of sensible ob¬
jects, is afterwards extended to measures of space and time,
affections of the mind, and other immaterial qualities.
Small numbers are most easily apprehended: a child
soon knows what two and what three is, but has not
any distinct notion of seventeen. Experience removes
this difficulty in some degree : as we become accustomed
to handle larger collections, we apprehend clearly the
number of a dozen or a score; but perhaps could hardly
advance to a hundred without the aid of systematic ar¬
rangement, which is the art of forming so many units into
a class, and so many of these classes into one of a higher
kind, and thus advancing through as many ranks of classes
as occasion requires. If a boy arrange an hundred stones
in one row, he would be tired before he could reckon them ;
but if he place them in ten rows of ten stones each, he
will reckon an hundred with ease; and if he collect ten
such parcels, he will reckon a thousand. In this case, ten
is the lowest class, a hundred is a class of the second rank,
and a thousand is a class of the third rank.
There does not seem to be any number naturally adapt¬
ed for constituting a class of the lowest or any higher
rank, to the exclusion of others. However, as ten has
been universally used for this purpose by the Hebrews,
Greeks, Romans, and Arabians, and by all nations who
have cultivated this science, it is probably the most con¬
venient for general use ; but other scales may be assumed,
perhaps, on some occasions with superior advantage; and
the principles of arithmetic will appear in their full extent,
if the student can adapt them to any scale whatever. Thus,
if eight were the scale, 6 times 3 would be two classes
and two units, and the number 18 would then be repre¬
sented by 22. If 12 were the scale, 5 times 9 would be
three classes and nine units, and 45 would be represent¬
ed by 39.
Whatever number of units constitutes a class of the
lower rank, the same number of each class should make
one of the next higher. This is observed in our arith¬
metic, ten being the universal scale ; but it is not regard¬
ed in the various kinds of monies, weights, and the like,
which do not advance by any universal measure; and much
of the difficulty in the practice of arithmetic arises from
that irregularity.
1 For want of attending to these facts, some learned antiquaries have often suffered themselves to be grossly misled. Thus, Mr
De Cardonnel, a respectable author, who has given views and short descriptions of the ancient edifices in Scotland, mentions, without
marking the smallest doubt or surprise, that the date 1155 appears over the gateway of the ruins of the Castle of St Andrews. But
this front was built subsequent to the murder of the detested Cardinal Beaton, by Archibald Hamilton, who likewise there affixed
his arms, but who long afterwards, on the capture of Dumbarton Castle, suffered an ignominious death, for his adherence to Queen
Mary and the Popish faction. The real date was unquestionably 1555, only the second figure has been almost effaced by time and
accident.
ARITHME TIC.
583
Notation As higher numbers are somewhat difficult to apprehend,
and Yve naturally fall on contrivances to fix them in our minds,
Numera- and render tiiem familiar; but notwithstanding all the ex-
pedients we can fall upon, our ideas of high numbers are
still imperfect, and generally far short of the reality; and
though we can perform any computation with exactness,
the answer we obtain is often incompletely apprehended.
It may not be amiss to illustrate, by a few examples,
the extent of numbers which are frequently named with¬
out being attended to. If a person employed in telling
money reckon an hundred pieces in a minute, and continue
at work ten hours each day, he will take seventeen days
to reckon a million; a thousand men would take 45 years
to reckon a billion. If we supposed the whole earth to be
as well peopled as Britain, and to have been so from the
creation, and that the whole race of mankind had con¬
stantly spent their time in telling from a heap consisting
of a quadrillion of pieces, they would hardly have yet
reckoned the thousandth part of that quantity.
All numbers are represented by the ten following cha¬
racters.
12 3 4567 8 9 0
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, cipher.
The nine first are called significantJigures, or digits ;
and sometimes represent units, sometimes tens, hundreds,
or higher classes. When placed singly, they denote
the simple numbers subjoined to the characters; when
several are placed together, the first or right-hand figure
only is to be taken for its simple value; the second signi¬
fies so many tens, the third so many hundreds, and the
others so many higher classes, according to the order
they stand in. And as it may sometimes be required to
express a number consisting of tens, hundreds, or higher
classes, without any units or classes of a lower rank an¬
nexed, and as this can only be done by figures standing
in the second, third, or higher places, while there are
none to fill up the lower ones; therefore an additional
character or cipher (0) is necessary, which has no signi¬
fication when placed by itself, but serves to supply the
vacant places, and bring the figures to their proper station.
The following table shows the names and divisions of
the classes.
8. 4 3 7, 9 8 2.5 6 4, 7 3
ill TJ1 Ul XJl TJ1
c c c c e
O O O O o
in in in in
^ ^ -3 -g G
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CO 03 CO to cc to
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The first six figures from the right hand are called the
unit period, the next six the million period, after which
the trillion, quadrillion, quintillion, sextillion, septillion, oc¬
tillion, and nonillion periods follow in their order.
It is proper to divide any number, before we reckon it,
into periods and half periods, by different marks. We
then begin at the left hand, and read the figures in their
order, with the names of their places, from the table. In
writing any number, we must be careful to mark the figures Addition,
in their proper places, and supply the vacant places withv^^v^^>
ciphers.
As there are no possible ways of changing numbers, ex¬
cept by enlarging or diminishing them according to some
given rule, it follows that the whole art of arithmetic is
comprehended in two operations, Addition and Subtraction.
However, as it is frequently required to add several equal
numbers together, or to subtract several equal ones from
a greater, till it be exhausted, proper methods have been
invented for facilitating the operation in these cases, and
distinguished by the names of Multiplication and Division;
and these four rules are the foundation of all arithmetical
operations whatever.1
As the idea of number is acquired by observing several
objects collected, so is that of fractions by observing an
object divided into several parts. As we sometimes meet
with objects broken into two, three, or more parts, we
may consider any or all of these divisions promiscuously,
which is done in the doctrine of vulgar fractions. How¬
ever, since the practice of collecting units into parcels of
tens has prevailed universally, it has been found conveni¬
ent to follow a like method in the consideration of frac¬
tions, by dividing each unit into ten equal parts, and each
of these into ten smaller parts; and so on. Numbers di¬
vided in this manner are called Decimal Fractions.
Chap. II.—Addition.
Addition is that operation by which we find the amount
of two or more numbers. The method of doing this in
simple cases is obvious, as soon as the meaning of number
is known, and admits of no illustration. A young learner
will begin at one of the numbers, and reckon up as many
units separately as there are in the other, and practice
will enable him to do it at once. It is impossible, strictly
speaking, to add more than two numbers at a time. We
must first find the sum of the first and second, then we
add the third to that number, and so on. However, as
the several sums obtained are easily retained in the me¬
mory, it is neither necessary nor usual to mark them
down. When the numbers consist of more figures than
one, we add the units together, the tens together, and so
on. But if the sum of the units exceed ten, or contain
ten several times, we add the number of tens it contains
to the next column, and only set down the number of units
that are over. In like manner we carry the tens of every
column to the next higher. And the reason of this is
obvious from the value of the places ; since an unit, in any
higher place, signifies the same thing as ten in the place
immediately lower.
Example.
Rule.— Write the numbers distinctly, units 346863
under units, tens under tens, and so on. Then 876734
reckon the amount of the right-hand column. If 123467
it be under ten, mark it down. If it exceed ten, 314213
mark the units only, and carry the tens to the 712316
next place. In like manner, carry the tens of 438987
each column to the next, and mark down the full 279654
sum of the left-hand column. 3092234
24433
As it is of great consequence in business to perform
addition readily and exactly, the learner ought to practise
it till it become quite familiar. If the learner can readily
add any two digits, he will soon add a digit to a higher
number with equal ease. It is only to add the unit place
1 To abbreviate, it is sometimes convenient to indicate the four operations of arithmetic by the signs +,—, ^_e ir^ ’
4-,denotes addition ; the second, —, indicates subtraction; the third, x, multiplication; and the fourth, -4- division. J he sign = pu e-
tween two quantities indicates that they are equal. Accordingly we may write 2 + 3 = 5;7 — 3 = 4;5x3=lo; — — <•
584
ARITHMETIC.
Addition, of that number to the digit; and if it exceed ten, it raises
the amount accordingly. Thus, because 8 and 6 are 14,
48 and 6 are 54. It will be proper to mark down under the
sums of each column, in a small hand, the figure that is
carried to the next column. This prevents the trouble of
going over the whole operation again, in case of interrup¬
tion or mistake. If you wish to keep the account clean,
mark down the sum and figure you carry on a separate
paper, and after revising them, transcribe the sum only.
After some practice, we ought to acquire the habit of add¬
ing two or more figures at one glance. This is particu¬
larly useful when two figures which amount to 10, as 6
and 4, or 7 and 3, stand together in the column.
Every operation in arithmetic ought to be revised, to
prevent mistakes; and as one is apt to fall into the same
mistake, if he revise it in the same manner he performed
it, it is proper either to alter the order, or else to trace
back the steps by which the operation advanced, which
will lead us at last to the number we began with. Every
method of proving accounts may be referred to one or
other of these heads.
ls£, Addition may be proved by any of the following
methods: Repeat the operation, beginning at the top of
the column, if you began at the foot when you wrought it.
2c?, Divide the account into several parts; add these
separately, and then add the sums together. If their
amount correspond with the sum of the account when
added at once, it may be presumed right. This method
is particularly proper when you want to know the sums
of the parts as well as that of the whole.
3c?, Subtract the numbers successively from the sum;
if the account be right, you will exhaust it exactly, and
find no remainder.
When the given number consists of articles of different
value, as pounds, shillings, and pence, or the like, which
are called different denominations, the operations in arith¬
metic must be regulated by the value of the articles.
We shall give here a few of the most useful tables.
I. Sterling Money. II. Avoirdupois Weight.
4 farthings = 1 penny, 16 drams = 1 ounce, oz.
marked d. 16 ounces = 1 pound, lb.
12 pence = 1 shilling, s. 28 pounds = 1 quarter, qr.
20 shillings = 1 pound, £. 4 quart. = 1 hundredw1, cwt.
Also 6s. 8d. = 1 noble. 20 hundredw* = 1 ton, T.
12s. = 1 angel.
13s. 4d. or two thirds of
a pound = 1 merk.
Scots money is divided in the same manner as sterling,
and has one twelfth of its value. A pound Scots is equal
to Is. 8d. sterling, a shilling Scots to a penny sterling, and
a penny Scots to a twelfth part of a penny sterling; a merk
Scots is two thirds of a pound Scots, or 13^d. sterling.
III. Troy Weight. IV. Apothecaries Weight.
20 mites =: 1 grain, gr. 20 grains = 1 scruple, '3
24 grains = 1 pennyw‘, dwt. 3 scruples = 1 dram, 3
20 pennywts = 1 ounce, oz.
12 ounces — 1 pound, lib.
V. English Dry Measure.
2 pints = 1 quart
4 quarts = 1 gallon
2 gallons =: 1 peck
4 pecks =: 1 bushel
8 bushels = 1 quarter
VII. English Land Mea¬
sure.
30^ square yards — 1 pole
or perch
40 poles = 1 rood
4 roods = 1 acre
8 drams = 1 ounce,
12 ounces = 1 pound, lb.
VI. Scots Dry Measure.
4 lippies = 1 peck
4 pecks = 1 firlot
4 firlots = 1 boll
16 bolls = 1 chalder
VIII. Scots Land Mea¬
sure.
36 square ells = 1 fall
40 falls = 1 rood
4 roods = 1 acre
IX. Long Measure.
12 inches = 1 foot
3 feet = 1 yard
yards = 1 pole
40 poles = 1 furlong
8 furlongs = 1 mile
3 miles = 1 league
X. Time.
60 seconds = 1 minute
60 minutes = 1 hour ^
24 hours =: 1 day
7 days = 1 week
365 days = 1 year
52 weeks and 1 day = 1 year
Rule for Compound Addition.—Arrange like quan¬
tities under like, and carry according to the value of the
higher place.
Note 1. When you add a denomination which contains
more columns than one, and from which you carry to the
higher by 20, 30, or any even number of tens, first add
the units of that column, and mark down their sum, car¬
rying the tens to the next column; then add the tens,
and carry to the higher denomination, by the number of
tens that it contains of the lower. For example, in add¬
ing shillings, carry by 10 from the units to the tens, and
by 2 from the tens to the pounds.
Note 2. If you do not carry by an even number of tens,
first find the complete sum of the lower denomination,
then inquire how many of the higher that sum contains, and
carry accordingly, and mark the remainder, if any, under
the column. For example, if the sum of a column of pence
be 43, which is three shillings and sevenpence, mark 7 under
the pence column, and carry 3 to that of the shillings.
Note 3. Some add the lower denominations after the
following method: when they have reckoned as many as
amounts to one of the higher denomination, or upwards,
they mark a dot, and begin again with the excess of the
number reckoned above the value of the denomination.
The number of dots shows how many are carried, and the
last reckoned number is placed under the column.
Sterling Money.
A.
3
101
7
5f
3
Examples.
£
127 13
43 5
806 18
190 2
214 0
85 15
Avoirdupois Weight.
T. cxvt. qr. lb.
3 15 2 24
42
3
7
2
3
18
0 19
3 26
2 0
1 10
1 12
1467 15
9|
24 11 0
Subtrac¬
tion.
Chap. III.—Subtraction.
Subtraction is the operation by which we take a
lesser number from a greater, and find their difference.
It is exactly opposite to addition, and is performed in a
like manner, beginning at the greater, and reckoning
downwards the units of the lesser. The g&ater is called
the minuend, and the lesser the subtrahend.
If any figure of the subtrahend be greater than the
corresponding figure of the minuend, we add ten to that
of the minuend, and having found and marked the differ¬
ence, we add one to the next place of the subtrahend.
This is called borrowing ten. The reason will appear, if
we consider that, when two numbers are equally increased
by adding the same to both, their difference will not be
altered. When we proceed as directed above, we add
ten to the minuend, and we likewise add one to the
higher place of the subtrahend, which is equal to ten of
the lower place.
Rule.—Subtract units from units, tens from tens, and
so on. If any figure of the subtrahend be greater than the
corresponding one of the minuend, borrow ten.
Example. Minuend 173694 738641
Subtrahend 21453 379235
Remainder 152241
359406
ARITHMETIC.
585
Subtrac- To prove subtraction, add the subtrahend and remain-
tion. der together; if their sum be equal to the minuend, the
account is right.
Or subtract the remainder from the minuend. If the
difference be equal to the subtrahend, the account is right.
Rule for Compound Subtraction.—Place like de¬
nominations under like; and borrow, when necessary, ac¬
cording to the value of the higher place.
£ s. d.
146 3 3
58 7 6
87 15 9
Examples.
Cwt. qr. lib.
12 3 19
4 3 24
7 3 23
A. R. F E.
15 2 24 18
12 2 36 7
2 3 28 11
Note 5. As custom has established the method of pla- MultipU-
cing the subtrahend under the minuend, we follow it cation,
when there is no reason for doing otherwise ; the minuend
may be placed under the subtrahend with equal pro¬
priety ; and the learner should be able to work it either
way with equal readiness, as this last is sometimes more
convenient, of which instances will occur afterwards.
Note 6. The learner should also acquire the habit,
when two numbers are marked down, of placing such a
number under the lesser, that, when added together, the
sum may be equal to the greater. The operation is the
same as subtraction, though conceived in a different
manner, and is useful in balancing accounts and on other
occasions.
Note 1. The reason for borrowing is the same as in
simple subtraction. Thus, in subtracting pence, we add
12 pence when necessary to the minuend, and at the
next step we add one shilling to the subtrahend.
Note 2. When there are two places in the same deno¬
mination, if the next higher contain exactly so many
tens, it is best to subtract the units first, borrowing ten
when necessary ; and then subtract the tens, borrowing,
if there is occasion, according to the number of tens in
the higher denomination.
Note 3. If the value of the higher denomination be not
an even number of tens, subtract the units and tens at
once, borrowing according to the value of the higher de¬
nomination.
Note 4. Some choose to subtract the place in the sub¬
trahend, when it exceeds that of the minuend, from the
value of the higher denomination, and add the minuend
to the difference. This is only a different order of pro¬
ceeding, and gives the same answer.
Chap. IV.—Multiplication.
In multiplication two numbers are given, and it is re¬
quired to find how much the first amounts to when reck¬
oned as many times as there are units in the second. Thus,
8 multiplied by 5, or 5 times 8, is 40. The given num¬
bers (8 and 5) are called factors, the first (8) the multi¬
plicand, the second (5) the multiplier, and the amount
(40) the product.
This operation is nothing else than addition of the same
number several times repeated. If we mark 8 five times
under each other, and add them, the sum is 40. But as
this kind of addition is of frequent and extensive use, in
order to shorten the operation, we mark down the num¬
ber only once, and conceive it to be repeated as often as
there are units in the multiplier.
For this purpose the learner must be thoroughly ac¬
quainted with the following multiplication table, which is
composed by adding each digit twelve times.
Twice
1 is 2
2 4
3 6
4 8
5 10
6 12
7 14
8 16
9 18
10 20
11 22
12 24
Thrice
Four times
1 is 3
2 6
3 9
4 12
5 15
6 18
7 21
8 24
9 27
10 30
11 33
12 36
1 is 4
2 8
3 12
4 16
5 20
6 24
7 28
8 32
9 36
10 40
11 44
12 48
Five times
1 is 5
2 10
3 15
4 20
5 25
6 30
7 35
8 40
9 45
10 50
11 55
12 60
Six times
1 is 6
2 12
3 18
4 24
5 30
6 36
7 42
8 48
9 54
10 60
11 66
12 72
Seven times
1 is 7
2 14
3 21
4 28
5 35
6 42
7 49
8 56
9 63
10 70
11 77
12 84
Eight times
1 is 8
2 16
3 24
4 32
5 40
6 48
7 56
8 64
9 72
10 80
11 88
12 96
Nine times
Ten times
Eleven times
Twelve times
1 is 9
2 18
3 27
4 36
5 45
6 54
7 63
8 72
9 81
10 90
11 99
12 108
1 is 10
2 20
3 30
4 40
5 50
6 60
7 70
8 80
9 90
10 100
11 110
12 120
1 is 11
2 22
3 33
4 44
5 55
6 66
7 77
8 88
9 99
10 110
11 121
12 132
1 is 12
2 24
3 36
4 48
5 60
6 72
7 84
8 96
9 108
10 120
11 132
12 144
If both factors be under 12, the table exhibits the pro¬
duct at once. If the multiplier only be under 12, we be¬
gin at the unit place and multiply the figures in their or¬
der, carrying the tens to the higher place, as in addition.
Ex. 76859 multiplied by 4, or 76859 added 4 times.
4 76859
76859
76859
307436
307436
If the multiplier be 10, we annex a cipher to the mul¬
tiplicand ; if the multiplier be 100, we annex two ci¬
phers, and so on. The reason is obvious, from the use of
ciphers in notation.
If the multiplier be any digit, with one or more ciphers
on the right hand, we multiply by the figure, and annex
an equal number of ciphers to the product. Thus, if it
be required to multiply by 50, we first multiply by 5, and
then annex a cipher. It is the same thing as to add the
multiplicand 50 times ; and this might be done by writ-
vol. m.
ing the account at large, dividing the column into 10 parts
of 5 lines, finding the sum of each part, and adding these
ten sums together.
If the multiplier consists of several significant figures,
we multiply separately by each, and add the products. It
is the same as if we divided a long account of addition
into parts corresponding to the figures of the multiplier.
Example. To multiply 7329 by 365.
7329 7329 7329 36645 = 5 times.
5 60 300 439740 = 60 times.
      2198700 = 300 times.
36645 439740 2198700    
2675085 = 365 times.
It is obvious that 5 times the multiplicand added to 60
times, and to 300 times the same, must amount to the
product required. In practice we place the products at
once under each other; and as the ciphers arising from
the higher places of the multiplier are lost in the addition,
we omit them. Hence may be inferred the following
586
ARITHMETIC.
Multipli¬
cation.
Rule.—Place the multiplier under the multiplicand, and
multiply the latter successively by the significant figures of
the former, placing the right-hand figure of each product
under the figure of the multiplier from which it arises, then
add the product.
37846 93956
235 8704
189230 375824
113538 657692
75692 751648
8893810 817793024
A number which cannot be produced by the multipli¬
cation of two others is called a prime number ; as 3, 5, 7,
11, and many others.
A number which may be produced by the multiplica¬
tion of two or more smaller ones, is called a composite
number; for example, 27, which arises from the multi¬
plication of 9 by 3; and these numbers, 9 and 3, are call¬
ed the component parts of 27.
Ex.
7329
365
36645
43974
21987
2675085
42785
91
42785
385065
3893435
Contractions and Varieties in Multiplication.
ls£, If the multiplier be a composite number, we may
multiply successively by the component parts.
Ex. 7638 by 45, or 5 times 9 7638
45  9
38190 68742
30552  5
343710 343710
Because the second product is equal to five times the
first, and the first is equal to nine times the multiplicand,
it is obvious that the second product must be five times
nine, or forty-five times as great as the multiplicand.
2c%, If the multiplier be 5, which is the half of 10,
we may annex a cipher and divide by 2. If it be 25,
which is the fourth part of 100, we may annex two ci¬
phers and divide by 4. Other contractions of the like
kind will readily occur to the learner.
3<%, To multiply by 9, which is one less than 10,
we may annex a cipher, and subtract the multiplicand
from the number it composes. To multiply by 99999, or
any number of 9’s, annex as many ciphers, and subtract
the multiplicand. The reason is obvious ; and a like rule
may be found though the unit place be different from 9.
\ihly. Sometimes a line of the product is more easily
obtained from a former line of the same than from the
multiplicand.
Ex. \st. 1372
84
2d 1348
36
5488
10976
8088
4044
115248
48528
In the first example, instead of multiplying by 8, we
may multiply 5488 by 2 ; and, in the second, instead of
multiplying by 3, we may divide 8088 by 2.
bthly, Sometimes the product of two or more figures
may be obtained at once, from the product of a figure al¬
ready found.
Ex. Is*. 14356
648
2d 3462321
96484
114848
918784
9302688
13849284
166191408
332382816
334058579364
In the second example we multiply first by 4, then, be¬
cause 12 times 4 is 48, we multiply the first line of the
product by 12, instead of multiplying separately by 8 and Multipli-
4; lastly, because twice 48 is 96, we multiply the second cation,
line of the product by 2, instead of multiplying separate- v'—^
ly by 6 and 9.
When we follow this method, we must be careful to
place the right-hand figure of each product under the
right-hand figure of that part of the multiplier which it is
derived from.
It would answer equally well in all cases to begin the
work at the highest place of the multiplier ; and contrac¬
tions are sometimes obtained by following that order.
Ex. Is*. 3125
642
18750
12500
6250
2006250
or 3125
642
18750
131250
2006250
2d 32452
52575
162260
811300
2433900
1706163900
It is a matter of indifference which of the factors be
used as the multiplier; for 4 multiplied by 3 gives the
same product as 3 multiplied by 4; and the like holds
universally true. To illustrate this, we may make three
rows of points, four in each row, placing the ....
rows under each other; and we shall have ....
also four rows containing three points each, ....
if we reckon the rows downwards.
Multiplication is proved by repeating the operation,
using the multiplier for the multiplicand, and the multi¬
plicand for the multiplier. It may also be proven by divi¬
sion, or by casting out the 9’s, of which afterwards; and
an account, wrought by any contraction, may be proven
by performing the operation at large, or by a different
contraction.
Compound Multiplication.
Rule I.—Jf the multiplier do not exceed 12, the operation
is performed at once, beginning at the lowest place, and car¬
rying according to the value of the place.
Examples.
£ s. d.
13 6 7
9
119 19 3
Cxei. qr. lb.
12 2 8
A.
13
R. P.
3 18
6
62 3 12
83 0 28
Lb.
7
oz. dwt.
5 9
12
89
8
Rule II.—If the multiplier be a composite number, whose
component parts do not exceed 12, multiply first by one of
these parts, then midtiply the product by the other. Pro¬
ceed in the same manner if there be more than two.
Ex. 1st. £15 3 8 by 32 = 8 x 4
 8
£121 9 4=8 times.
4
£485 17 4 = 32 times.
2d £17 3 8 bv 75 = 5x5x3
3
£51 11 — = 3 times.
5
£257 15 - = 15 times.
5
£1288 15 -= 75 times.
Note 1. Although the component parts will answer in
any order, it is best, when it can be done, to take them in
such order as may clear off some of the lower places at
the first multiplication, as is done in Ex. 2d
Note 2. The operation may be proved by taking the
ARITHMETIC.
587
Reduction, component parts in a different order, or dividing the mul-
tiplier in a different manner.
Rule III.—If the multiplier he a prime number, multiply
first by the composite number next lower, then by the differ¬
ence, and add the products.
£35 17 9 by 67 = 64 + 3
8 64 = 8X8
" £287 2 - = 8 times.
8
£2296 16 - =: 64 times.
107 13 3 = 3 times.
£2404 9 3 = 67 times.
Here, because 8 times 8
is 64, we multiply twice
by 8, which gives £2296.
16s. equal to 64 times the
multiplicand : then we find
the amount of 3 times
the multiplicand, which is
£107. 13s. 3d.; and it is
evident that these added
amount to 67 times the
multiplicand.
Rule IV.—If there be a composite number a little above
the multiplier, we may multiply by that number, and by the
difference, and subtract the second product from the first.
£17 4 5 by 106 = 108— 2 Here we multiply
12 108 = 9 X 12 by 12 and 9, the com-
of 108,
£206 13 -
£1859
34
- = 108 times.
10 = 2 times.
£1825 8 2 = 106 times-
ponent parts
and obtain a product
of £1859.17s. equal to
108 times the multi¬
plicand ; and, as this
is twice oftener than
was required, we sub¬
tract the multiplicand
doubled, and the re¬
mainder is the num¬
ber sought.
Rule V.—If the multiplier be large, multiply by 10, and
multiply the product again by 10; by ivhich means you ob¬
tain an hundred times the given number. If the nndtiplier
exceed 1000, multiply by 10 again; and continue it farther
if the multiplier require it; then multiply the given number
by the unit-place of the multiplier ; the first product by the
ten-place, the second product by the hundred-place, and so
on. Add the products thus obtained together.
£34 8 24 by 5 = £172 1 0| = 5 times.
10
10 times £344 2 lby0= 2064 12 6 = 60 times.
10
100 times £3441 - 10 by 4 = 13764 3 4 = 400 times.
   10
1000 times £34410 8 4 by 3 = 103231 5 - =3000 times.
£119232 1 101 =3465 times.
The use of multiplication is to compute the amount of
any number of equal articles, either in respect of mea¬
sure, weight, value, or any other consideration. The mul¬
tiplicand expresses how much is to be reckoned for each
article, and the multiplier expresses how many times that
is to be reckoned. As the multiplier points out the num¬
ber of articles to be added, it is always an abstract num¬
ber, and has no reference to any value or measure what¬
ever. It is therefore quite improper to attempt the mul¬
tiplication of shillings by shillings, or to consider the mul¬
tiplier as expressive of any denomination.
Reduction.
Reduction is the computation for changing any sum of
money, weight, or measure, into a different kind. When
the quantity given is expressed in different denominations,
we reduce the highest to the next lower, and add thereto
the given number of that denomination; and proceed in
like manner till we have reduced it to the lowest denomi¬
nation.
Ex. To reduce £46. 13s. 8fd. to farthings.
£46 4 B
Or thus:
920 shillings in £46 £46 13 8
 20
933 shillings in £46 13 933
 12  12
11196 pence in £46 13 11204
8 4
11204 pence in £46 13 8 44819
 4
44816 farthings in £46 13 8
Division.
 3_
44819 farthings in £46 13 8£
It is easy to take in or add the lower denomination at the
same time that we multiply the higher.
Chap. V.—Division.
In division two numbers are given, and it is required
to find how often the former contains the latter. Thus,
it may be asked how often 21 contains 7, and the answer
is exactly 3 times. The former given number (21) is
called the dividend, the latter (7) the divisor, and the
number required (3) the quotient. It frequently hap¬
pens that the division cannot be completed exactly with¬
out fractions. Thus it may be asked, how often 8 is con¬
tained in 19 ? the answer is twice, and the remainder of 3.
This operation consists in subtracting the divisor from
the dividend, and again from the remainder, as often as
it can be done, and reckoning the number of subtrac¬
tions; as,
21 19
7 first subtraction 8 first subtraction
14 11
7 second subtraction 8 second subtraction
7 3 remainder.
7 third subtraction.
"0
As this operation, performed at large, would be very
tedious when the quotient is a high number, it is proper
to shorten it by every convenient method; and for this
purpose we may multiply the divisor by any number
whose product is not greater than the dividend, and so
subtract it twice or thrice, or oftener, at the same time.
The best way is to multiply it by the greatest number
that does not raise the product too high, and that number
is also the quotient. For example, to divide 45 by 7, we
inquire what is the greatest multiplier for 7 that does not
give a product above 45, and we shall find that it is 6;
and 6 times 7 is 42, which, subtracted from 45, leaves a
remainder of 3. Therefore 7 may be subtracted 6 times
from 45; or, which is the same thing, 45 divided by 7,
gives a quotient of 6 and a remainder of three.
If the divisor do not exceed 12, we readily find the
highest multiplier that can be used from the multiplica¬
tion table. If it exceed 12, we may try any multiplier
that we think will answer. If the product be greater
than the dividend, the multiplier is too great; and if the
remainder, after the product is subtracted from the divi¬
dend, be greater than the divisor, the multiplier is too small.
In either of these cases we must try another. But the
attentive learner, after some practice, will generally hit
on the right multiplier at first.
If the divisor be contained oftener than ten times in
the dividend, the operation requires as many steps as
588
ARITHMETIC.
Division, there are figures in the quotient. For instance, if the
quotient be greater than 100, but less than 1000, it re¬
quires 3 steps. We first inquire how many hundred times
the divisor is contained in the dividend, and subtract the
amount of these hundreds. Then we inquire how often
it is contained ten times in the remainder, and subtract
the amount of these tens. Lastly, we inquire how many
single times it is contained in the remainder. The method
of proceeding will appear from the following example:
To divide 5936 by 8.
From 5936
Take 5600 = 700 times 8.
Rem.
From which take
336
320 = 40 times 8.
Rem. 16
From which take 16 = 2 times 8.
0 742 times 8 in all.
It is obvious, that as often as 8 is contained in 59, so
many hundred times it will be contained in 5900, or in
5936; and as often as it is contained in 33, so many ten
times it will be contained in 330, or in 336 ; and thus the
higher places of the quotient will be obtained with equal
ease as the lower. The operation might be performed by
subtracting 8 continually from the dividend, which will
lead to the same conclusion by a very tedious process.
After 700 subtractions, the remainder would be 336 ;
after 40 more it would be 16 ; and after 2 more the divi¬
dend would be entirely exhausted. In practice we omit
the ciphers, and proceed by the following
Rules.—1. Assume as many figures on the left hand of
the dividend as contain the divisor once or oftener; find
how many times they contain it, and place the answer as the
highest figure of the quotient.
2. Multiply the divisor hy the figure you have found, and
place the product under the part of the dividend from which
it is obtained.
3. Subtract the product from the figures above it.
4. Bring down the next figure of the dividend to the re¬
mainder, and divide the number it makes up as before.
Examples.-] 1st, 8)5936(742 2d, 63)30114(478
56 • • 252--
33 491
32 441
16 504
16 504
3<f, 365)974932(2671^
730 • • •
2449
2190
2593
2555
382
365
Remainder 17
The numbers which we divide, as 59, 33, and 16, in the
first example, are called dividuals.
It is usual to mark a point under the figures of the di¬
vidend as they are brought down, to prevent mistakes.
If there be a remainder, the division is completed by a
vulgar fraction, whose numerator is the remainder, and its
denominator the divisor. Thus, in Ex. 3 the quotient is
2671, and the remainder 17; and the quotient completed
is 2671 jfj.
A number which divides another without a remainder is
said to measure it; and the several numbers which measure
another are called its aliquot parts. Thus 2, 4, 6, 8, and Division.
12, are aliquot parts of 24. As it is often useful to dis-'
cover numbers which measure others, we may observe,
\st, Every number ending with an even figure, that
is, with 2, 4, 6, 8, or 0, is measured by 2.
2dly, Every number ending with 5 or 0 is measured
by 5.
3dly, Every number whose figures, when added, amount
to an even number of 3’s or 9’s, is measured by 3 or 9,
respectively.
Contractions and Varieties in Division.
Is#, When the divisor does not exceed 12, the whole
computation may be performed without setting down any
figures except the quotient.
Ex. 7)35868(5124 or 7)35868
5124
2dly, When the divisor is a composite number, and one
of the component parts also measures the dividend, we
may divide successively by the component parts.
Ex. Is#,] 30114 by 63 2d,] 975 by 105=5 X 7 X 3
9)30114 5)975
7) 3346 3)195
Quotient 478 7) 65
Quotient 9^
This method might be also used although the compo¬
nent parts of the divisor do not measure the dividend;
but the management of the remainder requires the doc¬
trine of vulgar fractions.
Sdly, When there are ciphers annexed to the divisor,
cut them off, and cut off an equal number of figures from
the dividend; annex those figures to the remainder.
Ex. To divide 378643 by 5200.
52|00)3786|43(72f§!§.
364-
146
104
4243
The reason will appear by performing the operation at
large, and comparing the steps.
To divide by 10, 100, 1000, or the like : Cut off as
many figures on the right hand of the dividend as there
are ciphers in the divisor. The figures which remain on
the left hand compose the quotient, and the figures cut
off compose the remainder.
Note.—Since 4 times 25 make 100, instead of dividing
by 25, we may multiply the dividend by 4, and cut off the
two last figures from the product. The figures left will
be the quotient, and those cut off the remainder. In like
manner, to divide by 125, which multiplied by 8 pro¬
duces 1000, we may multiply the dividend by 8, and cut
off three figures, which will be the remainder, and those
left the quotient.
Uhly, When the divisor consists of several figures, we
may try them separately, by inquiring how often the first
figure of the divisor is contained in the first figure of the
dividend, and then considering whether the second and
following figures of the divisor be contained as often in
the corresponding ones of the dividend with the remainder
(if any) prefixed. If not, we must begin again, and make
trial of a lower number. When the remainder is nine or
upwards, we may be sure the division will hold through
the lower places; and it is unnecessary to continue the
trial farther.
bthly, We may make a table of the products of the di¬
visor, multiplied by the nine digits, in order to discover
more readily how often it is contained in each dividuaL
This is convenient when the dividend is very long, or
when it is required to divide frequently by the same divisor.
ARITHMETIC.
589
Division.
73 by 2 = 146
3 = 219
4 = 292
5 = 365
6 =438
7 = 511
8 = 584
9 = 657
73)53872694(737982
511 
277
219
582
511
716
657
599
584
154
146
Rem. 8
(Sthly, To divide by 9, 99, 999, or any number of 9’s,
transcribe under the dividend part of the same, shifting
the highest figure as many places to the right hand as
there are 9’s in the divisor. Transcribe it again, with the
like change of place, as often as the length of the divi¬
dend admits; add these together, and cut off as many
figures from the right hand of the sum as there are 9’s in
the divisor. The figures which remain on the left hand
compose the quotient, and those cut off the remainder.
If there be any carriage to the unit place of the quo¬
tient, add the number carried likewise to the remainder,
as in Ex. 2; and if the figures cut off be all 9’s, add 1 to
the quotient, and there is no remainder.
Ex. Is*, 99)324123 2d, 99)547825
3241 5478
32 54
divisor and quotient multiplied together; and hence these Division,
operations mutually prove each other.
To prove multiplication : Divide the product by either
factor. If the operation be right, the quotient is the other
factor, and there is no remainder.
To prove division: Multiply the divisor and quotient
together; to the product add the remainder, if any; and,
if the operation be right, it makes up the dividend. Other¬
wise divide the dividend (after subtracting the remainder,
if any) by the quotient. If the operation be right, it will
quote the divisor. The reason of all those rules may be
collected from the last paragraph.
Compound Division.
Rule I.— When the dividend only consists of different
denominations, divide the higher denomination, and reduce
the remainder to the next lower, taking in (p. 547, Reduc¬
tion) the given number of that denomination, and continue
the division.
Quotient
3273|96
3273 and rem. 96.
5533|57
 1
Quotient SSSS’SS rem.
M,
999)476523
476
476|999
1
Examples.
Divide £465. 12s. 8d.
by 72.
£ s. d. £ s. d.
72)465 12 8 (694
432 • • •
33
20
Divide 345 cwt. 1 qr. 8 lb.
by 22.
Cwt. q. lb. Cwt. q. lb.
22)345 18 (15 2 22
22 • • •
125
110
72)672
648
24
12
15
4
72)296
288
Quotient 477
To explain the reason of this, we must recollect, that
whatever number of hundreds any dividend contains, it
contains an equal number of 99’s, together with an equal
number of units. In Ex. 1, the dividend contains 3241
hundreds, and a remainder of 23. It therefore contains
3241 times 99, and also 3241, besides the remainder al¬
ready mentioned.—Again, 3241 contains 32 hundreds
and a remainder of 41. It therefore contains 32 99’s,
and also 32, besides the remainder of 41. Consequently
the dividend contains 99, altogether, 3241 times and 32
times, that is, 3273 times, and the remainder consists of
23, 41, and 32, added, which make 96.
As multiplication supplies the place of frequent addi¬
tions, and division of frequent subtractions, they are only
repetitions and contractions of the simple rules; and,
when compared together, their tendency is exactly oppo¬
site. As numbers, increased by addition, are diminished
and brought back to their original quantity by subtrac¬
tion ; in like manner numbers compounded by multiplica¬
tion are reduced by division to the parts from which they
were compounded. The multiplier shows how many ad¬
ditions are necessary to produce the number; and the
quotient shows how many subtractions are necessary to
exhaust it. It follows that the product, divided by the
multiplicand, will quote the multiplier; and because either
factor may be assumed for the multiplicand, therefore the
product divided by either factor quotes the other. It fol¬
lows, also, that the dividend is equal to the product of the
8 Rem.
Or we might divide by
the component parts of
72 as explained under
(2dly, p. 548).
22)61
44
17
28
144
34
22)484
44
44
44
Rule II.— When the divisor is in different denomina¬
tions, reduce both divisor and dividend to the lowest denomi¬
nation, and proceed as in simple division. The quotient is
an abstract number.
To divide £38. 13s. by
£3. 4s. 5d.
£3
20
64
12
773
4 5
£38 13
20
To divide 96 cwt. 1 qr. 20 lb.
by 3 cwt. 2 qr. 8 lb.
Cwt. q. lb. Cwt. q. lb.
3 2 8 ) 96 1 20
4 4
773
12
)9276(12 quot.
773
1546
1546
14
28
120
28
385
28
3100
770
4|00 )108|00(27 quot.
It is best not to reduce the terms lower than is neces¬
sary to render them equal. For instance, if each of them
consists of an even number of sixpences, fourpences, or
the like, we reduce them to sixpences or fourpences, but
not to pence.
The use of division is to find either of the factors by
whose multiplication a given number is produced when
the other factor is given, and therefore is of two kinds,
since either the multiplier or the multiplicand may be
590
ARITHMETIC.
Division, given. If the former be given, it discovers what that
number is which is contained so many times in another.
If the latter be given, it discovers how many times one
number is contained in another. Thus, it answers the
questions of an opposite kind to those mentioned under
Rule V. p. 587, as, to find the quantity of a single parcel
or share ; to find the value, weight, or measure, of a single
article; to find how much work is done, provisions con¬
sumed, interest incurred, or the like, in a single day, &c.
The last use of division is a kind of reduction exactly
opposite to that described under Rule V. p. 587. The
manner of conducting and arranging it, when there are
several denominations in the question, will appear from
the following examples.
1 To reduce 15783 pence to
pounds, shillings, and pence.
20
12)15783(1315(65
12'
37
36
18
12
63
60
120-
115
100
15
2. To reduce 174865 grs.
to lbs. oz. and dwt. Troy.
20 12
24)174865(7286(364(30
168*•• 60-• se¬
es 128 04
48 120
206
192
86
80
Ex. If 3 yards cost 15s.
the same rate ?
9d. what will 7 yards cost at Divisi0n-
145 6
144
3 1
Answer, £65. 15s. 3d. Ans. 30 lb. 4 oz. 6 dwt. 1 gr.
In the first example we reduce 15783 pence to shillings,
by dividing by 12, and obtain 1315 shillings, and a re¬
mainder of 3 pence. Then we reduce 1315 shillings to
pounds by dividing by 20, and obtain 65 pounds and a
remainder of 15 shillings. The divisions might have been
contracted.
In the practice of arithmetic questions often occur
which require both multiplication and division to resolve.
This happens in reduction, when the higher denomination
does not contain an exact number of the lower.
Rule for Mixed Reduction.—Reduce the given de¬
nomination hy multiplication to some lower one which is an
aliquot part of both ; then reduce that by division to the de¬
nomination required.
5 3 price
7
£1 16 9 price of 7 yards (by par. ult. p. 589,
col. 2.)
Many other instances might be adduced where the ope¬
ration and the reasons of it are equally obvious. These
are generally, though unnecessarily, referred to the rule
of proportion.
We shall now offer a general observation on all the
operations in arithmetic. When a computation requires
several steps, we obtain a just answer, whatever order we
follow. Some arrangements may be preferable to others
in point of ease, but all of them lead to the same conclu¬
sion. In addition or subtraction we may take the articles
in any order, as is evident from the idea of number; or
we may collect them into several sums, and add or sub¬
tract these either separately or together. When both
the simple operations are required to be repeated, we
may either complete one of them first, or may introduce
them promiscuously; and the compound operations admit
of the same variety. When several numbers are to be
multiplied together, we may take the factors in any order,
or we may arrange them into several classes, find the pro¬
duct of each class, and then multiply the products to¬
gether. When a number is to be divided by several others
we may take the divisors in any order, or we may multi¬
ply them into each other, and divide by the product; or
we may multiply them into several parcels, and divide by
the products successively. Lastly, When multiplication
and division are both required, we may begin with either;
and when both are repeatedly necessary, we may collect
the multipliers into one product and the divisors into
another, or we may collect them into parcels, or use them
singly, and that in any order. Still we shall obtain the
proper answer if none of the terms be neglected.
When both multiplication and division are necessary to
obtain the answer of a question, it is generally best to be¬
gin with the multiplication, as this order keeps the ac¬
count as clear as possible from fractions. The example
last given may be wrought accordingly as follows:
Ex.—Reduce £31742 to guineas.
31742
 20
21)634840(30230
63••• •
048
42
64
63
Here we multiply by 20,
which reduces the pounds to
shillings, and divide the pro¬
duct by 21, which reduces
the shillings to guineas.
10 Answer, 30230 guineas and 10 shillings.
Note 1. Guineas may be reduced to pounds by adding
one twentieth part of the number.
2. Pounds may be reduced to merks by adding one
half.
3. Merks may be reduced to pounds by subtracting one
third.
Another case which requires both multiplication and
division is, when the value, weight, measure, or duration
of any quantity is given, and the value, &c. of a different
quantity required, we first find the value, &c. of a single
article by division, and then the value, &c. of the quan¬
tity required, by multiplication.
s. d.
15 9
7
3)5 10 3
1 16 9
Some accountants prove the operations of arithmetic
by a method which they call casting out the 9’s, depend¬
ing on the following principles:
ls£, If several numbers be divided by any divisor (the
remainders being always added to the next number), the
sum of the quotients, and the last remainder, will be the
same as those obtained when the sum of the number is
divided by the same divisor. Thus, 19, 15, and 23, con¬
tain together as many 5’s, as many 7’s, &c. as their sum
57 does, and the remainders are the same; and, in this
way, addition may be proven by division. It is from the
correspondence of the remainders that the proof by cast¬
ing out the 9’s is deduced.
2dly, If any figure with ciphers annexed be divided
by 9, the quotient consists entirely of that figure; and
the remainder is also the same. Thus, 40 divided by 9
quotes 4, remainder 4 ; and 400 divided by 9 quotes 44,
remainder 4. The same holds with all the digits, and the
reason will be easily understood: every digit, with a ci-
ARITHMETIC.
591
Division, pher annexed, contains exactly so many tens; it must
therefore contain an equal number of 9’s, besides a re¬
mainder of an equal number of units.
3(%, If any number be divided by 9, the remainder is
equal to the sum of the figures of the number, or to the
remainder obtained, when that sum is divided by 9. For
instance, 3765 divided by 9 leaves a remainder of 3 ; and
the sum of 3, 7, 6, and 5, is 21, which divided by 9 leaves
a remainder of 3. The reason of this will appear from the
following illustration:
3000 divided by 9
700 9
60 9
5 9
Again:
3765
21 divided
by 9
quotes 333, remainder 3
quotes 77, remainder 7
quotes 6, remainder 6
quotes 0, remainder 5
416, sum of rem.21
quotes 2, remainder 3 ;
wherefore, 3765 divided by 9 quotes 418, remainder 3;
for the reason given. Hence we may collect the follow¬
ing rules for practice :
To cast the 9’s out of any number, or to find what re¬
mainder will be left when any number is divided by 9: add
the figures; and when the sum exceeds 9, add the figures
which would express it. Pass by the 9's; and when the
sum comes exactly to 9, neglect it, and begin anew. For
example, if it be required to cast the 9's out of 3573294,
we reckon thus ; 3 and 5 are 8, and 7 is 15; 1 and 5 are 6,
and 3 is 9, which we neglect; 2 and (passing by 9) 4 are
6 ; which is the remainder or Result. If the article out
of which the 9’s are to be cast contains more denomina¬
tions than one, we cast the 9's out of the higher, and mul¬
tiply the result by the value of the lower, and carry on
the product (casting out the 9’s, if necessary) to the
lower.
To prove addition, cast the 9‘s out of the several ar¬
ticles, carrying the results to the following articles; cast
them also out of the sum. If the operation be right, the
results will agree.
To prove subtraction, cast the 9's out of the minuend;
cast them also out of the subtrahend and remainder to¬
gether ; and if you obtain the same result, the operation
is presumed right.
To prove multiplication, cast the 9 s out of the multi¬
plicand, and also out of the multiplier if above 9. Mul¬
tiply the results together, and cast the 9 s, if necessary,
out of their product. Then cast the 9 s out of the product,
and observe if this result correspond with the former.
Ex. 1st, 9276 res. 6 x « = 48 res. 3.
8
74208 res. 3.
2d, 7898 res. 5 x 3 = 15 res. 6.
48 res. 3
63184
31592
379104 res. 6.
The reason of this will be evident, if we consider mul¬
tiplication under the view of repeated addition. In the
first example it is obviously the same. In the second, we
may suppose the multiplicand repeated 48 times. If this
be done, and the 9’s cast out, the result, at the end of the
9th line, will be 0; for any number, repeated 9 times,
and divided by 9, leaves no I’emainder. The same must
happen at the end of the 18th, 27th, 36th, and 45th lines;
and the last result will be the same as if the multiplicand
had only been repeated 3 times. This is the reason for
casting out the 9’s from the multiplier as well as the mul¬
tiplicand.
To prove division, cast the 9’s out of the divisor, and
also out of the quotient; multiply the results, and cast Simple
the 9’s out of the product. If there be any remainder,
add to it the result, casting out the 9’s if necessary. If
the account be right, the last result will agree with that
obtained from the dividend.
Ex. 42) 2490 (59 res. 5 X 6 = 30 res. 3.
res. 6. 210
390
378
Rem. 12 - res. 3.
6
And the result of the dividend is 6.
This depends on the same reason as the last; for the
dividend is equal to the product of the divisor and quo¬
tient added to the remainder.
We cannot recommend this method, as it lies under the
following disadvantages.
ls£, If an error of 9, or any of its multiples, be com¬
mitted, the results will nevertheless agree; and so the
error will remain undiscovered. And this will always be
the case when a figure is placed or reckoned in a wrong
column, which is one of the most frequent causes of
error.
2dly, When it appears by the disagreement of the re¬
sults that an error has been committed, the particular
figure or figures in which the error lies are not pointed
out, and consequently it is not easily corrected.
Chap. VI Rule of Proportion.
SECT. I. SIMPLE PROPORTION.
Quantities are reckoned proportional to each other
when they are connected in such a manner, that if one of
them be increased or diminished, the other increases or
diminishes at the same time, and the degree of the alter¬
ation on each is a like part of its original measure. Thus,
four numbers are in the same proportion, the first to the
second as the third to the fourth, when the first contains
the second, or any part of it, as often as the third contains
the fourth, or the like part of it. In either of these cases,
the quotient of the first divided by the second is equal
to that of the third divided by the fourth; and this quo¬
tient may be called the measure of the proportion.
Proportionals are marked down in the following manner;
6 : 3 8 : 4
12 ; 36 :: 9 : 27
9 : 6 :: 24 : 16
16 : 24 :: 10 : 15
The rule of Proportion directs us, when three numbers
are given, how to find a fourth, to which the third may
have the same proportion that the first has to the second.
It is sometimes called the Eule of Three, from the three
numbers given ; and sometimes the Golden Eule, from its
various and extensive utility.
.Rule. Multiply the second and third terms together, and
divide the product by the first.
Ex. To find a fourth proportional to 18, 27, and 34.
18 : 27 34 : 51
34
108
81
18)918(51
90
18
18
To explain the reason of this, we must observe, that il
592
Simple
Propor¬
tion.
two or more numbers be multiplied or divided alike, the
products or quotients will have the same proportion.
18
27
918
51
Multiplied by 34, 612
Divided by 18, 34
The products 612, 918, and the quotients 34, 51, have
therefore the same proportion to each other that 18 has to
27. In the course of this operation, the products of the
first and third terms are divided by the first; therefore the
quotient is equal to the third.
The first and second terms must always be of the same
kind; that is, either both moneys, weights, measures,
both abstract numbers, or the like. The fourth, or num¬
ber sought, is of the same kind as the third.
When any of the terms is in more denominations than
one, we may reduce them all to the lowest. But this is
not always necessary. The first and second should not
be reduced lower than directed, p. 549, col. 2, par. penult.;
and when either the second or third is a simple number,
the other, though in different denominations, may be mul¬
tiplied without reduction.
d.
3
7
ARITHMETIC.
Here, because a number of horses is sought, we make Compound
the given number of horses, 40, the third term ; and be- Propor-
cause fewer will be maintained for the same money when
the price of hay is dearer, we make the greater price, 8d.
the first term, and the lesser price, 5d. the second term.
The first of these examples is direct, the second inverse.
Every question consists of a supposition and demand. In
the first, the supposition is, that 30 horses 'plough 12 acres,
and the demand, how many 42 will plough ; and the first
term of the proportion, 30, is found in the supposition, in
this and every other direct question. In the second, the
supposition is, that 40 horses are maintained on hay at 5d.,
and the demand, how many will he maintained on hay at
8d. ? and the first term of the proportion, 8, is found in
the demand, in this and every other inverse question.
When a proportion is stated, if the first and second terms,
or first and third, be measured by the same number, we
mav divide them by that measure, and use the quotients
in their stead.
Ex. If 36 yards cost 42 shillings, what will 27 cost ?
Ex. 5 : 7
£
25
11
5) 178 18 9
£
(35
15
F.
36
4
F.
27
3
sh.
42
42
3
Here 36 and 27 are both
measured by 9, and we work
with the quotients 4 and 3.
The accountant must consider the nature of every
question, and observe the circumstance which the propor¬
tion depends on; and common sense will direct him to
this if the terms of the question be understood. It is
evident that the value, weight, and measure of any com¬
modity is proportioned to its quantity; that the amount
of work or consumption is proportioned to the time ; that
gain, loss, or interest, when the rate and time are fixed,
is proportioned to the capital sum from which it arises;
and that the effect produced by any cause is proportion¬
ed to the extent of the cause. In these and many other
cases the proportion is direct, and the number sought in¬
creases or diminishes along with the term from which it
is derived.
In some questions, the number sought becomes less
when the circumstances from which it is derived become
greater. Thus, when the price of goods increases, the
quantity which may be bought for a given sum is smaller ;
when the number of men employed at work is increased,
the time in which they may complete it becomes shorter;
and when the activity of any cause is increased, the
quantity necessary to produce a given effect is diminish¬
ed. In these and the like the proportion is said to be
inverse.
General Rule for stating all questions, whether direct
or inverse. Place that number for the third term which sig¬
nifies the same hind of thing with what is sought, and con¬
sider whether the number sought will be greater or less. If
greater, place the least of the other terms for the first; but if
less, place the greatest for the first.
Ex. Is#, If 30 horses plough 12 acres, how many will
42 plough in the same time ?
H. H. A
30 :: 42 :: 12 : answer.
Here, because tbe thing sought is a number of acres,
we place 12, the given number of acres, for the third term;
and because 42 horses will plough more than 30, we make
the lesser number, 30, the first term, and the greater
number, 42, the second term.
Ex. 2d, If 40 horses be maintained for a certain sum
on hay, at 5d. per stone, how many will be maintained on
the same sum when the price of hay rises to 8d.
d. d. H.
8 : 5 :: 40 : answer.
4)126(31 6, the answer.
SECT. II. COMPOUND PROPORTION.
Sometimes the proportion depends upon several cir¬
cumstances. Thus, it may be asked, if 18 men consume
6 bolls of corn in 28 days, how much will 24 men consume
in 56 days ? Here the quantity required depends part¬
ly on the number of men, partly on the time; and the
question may be resolved into the two following ones:
Is#, If 18 men consume 6 bolls in a certain time, how
many will 24 men consume in the same time ?
M.
18
M.
24
6
6 : 8 Answer, 24 men will consume 8
bolls in the same time.
18)144(8
2d, If a certain number of men consume 8 bolls in 28
days, how many will they consume in 56 days ?
D. D. B. B.
28 : 56 :: 8 : 16 Ans. The same number of men
8 will consume 16 bolls in 56 days.
28) 448(16
In the course of this operation, the original number of
bolls, 6, is first multiplied into 24, then divided by 18, then
multiplied into 56, then divided by 28. It would answer
the same purpose to collect the multipliers into one pro¬
duct and the divisors into another, and then to multiply
the given number of bolls by the former, and divide the
product by the latter, p. 550, col. 2.
The above question may therefore be stated and wrought
as follows:
Men 18
Days 28
144
36
504
: 24
: 56
144
120
1344
6
6 bolls Here we multiply 18 into
28 for a divisor, and 6 into
the product of 24 by 56 for
a dividend.
504)8064(16, answer.
In general, state the several particulars on which the
question depends, as so many simple proportions, attend¬
ing to the sense of the question to discover whether the
proportions should be stated directly or inversely; then
multiply all the terms in the first rank together, and all
A R I T H M E T I C.
593
Distribu- those in the second rank together, and work with the
tive product as directed in the simple rule (Sect. i. p. 591.)
Propor¬
tion.
Ex. If 100 men make 3 miles of road in 27 days, in how
many days will 150 men make 5 miles ?
A’s stock £150 1320 . 150 : : 730
B’s 320 1320 : 320 :: 730
C’s 350 1320 : 350 : : 730
D’s 500 1320 : 500 : : 730
150
3
450
500
27
Men 150 : 100 :: 27 days. Here the first stating is
5 inverse, because more men
will do it in fewer days;
but the second is direct,
because more miles will
450)13500(30 days, am. require more days.
The following contraction is often useful. After stating
the proportion, if the same number occurs in both ranks,
dash it out from both ; or, if any term in the first rank
and another in the second rank are measured by the same
number, dash out the original terms, and use the quotients
in their stead.
Ex. If 18 men consume £30 value of corn in 9 months
when the price is 16s. per boll, how many will consume
£54 value in 6 months when the price is 12s. per boll ?
In this question the proportion depends upon three par¬
ticulars—the value of corn, the time, and price ; the first
of which is direct, because the greater the value of provi¬
sions is, the more men are required to consume them ; but
the second and third are inverse, for the greater the time
and price are, fewer men will consume an equal value.
Value $0
Months 0
Price
10
$
9
36
18
I^SS
36
Rem. Practice.
£ 82 19 1—120v_-^-v^v_
176 19 4—980
193 11 2—720
276 10 3—840
Whole stock £1320 Proof £730
This account is proved by adding the gains of the part¬
ners, the sum of which Avill be equal to the whole gain if
the operation be right; but if there be remainders, they
must be added, their sum divided by the common divisor,
and the quotient carried to the lowest place.
Ex. 2. A bankrupt owes A £146, B £170, C £45, D
£480, and E £72; his whole effects are only £342. 7s. 6d.
How much should each have ?
146
170
45
480
72
A’s debt £146 913
B’s 170 913
C’s 45 913
D’s 480 913
E’s 72 913
£342
342
342
342
342 7 6
£ 54 15
63 15
16 17 6
180
27
A’s share.
B’s
C’s
D’s
E’s
18 men.
Here we observe 6 in the first
rank measures 54 in the second;
so we dash them out, and place the
quotient9 in the second rank. Next,
because 30 and 9 are both mea¬
sured by 3, we dash them out, and
place down the quotients 10 and 3 ;
then, because 12 and 16 are both
measured by 4, we dash them out
and place down the quotients 3 and
10)648(64^, 4. Lastly, because there is now 3
in both columns, we dash them out,
and work with the remaining terms,
according to the rule.
The moneys, weights, and measures of different coun¬
tries may be reduced from the proportion which they bear
to each other.
Ex. If 112 lb. avoirdupois make 104 lb. of Holland, and
1001b. of Holland make 89 of Geneva, and 110 of Geneva
make 117 of Seville, how many lbs. of Seville will make
1001b. avoirdupois ?
112 : 104 : : 100
100 : 89
110 : 117
If it be required how many lb. avoirdupois will make
100 of Seville, then the terms must be placed in the differ¬
ent columns thus,—
104 : 112 : : 100
89 : 100
117 : 110
SECT. III.—DISTRIBUTIVE PROPORTION.
If it be required to divide a number into parts which
have the same proportion to each other that several other
given numbers have, we add these numbers together, and
state the following proportion: As the sum is to the par¬
ticular numbers, so is the number required to be divided
to the several parts sought.
Ex. 1. Four partners engage to trade in company; A’s
stock is £150, B’s £320, C’s £350, D’s £500, and they gain
£730 : Required how much belongs to each if the gain
be divided among them in proportion to their stocks?
VOL. in.
£913 £342 7 6
This might also be calculated by finding what compo¬
sition the bankrupt was able to pay per pound, which is
obtained by dividing the amount of his effects by the
amount of his debts, and comes to 7s. 6d., and then find¬
ing by the rules of practice how much each debt came to
at that rate.
Chap. VII.—Rules for Practice.
The operations explained in the foregoing chapters
comprehend the whole system of arithmetic, and are suf¬
ficient for every computation. In many cases, however,
the work may be contracted by adverting to the particu¬
lar circumstances of the question. We shall explain in
this chapter the most useful methods which practice has
suggested for rendering mercantile computations easy,
in which the four elementary rules of arithmetic are some¬
times jointly, sometimes separately employed.
SECT. I. COMPUTATION OF PRICES.
The value of any number of articles, at a pound, a shil¬
ling, or a penny, is an equal number of pounds, shillings,
or pence ; and these two last are easily reduced to pounds.
The value at any other rate maybe calculated by easy
methods, depending on some contraction already explain¬
ed, or on one or more of the following principles.
ls£, If the rate be an aliquot part of a pound, a shilling,
or a penny, then an exact number of articles may be
bought for" a pound, a shilling, or a penny ; and the value
is found by dividing the given number accordingly. Thus,
to find the price of so many yards at 2s. 6d., which is the
eighth part of a pound, we divide the quantity by eight,
because every eight yards cost £1.
2d, If the rate be equal to the sum of two other rates
which are easily calculated, the value may be found by
computing these separately, and adding the sums obtain¬
ed. Thus, the price of so many yards at 9d. is found by
adding their prices at 6d. and 3d. together.
3c?, If the rate be equal to the difference of two easy
rates, they may be calculated separately, and the lesser
subtracted from the greater. Thus, the value of so many
articles at lid. is found by subtracting their value at a
penny from their value at a shilling. We may suppose
that a shilling was paid for each article, and then a penny
returned on each.
^th, If the rate be a composite number, the value may be
found by calculating what it comes to at one of the com¬
ponent parts, and multiplying the same by the other.
Case I. When the rate is an aliquot part of a pound, divide
the quantity by the number which may be bought for a pound.
4 F
594
ARITHMETIC.
Practice. Table of the aliquot parts of £1.
10 shillings ^ of £1. Is. 4d. rz of £1.
— i
— 4
— j
= 1
— i
  i
Ex. Is#,] What is the value
of 7463 yards, at 4s. ?
5)7463
£1492. 12s.
6s. 8d.
5s.
4s.
3s. 4d.
2s. 6d.
2s.
Is. 8d.
Is. 3d. = -Jg
Is. =
8d. — ¥o
6d. = yy
= GO
3d. r= -yg
2d. —ye 0
2t?,] What is the value
of 1773 yards, at 3d. ?
810)1773
£22. 3s. 3d.
Ex. 26?,]
At 6d. =
At 3d. =
At"9d.
Ex. 3c?,]
At 6d. =
1 of Is.
i of 6d.
iiL uu. = ■q" of Is. 2428
At 3d. = \ of 6d. 1214
At 2d. = ^ of 6d. 809
lid.
In the first example we divide by 5 because 4s. is f of
a pound; the quotient 1492 shows how many pounds they
amount to; besides which there remain three yards at 4s.,
and these come to 12s. In the second example we dm e
by 80, as directed, and the quotient gives £22, and the
remainder 13 yards, which at 3d. come to 3s. 3d.
This method can only be used in calculating for the
particular prices specified in the table. The following six
cases comprehend all possible rates, and will therefore ex¬
hibit different methods of solving the foregoing questions.
Case II. When the rate consists of shillings only, multi¬
ply the quantity by the number of shillings, and divide the
product by 20 : Or, if the number of shillings be even, mul-
tivlu by half the number, and divide the product by 10.
Ex. Is?,] 4573 at 13s. 2c?,] 7543 at 14s.
13 7
13719
4573
10)52801
£5280. 2s.
9786 at 9d. Here we suppose first 6d. Practice.
and then 3d. to be paid for
2446 6 each article; half the quan-
7339—6 tity is the number of shil-
nora iq lings they would cost at 6d.
each, half of that is the cost
at 3d., and these added and
reduced give the answer.
Here we calculate what
the articles would cost at
6d., at 3d., and at 2d., and
add the values.
4856 at lid.
4451 4
£222 11 4  
It is sometimes easier to calculate at two rates whose
difference is the rate required, and subtract the lesser
value from the greater. Thus, the last example may be
wrought by subtracting the value at a penny from the value
at a shilling. The remainder must be the value at lid.
At Is. 4856s. lOd. may be wrought as
404 8 the difference of Is. and
2d.; and several other
rates in like manner.
At Id. = XV
At lid. 4451 4
£222 11 4
Method^. Multiply the quantity by the number of pence,
the product is the answer in pence. Reduce it to pounds.
Method 3. Find the value at a penny by division, and
multiply the same by the number of pence.
Case IV. When the rate consists of farthings only, find
the value in pence, and reduce it by division to pounds.
Ex. Is?,] 37843 at 1 farthing. 2c?,] 23754 at -|d.
20)59449
£2972. 9s.
It is easy to perceive that the method in which the
second example is wrought must give the same answer as
if the quantity had been multiplied by 14 and divided by
20; and as the division by 10 doubles the last figure for
shillings, and continues all the rest unchanged for pounds,
we may obtain the answer at once, by doubling the right-
hand figure of the product before we set it down.
If the rate be the sum of two or more aliquot parts of
a pound, we may calculate these as directed in Case I.
and add them. If it be any odd number of shillings, we
may calculate for the even number next lower, and add
thereto the value of a shilling. If it be 19s. we may sub¬
tract the value at a shilling from the value at a pound.
Case III. When the rate consists of pence only.
Method 1. If the rate be an aliquot part of a shilling,
divide the quantity accordingly, which gives the answer
in shillings ; if not, it may be divided into two or more ali¬
quot parts : calculate these separately, and add the values,
reduce the answer to pounds.
1 penny is yg- of a shilling.
2d. f of ditto.
3d. y of ditto.
4d. ^ of ditto.
6d. £ of ditto.
5d. is the sum of 4d. and Id. or of 2d. and 3d.
7d. is the sum of 4d. and 3d. or of 6d. and Id.
8d. is the sum of 6d. and 2d. or the double of 4d.
9d. is the sum of 6d. and 3d.
lOd. is the sum of 6d. and 4d.
lid. is the sum of 6d. 3d. and 2d.
Ex. Is?,] 7423 at 4d. Here, because 4d. is one
3 V7423 third of a shilling, we divide
20)2474, 4 by 3, which gives the price
£123 14 4 in slllllinSs’ and reduce
* these by division to pounds.
4)37843 farth.
12) 9460f pence
788 4|
£39 8 4|
3c?, 72564 at |
3
4)217692 farth.
12) 54423 pence
4535 3
£226 15 3
2) 23754 halfpence
12) 11877 pence
989 9
£49 9 9
Or, 72564
d.
d.
12)154423
4535 3
£226 15
At id. 36282
At Jd. 18141
We may also find the amount in twopences, threepences,
fourpences, or sixpences, by one division, and reduce these
as directed in Case I. ..
Case V. When the rate consists of pence and Jarthmgs,
find the value of the pence, as directed in Case III., and
that of the farthings from the proportion which they bear to
the pounds. Add these together, and reduce.
3287 at 5i
Ex. Is?,]  
At 4d.=i of Is. 1095
At ld.=4 of 4d. 273
At Ifimy of Id. 68
At 5i 1438
4 £71
Ex. 2c?,] 4573 at 2|
At 2d.=4- of Is. 762 2
At id.=i of 2d. 190 6|
At 4d.= f of hd. 95 3^
8
11
51
Of
18
d.
0|
At 2f
Ilf
At 3d.=^ of Is.
At_3f.=i of 3d
At 3|
1047 Ilf
£52 7
Ex. 3c?,] 2842 at 31
710 6
177 7|
Ex. 4?A,]
At 6d. of Is.
At l±d.=% of 6d.
At 74
888
£44
3572 at 7-|
1786
446 6
8 4
2232
£111
6
12
Practice.
ARITHMETIC.
595
It is sometimes best to join some of the pence with the
farthings in the calculation. Thus, in Ex. 4. we reckon
the value at 6d. and at 3 halfpence, which makes /^.
If the rate be 11, which is an eighth part of a shilling,
the value is found in shillings by dividing the quantity by 8.
Case VI. When the rate consists of shillings and lower
denrYminatinn $
Method 1. Multiply the quantity by the shillings, and
find the value of the pence and farthings, if any, from the
proportion they bear to the shillings. Add and reduce.
Ex. Is#, 4258 at 17s. 3d.
17
Ex. 2d,
543 at £2. 5s. IQid.
2
Practice.
£2
5s. =4 of £1
lOd. —-g- of 5s.
id.z=¥L of lOd.
10i
1086
135 15
22 12 6
 1 2
£1245 10 1}
£2 5
Method 2. Reduce the pounds to shillings, and proceed
as in Case VI.
Ex. 1st, 3592 at£3.12s.8d. Ex.2d, 3683.at£2.4s. lid.
72 20 ^5
17s.
3d.z=£ of Is.
29806
4258
72386
1064
17s. 3d.
Ex. 2d,
73450
£3672
6
10
5482 at 12s. 4|d.
12
12s.
3d. =iofls.
lid.= £ of 3d.
65784
1370
685
12s. 4Ad. 67839 9
£3391 19 9
Method 2. Divide the rate into aliquot parts of a pound ;
calculate the values corresponding to these, as directed
in Case I., and add them.
Ex. Is#, 3894 at 17s. 6d. Ex. 2d, 1765 at 9s. 2d.
10s. £1947 6s. 8d.=^ £588 6 8
.5S_ 973 10 2s. 6d.=^ 220 12 6
2s. 66.3- 486 15
   9s. 2d. £808 19 2
17s. 6d. £3407 5
Sometimes part of the value is more readily obtained
from a part already found; and sometimes it is easiest to
calculate at a higher rate, and subtract the value at the
difference. , ^,
Ex. M, 63790 at 5s. 4d. Ex. Uh, 3664 at 14s. 9d.
£12758
13 4
4s.
__L
Is. 4d.—4 of4s. 4252
10s.=i
£1832
5s. 4d.
£17010 13
5s.=£ofl0s. 916
*4 15s. 2748
3d.=^ of 5s. 45
14s. 9d.
16
£2702 4
Method 3. If the price contain a composite number of
pence, we may multiply the value at a penny by the com¬
ponent parts,
Ex.
5628 at 2s.
12)5628
20)469
£23 9
5
lid. or 35d.
£117 5
7
£3
12s. =£of£3
8d.=of 12s.
10776
2155 4
119 14
8
£3 12 8
£13050 18 8
7184
25144
258624
72
18415
14732
At 45s. 165735
At Id.^^s. 306 11
£820 15
Case VII. When the rate consists of pounds and lower
denominations.
Method 1. Multiply by the pounds, and find the value
of the other denominations from the proportion which
they bear to the pounds.
Ex. Is#, 3592 at £3.12s. 8d.
3
4d.=£s. 1197 4  
4d.—Xs* 1197 4 44s. ild. 165428 1
8d. 261018 8 £8271 8 l
£13050 18 8
We have hitherto explained the various methods of
computation when the quantity is a whole number and
in one denomination. It remains to give the proper di¬
rections when the quantity contains a fraction, or is ex¬
pressed in several denominations.
When the quantity contains a fraction, work for the in¬
tegers by the preceding rules, and for the fraction take
proportional parts.
When the quantity is expressed by several denomina¬
tions, and the rate given for the higher, calculate the
higher, consider the lower one as fractions, and work by
the last rule.
When the rate is given for the lower denomination,
reduce the higher denomination to the lower, and calcu¬
late accordingly.
Note 1. 7 lb. 14 lb. and 21 lb. are aliquot parts of 1
qr.; and 16 lb is of 1 cwt.; and are therefore easily
calculated.
2. If the price of a dozen be so many shillings, that of
an article is as many pence ; and if the price of a gross be
so many shillings, that of a dozen is as many pence.
3. If the price of a ton or score be so many pounds,
that of 1 cwt., or a single article, is as many shillings.
4. Though a fraction less than a farthing is of no con¬
sequence, and may be rejected, the learner must be care¬
ful lest he lose more than a farthing, by rejecting several
remainders in the same calculation.
SECT. II. DEDUCTIONS ON WEIGHTS, &C.
The full weight of any merchandise, together with that
of the cask, box, or other package, in which it is contain¬
ed, is called the gross weight. From this we must make
proper deductions in order to discover the quantity for
which price or duty should be charged, which is called
the nett weight.
Tare is the allowance for the weight of the package ;
and this should be ascertained by weighing it before the
goods are packed. Sometimes, however, particularly in
payment of duty, it is customary to allow so much per cwt.
or so much per 100 lb. in place of tare.
Tret is an allowance of 4 lb. on 104 gi anted on cur¬
rants and other goods on which there is waste, in order
that the weight may answer when the goods are retailed.
Cloff or Draught is a further allowance granted on some
goods in London of 2 lb. on every 3 cwt. to turn the scale
in favour of the purchaser. The method of calculating
these, and the like, will appear from the following exam¬
ples.
596
ARITHMETIC.
Ex. ls£, What is the nett weight of 17 cwt. 2 q.
tare 18 lb. per cwt.
Cwt. q. lb. Cud. q. lb.
17 2 14 gross, or 17 2 14
16 lb.=cwt. 2 2 2  ^
14 lb.,
2 lb.=i of 16 lb.
18 lb.
1
105
2 3 9| tare
3 -
3
317 1 -
14 3
3 tare.
4fnett.28)317^1b. CW. 3. lb
4) 11 9^(2 " .
In the first method we add the tare at 16 lb., which is
4 of the gross weight, to the tare at 2 lb., which is of the
former. In the second we multiply the gross weight by
18 ; the tare is 1 lb. for each cwt. of the product, and is
reduced by division to higher denominations.
Ex. 2d, What is the tret of 158 cwt. 3 q. 4 lb.
Cwt. q. lb. Cwt. q. lb.
26) 158 3 4 ( 6 0 12 tret.
156
11
28
Because tret is always 4 lb. in 104, or 1 lb.
in 26, it is obtained by dividing by 26.
312
312
3d, What is the cloff on 28 cwt. 2 q. ?
Cwt. q.
28 2
2
3) 57 (19 lb.
This allowance being 2 lb. on every 3 cwt., might be
found by taking ^ of the number of cwts. and multiplying
it by 2. It is better to begin with multiplication, for the
reason given, p. 590, col. 2, par. 2.
SECT. III. COMMISSION, &C.
It is frequently required to calculate allowances on sums
of money, at the rate of so much per £100. Of this
kind is Commission, or the allowance due to a factor for
buying or selling goods, or transacting any other business ;
Premium of Insurance, or allowance given for engaging
to repay one’s losses at sea or otherwise ; Exchange, or
the allowance necessary to be added or subtracted for re¬
ducing the money of one place to that of another; Pre¬
miums on Stock, or the allowance given for any share of
a public stock above the original value. AH these, and
others of a like kind, are calculated by the following
rule.—Midtiply the sum by the rate, and divide the pro¬
duct by 100. If the rate contain a fraction, take propor¬
tional parts.
Ex. What is the commission on £728 at 2| per cent. ?
728
2
2 per cent.
1456
364
182
1|00)20|02
20
40
12
When the rate is given in guineas, which is common in Interest,
cases of insurance, you may add a twentieth part to the
sum before you calculate ; or you may calculate at an
equal number of pounds, and add a twentieth part to the
answer.
When the given sum is an exact number of 10 pounds,
the calculation may be done without setting down any
figures. Every £10 at i per cent, is a shilling, and at
other rates in proportion. Thus, £170 at ^ per cent, is
17s., and at £ per cent. 8s. 6d.
SECT. IV.—INTEREST.
Interest is the allowance given for the use of money by
the borrower to the lender. This is computed at so many
pounds for each hundred lent for a year, and a like pro¬
portion for a greater or a less time. The highest rate is
limited by our laws to 5 per cent, which is called the le¬
gal interest, and is due on all debts constituted by bond
or bill, which are not paid at the proper term; and it is al¬
ways understood when no other rate is mentioned.
The interest of any sum for a year, at any rate, is
found by the method explained in the last section.
The interest of any number of pounds for a year at 5
per cent, is one twentieth part, or an equal number of
shillings. Thus the interest of £34675 for a year is
34675 shillings.
The interest for a day is obtained by dividing the in¬
terest for a year by the number of days in a year. Thus
the interest of £34675 for a day is found by dividing
34675 shillings by 365, and comes to 95 shillings.
The interest for any number of days is obtained by
multiplying the daily interest by the number of days.
Thus the interest of'£34675 for 17 days is 17 times 95
shillings, or 1615 shillings ; and this divided by 20, in or¬
der to reduce it, comes to £80. 15s.
It w ould have served the same purpose, and been easier,
to multiply at first by 17, the number of days; and in¬
stead of dividing separately by 365, and by 20, to divide
at once by 7300, the product of 365 multiplied by 20;
and this division may be facilitated by the table inserted
p. 589, col. 1.
The following practical rules may be inferred from the
foregoing observations.
I. To calculate interest at 5 per cent.
Midtiply the principal by the number of days, and divide
the product by 7300.
II. To calculate interest at any other rate.
Find what it comes to at 5 per cent, and take a proper
proportion of the same for the rate reguired.
Ex ls£ Interest on £34675 for 17 days, at 5 per cent.
34675
17
242725
34675 £
73|00)5894|75(80 15
584
5475
20
4|80
3|20
4 Answ. £20 0 4|
1095|00
73
365
365
Ex. 2d, Interest on £304. 3s. 4d. for 8 days, at 4 per
cent.
ARITHMETIC.
597
Vulgar
.'factions.
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8 ;
   s. a.
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 20
486|66
438
4866
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584
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Interest at 5 per cent. £0 6 8
Deduct 0 14
Interest at 4 per cent. £0 5 4
Chap. VIII.—Vulgar Fractions.
In order to understand the nature of vulgar fractions,
we must suppose unity (or the number 1) divided into
several equal parts. One or more of these parts is called
a fraction, and is represented by placing one number in
a small character above a line, and another under it: For
example, two fifth parts is written thus, Jh The number
under the line (5) shows how many parts unity is divided
into, and is called the denominator. The number above
the line (2) shows how many of these parts are repre¬
sented, and is called the numerator.
It follows, from the manner of representing fractions,
that when the numerator is increased, the value of the
fraction becomes greater; but when the denominator is
increased, the value becomes less. Hence we may infer,
that if the numerator and denominator be both increased,
or both diminished, in the same proportion, the value is
not altered; and therefore,^if we multiply both by any
number whatever, or divide them by any number which
measures both, we shall obtain other fractions of equal
value. Thus, every fraction may be expressed in a va¬
riety of forms, which have all the same signification.
A fraction annexed to an integer or whole number
makes a mixed number ; for example, five and two third
parts, or 5§. A fraction whose numerator is greater than
its denominator is called an improper fraction; for ex¬
ample, seventeen third parts, or lf. Fractions of this
kind are greater than unity. Mixed numbers may be re¬
presented in the form of improper fractions, and improper
fractions may be reduced to mixed numbers, and some¬
times to integers. As fractions, whether proper or im¬
proper, may be represented in different forms, we must
explain the method of reducing them from one form to
another before we consider the other operations.
Problem I.—To reduce mixed numbers to improper
fractions.
Multiply the integer by the denominator of the fraction,
and to the product add the numerator. The sum is the nu¬
merator of the impropex fraction sought, and is placed above
the given denominator.
Ex. 5|=y.
5 integer.
3 denominator.
15 product.
2 numerator given.
17 numerator sought.
Because one is equal to two halves, or 3 third parts, or
4 quarters, and every integer is equal to twice as many
halves, or four times as many quarters, and so on, there¬
fore, every integer may be expressed in the form of an
improper fraction, having an assigned denominator. The
numerator is obtained by multiplying the integer into the
denominator. Hence the reason of the foregoing rule is Vulgar
evident: 5 reduced to an improper fraction whose deno- Factions,
minator is 3, makes , and this added to § amounts to ^
Problem II.—To reduce improper fractions to whole or
mixed numbers,
Divide the numerator by the denominator.
Ex. Vt2 = 6
17)112(6^
102
10
This problem is the converse of the former, and the rea¬
son may be illustrated in the same manner.
Problem III.—To reduce fractions to lower terms.
Divide both numerator and denominator by any number
which measures both, and place the quotients in the form of
a fraction.
Example. = f* = f-
Here we observe that 135 and 360 are both measured
by 5, and the quotients form f which is a fraction of
the same value as in lower terms. Again, 27 and 72
are both measured by 9, and the quotients form §, which
is still of equal value, and in lower terms.
It is generally sufficient, in practice, to divide by such
measures as are found to answer on inspection, or by the
rules given p. 587, col. 2. But if it be required to re¬
duce a fraction to the lowest possible terms, we must di¬
vide the numerator and denominator by the greatest
number which measures both. What number this is
may not be obvious, but will always be found by the fol¬
lowing rule.
To find the greatest common measure of two numbers,
divide the greater by the lesser and the divisor by the
remainder continually till nothing remains; the last divi¬
sor is the greatest common measure.
Ex. Required the greatest number which measures 475
and 589 ?
114)475(4
456
475)589(1 Here we divide 589 by 475, and
475 the remainder is 114 ; then we
divide 475 by 114, and the re¬
mainder is 19; then we divide
_ 114 by 19, and there is no re-
19)114(6 mainder ; from which we infer
114 that 19, the last divisor, is the
(j- greatest common measure.
To explain the reason of this, we must observe, that
any number which measures two others will also measure
their sum and their difference, and will measure any mul¬
tiple of either. In the foregoing example, any number
wln'rAi moncnrps and 475 will measure their differ¬
ence, 114, and will measure 456, which is a multiple of
114; and any number which measures 475 and 456 will
also measure their difference, 19. Consequently, nonum¬
ber greater than 19 can measure 589 and 475. Again, 19
will measure them both, for it measures 114, and there¬
fore measures 456, which is a multiple of 114 and 475,
which is just 19 more than 456 ; and because it measures
475 and 114, it will measure their sum, 589. To reduce
to the lowest possible terms, we divide both numbers
by 19, and it comes to §f.
If there be no common measure greater than 1, the
fraction is already in the lowest terms.
If the greatest common measure of 3 numbers be re¬
quired, we find the greatest measure of the two first, and
then the greatest measure of that number and the third.
If there be more numbers, we proceed in the same manner.
Problem IV.—To reduce fractions to others of equal
value that have the same denominator.
1st, Multiply the numerator of each fraction by all the deno-
%
598
ARITHMETIC.
Vulgar initiators except its own; the products are numerators to
Fractions, the respective fractions sought. 2d, Multiply all the denomi-
' nators into each other; the product is the common denominator
Ex. | and £ and f = §§g and ffg- and Mo*
4 X 9 X 8 =r 288 first numerator.
7X5X8 = 280 second numerator.
3X5X9 = 135 third numerator.
5X9X8 = 360 common denominator.
Here we multiply 4, the numerator of the first fraction,
by 9 and 8, the denominators of the two others; and the
product, 288, is the numerator of the fraction sought, equi¬
valent to the first. The other numerators are found in
like manner, and the common denominator, 360, is obtain¬
ed by multiplying the given denominators 5, 9, 8, into
each other. In the course of the whole operation, the
numerators and denominators of each fraction are multi¬
plied by the same number, and therefore their value is
not altered.
The fractions thus obtained may be reduced to lower
terms, if the several numerators and denominator have
a common measure greater than unity. Or, after arrang¬
ing the number for multiplication, as is done above, if the
same number occur in each rank, we may dash them out
and neglect them; and it numbers which have a common
measure occur in each, we may dash them out and use
the quotients in their stead; or any number which is a
multiple of all the given denominators may be used as a
common denominator. Sometimes a number of this kind
will occur on inspection, and the new numerators are
found by multiplying the given ones by the common de¬
nominator, and dividing the products by the respective
given denominators.
If the articles given for any operation be mixed num¬
bers, they are reduced to improper fractions by Problem
I. If the answer obtained be an improper fraction, it is
reduced to a mixed number by Problem II. And it is
convenient to reduce fractions to lower terms, when it
can be done, by Problem III. which makes their value
better apprehended, and facilitates any following opera¬
tion. The reduction of fractions to the same denomina¬
tor by Problem IV. is necessary to prepare them for ad¬
dition or subtraction, but not for multiplication or division.
*
SECT. I. ADDITION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Rule.—Reduce them, if necessary, to a common denomi¬
nator ; add the numerators, and place the sum above the
denominator.
Ex. Is*, f +1 = ff+if by Problem IV. = ff-
24 f+s+ a=m+m+m =w
by Problem II. = 2
The numerators of fractions that have the same deno¬
minator signify like parts ; and the reason for adding them
is equally obvious as that for adding shillings or any
other inferior denomination.
Mixed numbers may be added by annexing the sum of
the fractions to the sum of the integers. If the former be a
mixed number, its integer is added to the other integers.
SECT. II. SUBTRACTION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Rule.—Reduce the fractions to a common denominator ;
subtract the numerator of the subtrahend from the numera¬
tor of the minuend, and place the remainder above the deno¬
minator.
Ex. Subtract f- from remainder fi
35 ) from 35
“ IIV by Prob. IV. take 24
T 84 ^ remainder 11.
To subtract a fraction from an integer, subtract the
numerator from the denominator, and place the remain¬
der above the denominator; prefix to this the integer di-
minished by unity.
Ex. Subtract f from 12. remainder Ilf
To subtract mixed numbers, proceed with the fractions
by the foregoing rule, and with the integers in the com¬
mon method. If the numerator of the fraction in the
subtrahend exceed that in the minuend, borrow the value
of the denominator, and repay it by adding 1 to the unit
place of the subtrahend.
Ex. Subtract 145£ from 248f
248£f-
by Prob. IV. 145-||-
102f£
Here, because 27, the numerator of the fraction in the
minuend, is less than 35, the numerator of the subtra¬
hend, we borrow 45, the denominator; 27 and 45 make
72, from which we subtract 35, and obtain 37 for the nu¬
merator of the fraction in the remainder; and we repay
what was borrowed, by adding 1 to 5 in the unit place of
the subtrahend.
The reason of the operations in adding or subtracting
fractions will be fully understood if we place the nume¬
rators of the fractions in a column like a lower denomina¬
tion, and add or subtract them as integers, carrying or
borrowing according to the value of the high denomination.
SECT. III. MULTIPLICATION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Rule.—Multiply the numerators of the factors together
for the numerator of the product, and the denominators to-
aether for the denominator of the product.
Ex. 1st, f X f = M- 2rf, 8f X 7| = if** = 65&
2X5=10 num. 8f = by Prob. I.
3X7 = 21 den. 7|= by ditto
42X31 = 1302
' 5X4 = 20
To multiply y by § is the same as to find what two third
parts of f comes to. If one third part only had been re¬
quired, it would have been obtained by multiplying the
denominator 7 by 3, because the value of fractions is les¬
sened when their denominators are increased: and this
comes to /T; and, because two thirds were required, we
must double that fraction, which is done by multiplying
the numerator by 2, and comes to Hence we infer
that fractions of fractions, or compound fractions, such as
f off, are reduced to simple ones by multiplication. The
same method is followed when the compound fraction is
expressed in three parts or more.
The foregoing rule extends to every case when there
are fractions in either factor. For mixed numbers may
be reduced to improper fractions, as is done in Ex. 2 ; and
integers may be written, or understood to be written, in
the form of fractions whose denominator is 1. It will be
convenient, however, to give some further directions for
proceeding when one of the factors is an integer, or when
one or both are mixed numbers.
Is*, To multiply an integer by a fraction, multiply it by
the numerator, and divide the product by the denominator.
Ex. 3756Xf=2253f
3
5)11268(2253f
2d, To multiply an integer by a mixed number, we mul¬
tiply it first by the integer and then by the fraction, and
add the products.
Ex. 138X51=7931
138X5=690
138 X |
3
4)414(
103£
793£
ARITHMETIC,
599
Vulgar 3d, To multiply a mixed number by a fraction, we may
1* ractions. multiply the integer by the fraction, and the two fractions
together, and add the products.
Ex. 151x1=3-^
15’ X|=3| =3^
Y2 —.
1
_LE
4</i, When both factors are mixed numbers, we may mul¬
tiply each part of the multiplicand, first by the integer of
the multiplier, and then by the fraction, and add the four
products.
Ex. 8f by 7f
56
6
91fi-
*2 0
_o_
2 0
by Prob. II.
product 65^y as before.
SECT. IV. DIVISION OF VULGAR FRACTIONS.
Rule I.—^Multiply the numerator of the dividend by the
denominator of the divisor. The product is the numerator
of the quotient.
II.—Multiply the denominator of the dividend by the nume¬
rator of the divisor. The product is the denominator of the
quotient.
Ex. Divide f by quotient £f.
2 X 9 = 18
5 X 7 = 35.
To explain the reason of this operation, let us suppose
it required to divide ‘j by 7, or to take one seventh part
of that fraction. This is obtained by multiplying the de¬
nominator by 7; for the value of fractions is diminished
by increasing their denominators, and comes to ^j. Again,
because is nine times less than seven, the quotient of
any number divided by £ will be nine times greater than
the quotient of the same number divided by 7. There¬
fore we multiply fj by 9, and obtain
If the divisor and dividend have the same denomina¬
tor, it is sufficient to divide the numerators.
Ex. divided by T37 quotes 4.
The foregoing rule may be extended to every case by
reducing integers and mixed numbers to the form of im¬
proper fractions. We shall add some directions for short¬
ening the operation when integers and mixed numbers
are concerned.
1,9/, When the dividend is an integer, multiply it by
the denominator of the divisor, and divide the product by
the numerator.
Ex. Divide 368 by f
7
5)2576(5151 quotient.
2d, When the divisor is an integer, and the dividend a
fraction, multiply the denominator by the divisor, and
place the product under the numerator.
Ex. Divide f by 5 quotient ^
8X5=40
3(/, When the divisor is an integer, and the dividend a
mixed number, divide the integer, and annex the fraction
to the remainder; then reduce the mixed number thus
formed to an improper fraction, and multiply its denomi¬
nator by the divisor.
Ex. To divide 5761,- by 7 quotient 82f£
7) 576 (82 Here we divide 576 by 7, the
56 quotient is 82, and the remain¬
der 2, to which we annex the
fraction 1, , and reduce 2j4r to
an improper fraction fr(, and
multiply its denominator by 7,
11 X 7=77 which gives
Hitherto we have considered the fractions as abstract 1 ulgar
numbers, and laid down the necessary rules accordingly.
We now proceed to apply these to practice. Shillings
and pence may be considered as fractions of pounds, and
lower denominations of any kind as fractions of higher ;
and any operation, where different denominations occur,
may be wrought by expressing the lower ones in the form
of vulgar fractions, and proceeding by the previous rules.
For this purpose the two following problems are neces¬
sary.
Problem V.—To reduce lower denominations to trac¬
tions of higher.
Place the given number for the numerator, and the value of
the higher for the denom inator.
Examples.
1. Reduce 7d. to the fraction of a shilling. Ans. -fa.
2. Reduce 7d. to a fraction of a pound. Ans. _
3. Reduce 15s. 7d. to a fraction of a pound. Ans. ||^.
16
14
2 t
11 1 r
Problem VI.—To value fractions of higher denomina¬
tions.
Multiply the numerator by the value of the given denomi¬
nation, and divide the product by the denominator; if there
be a remainder, multiply it by the value of the next denomi¬
nation, and continue the division.
Ex. 1 st, Required the value 2d, Required the value
of of LI.
of § of 1 cwt.
17
20
  s. a.
60)340(5 8
300
40
12
— qrs. lb.
9)32( 3 15§
27
28
60)480
480
9)140
9
50
45
In the first example we multiply the numerator 17 by
20, the number of shillings in a pound, and divide the pro¬
duct, 340, by 60, the denominator of the fraction, and ob¬
tain a quotient of 5 shillings; then we multiply the re¬
mainder, 40, by 12, the number of pence in a shilling,
which produces 480, which, divided by 60, quotes 8d. with¬
out a remainder. In the second example we proceed in
the same manner; but as there is a remainder, the quotient
is completed by a fraction.
Sometimes the value of the fraction does not amount to
an unit of the lowest denomination; but it may be reduced
to a fraction of that or any other denomination by multi¬
plying the numerator according to the value of the places.
Thus jAtj of a pound is equal to of a shilling, or
T2I& of a Penny, or of a. farthing.
Chap. IX.—Decimal Fractions.
SECT. I. NOTATION AND REDUCTION.
Decimal fractions are such as have 10, or some power
of 10 (that is 100, 1000, &c.), for a denominator: such are
these,—
_3_
1 O’
_24_
1 0 0’
-15.-
lOOO’
10000O
They are more simply written thus:
•3, -24, *075, -00462;
the number of figures after the point being always the
same as the number of ciphers in the denominators.
In decimal fractions, as thus written, the figure next
600
ARITHMETIC.
Decimal the point, to the right, indicates so many tenths; the next
iM^actions. so many hundredths, and so on. Thus, in the fraction
-346, the figure 3 expresses 3 tenths, 4 denotes 4 hun¬
dredths, and 6, 6 thousandths.
. Hle .use °f ciphers in decimals, as well as in integers,
is to bring the significant figures to their proper places, on
which their value depends. As ciphers, when placed on
the left hand of an integer, have no signification, but,
when placed on the right hand, increase the value ten
times each; so ciphers, when placed on the right hand
of a decimal, have no signification, but when placed on
the left hand, diminish the value ten times each.
_ The notation and numeration of decimals will be ob¬
vious from the following examples :
4*7 signifies four, and seven tenth parts.
•47 four tenth parts, and seven hundredth
parts, or 47 hundredth parts,
four hundredth parts, and seven thou¬
sandth parts, or 47 thousandth parts,
four tenth parts, and seven thousandth
parts, or 407 thousandth parts,
four, and seven hundredth parts,
four, and seven thousandth parts.
To reduce vulgar fractions to decimal ones. Annex a
cipher to the numerator, and divide it by the denominator,
annexing a cipher continually to the remainder.
Ex. 1st, ff=T6 2d, ^=-078125 3d, |=*666
75)120(16 64)500(078125 3)20(666
75 448 18
•047
•407
4-07
4-007
450
450
520
512
80
64
160
128
320
320
4th, f=-833
6)50(833
48
20
18
20
18
~20
5th, /t=-259
27)70(259
54
160
135
250
243
20
18
"20
18
20
6th, ^=-3,18,18.
22)70(31818
66
^~0
22
180
176
40
22
18
The reason of this operation will be evident, if we con-
sider that the numerator of a vulgar fraction is under-
stood to be divided by the denominator; and this division
is actually performed when it is reduced to a decimal.
In like manner, when there is a remainder left in division,
we may extend the quotient to a decimal, instead of com¬
pleting it by a vulgar fraction, as in the following example :
25)646(25|4 or 25-84.
50
Rem.
146
125
21-0
200
100
100
called terminate or Jinite decimals. Others cannot be ex- Decimal
actly reduced, because the division always leaves a re- Fractions,
mainder; but, by continuing the division, we will perceive
how the decimal may be extended to any length. These
are called interminate or infinite decimals. If the same
figure continually returns, as in Ex. 3d and 4th, they are
called repeaters. If two or more figures return in their
order, they are called circulates. If this regular succes¬
sion go on from the beginning, they are called pure re¬
pealers, or circulates, as Ex. 3d and 5th. If otherwise, as
Ex. 4th and 6th, they are mixed repeaters or circulates,
and the figures prefixed to those in regular succession
are called t\\e Jinite part. Repeating figures are generally
distinguished by a dash, and circulates by a comma or
other mark, at the beginning and end of the circle; and
the beginning of a repeater or circulate is pointed out in
the division by an asterisk.
Lower denominations may be considered as fractions
of higher ones, and reduced to decimals accordingly.
We may proceed by the following rule, which is the
same in effect as the former.
To reduce lower denominations to decimals of higher.
Annex a cipher to the lower denomination, and divide it by
the value of the higher. When there are several denomina¬
tions, begin at the lowest, and reduce them in their order.
Ex. To reduce 5 cwt. 2 qr. 21 lb. to a decimal of a ton.
28)210(-75 4)2-75(-6875 20)5-6875(-284375
196
140
140
24_
~35
32
40
168
160
30
28
20
20
87
80
75
60
150
140
100
100
Here, in order to reduce 21 lb. to a decimal of 1 qr. we
annex a cipher, and divide by 28, the value of 1 qr.
This gives -75. Then we reduce 2-75 qrs. to a decimal of
1 cwt. by dividing by 4, the value of 1 cwt., and it comes
to *6875. Las tty, 5*6875 cwt. is reduced to a decimal of
a ton by dividing by 20, and comes to -284375.
To value a decimal fraction. Multiply it by the value of
the denomination, and cut off as many decimal places from
the product as there are in the multiplicand. The rest are
integers of the lower denomination.
Example. What is the value of -425 of £1 ^
•425
 20
sh. 8-500
 6
d. 3-000
SECT. II.—ARITHMETIC OF TERMINATE DECIMALS.
The value of decimal places decreases like that of in¬
tegers, ten of the lower place in either being equal to one
of the next higher; and the same holds in passing from
integers to. decimals. Therefore, all the operations are
performed in the same way with decimals, whether placed
by themselves or annexed to integers, as with pure inte¬
gers. The only peculiarity lies in the arrangement and
P* Or t.np rlppimcilc
T7 _ *1. c • , sers- Ane only pecuhai
from the foregoing examples we may distinguish the pointing of the decimals.
several kinds of decimals. Some vulgar fractions may be In addition and subtraction, Arrange unit* under units
reduced exactly to decimals, as Ex. 1st and 2d, and are tenth parts under tenth parts, and proceed as in integers. '
ARITHMETIC.
601
Decimal
Fractions.
32-035 from 13-348 and 12-248
116-374 take 9-2993 10-6752
160-63     
12-3645 4-0487 1-5728
321-4035
In multiplication, Allow as many decimal places in the
product as there are in both factors. If the product has
not so many places, supply them by prefixing ciphers on the
left hand.
Ex. 1st, 1-37 2d, 43-75 3d, -1572
1-8 -48  -12
•018864
1096
137
2-466
35000
17500
21-0000
The reason of this rule may be explained, by observing,
that the value of the product depends on the value of the
factors; and since each decimal place in either factor
diminishes its value ten times, it must equally diminish
the value of the product.
To multiply decimals by 10, move the decimal point
one place to the right; to multiply by 100, 1000, or the
like, move it as many places to the right as there are ci-
* phers in the multiplier.
In division, Point the quotient so that there may be an
equal number of decimal places in the dividend as in the
divisor and quotient together.
Therefore, if there be the same number of decimal
places in the divisor and dividend, there will be none in
the quotient.
If there be more in the dividend, the quotient will have
as many as the dividend has more than the divisor.
If there be more in the divisor, we must annex (or sup¬
pose annexed) as many ciphers to the dividend as may
complete the number in the divisor, and all the figures of
the quotient are integers.
If the division leave a remainder, the quotient ma^ be
extended to more decimal places; but these are not re¬
garded in fixing the decimal point.
The reason for fixing the decimal point as directed
may be inferred from the rule followed in multiplication.
The quotient multiplied by the divisor produces the divi¬
dend ; and therefore the number of decimal places in the
dividend is equal to those in the divisor and quotient to¬
gether.
The first figure of the quotient is always at the same
distance from the decimal point, and on the same side, as
the figure of the dividend which stands above the unit
place of the first product. This also takes place in inte¬
gers ; and the reason is the same in both.
Multiplication by fractions corresponds with division by
integers, and division by fractions with multiplication by
integers; when we multiply by ^ or -5, we obtain the
same answer as when we divide by 2, and every integer
has a correspondent decimal, which may be called its re¬
ciprocal. Multiplication by that decimal supplies the place
of division by the integer, and division supplies the place
of multiplication.
To find the reciprocal of any number, divide 1 with
ciphers annexed by that number.
Ex. Required the reciprocal of 625.
625)l-000(-0016
625
3750
3750
0
The product of any number multiplied by *0016 is the
same as the quotient divided by 625.
VOL. in.
9375
•0016
3125 56250
3125 9375
0 15-0000
Because -0016 is of unity, any number multiplied
by that fraction will be diminished 625 times. For a like
reason, the quotient of any number divided by -0016 will
be equal to the product of the same multiplied by 625.
Ex. -0016)516-0000(322500 516
48  625
36 2580
32 1032
— 3096
40  
32 322500
80
80
0
SECT. III. APPROXIMATE DECIMALS.
It has been shown that some decimals, though extend¬
ed to any length, are never complete; and others, which
terminate at last, sometimes consist of so many places
that it would be difficult in practice to extend them fully.
In these cases, we may extend the decimal to three, four,
or more places, according to the nature of the articles and
the degree of accuracy required, and reject the rest of it
as inconsiderable. In this manner we may perform any
operation with ease by the common rules, and the answers
we obtain are sufficiently exact for any purpose in business.
Decimals thus restricted are called approximates.
Shillings, pence, and farthings, may be easily reduced
to decimals of three places by the following rule: Take
half the shillings for the first decimal place, and the num¬
ber of farthings increased by one, if it amount to 24 or up¬
wards; by two, if it amount to 48 or upwards ; and by three,
if it amount to 72 or upwards, for the two next places.
The reason of this is, that 20 shillings make a pound,
two shillings is the tenth part of a pound, and therefore
half the number of shillings makes the first decimal place.
If there were 50 farthings in a shilling, or 1000 in a
pound, the units of the farthings in the remainder would
be thousandth parts, and the tens would be hundredth
parts, and so would give the two next decimal places;
but because there are only 48 farthings in a shilling, or
960 in a pound, every farthing is a little more than the
thousandth part of a pound; and since 24 farthings make
25 thousandth parts, allowance is made for that excess
by adding 1 for every 24 farthings, as directed.
If the number of farthings be 24, 48, or 72, and conse¬
quently the second and third decimal places 25, 50, and
75, they are exactly right; otherwise they are not quite
complete, since there should be an allowance of not
only for 24, 48, and 72 farthings, but for every other
single farthing. They may be completed by the follow¬
ing rule: multiply the second and third decimal places,
or their excess above 25, 50, 75, by 4. If the product
amount to 24 or upwards, add 1 ; if 48, add 2 ; if 72, add
3. By this operation we obtain two decimal places more ;
and by continuing the same operation, we may extend the
decimal till it terminate in 25, 50, 75, or in a repeater.
Decimals of sterling money of three places may easily
be reduced to shillings, pence, and farthings, by the fol¬
lowing rule : Double the first decimal place, and if the se¬
cond be 5 or upwards, add 1 thereto for shillings. Then
divide the second and third decimal places, or their ex¬
cess above 50, by 4, first deducting 1, if it amount to 25
Ex. 625)9375(15
625
Decimal
Fractions.
602
ARITHMETI C.
Decimal or upwards; the quotient is pence, and
Fractions, farthings.
As this rule is the converse of the former one, the rea¬
son of the one may be inferred from that of the other.
The value obtained by it, unless the decimal terminate in
25, 50, or 75, is a little more than the true value ; for there
should be a deduction, not only of 1 for 25, but a little
deduction of on the remaining figures of these places.
We proceed to give some examples of the arithmetic of
approximates, and subjoin any necessary observations.
the remainder Division.
•3724 —)798 64237 + (2144 or 3^)79864237(2144
”"<8 7448
744
Decimal
Fractions.
53
37
84
24
161602
14896
Addition.
Cwt. qrs. lb.
14 = 3-625
22 = 2-94642
19 = 3-91964
25 = 4-47321
Subtraction.
Cwt. qrs. lb.
3 2 2 = 3-51785
1 1 19 = 1-41964
2 - 11 2-09821
7063
4896
538
372
166
148
18
14
2167
14 3 24 14-96427
If we value the sum of the approximates, it will fall a
little short of the sum of the articles, because the deci¬
mals are not complete.
It is proper to add 1 to the last decimal place of the
approximate, when the following figure would have been
5 or upwards. Thus the full decimal of 3 qrs. 22 lb. is
•946,428571, and therefore -94643 is nearer to it than
•946,42. Approximates thus regulated will give exacter
answers, sometimes above the true one and sometimes
below it.
The mark + signifies that the approximate is less than
the exact decimal, or requires something to be added.
The mark — signifies that it is greater, or requires some¬
thing to be subtracted.
Meth. 1st, 8278 +
2153 +
24834
41390
8278
16556
Muutiplication.
Meth. 2d, 8278
2153
16556
827
413
24
8
90
834
Meth. 3d, 8278
3512
76556
827
413
24
1782)2534 1782)2534 1782
Here the last four places are quite uncertain. The
right-hand figure of each particular product is obtained
by multiplying 8 into the figures of the multiplier ; but if
the multiplicand had been extended, the carriage from
the right-hand place would have been taken in; conse¬
quently the right-hand place of each particular product,
and the four places of the total product, which depend
on these, are quite uncertain. Since part of the operation
therefore is useless, we may omit it; and for this purpose
it will be convenient to begin (as in p. 587, col. I, fifth va-
riety) at the highest place of the multiplier. We may
perceive that all the figures on the right hand of the line
in Meth. 2 serve no purpose, and may be left out if we
only multiply the figures on the multiplicand, whose pro¬
ducts are placed on the left hand of the line. This is
readily done by inverting the multiplier in Meth. 3, and
beginning each product with the multiplication of that
figure which stands above the figure of the multiplier that
produces it, and including the carriage from the right-
hand place.
If both factors be approximates, there are at least as
many uncertain places in the product as in the longest
factor. If only one be an approximate, there are as many
uncertain places as there are figures in that factor, and
sometimes a place or two more, which might be affected
by the carriage. Hence we may infer how far it is ne¬
cessary to extend the approximates in order to obtain the
requisite number of certain places in the product.
Here all the figures on the right hand of the line are
uncertain, for the right-hand figure of the first product
7448 might be altered by the carriage if the divisor were
extended ; and all the remainders and dividuals that fol¬
low are thereby rendered uncertain. We may omit these
useless figures, for which purpose we dash a figure on
the right hand of the divisor at each step, and neglect
it when we multiply by the figure of the quotient next
obtained; but we include the carriage. The operation,
and the reason of it, will appear clear, by comparing the
operation at large, and contracted, in the above example.
Chap. X.—Interminate Decimals.
SECT. I REDUCTION OF INTERMINATE DECIMALS.
We have seen that some vulgar fractions admit of being
converted into exact decimal fractions, while others have
not that property, but proceed interminably, the numera¬
tor being either the same figure, or else a combination of
figures always repeated. The fraction f is of the first
mentioned kind, its decimal value being that is -375;
again, ^—-333, &c. and y—"714285,714285, &c. are exam¬
ples of the second kind. Let us suppose a fraction re¬
duced to its lowest terms, f, for example. Now, to con¬
vert this into a decimal, we annex ciphers to the nume¬
rator (that is, we multiply it by some power of 10), and
divide by the denominator, the decimal denominator being
always that power of ten by which the numerator was mul¬
tiplied. In the case of f, the numerator is multiplied by
1000, which is exactly divisible by 8; for when the num¬
bers are expressed by the product of their simple factors,
we have 1000=2X2X2X5X5X5 and 8=2X2X2,
and -1 'l/10—o X o X 5 = 125, therefore the decimal value of
If iWo’ "3/o. Here it appears that the decimal
fraction has a finite form, because the divisors of the de¬
nominator of the vulgar fraction are also divisors of a
power of 10.
A like remark may be made concerning the fraction
/j —5x5’ t^ie two eclual divisors 5 being divisors of 10,
and therefore their product a divisor of 100, and the frac¬
tion =-28.
In general, it appears that if the simple factors of the
denominators of a vulgar fraction be all either 2 or 5, its
decimal value will be finite, otherwise not.
The fraction £ is therefore, from its nature, incapable
of being converted into a finite decimal; but this fraction,
when converted into a decimal, being -1111, &c. ad infi¬
nitum, therefore f will be -222, &c. and f i = -333, &c.
and so on to f, which will be -888, &c. Hence it is ma¬
nifest that every repeating decimal is equivalent to a vul¬
gar fraction whose denominator is 9.
Again, since = -010101, &c. ad infinitum,, therefore
= -0202, &c.; and in like manner ^ = -1717, &c. and
so on, from to |-f, which is equal to -89,89,89, &c.
Therefore every circulating decimal of two figures is
convertible into a vulgar fraction whose denominator is 99.
And since ^ = -001001001, &c., therefore any frac¬
tion whose numerator consists of three figures, and deno-
ARITHMETIC.
Decimal minator 999, must produce a circulate of three figures;
factions. for example, = *365365365, &c.; and in like manner,
since rjg\jg = *00010001, &c., therefore every fraction
whose numerator consists of not more than four figures,
and which has 9999 for a denominator, must produce a
circulate of four figures, and so on.
It is now sufficiently manifest that all circulating deci¬
mals may be generated from vulgar fractions whose de¬
nominators are formed by a repetition of the figure 9; and
hence it follows that every circulate may be converted
into a vulgar fraction of that form.
Rules for reducing interminate decimals to vulgar frac¬
tions.
I. If the decimal he a pure repeater, place the repeating
figure for the numerator, and 9 for the denominator.
II. If the decimal he a pure circulate, place the circu¬
lating figures for the numerator, and as many 9’s as there
are places in the circle for the denominator.
III. Ifth ere he ciphers prfixed to the repeating or circulat¬
ing figures, annex a like number to the 9’s in the denominator.
IV. If the decimal he mixed, subtract the finite part from
the whole decimal. The remainder is the numerator, and
the denominator consists of as many 9’5 as there are places
in the circle, together with as many ciphers as there are fi¬
nite places before the circle.
Thus, *235,62, = ffMo
From the whole decimal 23562
We subtract the finite part 235
and the remainder 23327 is the numerator.
The reason may be illustrated by dividing the decimal
into two parts, whereof one is finite, and the other a pure
repeater or circulate, with ciphers prefixed. The sum
of the vulgar fractions corresponding to these will be the
value of the decimal sought.
*235,62 may be divided into •235=1s^r by Rule I.
and *000,62 = -ggfo 0 by Rules II. III.
In order to add these vulgar fractions, we reduce them
to a common denominator; and for that purpose we mul¬
tiply both terms of the former by 99, which gives
then we add the numerators.
235, or, by method explained p. 546, col. 1, par. 3,
99
Sum of numerators.
23265 or 23562
603
23500
235
62
235
2115
2115
23265 23265 23327 23327
The value of circulating decimals is not altered though
one or more places be separated from the circle and con¬
sidered as a finite part, providing the circle be completed.
For example, *27 may be written *2,72, §£§, or which
is also the value of *27; and if two or more circles be
joined, the value of the decimal is still the same. Thus,
•2727 = which is reduced by dividing the terms by
All circulating decimals may be reduced to a similar form,
having a like number both of finite and circulating places.
For this purpose, we extend the finite part of each as far
as the longest, and then extend all the circles to so many
places as may be a multiple of the number of places in each.
Ex. *34,725, extended, *34,725725725725
*1,4562, *14,562456245624
Here the finite part of both is extended to two places,
and the circle to 12 places, which is the least multiple
for circles of 3 and 4 places.
SECT. II. ADDITION AND SUBTRACTION OF INTERMI¬
NATE DECIMALS.
4 o add repeating decimals. Extend the repeating figures
one place beyond the longest finite ones, and when you add
the right-hand column, carry to the next by 9.
Ex. *3752^ or *3752^
'8 *8888$
•643 *643 '
•73 *7333$
2*64046
To subtract repeating decimals. Extend them as di¬
rected for addition, and borrow at the right-hand place, if
necessary, by 9.
Ex. 1-rf, *93560 Ex. 2d, *646
*8473$ *5342^
*0882^ *1117^
The reason of these rules will be obvious, if we recol¬
lect that repeating figures signify ninth parts. If the
right-hand figure of the sum or remainder be 0, the deci¬
mal obtained is finite; otherwise it is a repeater.
♦ To add circulating decimals. Extend them till they be¬
come similar (p. 603, col. 1, par. ult. &c.) ; and when you
add the right-hand column, include the figure which would
have been carried if the circle had been extended farther.
Ex. \st, Extended. Ex. 2d, Extended.
*574, *574,574, *874,
*2,698, *269,869, *1460;
•428 *428 *1,58,
*37,983 *379,839, *32,
Decimal
Fractions.
*874,874874,
•146,333333,
*158,585858,
*323,232323,
1*652,284, 1*503,026390,
Note 1. Repeaters mixed with circulates are extended
and added as circulates.
Note 2. Sometimes it is necessary to inspect two or
more columns for ascertaining the carriage; because the
carriage from a lower column will sometimes raise the
sum of the higher, so as to alter the carriage from it to a
new circle. This occurs in Ex. 2.
Note 3. The sum of the circles must be considered as a
similar circle. If it consist entirely of ciphers, the amount
is terminate. If all the figures be the same, the amount is a
repeater. If they can be divided into parts exactly alike,
the amount is a circle of fewer places; but, for the most
part, the circle of the sum is similar to the extended circles.
To subtract circulating decimals. Extend them till they
become similar ; and when you subtract the right-hand figure,
consider whether 1 would have been borrowed if the circles had
been extended farther, and make allowance accordingly.
*5,72, *974, or *974974, *8,135, or *8,135135,
•4,86, *86, *868686, *452907, or *4,529074,
*0,85,
*106288,
*3,606060,
or *3,60
SECT. III.—MULTIPLICATION OF INTERMINATE
DECIMALS.
Case I.— When the multiplier is finite and the multipli¬
cand repeats, carry by 9 when you multiply the repeating
figure ; the right-hand figure of each line of the product is a
repeater, and they must be extended and added accordingly.
Ex. *13490 ^
•367
94460
4048330
•04952460
If the sum of the right-hand column be an even num¬
ber of 9 s, the product is finite ; otherwise it is a repeater.
Case II.— When the multiplier is finite, and the multi¬
plicand circidates, add to each product of the right-hand
figure the carriage which would have been brought to it if
the circle had been extended. Each line of the product is a
circle similar to the multiplicand, and therefore they must be
extended and added accordingly.
The product is commonly a circulate similar to the
604
Decima1 multiplicand; sometimes it circulates fewer places, re¬
actions. peats or becomes finite . it never circulates more p]aceSm
Ex. -37,46, X *235
•235
187,32,
1123,93,
7492,92,
•08804,19,
Case III.— When the multiplier repeats or circulates,
find the product as in infinite multipliers, and place under
it the products which would have arisen from the repeating
or circulating figures if extended.
Ex. \st, -958 X ■$
•8
arithmetic.
2d,
•784 X *36,
•36,
7664
766
76
7
4
64
664
7664
•8515
4704
2352
282241
282 24
2|8224
285,09,
9)2-6768
•297410
1152
768
23
90)8-832
•0981$.
Therefore, in order to multiply by 0, we take one third
part of the multiplier; and, to multiply by 0, we take
two thirds of the same. Thus,
5th, -784X-$=i 6th, -8761X-0=§
* -58400
As the denominator of the vulgar fractions always con¬
sists of 8 s or of 9 s with ciphers annexed, we may use
the contraction explained p. 549, col. 1, par 1, &c.;
and this will lead us exactly to the same operation which
was explained p. 564, col. 1, par. 1, &c. on the principles
of decimal arithmetic.
7th, -735 X -326=£2 3
323 3
8th,
•278 X-365,=^
365
2205
1470
2205
99)0)237405
2374,05
23,74
,23
323
1390
1668
834
999)101470,
101,
•101,571,
•239803,
When the multiplier is a mixed repeater or circulate, we
may proceed as in Ex. 4th and 7th; or we may divide the
multiplier into two parts, of which the first is finite, and the Decimal
second a pure repeater or circulate, with ciphers prefixed, Fractions,
and multiply separately by these, and add the products.
Thus, ’384 X "20 or by *2 = •0768 or thus, -384
and by •05=*0213$ *20
•09813 9)1920
213$
768
•0981$
In the following examples the multiplicand is a re¬
peater, and therefore the multiplication by the numerator
of the vulgar fraction is performed as directed p. 564, col. 1.
9th,
■680X0 = %
5
10^, -6$X-2,39=ff7
•237 2
It is evident, that if a repeating multiplier be extended
to any length, the product arising from each figure will
be the same as the first, and each will stand one place
to the right hand of the former. In like manner, if a cir¬
culating multiplier be extended, the product arising from
each circle will be alike, and will stand as many places to
the right hand of the former as there are figures in the
circle. In the foregoing examples there are as many of
these products repeated as is necessary for finding the total
product. If we place down more, or extend them farther,
itwill only give a continuation of the repeaters or circulates.
The multiplication of interminate decimals may be often
facilitated by reducing the multiplier to a vulgar fraction,
and proceeding as directed p. 558, col. 2, par 8. Thus,
3d, *3824 X ‘ft=% 4th, -384X-23,=tA
7 23 2
9)3-410(-37,962,
27
71
63
*86
81
56
54
443
1890
12660
237
99)15010(-15,16,
99
511
495
26
_18
*86
*160
99
610
594
*16
In the following examples the multiplicand is a circu¬
late, and therefore the multiplication by the numerator is
performed as directed, p. 563, col. 2, par ult.
Uth, -S^l-X *5$=4§
48 5
3054
15272
48
9)0)183,27,(.203,63,
18
*032
27
12th, *12, X ‘03, =T
3
57
54
*32
99)36,36(*036730945821854912764,
666
723
306
936
453
576
813
216
183
846
543
486
903
126
273
756
633
396
*036
In Ex. 12 we have omitted the products of the divisor,
and only marked down the remainders. These are found
ARITHMETIC.
605
decimal by adding the left-hand figure of the dividual to the re-
Fractions. maining figures of the same. Thus, 363 is the first di¬
vidual, and 3, the left hand figure, added to 63, the re¬
maining figures, gives 66 for the first remainder; and the
second dividual, 666, is completed by annexing the cir¬
culating figure 6, the reason of which may be explained
as follows. The highest place of each dividual shows, in
this example, how many hundreds it contains; and as it
must contain an equal number of ninety-nines, and also
an equal number of units, it follows that these units, add¬
ed to the lower places, must show how far the dividual
exceeds that number of ninety-nines. The figure of the
quotient is generally the same as the first place of the di¬
vidual, sometimes one more. This happens in the last
step of the foregoing example, and is discovered when the
remainder found, as here directed, would amount to 99
or upwards; and the excess above 99 only must in that
case be taken to complete the next dividual.
Uth, -O^X-Ol,^
99)-01(-00010203040506070809101112131415161718l920
(2122232425262728293031323334353637383940
(4142434445464748495051525354555657585960
(6162636465666768697071727374757677787980
(81828384858687888990919293949596979899
The number of places in the circle of the product is
sometimes very great, though there be few places in the
factors; but it never exceeds the product of the denomi¬
nator of the multiplier, multiplied by the number of places
in the circle of the multiplicand. Therefore, if the mul¬
tiplier be $ or 0, the product may circulate three times
as many places as the multiplicand; if the multiplier be
any other repeater, nine times as many; if the multiplier
be a circula.e of two places, ninety-nine times as many:
thus, in the last example, ‘01, a circulate of two places,
multiplied by *01, a circulate of two places, produces a
circulate of twice 99, or 198 places. And the reason of
this limit may be inferred from the nature of the opera¬
tion ; for the greatest possible number of remainders, in¬
cluding 0, is equal to the divisor 99; and each remainder
may afford two dividuals, if both the circulating figures, 3
and 6, occur to be annexed to it. If the multiplier circu¬
late three places, the circle of the product, for a like rea¬
son, may extend 999 times as far as that of the multipli¬
cand. But the number of places is often much less.
SECT. IV.—DIVISION OF INTERMINATE DECIMALS.
Case I.— When the dividend only is interminate, proceed
as in common arithmetic ; hut when the figures of the dividend
are exhausted, annex the repeating figure, or the circulating
figures in their order,instead of ciphers, to the remainder.
Ex. ls£, Divide *5326 by *7 2rf, Divide *84# by 5.
•7 >5320(-76,095238, 5>840(T680
49 5
34
30
43
40
*33
30
*33
3c(, Divide -6532$ by 8.
8>6532$(-08166X.
42
42
*066
63_
36
35
16
14
26
21
56
56
In these accounts the quotient is never finite. It may Decimal
repeat if the dividend repeat; or, if the dividend circu- Fractions,
late, it may circulate an equal number of places, often
more, and never fewer. The greatest possible extent of
the circle is found by multiplying the divisor into the num¬
ber of places in the circle of the dividend. Thus, a cir¬
culate of 3 places, divided by 3, quotes a circulate of 3
times 3 or 9 places.
Case II.— When the divisor is interminate, the multiplica¬
tions and subtractions must he performed according to the
directions given for repeating and circulating decimals.
Ex. ls£, Divide ’37845 by 0.
0) ’37845(’68121
333330
45110
44440
~~67$
550
110
111
0
2d, Divide ’245892 by 2T8
•2,18*)’245892( 1*127005
218181,81,
27710.18,
21818.18,
5892,00,
4363,63,
~1528,36,
1527,20,
1090,90
1090,90
0
The foregoing method is the only one which properly
depends on the principles of decimal arithmetic ; but it is
generally shorter to proceed by the following rule.
Eeduce the divisor to a vulgar fraction, multiply the di¬
vidend by the denominator, and divide the product by the
numerator.
Ex. ls£, Divide *37845 by 0 =
5)3*40605(’68121.
2d, Divide *37840 by 0 z= f
  3
2)1*13530(*567680.
Note 1. Division by 0 triples the dividend, and division
by 0 increases the dividend one half.
Note 2. When the divisor circulates, the denominator
of the vulgar fraction consists of 9’s, and the multiplica¬
tion is sooner performed by the contraction explained
p. 546, col. 1. It may be wrought in the same way when the
divisor repeats, and the denominator of consequence is 9.
Note 3. If a repeating dividend be divided by a repeat¬
ing or circulating divisor; or, if a circulating dividend be
divided by a similar circulating divisor ; or, if the number
of places in the circle of the divisor be a multiple of the
number in the dividend ; then the product of the dividend
multiplied by the denominator of the divisor will be termi¬
nate, since like figures are subtracted from like in the con¬
tracted multiplication, and consequently no remainder left.
Note 4. In other cases the original and multiplied divi¬
dend are similar, and the form of the quotient is the same
as in the case of a finite divisor.
*066
606
ARITHMETIC.
Fractions ^ie terms be similar, or extended till they you may continue the operation by annexing periods, or Extraction
ac ions, become so, the quotient is the same as if they were finite, pairs of ciphers, till there be no remainder, or till the of Roots.
- and the operation may be conducted accordingly; for the decimal part of the quot repeat or circulate, or till you v-^''^v^
quotient of vulgar fractions that, hnvp tllP camp ripppmlno- tlunlr r^rpiapr tn limit it
quotient of vulgar fractions that have the same denomina¬
tor is equal to the. quotient of their numerators.
Chap. XI.—Of the Extraction of Roots.
The origin of powers of involution has already been
explained under the article Algebra. There now re¬
mains, therefore, only to give the most expeditious methods
of extracting the square and cube roots; the reasons of
which will readily appear from what is said under that
article. As for all powers above the cube, unless such as
are multiples of either the square or cube, the extrac¬
tion of their roots admits of no deviation from the alge¬
braic canon, which must be always constructed on pur¬
pose for them.
If the root of any power not exceeding the seventh
power be a single digit, it may be obtained by inspection
from the following Table of powers.
$h 6
16
25
36
49
64
81
is
C 3
1
8
27
64
125
216
343
512
729
1
16
81
256
625
1296
2401
4096
6561
0> .5
O c»
p. b
1
32
243
1024
3125
7776
o 'p
O (U
3
% “
Cj
S o
1
64
729
16807
32768
59049
4096
15625
46656
117649
262144
1
128
2187
16384
78125
279936
823543
2097152
531441 4782969
SECT. I.—EXTRACTION OF THE SQUARE ROOT.
Rule I—Divide the given number into periods of two
figures, beginning at the right hand in integers, and point¬
ing toward the left. But in decimals begin at the place of
hundreds, and point toward the right. Every period will
give one figure in the root.
II*—Find by the table of powers, or by trial, the nearest
lesser root of the left-hand period ; place the figure so found
in the quot; subtract its square from the said period, and to
tJw remainder bring down the next period for a dividual or
resolvend.
Ill*' Double the quot for the first part of the divisor ; in¬
quire how often this first part is contained in the whole resol¬
vend, excluding the unit's place ; and place the figure denot¬
ing the answer both in the quot and on the right of the first
part; and you have the divisor complete.
IY.—Muitiply the divisor, thus completed, by the figure
put in the quot, subtract the product from the resolvend, and
to the remainder bring down the following period for a new
resolvend, and then proceed as before.
Note Itf, If the first part of the divisor, with unity sup¬
posed to be annexed to it, happen to be greater than the
resolvend, in this case place 0 in the quot, and also on the
right of the partial divisor; to the resolvend bring down
another period; and proceed to divide as before.
Note 2rf, If the product of the quotient figure into the
divisor happen to be greater than the resolvend, you must
go back and give a lesser figure to the quot.
Note 3(/, If, after every period of the given number is
brought down, there happen at last to be a remainder,
think proper to limit it.
Ex. 1st, Required the square root of 133225.
Square number 133225(365 root.
9
1 div. 66)432 resolvend.
396 product.
2 div. 725) 3625 resolvend.
3625 product.
365
365
1825
2190
1095
, 133225 proof.
2d, Required the square root of 72, to eight decimal
places.
72*00000000(8*48528137 root.
64
164)800
656
1688)14400
13504
16965)89600
84825
169702)477500
339404
169704)138096
  135763
2333
1697
After getting half of the decimal
places, work by contracted division
for the other half; and obtain them
with the same accuracy as if the
work had been at large.
636
509
127
118
3d, Required the square root of *2916,
*2916(*54 root.
25
104)416
416
If the square root of a vulgar fraction be required, find
the root of the given numerator for a new numerator, and
find the root of the given denominator for a new deno¬
minator. Thus the square root of f is f, and the root of
is f; and thus the root of (= 6|) is £ = 2£.
But if the root of either the numerator or denominator
cannot be extracted without a remainder, reduce the vul¬
gar fraction to a decimal, and then extract the root, as in
Ex. 3d, above.
SECT. II. EXTRACTION OF THE CUBE ROOT.
Rule I.—Divide the given number into periods of three
figures, beginning at the right hand in integers, and point¬
ing toward the left. But in decimals, begin at the place of
thousands, and point toward the right. The number of pe¬
riods shoivs the number of figures in the root.
II* Find by the table of powers, or by trial, the nearest
lesser root of the left-hand period ; place the figure so found
in the quot; subtract its cube from the said period ; and to
the remainder bring down the next period for a dividual or
resolvend.
The divisor consists of three parts, which may be found
as follows:
ARITHMETIC.
Arius.
III. The first part of the divisor is found thus: Multiply
the square of the quot hy 3, and to the product annex two
ciphers ; then inquire how often this first part of the divisor
is contained in the resolvend, and place the figure denoting
the answer in the quot.
IV. Multiply the former quot hy 3, and the product hy
the figure now put in the qiwt; to this last product annex
a cipher, and you have the second part of the divisor.
Again, square the figure now put in the quot for the third
part of the divisor ; place these three parts under one another
as in addition, and their sum will he the divisor complete.
V. Multiply the divisor thus completed hy the figure last
put in the quot, subtract the product from the resolvend, and
to the remainder bring down the following period for a new
resolvend, and then proceed as before.
Note 1. If the first part of the divisor happen to be
equal to or greater than the resolvend, in this case place
0 in the quot, annex two ciphers to the said first part of
the divisor, to the resolvend bring down another period,
and proceed to divide as before.
Note 2. If the product of the quotient figure into the
divisor happen to be greater than the resolvend, you must
go back, and give a lesser figure to the quot.
Note 3. If, after every period of the given number is
brought down, there happen at last to be a remainder,
you may continue the operation by annexing periods of
three ciphers till there be no remainder, or till you have
as many decimal places in the root as you judge necessary.
Ex. Itf, Required the cube root of 12812904.
Cube number 12812904(234 root.
8
)4812 resolvend.
1st part 12004
2d part 180 >
3d part 9j
1 divisor 1389 X 3=4167 product.
1st part 1587004 )645904 resolvend.
2d part 2760 V
3d part 16 j
2 divisor 161476X4=645904 product.
Proof.
^34 Square 54756
234 234
936 219024
702 164268
468 109512
Square 54756 Cube 12812904
Ex. 2d, Required the cube root of 28f.
2700004
5400 f-
36)
28-750000(3-06 root.
27
)1750000 resolvend.
Divid. 275436 X 6=1652616 product.
97384 remainder.
Proof.
3’06 Square 9*3636
3*06 3*06
1836
918
Square 9*3636
561816
280908
28*652616
97384 rem.
28*750000 cube.
If the cube root of a vulgar fraction be required, find
the cube root of the given numerator for a new numera¬
tor, and the cube root of the given denominator for a new
denominator. But if the root of either cannot be ex¬
tracted without a remainder, reduce the vulgar fraction
to a decimal, and then extract the root.
ARIUS, a presbyter of the church of Alexandria, cele¬
brated as having given his name to the most extensive and
formidable heresy that ever divided the Christian Church.
He is supposed to have been a native of Libya, the country
which gave birth in the previous century to Sabellius, the
heresiarch whose doctrine represented the opposite pole to
that of Arius.
It had more than once been decided by the voice of the
church, in opposition to Sabellius and other heretics, that
there are three distinct persons in the Divine Trinity. But
the mutual relation, and the nature of the difference be¬
tween these persons, had not yet formed a subject of dis¬
pute or of decision, and various opinions were held regard¬
ing it, without its being considered necessary that a distinct
anil precise phraseology should be adopted on a point so
difficult and mysterious.
It was in the learned and disputatious city of Alexandria
that the matter first came to an open controversy. Alex¬
ander, the Christian bishop of that city, maintained in an
assembly of his presbyters, that the Son of God is not only
equal to the Father, but of the same essence (6/xooiicrtos).
Arius, who is represented as a man of great learning and
eloquence, and of high reputation for sanctity and zeal, op¬
posed his bishop, on the ground that his doctrine was a re¬
lapse into the error of Sabellius, and going to the opposite
extreme, maintained that the Son was not the same in sub¬
stance with the Father, but only similar (opoiovcnos), and
that, though the highest of all creatures, there was a time
when he was not.
The opinions of Arius found many supporters, the most
distinguished and influential of whom was Eusebius, bishop
of Nicomedia, who, being a favourite of Constantia the sis¬
ter of the emperor, secured for Arius important patronage.
Alexander having failed in his attempt to extinguish the
heresy by warning and remonstrance, called a council of
African bishops at Alexandria (a.d. 321), which condemned
the Arian doctrine as blasphemous, and cast the offender
out of the church. The heresy, however, continued to
spread. The Emperor Constantine, who at first treated the
matter as a trifling logomachy, at length found it necessary
for the peace of the church to call a general council at the
city of Nicaea, in Bithynia, a.d. 325. At this celebrated
assembly, composed of 318 bishops from all parts of the
Christian world, the doctrine of the consuhstantiality of the
Son with the Father was, after much discussion, decreed as
the orthodox faith of the church, and embodied in a definite
formula, which not merely expressed the catholic faith but spe¬
cially anathematized the Arian doctrine and its supporters as
accursed. Arius was banished to Illyricum, his books were
ordered to be burned, and capital punishment was denounced
against all who should keep them in their possession.
But the heresy was not thus to be extinguished. Arius
had powerful friends at court, and his party, though branded
with the condemnation of the church, made continual pro¬
gress. After five years’ banishment he was recalled to Con¬
stantinople, where he satisfied the unsettled theological
judgment of the emperor by a confession of faith so vaguely
worded that, without abjuring his own opinions, he seemed
608' ARK
Ark to consent to the orthodox faith. Athanasius, bishop of
II Alexandria, was now commanded to receive Arius and his
Covenant6 fo,lowers into communion with the church; and indomitably
i resisting the imperial mandate, and the attacks of the Arian
party, was, by their influence, deprived of his bishopric, and
banished to Treves. A day was now fixed by the Emperor
for the solemn reception of Arius into communion with the
church, but on his way through the streets of Constanti¬
nople to the scene of his triumph, Arius suddenly died, in a
manner which his friends regarded as the effect of poison,
and his enemies as the judgment of God in answer to the
prayers of their faithful bishop Alexander. It is unneces¬
sary to say that neither theory is capable of proof. The
heresy, however, did not expire with the heresiarch; his
party continued still in great credit at court. Athanasius,
indeed, was soon recalled from banishment, but as soon re¬
moved again; for the Arians, under the countenance of
government, made and deposed bishops as it best served
their purposes. In short, this heresy flourished for more than
300 years. It was the reigning religion of Spain for above
two centuries : it was on the throne both in the East and
West; it prevailed among the Goths, the Vandals, the Bur¬
gundians, and the Alani, and did not disappear till about
the end of the eighth century. It was afterwards set on
foot in the West by Servetus. Erasmus was accused of
attempting to revive it in his Commentaries on the New
Testament, and the great names of Grotius and Milton are
claimed by its defenders. In modern times, Arianism, as a
distinctive term, has been merged in that of Unitarianism ;
q.v.—See Mosheim and Neantier’s Church Histories ; Bur¬
ton On the Early Heresies, fyc.; Bull’s Defence of the Ni-
cene Faith ; and Gibbon’s History of Rome.
ARK, Noah’s, a floating vessel built by the patriarch
Noah, for the preservation of his family, and the several
species of animals, during the Deluge. The ark has afforded
several points of curious inquiry relating to its form, capa¬
city, materials, &c. The wood of which it was built is called
in the Hebrew gopher wood, and in the Septuagint square
timbers. Some translate the original cedar, others pine,
others box, &c. Pelletier prefers cedar, on account of its in¬
corruptibility and the great abundance of it in Asia. Fuller
and Bochart contend that it was built of what the Greeks
call Kvirapicrcro';, or the cypress tree; for, taking away the
termination, kupar and gopher differ very little in sound. In
what place Noah built and finished his ark is no less a matter
of dispute ; but the most general opinion is, that it was built
in Chaldea, in the territories of Babylon. Its dimensions,
as given by Moses, are 300 cubits in length, 50 in breadth,
and 30 in height. Dr Arbuthnot computes its burthen at
81,062 tons. It contained, besides eight persons of Noah’s
family, one pair of every species of unclean animals, and
seven pairs of every species of clean animals, with provi¬
sions for them all during the whole year. The insuperable
difficulties connected with the belief that all the existing spe¬
cies of animals were provided for in the ark, are obviated by
adopting the suggestion of Bishop Stillingfleet, approved by
Matthew Poole, Pye Smith, Le Clerc, Rossenmuller, and
others, that the Deluge did not extend beyond that region
of the earth then inhabited, and that only the animals of
that region were preserved in the Ark. See Deluge, and
Kitto’s Biblical Cyclopcedia.
AtxK of the Covenant, a kind of chest, of an oblong shape,
made of shittim (acacia) wood, a cubit and a half broad and
high, two cubits long, and covered on all sides with the purest
gold. It was ornamented on its upper surface with a border
of gold ; and on each of the two sides were two gold rings,
in which were placed the gold-covered poles by which it was
carried. The lid or cover of the ark was made of the purest
gold. Over it, at the two extremities, were two cherubim,
with their faces turned towards each other, and inclined a
ARK
little towards the lid (or mercy-seat) ; and their wings spread Arkansas,
out over the top of the ark.
This sacred object was deposited in the innermost part of
the tabernacle, called “ the holy of holies,” and afterwards in
the corresponding apartment of the Temple. Within it were
deposited the tables of the law ; beside it were preserved a
golden pot full of manna, the rod of Aaron, and a copy of the
book of the law.
Extreme sanctity attached to the ark, as the material sym¬
bol of the Divine presence. During the marches of the Is¬
raelites it was covered with a purple pall, and borne by the
priests, with great reverence and care, in advance of the host.
It is not wonderful therefore that the neighbouring idolaters
looked upon it as the God of the Israelites (1 Sam. iv. 6, 7),
a delusion which may have been strengthened by the figures
of the cherubim on it. After the settlement of the Jews in
Palestine, the ark remained in the tabernacle at Shiloh until
the time of Eli, when it was carried along with the army in
the war against the Philistines, under the superstitious notion
that it would secure the victory to the Hebrews. Not only
however were they beaten, but the ark itself was taken by
the Philistines (1 Sam. iv. 3-11), whose triumph was, how¬
ever, very short lived, as they were so oppressed by the hand
of God, that after seven months they were glad to send it
back again. After that it remained apart from the taber¬
nacle at Kirjath-jearim, where it continued until the time of
David, who succeeded in effecting its safe removal, in grand
procession, to Mount Zion (2 Sam. vi.) When the Temple
of Solomon was completed, the ark was deposited in the sanc-
tuary (1 Kings viii. 6-9). What became of it when the Tem¬
ple was plundered and destroyed by the Babylonians is not
known. The Jews believe that it was concealed from the
spoilers, and account it among the hidden things which the
Messiah is to reveal. It is certain, however, from the con¬
sent of all the Jewish writers, that the old ark was not con¬
tained in the second temple, and there is no evidence that
any new one was made. Indeed the absence of the ark is
one of the important particulars in which this temple was held
to be inferior to that of Solomon.—See Calmet’s Disserta¬
tion sur VArche d?Alliance.
ARKANSAS, one of the United States of North Ame¬
rica, lying between Lat. 33. and 36. 30. N., and Long. 89.
30. and 94. 30. W. It is bounded as follows :—North by
the state of Missouri, east by the Mississippi River, south
by Louisiana, west by Texas and the Indian territory. Area
52,198 square miles. Population in 1840, 97,574; and in
1850, 209,639, of whom 46,982 were slaves. The surface
of Arkansas is extremely diversified, and the soil of very un¬
equal quality, though a large proportion of it is rich and fer¬
tile. The parts bordering on the Mississippi are low, and
frequently inundated : the western portion is mountainous,
being traversed by the Ozarks, which attain a general alti¬
tude of 2000 feet. Its principal rivers, besides the Missis¬
sippi, are the Arkansas, the St Francis, the White River,
the Ouachita or Washita, and the Red River. The climate,
except in the low lands, is generally salubrious. In the
north-western parts, however, the winters are severe, with
much snow, and piercing north winds.
The mineral wealth of this state is greater than that of any
other east of the Rocky Mountains: coal in great variety (in¬
cluding anthracite) and iron are most abundant; lead, zinc,
manganese, gypsum, marble, and rock-salt, are plentiful; and
silver and gold are found. Agriculture has hitherto been the
chiefpursuit of the inhabitants, who raise large quantities of cot¬
ton, maize, wheat, oats, tobacco, hemp, flax, sugar, &c. In 1850,
the cotton crop amounted to 2,599,480 lb.; maize to 8,857,296
bushels; tobacco to 224,164 lb.; butter to 1,854,104 lb.
The preparation of staple commodities, and various articles
for home consumption, form the chief manufactures.
In 1819, Arkansas, which had previously formed a part of
ARK
Arkansas the Missouri territory, became a separate territorial govern-
Arkwricht Tent ’ ancl in 1836 ^ Was admitted int0 the Union as an in-
, ^ / dependent state. The people have the election of the gover¬
nor, who continues in office for four years ; and the legisla¬
ture is conducted by a senate and a house of representatives.
Little Rock is the seat of government. The judiciary con¬
sists of a supreme court, with a chief-justice and two associate
justices, and six circuit-courts. The judges of the supreme
court are chosen by the legislature, and hold office for eight
years: those of the circuit-court are elected by the people, and
their term of office is limited to four years. The revenue of
the state for the two years 1851 and 1852, was $162,658, the
expenditure for the same period, $135,040. The public debt
in October 1852 amounted to $4,151,370.
Aikansas, though possessing many natural advantages, is
far behind the neighbouring states in improvement and gene¬
ral prosperity, and has no direct commerce, but exports its
staples through New Orleans. No railways have yet been
constructed in this state, though one or two lines have lately
been proposed. Education is in a very backward state ; the
means of instruction being utterly inadequate to the require¬
ments of the population.
Arkansas, a vast affluent of the Mississippi. It rises in
the Rocky Mountains near Lat. 42. N. Long. 109. W., and
after a winding course of 2170 miles, joins that river in Lat.
33. 56. N. Long. 91. 20. W., flowing generally in an east¬
ward direction from its source as far as Long. 99., when it
inclines to the south-east during the rest of its course. It
flows through a well-wooded country for 100 miles from the
Rocky Mountains ; but in its farther progress it traverses a
long tract devoid of wood, in which it expands into a wide
stream, sometimes a mile in breadth, and interspersed with
islands. It passes through the Ozark Mountains, and enter¬
ing the state to which it gives its name, continues its course
through a rich alluvial soil. It receives several considerable
tributary rivers, the principal of which are the White River
and the Great Canadian. Its annual inundations commence
in March, and are at their height in June. It is navigable
for steamboats as far as Fort Gibson, and, when in full flood,
even so far as 2000 miles from its mouth.
ARKLOW, a seaport and market-town near the southern
border of the county of Wicklow, 50 miles from Dublin, con¬
taining, in 1851, 3306 inhabitants. It is situated at the ex¬
tremity of the beautiful Vale of Ovoca, on the acclivity of a
hill extending along the right bank of the river. The town
is of mean appearance, and mainly supported by the herring
fishery and the export of copper pyrites from the Ovoca mines.
There are oyster-oeds on the coast, but the oysters are so
strongly impregnated with a peculiar flavour, supposed to be
derived from the mining districts, through the Ovoca River, as
to be unsaleable when first taken ; but after being thorough¬
ly purged in the purer waters of the Welsh and English coast,
are remarkably delicate. The coast is much exposed, and
the harbour only accessible to small vessels. Arklow for¬
merly contained a monastery and a castle, which latter was
demolished by Cromwell. During the disturbances of 1798,
the insurgents were defeated by the king’s troops under
General Needham, in a battle fought near Arklow Bridge.
ARKWRIGHT, Sir Richard, famous for his inven¬
tions in cotton spinning, was born at Preston in Lanca-
shiie, in D32, of parents in humble circumstances. He
was the youngest of thirteen children, received but a very
indifferent education, and was bred to the trade of a bar-
bei. But the res angusta domi could not repress the na¬
tive vigour of his mind, or extinguish the desire he felt
to emerge from his low situation. In the year 1760 he
ark
609
bad established himself in Bolton-le-Moor, where he ex- Arkwright,
changed the trade of a barber for that of an itinerant
hair-merchant; and having discovered a valuable chemi¬
cal piocess for dying hair, he was in consequence enabled
to amass a little property. It is unfortunate that very
little is known of the steps by which he was led to thosi
inventions that raised him to distinction, and have im¬
mortalized his name. His residence in a district where
a considerable manufacture of linen goods, and of linen
and cotton mixed, was carried on, must have given him
ample opportunities of becoming acquainted with the va¬
rious processes that were in use in the cotton manufac¬
ture, and of the attempts that had been made and were
then making to improve them. His attention was thus
naturally drawn to this peculiar department; and, while
He saw reason to conclude that it was likely to prove the
most advantageous in which he could engage, he had sa¬
gacity and good fortune to invent and improve those ex¬
traordinary machines by which, unlike most inventors, he
amassed vast wealth, at the same time that he added pro-
igiously to the demand for labour, and to the riches and
comfort of the civilized world
The spinning-jenny, invented in 1767 by Hargraves, a
carpenter at Blackburn in Lancashire, gave the means of
spinning twenty or thirty threads at once with no more
abour thanhad previously been required to spin a single
thread. The thread spun by the jenny could not, how¬
ever, be used, except as weft, being destitute of the firm¬
ness or hardness required in the longitudinal threads or
warp. But Mr Arkwright supplied this deficiency by the
invention of the spinning-frame—that wonderful piece of
machinery, which spins a vast number of threads of any
degree of fineness and hardness, leaving to man merely
to feed the machine with cotton, and to join the threads
when they happen to break. It is not difficult to under-
stand the principle on which this machine is constructed,
and the mode of its operation. It consists of two pairs
of rollers, turned by means of machinery. The lower
i oiler of each pair is furrowed or fluted longitudinally,
and the upper one is covered with leather, to make them
take a hold of the cotton. If there were only one pair
o rollers, it is clear that a carding of cotton, passed be¬
tween them, would be drawn forward by the revolution of
the rollers ; but it would merely undergo a certain degree
of compression from their action. No sooner, however
has the carding, or roving as it is technically termed, be¬
gun to pass through the first pair of rollers, than it is re-
ce.ved by the second pair, w^ich are made to retolve
r Os He case may be) three, four, or five times the ve!
locity of the first patr. By this admirable contrivance! the
rovmg ,s drawn out mto a thread of the desired degree of
tenuity, a twist being given to it by the adaptation of the
spindle and fly of the common flax wheel to the machinery
Such is the principle on which Mr Arkwright construct-
radicallv diffoSrpS?mfning'friame' 11 °bvi"us that ^ ^
. .w different from the previous methods of spin¬
ning either by the common hand-wheel or distaff, orPby
the jenny, which is only a modification of the common
w heel. Spinning by rollers was an entirely original idea-
and it is difficult to determine which is most worthy of
admiration—the genius which led to so great a discovery
sneedeilv0nprfm7ie ^ ^ addreSS which * ^
I y perfected and reduced to practice. Mr Ark-
that he accidentally derived the first hint
b ! great invention from seeing a red-hot iron bar elon-
& y eing made to pass between rollers J and though
ments in tins account are of the 11 igh e s t 'a u tho r i t v( hi a «ii u ('ifh'6' ^ ^ Beauties °f EnSIand and Wales, vol. iii. p. 518. The state-
Mr Arkwright’s first partner. ^ authonty, inasmuch as we have reason to believe it was furnished by Mr Strutt, the son of
VOL. 111.
4 H
610 ARKWRIGHT.
Arkwright. t^ere ;s no mechanica] analogy between that operation and
his process of spinning, it is not difficult to imagine, that
by reflecting upon it, and placing the subject in different
points of view, it might lead him to his invention. The
precise era of the discovery is not known; but it is most
probable that the felicitous idea of spinning by rollers
had occurred to his mind as early as the period when Har¬
graves was engaged in the invention of the jenny, or al¬
most immediately after. Not being himself a practical
mechanic, Arkwright employed a person of the name of
John Kay, a watchmaker at Warrington, to whom we shall
afterwards have to refer, to assist him in the prepara¬
tion of the parts of his machine. Having made some pro¬
gress towards the completion of his inventions, he applied
in 1767 to Mr Atherton of Liverpool for pecuniary assist¬
ance to enable him to carry them into effect; but this
gentleman declined embarking his property in what ap¬
peared so hazardous a speculation, though he is said to
have sent him some workmen to assist in the construc¬
tion of his machine ; the first model of which was set up in
the parlour of the house belonging to the free grammar
school at Preston.
His inventions being at length brought into a pretty
advanced state, Arkwright, accompanied by Kay, and a
Mr Smalley of Preston, removed to Nottingham in 1768,
in order to avoid the attacks of the same lawless rabble
that had driven Hargraves out of Lancashire. Here his
operations were at first greatly fettered by a want of ca¬
pital. But Mr Strutt1 of Derby, a gentleman of great
mechanical skill, and largely engaged in the stocking ma¬
nufacture, having seen Arkwright’s inventions, and satis¬
fied himself of their extraordinary value, immediately en¬
tered, conjointly with his partner Mr Need, into part¬
nership with him. The command of the necessary funds
being thus obtained, Mr Arkwright erected his first mill,
which was driven by horses, at Nottingham, and took
out a patent for spinning by rollers, in 1769. But as
the mode of working the machinery by horse-power was
found too expensive, he built a second factory, on a much
larger scale, at Cromford in Derbyshire, in 1771, the
machinery of which was turned by a water-wheel, after
the manner of the famous silk-mill erected by Sir Tho¬
mas Lombe. Having made several additional disco¬
veries and improvements in the processes of carding,
roving, and spinning, he took out a fresh patent for the
whole in 1775 ; and thus completed a series of machinery
so various and complicated, yet so admirably combined,
and well adapted to produce the intended effect, in its
most perfect form, as to excite the astonishment and ad¬
miration of every one capable of appreciating the inge¬
nuity displayed and the difficulties overcome.2
When the vast importance of these discoveries became
known, it is not surprising that every effort should have
been made to have the patents set aside, and Mr Ark¬
wright deprived of the profit and honour to be derived
from them. But after a pretty attentive consideration of
the various proceedings relative to this subject, we have
no hesitation in saying, that we see no good grounds for
crediting the statement made in the court of king’s bench
in 1785, and again repeated by Mr Guest in his work Arkwright.
on the cotton manufacture, which ascribes the invention
of spinning by rollers to Highs or Hayes, from whom
Arkwright is said to have learned it; and we shall now
briefly state our reasons for holding this opinion.
Mr Arkwright’s Jirst patent for spinning by rollers,
which is by far the most important, or rather, indeed, the
essential part of his inventions, was obtained, as we have
previously stated, in 1769; and its value and importance
were no longer doubtful after the establishment of the
factory at Cromford in 1771. The success which attend¬
ed this novel method of spinning naturally excited the
strongest desire on the part of the Lancashire manufac¬
turers to participate in the advantages to be derived from
it; and the fair presumption is, that instead of attempt¬
ing clandestinely to pirate the invention, they would, had
they conceived there were any good grounds to go upon,
have at once contested the validity of the patent. But
no such attempt was made till 1781, twelve years after
the date of the first patent, and six years after the date
of the second. And, even at that late period, Mr Ark¬
wright’s opponents came forward only in consequence of
his having resolved to vindicate his rights, which had be¬
gun to be invaded on all sides, by raising an action against
Colonel Mordaunt for an infringement of his patent.
Mordaunt was supported by a combination of manufac¬
turers ; and, as they felt the question to be of the greatest
importance, it is all but impossible to suppose that any
thing would be omitted on their part which was conceived
likely to contribute to their success. The case having
been tried in the court of king’s bench, after Trinity
term, July 1781, the decision was unfavourable to Mr
Arkwright. But it is of importance to observe, that no
attempt was made at the trial to charge him with having
purloined the inventions of others, and that the verdict
was given on the sole ground of the description of the ma¬
chinery in the specification being obscure and indistinct.
Mr Arkwright admitted that such was partly the case;
adding, however, that the obscurity charged against the
specification had been intended only to prevent foreigners
from pirating his inventions. On any other principle, in¬
deed, his conduct would be inexplicable; for, as his in¬
ventions were fully known to hundreds of workmen in his
own employment, and as he had sold the privilege of
using them to great numbers of individuals in different
parts of the country, it is impossible to suppose that he
could either have expected or intended to conceal his in¬
ventions after the expiration of his patent.3 In conse¬
quence of the result of this trial, Mr Arkwright and his
partners prepared a Case, setting forth the value of the in¬
ventions, and the circumstances which had led to the in¬
distinctness complained of in the specification, which they
at one time intended to lay before parliament, as the
foundation of an application for an act for their relief.
But this intention was subsequently abandoned; and in a
new trial (Arkwright v. Nightingale), which took place in
the court of common pleas on the 17th of February 1785,
Lord Loughborough, the presiding judge, having ex¬
pressed himself favourably with respect to the sufficiency
This was the justly celebrated Mr Jedediah Strutt. He was the son of a farmer, and was born in 1726. His father paid little
attentumtohiseducatum ; but, under every disadvantage, he acquired an extensive knowledge of science and literature. He was
the first individual who succeeded in adapting the stocking-frame to the manufacture of ribbed stockings. The manufacture of these
stockings, which he established at Derby, was conducted on a very large scale, first by himself and his partner Mr Need, and sub¬
sequently by his sons, until about 1805, when they withdrew from this branch of business.
See the Case of Richard Arkwright & Co. in 1782 ; the account of Sir Richard Arkwright in Aikin’s Biographical Dictiovary;
the History, Gazetteer, S[C. of Lancashire, by Edward Baines, vol. ii. p. 484, &c.
3 It was erroneously stated, in an article in the Edinburgh Review (No. 91), from which this sketch is principally abstracted, on the
authority of the article Cotton Manufacture, in the Supplement to this work (vol. iii. p. 394), that a trial had been instituted
in 1772, in which Mr Arkwright proved successful, to have the original patent set aside. But the first trial did not really take place,
as above stated, till 1781.
ARK W R I G H T.
r-wng t. 0f the specification, a verdict was given for Mr Ark-
wright. On this, as on the former trial, nothing was
stated against the originality of the invention.
In consequence of these conflicting verdicts, the whole
matter was brought, by a writ of scire facias, before the
court of king’s bench, to have the validity of the patent
finally settled. And it was not till this third trial, which
took place before Mr Justice Duller and a special jury,
on the 25th of June 1785, that Mr Arkwright’s claim to
the inventions which formed the subject of the patent was
disputed. To support this new allegation, Mr Arkwright’s
opponents brought forward, for the first time, Highs or
Hayes, a reed-maker at Bolton. He stated that he had
invented a machine for spinning by rollers previously to
1768; that he had employed the watchmaker Kay, to
whom we have already referred, to make a model of that
machine; and Kay was produced to prove that he had
communicated that model to Mr Arkwright, and that that
was the real source of all his pretended inventions. Hav¬
ing no idea that any attempt was to be made at so late a
period to overturn the patent on this new ground, Mr
Arkwright’s counsel were not prepared with evidence to
repel this statement; but it was stated by Mr Sergeant
Adair, on a motion for a new trial on the 10th of Novem¬
ber of the same year, that he was furnished with affidavits
contradicting, in the most pointed manner, the evidence
that had been given by Kay and others with respect to
the originality of the invention. The court, however, re¬
fused to grant a new trial, on the ground, that whatever
might be the fact as to the question of originality, the defi¬
ciency in the specification was enough to sustain the verdict.
But, independently altogether of the statements made
on the motion for a new trial, the improbability of the
story told by Highs and Kay seems glaring and obvious.
Highs states in his evidence that he had accused Ark¬
wright of getting possession of his invention by means of
Kay so early as 1769, or about that period. Where, then,
it may be asked, was this Mr Highs ever since that pe¬
riod, and particularly during the first trial in July 1781,
and the second in February 1785? Living in Lanca¬
shire, associating with manufacturers, and in the habit,
as he declares in his evidence, of making machines for
them, he could not fail to be speedily informed with re¬
spect to the vast importance and value of the invention
Mr Arkwright had purloined from him. It is impossible
but he must have been acquainted with the efforts that
were making by the Lancashire manufacturers to set
aside the patents; and is it to be supposed, had he really
been the inventor, that he would have remained for six¬
teen years a passive spectator of what was going forward ?
that he would have allowed Mr Arkwright to accumulate
a princely fortune by means of his inventions, while he
remained in a state of poverty ? or that he would have
withheld his evidence when the manufacturers attempted
to wrest from Mr Arkwright what he had so unjustly ap¬
propriated ? A single hint from Highs or Kay would, had
their story been wHl founded, have sufficed to force Mr
Arkwright to give them a share of his profits, or would
have furnished the manufacturers with the means they
were so anxious to obtain, of procuring the immediate dis¬
solution of the patents. But it has never been alleged
that Mr Arkwright took any pains to conciliate these per¬
sons : on the contrary, he treated Highs with the most
perfect indifference, and not only dismissed Kay from his
service, but even threatened to prosecute him on a charge
of felony. And can any one imagine for a moment, that
persons with so many and such overpowering temptations
611
to speak out, and with no inducement of any sort to be Arkwright
silent, should have gone about for more than twice the
period of a Pythagorean noviciate, with so important a
secret closely pent up in their bosoms ? We confess that
such a supposition seems to us altogether absurd and
incredible ; and we believe our readers will agree with
us in thinking, that it is infinitely more consistent with
probability to suppose that the story of Highs and Kay
had been manufactured for the occasion, than that it was
really true.
The improbability of the statements made on this sub¬
ject by Guest, in his History of the Cotton Manufacture,
appear still more obvious, from his attributing to Highs
the invention, not only of the spinning frame, but also of
the jenny, which had been universally ascribed to Har¬
graves. But no weight can be attached to such rash and
ill-considered statements. It would be next to a miracle,
hail two methods of spinning, both very ingenious, but
radically different in their first principles, been invented
nearly at the same time by the same individual.
It appears, from a communication from Mr Charles
Wyatt to his brother, in the Repertory of Arts for 1817,
and which has been reprinted by Mr Kennedy, in an in¬
teresting article on the Rise and Progress of the Cotton
Irade, in the Manchester Memoirs (2d series, vol. iii.
p. 135), as well as from the distinct reference to them in
the Case printed by Mr Arkwright in 1782, that attempts
had been made in the early part of last century to spin
cotton by means of machinery. But these attempts prov¬
ed ruinous to the parties by whom they were made; and
all knowledge of the machinery by which they attempted
to effect their purpose has been long since lost. Mr
Kennedy says he had seen a specimen of yarn spun about
1741, by the late Mr Wyatt of Birmingham ; but he ex¬
presses his opinion that no competent judge would say
that it was spun by a similar machine to that of Mr Ark¬
wright. It was not indeed alleged at any of the trials
that took place with respect to the validity of his patent,
nor has it ever been alleged since, that he had borrowed
anything whatever from these remote attempts. If he was
really indebted to them, it must have been merely for the
knowledge of the fact that such attempts had been made ;
and this might have stimulated him to turn his attention
to the subject.
W e have access to know that none of IMr Arkwright’s
most intimate friends, and who were best acquainted with
his character, ever had the slightest doubt with respect to
the originality of his invention. Some of them, indeed,
could speak to the circumstances from their own personal
knowledge ; and their testimony was uniform and consist¬
ent. Such also seems to be the opinion now generally
entertained among the principal manufacturers of Man¬
chester. In proof of this, we may again refer to Mr Ken¬
nedy’s valuable paper in the Manchester Memoirs. Mr Ken¬
nedy is one of the most eminent and intelligent cotton
manufacturers in the empire, and it is of importance to
remark, that, although he was resident in Manchester in
1785, when the last trial for setting aside Mr Arkwright’s
patent took place, and must, therefore, have been^well
acquainted with all the circumstances connected with it,
he does not insinuate the smallest doubt as to his being
the real inventor of the spinning frame, nor even so much
as once alludes to Highs.
On their first introduction, Mr Arkwright’s machines
weie l eckoned by the lower classes as even more adverse
to their interests than those of Hargraves; and reiterated
attacks were made on the factories built for them.1 But
eivers'and SnersTn nea,r Bolton. printed, some time about the period referred to, a sensible address to the
d P ’ h he endeav'oured to convince them that it was for their interest to encourage inventions for abridging
612 ARK
Arkwright how extraordinary soever it may appear, it was amongst
the manufacturers that the greatest animosity existed
against Mr Arkwright; and it required all the prudence
for which he was so remarkable to enable him to triumph
oyer the powerful combination that was formed against
him. At the outset of the business, they unanimously
refused to purchase his yarn; and when his partners,
Messrs Strutt and Need, had commenced a manufacture
of calicoes, the manufacturers strenuously opposed a bill
to exempt calicoes from a discriminating duty of 3d a
yard laid on them, over and above the ordinary duty of
3d by an old act of parliament. Luckily, however, the
manufacturers failed of their object; and, in 1774, an act
of parliament was obtained (14th Geo. III. cap. 72), for
the encouragement of the cotton manufacture, in which
fabrics made of cotton are declared to have been lately in¬
troduced, and are allowed to be used as “ a lawful and
laudable manufacture the duty of 6d the square yard on
such cottons as are printed or stained being at the same
time reduced to 3d. But this disgraceful spirit of animo¬
sity, which must, had it been successful, have proved as
injurious to the interests of the manufacturers as to those
of Mr Arkwright, did not content itself with actions in the
courts of law, or a factious opposition to useful measures
in parliament, but displayed itself in a still more striking
and unjustifiable manner; for it is a fact, that a large fac¬
tory, erected by Mr Arkwright at Birkacre, near Chor-
ley, in Lancashire, was destroyed by a mob collected from
the adjacent country, in the presence of a powerful body
of police and military, without any one of the civil autho¬
rities requiring them to interfere to prevent so scandalous
an outrage.
Fortunately, however, not for himself only, but for his
country and the world, every corner of which has been
benefited by his inventions, Mr Arkwright triumphed over
every opposition. The same ingenuity, skill, and good
sense, which had originally enabled him to invent his
machine and get it introduced, enabled him to overcome
the various combinations and difficulties with which he
had subsequently to contend.
Though a man of great personal strength, which he is
said to have displayed when young, in election riots at
Preston, Mr Arkwright never enjoyed good health. Dur¬
ing the whole of his splendid and ever memorable career
of invention and discovery, he was labouring under a very
severe asthmatic affection. A complication of disorders
at length terminated his truly useful life in 1792, at his
works at Cromford, in the sixtieth year of his age. He
was high sheriff of Derbyshire in 1786 ; and, having pre¬
sented a congratulatory address from the wapentake of
Wirksworth to his majesty George III., on his escape from
the attempt on his life by Margaret Nicholson, received
the honour of knighthood. No man ever better deserved
his good fortune, or has a stronger claim on the respect
and gratitude of posterity. His inventions have opened a
new and boundless field of employment; and while they
have conferred infinitely more real benefit on his native
country than she could have derived from the absolute
dominion of Mexico and Peru, they have been universally
productive of wealth and enjoyments.
“ The originality and comprehensiveness of Sir Richard
Arkwright’s mind,” says Mr Bannatyne, “ was perhaps
marked by nothing more strongly than the judgment with
ARM
which, although new to business, he conducted the great Arland
concerns his discovery gave rise to, and the systematic II
order and arrangement which he introduced into every , Arles-
department of his extensive works. His plans of manage-
ment, which must have been entirely his own, as no esta¬
blishment of a similar nature then existed, were univer¬
sally adopted by others ; and, after long experience, they
have not yet, in any material point been altered or im¬
proved.” (j. r. m.)
ARLAND, Jacques Antoine, a celebrated miniature
painter, born at Geneva in 1668. He came to England in
1721, where he made a considerable fortune, and had a great
reputation. He returned to his native country, and died
there in 1743.
ARLES, an arrondissement in the department of the
Mouths of the Rhone, in France, extending over 900 square
miles, or 576,124 acres. It is divided into eight cantons,
and subdivided into thirty-one communes, which in 1851
contained 87,749 inhabitants.
Arles (the ancient Arelas, or Arelate), a city of France,
in the department of Bouches du Rhone, and capital of an
arrondissement of its own name, 46 miles north-west of Mar¬
seilles, with which, and with Avignon, it is connected by rail¬
way. Lat. 43. 40. 18. N. Long. 4. 37. 46. E. It stands on
the left bank of the Rhone, where that river divides to form
its Delta; and to obviate the inconvenience of the difficult
navigation, the Canal d’Arles has been constructed, ex¬
tending to the harbour of Bouc on the Mediterranean, a
distance of 25 miles. It is also connected with the canal
of Beaucaire, and by that of Craponne with the Durance.
The town is inclosed with old walls; the streets are narrow,
dirty, and intricate; and the houses generally are old and
mean. The marshes in the vicinity render it somewhat un¬
healthy. It has a handsome town-hall, an ancient cathedral,
a college, school of navigation, museum, public library, docks
for ship-building, &c. The principal manufactures are silk,
soap, glass bottles ; and its sausages are famous. The trade
also in agricultural produce, cattle, wool, and salt, is con¬
siderable. Pop. in 1846, 14,239.
Arles possesses many magnificent and interesting monu¬
ments of its ancient grandeur. The remains of its amphi¬
theatre, which was capable of containing from 25,000 to
30,000 spectators, measure 459 feet in length by 338 feet in
width. It has also remains of a Roman theatre, in which
the celebrated statue known as the “Venus of Arles” was
discovered in 1651 ; the ruins of two temples, an aqueduct,
a triumphal arch, and an extensive cemetery containing many
sarcophagi, the Elysii campi of the Romans, whence its
modern appellation of Aliscamps. In front of the town-
hall, and in the centre of the Place Pay ale, is a plain granite
obelisk of a single block 47 feet long, erected on a pedestal
20 feet in height. This obelisk, which had long lain buried
in the earth, was elevated to its present position in 1676.
It was once supposed to be Egyptian, but it is now ascer¬
tained to have been brought from a quarry in the Estrelle
Mountains near Frejus ; besides, it tapers more rapidly than
those of Egypt, and has no hieroglyphics. Arelate was an
important town when Caesar invaded Gaul. Subsequently,
a Roman colony was established there; and in the time of
the Emperors it became one of the most flourishing towns
on this side of the Alps. After being pillaged a.d. 270,
it was repaired, embellished, and greatly enlarged by Con¬
stantine ; and here his son Constantine II. was horn. On
labour. The result has shown the soundness of Mr Ilasbotham’s opinion. It is doubtful whether 30,000 persons were employed in
all the branches of the cotton manufacture in 1767; whereas, in consequence of those very inventions which the workmen en¬
deavoured to destroy, there are now upwards of 1,000,000 directly engaged in its different departments ! There is, in fact, no idea
so groundless and absurd as that which supposes that an increased facility of production can, under any circumstances, be injurious to
the labourers.
ARM
Armada the fall of the Roman empire, Arelate came into the power
t^le Visigoths, and rapidly declined; and in 730 it was
Armagh plundered by the Saracens. In 933 it became the capital
a kingdom of the same name, formed by the union of the
two kingdoms of Burgundy (Cisjurian and Transjurian). In
the twelfth century it formed a republic; and in 1251 it sub¬
mitted to Charles of Anjou, Count of Provence, and was
united to the crown with that province in the reign of Louis
XI. Many ecclesiastical councils have been held here ; the
most important ol which was that against the Donatists in
314.
ARMADA, a Spanish term, signifying a fleet of men of
war. 1 he armada which attempted to invade England in
the time of Queen Elizabeth is famous in history. See
England
ARMADILLO, in Zoology. See Mammalia, Index.
ARMAGEDDON, properly “ the Mountain of Megiddo,”
a city on the west of the river Jordan, rebuilt by Solomon
(1 Kings ix. 15). Both Ahaziah and Josias died there. The
same spot witnessed, at an earlier period, the greatest tri¬
umph of Israel, when “fought the kings of Canaan in Taanach
by the waters of Megiddo” (Judg. v. 19). “He gathered
them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Ar¬
mageddon, is the language of the Apocalypse ; a passage
which has given rise to much ingenious speculation.
ARMAGH, an inland county, in the province of Ulster,
in Ireland, situate between Lat. 54. 3. and 54. 31. N., and
Long. 6. 14. and 6. 45. W.; comprising, according to the
ordnance survey, an area of 5121 square miles, or 328,076
acres, of which 265,243 are arable, 35,1 ^uncultivated, 8996
in plantations, 8 in towns, and 17,942, including a portion
of Lough Neagh, under water. It is bounded on the north
by Lough Neagh, on the east by the county of Down, on the
the south by Louth, and on the west by Monaghan and Tyrone.
The county was made shire ground in 1586, and called Ar¬
magh after the city of the same name, by the Lord Deputy, Sir
John Perrott, who projected the division of the greater part of
the province of Ulster into seven counties. When James I.
proceeded to plant with English and Scotch colonists, the vast
tracts of land escheated to the crown in Ulster, the whole of the
arable and pasture land in Armagh, estimated at 77,800 acres,
was to have been allotted in 61 portions, 19 of which, compris¬
ing 22,180 acres were to have been allotted to the church, and
42, amounting to 55,620 acres, to English and Scotch colonists,
servitors, native Irish, and four corporate towns,—the swords¬
men to be dispersed throughout Connaught and Munster. This
project was not strictly adhered to in the county of Armagh,
neither were the Irish swordsmen or soldiers transplanted into
Connaught and Munster from this or some other counties.
Armagh is now divided into eight baronies, viz.. Armagh
Lews Lower and Upper, Oneiland East and West, Orior
Lower and Upper, and Turenny. It contains 28 parishes
and parts of parishes, the greater number of which are in the
archdiocese of Armagh, and a few in the diocese of Dromore.
I he county is in the Belfast military district, having barracks
at Armagh, Charlemont, and Newry, and the headquarters of
the county militia are at Markethill. The constabulary force
consists of 278 men and officers, with headquarters at Armagh,
and five districts, comprising 36 stations, at Armagh, Bally-
bot, Crossmaglen, Newtown-Hamilton, and Portadown. As¬
sizes are held at Armagh, where the county prison, the county
infirmary, and the district lunatic asylum are situated. The
only savings bank in the county is at Armagh. There are two
poor-law unions, Armagh (partly in Tyrone) and Lurgan
(partly in Antrim and Down). The amount of property in the
jahed ^der the act 6th and 7th Will. IV., cap. 84
(Griffith s Valuation), is L.236,860, and the net annual value
of property rated to the poor is L.310,061. The chief towns
are the city and borough of Armagh, population in 1851, 9306 •
Lurgan, 4211, Portadown, 3091; the smaller market-towns of
I anderagee, Markethill, and Newtown-Uamilton, partof Newry
also, with 3875 inhabitants, is in this county, the remainder
with 9616 inhabitants, being in the county of Down The
county returns three members to the Imperial Parliament, two
A R M
at Li-ge,—constituency in 1851, under 13th and
tuency 318 ’ 811(1 one lor Armagh city,—consti-
Armagh is supposed to have formed part of the district
described by Ptolemy as the possessions of the Vinderii and
Voiuntii; and afterwards, together with Louth, Monaghan,
and some smaller districts, formed part of a territory called
Oigial oi Uriah tor about two centuries it was subject to
the occasional incursions of the Danes. The antiquities of
the county consist of cairns and tumuli, the remains of the
fortress of Eamania near Armagh, once the residence of the
kings of Ulster; the Dane’s Cast, an extensive fortification
in the south-eastern portion of the county, extending into
the county of Down; spears, battle-axes, collars, rings, amu¬
lets, medals of gold, ornaments of silver, jet, and amber, &c.,
have also been found in various places. The religious houses
were at Armagh, Clonfeacle, Killevy, Kilmore, Stradhail-
loyse, and Tahenny. Of military antiquities the most re¬
markable are Tyrone’s ditches, near Poyntz-Pass, Castle
Roe, the fort of Navan, the castles of CrifF-Keirn and Ar-
gonell, and that in the pass of Moyrath.
The general surface of the county is gently undulating
and pleasingly diversified; but in the northern extremity, on
the borders of Lough Neagh, is a considerable tract of low
marshy land, and the southern border of the county is oc¬
cupied by a barren range of hills, the highest of which, named
Slieve Gullion, attains an elevation of 1893 feet, being the
highest mountain in Ulster excepting Slieve Donard in the
county of Down. The summit of Slieve Gullion, command¬
ing one of the finest prospects in the province, is crowned
by a large cairn or pile of stones which forms the roof of a
singular cavern of artificial construction. In the western
portion of the county are the Few Mountains, a chain of
abrupt hills mostly incapable of cultivation.
The soil of the northern portion of the county is a rich brown
loam, on a substratum of clay or gravel, with an abundance of
limestone near Armagh and other places. Towards Charle¬
mont there is much reclaimable bog resting on a limestone sub¬
stratum. The. eastern portion of the county is generally of a
light friable soil; the southern portion rocky and barren, with
but little bog except in the neighbourhood of Newtown-Ha¬
milton. The climate of Armagh is considered to be one of the
most genial in Ireland, and less rain is supposed to fall in this
than in any other county.
, ^ ke county is well watered by numerous streams ; the prin-
cipal arethe Callen,.the Tynan, and the Tallwater, flowing into
the Blackwater, which after forming part of the boundary be¬
tween this county and Tyrone, empties itself into the south¬
western angle of Lough Neagh. The Tara, the Newtown-
Hamilton, the Creggan, and the Fleury, flow into the Bay of
Dundalk. The Cam or Camlin joins the Bann, which, rising
m the Mourne Mountains, in the southern extremity of the
county of Down, forms part of the western boundary of Ar-
magh county, and falls into Loch Neagh to the east of the Black-
water. fhe Newry canal, communicating with Carlingford
Lough at Warrenspoint, six miles below Newry, proceeds
northwards through the county of Armagh for about 21 miles
joining the Bann at Whitecoat, in the bed of which river it is
continued to Lough Neagh. The tolls, arising from tonnage
dues ot one shilling per ton inwards and one penny per ton
outwards, amount to about L.5000 per annum. The Ulster
Canal commences at Charlemont on the River Blackwater, near
its junction with Lough Neagh, proceeding through the west-
ern border of the county and passing thence to the south-west
by Monaghan and Clones into Upper Lough Erne, after a course
of 48 miles.
The geological features of the county are various and inter¬
esting. The granite of Slieve Gullion, an offset of the granite
district of Down, is often used for millstones, being very hard
and fine grained. The Newry Mountains and the Fathom Hills
are also composed of granite. Around Camlough large beds of
mica-slate exist. Slate quarries have been worked partially at
Dorcy, i\ ewtown-Hamilton, Creggan Duff, and in the neigh¬
bourhood of Crossmaglen. Lead mines have been worked, but
613
Armagh.
614
ARMAGH.
Armagh, hitherto without much success, near Ready and at Derrynoose
near Middleton ; there are also indications of lead at Drumna-
honey near Markethill, and at Ballymore near Poyntz-Pass; of
copper at Killevy near Newry, and of manganese and antimony
in the neighbourhood of Ready. The other mineral substances
found are potters’ clay and a variety of ochres. A very pe¬
culiar deposit of fuel more recent than coal, viz., the lignite or
wood-coal of Lough Neagh is found in the district included be¬
tween Washing Bay in Tyrone and Sandy Bay in Antrim; it
is so abundant in some places that pits have been sunk to raise
it when other fuel was scarce. Sir Robert Rane states in his
work on the Industrial Resources of Ireland, that the econo¬
mic value of the lignite appears by analysis to be about two-
thirds that of average coal, and in all respects as to application
to industrial uses the position of lignite is between that of coal
and wood. The heat produced from it is more diffused but less
intense than that from coal. There are many mineral springs
scattered throughout the county, generally deriving their vir¬
tues from carbonate of iron, but none have hitherto been em¬
ployed medicinally.
The total population in 1821 amounted to 197,427 souls,
being at the rate of one individual to every acre and a-half,
or one family to every eight acres. Of this population,
28,905 were described as being employed in agriculture,
67,182 in trade, manufactures, and commerce, and 14,521
in other occupations, leaving 86,819 of both sexes and of
every age unoccupied. In 1831 and 1841 the population
was 220,134 and 232,393 respectively, but in 1851 the
numbers had declined to 196,085, inhabiting 35,073 houses.
Armagh, however, still remains, in proportion to its area,
the most densely peopled county in Ireland, excepting that
of Dublin, which includes the metropolis.
The land is in general but indifferently cultivated, yet
owing to the occupation of the peasantry in various branches
of the linen manufacture they are better lodged, clothed,
and fed than in most other parts of Ireland. The cultivation
of grain is somewhat on the decrease; that of green crops,
on the contrary, increases, and the number of acres under
flax had increased from 5181 in 1849 to 13,052 in 1851.
The total amount of land under crops amounted in 1851 to
175,662, viz., wheat, 16,320; oats, 77,347; barley, here,
and rye, 3314 ; beans and pease, 1168 ; potatoes, 31,887 ;
turnips 7870; other green crops, 3071 ; flax, 13,032 ; mea¬
dow and clover, 21,632.
In consequence of the dense population the farms are in
general very small, and show less tendency to decrease in
number than those of most other parts of Ireland. Not¬
withstanding the very diminutive size of the farms, their
owners are generally in circumstances of comparative com¬
fort, owing to their employment in the linen manufacture.
There are few who do not keep at least one cow, or a few
sheep ; none but the poorest cottar is without a pig. Their
usual diet is oatmeal, potatoes, and milk porridge, varied
sometimes by salt herrings. The better description of far¬
mers use animal food, chiefly bacon and poultry.
The principal manufacture, and that which has given a
peculiar tone to the character of the population is the linen.
It is noways necessary to the promotion of this manufacture
that the spinners and weavers should be congregated in large
towns, or united in crowded and unwholesome factories. On
the contrary, most of its branches can be carried on in the
cottages of the peasantry. The men devote to the loom
those hours which are not required for the cultivation of their
little farms; the women spin and reel the yarn during the
intervals of their other domestic occupations. Smooth lawns,
perennial streams, pure springs, and the open face of heaven,
are necessary for perfecting the bleaching process. Hence
the extensive bleachers, with all their assistants and machi¬
nery, dwell in the country. Such is the effect of this com¬
bination of agricultural occupations with domestic manufac¬
tures, that the farmers are more than competent to supply the
resident population of the county with vegetable, though not
with animal, food ; and some of the less crowded and less
productive parts of Ulster receive from it a considerable sup¬
ply of oats, barley, and flour. Apples are grown in such
quantities as to entitle the county to the epithet bestowed
on it, of the orchard of Ireland.
In the towns and level parts of the county the Protestant
religion, in its two principal forms of the Established Episco¬
pal and Presbyterian church, predominates; but the Roman
Catholic is prevalent in the mountainous and less cultivated
parts. As far as maybe conjectured from the returns of the
commissioners of education, the Roman Catholics constitute
nearly one half of the gross population.
According to those returns, the number of children at
school in 1824 amounted to 13,800. If the total number
of children between five and fifteen years of age, which may
be called the period of education, were 49,000, as stated in
the population returns of 1821, upwards of two-thirds of the
whole remained uninstructed. In 1851, there were 111
national schools in operation, attended by 9458 children;
5500 males and 3958 females.
The union of manufacturing and agricultural industry in
contributing to their prosperity, has also had a strikingly
favourable effect on the manners and appearance of the
people. (h. s—R.)
Armagh, a city and parliamentary borough, in the county
of the same name, 82 miles north of Dublin, in Eat. 54.
20.55. N. and in Long. 6. 37.57. W. It is delightfully situ¬
ated on the side of a steep hill, almost in the centre of a
fertile valley. With the exception of Kilkenny and Clon¬
mel, Armagh is the most populous inland town in Ireland.
It is the seat of the archiepiscopal see of the primate of all
Ireland, whose ecclesiastical province comprises six consoli¬
dated dioceses. 1. Armagh and Clogher; 2. Tuam, Ardagh,
Killala, and Achonry; 3. Derry and Raphoe; 4. Down,
Connor, and Dromore ; 5. Kilmore and Elphin ; 6. Meath.
The corporation which was styled “ the Sovereign, Free
Burgesses, and Commonalty of the Borough of Armagh,”
was abolished by the provisions of the Municipal Reform Bill.
Markets are held on Tuesdays for general purposes, and on
Wednesdays and Saturdays for grain. The city is connected
with Belfast by the Ulster Railway, and will on the com¬
pletion of the Newry and Enniskillen railway, possess direct
communication with those towns. The borough of Armagh
(constituency in 1851, 318) returns one member to the
Imperial parliament. Pop. in 1851, 9306.
Armagh, though now much reduced in population, was once
considered as the metropolis of the island, and second only to
Dublin in the number of its inhabitants. The honour of being
its founder is attributed to St Patrick. It was built on an emi¬
nence named Druimsailech, or the Hill of Willows; its pre¬
sent name is supposed to he a slight corruption of Ardmacha,
the High Place or Field. In 448 a synod was held here, the
canons of which are still in existence. During the period an¬
terior to the arrival of the English in Ireland, it suffered ex¬
tremely from the assaults of the Danes, by whom it was re¬
peatedly plundered and burnt. Nor was its condition much
bettered by the change of masters. De Courcy, FitzAdelm,
and De Lacy, pillaged it in turn in their attempts to subdue
Ulster; and it was exposed to similar calamities during the
wars by which the north of Ireland was desolated in the reign
of Elizabeth. Her successor, James L, granted it a charter,
according to which it has since been governed. Its decline was
accelerated by the non-residence of the archbishops, who, in
consequence of the unsettled state of the northern province,
fixed their residence for many years at Drogheda. From this
deplorable state it was raised by Lord Rokeby, better known
by the name of Primate Robinson. When he determined to
make it the seat of his permanent residence, this venerable city
was little more than a collection of cabins. He erected in it an
archiepiscopal palace, a college or grammar school for classical
education, apubliclibrary,nowcontainingaboutl4,000 volumes,
and an observatory well furnished with astronomical instru¬
ments. Besides these, the city now contains a Roman Catholic
Armagh.
A R M
i\rmagnac chapel, a Roman Catholic cathedral in course of erection, three
II . Presbyterian churches, and several places of worship for other
Armenia, religious denominations. Its other public buildings are, the
cathedral, a cruciform building, repaired and beautified chiefly
at the expense of the present primate, more remarkable for its
antiquity than its architectural beauty, the court-house, the
prison, the charter-school, the barrack, the county infirmary,
the lunatic asylum, and the fever hospital, which last was
erected and is maintained at the expense of Lord John George
Beresford, the present primate. (h. s—n.)
ARMAGNAC, a small territory of France, in the old
province of Gascony, now forming a part of the departments
of Gers, Haut Pyrenees, and Tarn and Garonne. It gave
a title to the descendants of the ancient dukes of Gascony
and Aquitaine. I he counts of Armagnac bore a conspi¬
cuous part in the wars of France and England in the fif¬
teenth century. See France.
ARMA1 UR A, in a general sense, is synonymous with
armour. It is more particularly used in the Roman mili¬
tary art to denote a kind of exercise performed with missile
weapons. In this sense armatura stands contradistinguished
from palaria; the latter being the exercise of the heavy¬
armed, the former of the light-armed.
ARMENIA, an extensive country of Western Asia, di¬
vided at present between Turkey, Russia, and Persia. It
extends from the Caucasus on the north, to the mountains
of Kurdistan on the south; and from the Euphrates on the
west, nearly to the Caspian Sea on the east; being thus be¬
tween Eat. 37. and 42. N. and Long. 39. and 50. E. The
boundaries of this country, however, have been very fluc¬
tuating, and at no time exactly defined. Its area is esti¬
mated at about 90,000 square miles, and the population at
2,000,000. It forms an elevated table-land, sinking towards
the plains of Iran on the east, and those of Asia Minor on
the west. Its plains are elevated 7000 feet above the level
of the sea, while the gigantic Ararat rises to the height of
17,260 feet. From Ararat lofty ridges, intersected by deep
valleys, diverge in various directions. Armenia is well wa¬
tered and fertile, producing grain, cotton, tobacco, grapes,
and other fruits; and abounds in romantic mountain and
forest scenery, and rich pasture land. Its principal rivers
are the Euphrates, the Tigris, the Aras, and the Kur, all of
which have their sources in Armenia. The climate, from
the elevation of the country, is generally cold, but not un¬
healthy. The largest of its lakes is the Van, whose circum¬
ference is estimated at 240 miles. The Sevan and Urmia
Lakes are also of considerable extent, and the waters of the
latter are remarkable for their saltness. Armenia is men¬
tioned by ancient authors as abounding in metals and pre¬
cious stones; and its mines of iron, copper, silver, lead, and
other metals, are still wrought.
Under the name of Armenia, ancient writers included a
considerable part of Asia Minor, to which was afterwards
given the name of Armenia Minor.
The Armenians call themselves Haiks, and their country
Hayotz-zor, the valley of the Haiks, from Haik, the fifth
in descent from Noah by Japhet, according to the tradition¬
ary genealogy of the country. They are active, industrious,
and hospitable; and are a handsome race, the women es¬
pecially being noted for the delicacy and regularity of their
features. The Armenians now form only about a seventh
part of the population of Armenia, the rest of its inhabitants
being chiefly I urks and Kurds, from the persecutions
and tyranny to which they have been exposed, most of them
have left their country, and though originally a brave and
wailike people, they have become distinguished for their
peaceful character, and their submissiveness to the govern¬
ment of every country in which they live. Devoted to trade
and manufactures, they have prospered wherever they have
settled; and their scattered colonies now extend from Hun¬
gary and Venice to Calcutta, and even to China, and from
ARM 615
fet Petersburg and Moscow to the deserts of Africa. They Armenia,
generally live in large families, under the patriarchal rule
of the oldest member. Their religion is a branch of the
Oiiental Church. They have few holidays, and condemn
the worship of images. Their spiritual concerns are super¬
intended by four patriarchs, of whom the principal, called
the Catholicos, resides at the convent of Etchmiadzin, near
Erivan. One resides at Sis in Caramania; another at Gand-
sasar, near the Lake of Erivan ; and the fourth at Achta-
mar, an island in the Lake of Van. Some Armenians have
united with the Church of Rome, and have two archbishops,
one at Nachshivan on the Don, and the other at the Island
of San Lazaro, in the lagunes of Venice.
The early history of Armenia, like that of most other coun¬
tries, is involved in obscurity. According to the Armenian
account, the first ruler of the country was Haik the son of
Togarmah, mentioned in Gen. x. 3. as the grandson of Japhet.
He is said to have left Babylon to escape the tyranny of
Belus king, of Assyria, and to have established himself and
his family in Armenia. Belus pursued him thither, but was
defeated and slain by Haik about twenty-one centuries be¬
fore the Christian era. Four centuries later reigned Ara,
the seventh in descent from Haik, who having incurred the
hatred of Semiramis queen of Assyria, was slain in a battle
with that nation, and his kingdom became an Assyrian pro¬
vince, although it still continued to be governed by its own
princes. From this time Armenia remained subject to Assyria
till about the middle of the eighth century b.c. Barvir, who
was then ruler, joined the Medes and Babylonians in their re¬
volt against Sardanapalus, and Armenia recovered its inde¬
pendence. Tigranes or Dikran, who flourished about two cen¬
turies later, was the friend and ally of Cyrus, and is said to
have rendered that monarch great assistance in his contest with
Astyages king of the Medes. According to the Armenians, this
is the Tigranes who built the city of Tigranocerta. He was
succeeded by his son Vahakin, the Hercules of the Armenians,
who was celebrated in song and story for his prowess and ex¬
ploits, and received deification after death. The last of the
Haik dynasty was Vahi, who was king of Armenia in the time
of Alexander the Great. He took part with Darius against
the .Macedonians, but was defeated and slain. Armenia thus
fell into the hands of the conqueror ; and Mithrenes, a Persian,
was appointed governor of the country. Taking advantage of
the dissensions which followed the death of Alexander the
Great, the Armenians threw oflFthe Macedonian yoke, about
b.c. 317. Ardvates was chosen king ; but on his death, about
33 years afterwards, they were obliged to submit to the Syrians.
About b.c. 190,. when Antiochus the Great was defeated by the
Romans, Artaxias and Zariadris, two Armenian nobles, took ad¬
vantage of the moment to free their country from the Syrian
yoke.. Artaxias obtained possession of Armenia-Major, and Za¬
riadris ol Armenia-Minor, which his descendants continued to
hold till the Sqphenian Artanes was conquered and deposed by
Tigranes II. king of Armenia-Major, who annexed it to his do¬
minions. The descendants of Artaxias reigned in Armenia till
their expulsion by the Arsacidai. About the middle of the se¬
cond century b.c., Mithridates I., of the race of the Arsacidai,
was king of Parthia. He greatly extended the bounds of his em¬
pire, conquered Syria, and established his brother Wagharshag
in Armenia, b.c. 149. With him commenced the dynasty of the
Arsacidae in that country. Wfigharshag greatly promoted the
prosperity of his kingdom by founding cities, establishing laws,
and rewarding persons of talent. His great-grandson, Tigranes
II., the most celebrated of the family, ascended the throne in
the year 89 b.c. He conquered Artanes king of Sophene, be¬
sides several other petty chiefs, and annexed their dominions to
his own. He wrested from the Parthians several of their pro¬
vinces, and made himself master of Syria, and was so elated with
successes, that he assumed to himself the title of King of kings.
Incited by his father-in-law Mithridates king of Pontus, who
was anxious to engage him in a war with the Romans, he
marched into Cappadocia, and returned loaded with booty, be¬
sides no fewer than 300,000 captives, whom he employed in
building the city of Tigranocerta, which they afterwards
peopled: the Armenian historians, however, state that it was
Tigranes I. who founded his city. After the defeat of Mith-
616 A R M
Armenia, ridates he took refuge with Tigranes, who, though he mani-
fested no inclination to espouse his cause, was so much offended
at the haughty manner of the Roman messenger sent to demand
the fugitive, that he returned a peremptory refusal. Lucullus,
the Roman general, immediately invaded Armenia, defeated
the forces sent against him, and took Tigranocerta. In the
following year (n.c. 68) the combined forces of Tigranes and
Mithridates were totally routed; hut the mutinous disposition
of the Roman troops prevented Lucullus from following up his
success, and Tigranes recovered the greater part of his lost
dominions. The arrival of Pompey, however, in 66, soon
changed the aspect of affairs ; and Mithridates, who had suc¬
ceeded in establishing himself in his former possessions, was
again obliged to take refuge in Armenia. Tigranes in the
meantime had another enemy to encounter in the person of his
son, who being detected in a conspiracy against his father,
sought the protection and assistance of the Parthian king. That
monarch invaded Armenia with a considerable force, but was
soon obliged to retire, and the young Tigranes applied to the
Romans for assistance. It was at this time that Mithridates
implored the protection of his son-in-law; hut Tigranes sus¬
pecting him of having aided the designs of his son, not only
refused to receive him, hut set a price upon his head, and has¬
tened to supplicate Pompey who was entering his kingdom un¬
der the guidance of the young Tigranes. He succeeded in ob¬
taining peace, and was allowed to keep possession of Armenia,
with the exception of the provinces of Sophene and Gordyene,
which were erected into a separate kingdom for his son Tig¬
ranes ; and from this time he remained a faithful ally of the
Romans. He afterwards engaged in war with the king of Par-
thia, hut their differences were settled by the mediation of
Pompey. He is supposed to have died about n.c. 55, and was
succeeded by his son Artavasdes. This monarch, having de¬
serted the cause of the Romans, was taken prisoner by Antony
and carried to Alexandria, where he was afterwards beheaded
by Cleopatra in n.c. 30; and Armenia became tributary to the
Romans.
About the commencement of the Christian era, Abgarus was
king of Armenia. On his death the kingdom was divided be¬
tween his son Anane and his nephew Sanadroug ; but the am¬
bitious Sanadroug expelled Anane, and took possession of the
kingdom. Sanadroug was succeeded by the usurper Erowant,
an Arsacid by the female line, who made himself master of
the kingdom about a.d. 58. He extirpated the family of his
predecessor, with the exception of the infant Ardaches, who
was placed in concealment, and carried to the court of Persia.
When Ardaches arrived at manhood, with the assistance of
some of the neighbouring princes he deposed and slew the tyrant,
and obtained possession of the kingdom. Ardaches was a brave
and martial prince, and conquered the Alani of the Caucasus,
and some other races; but his reign was generally tranquil,
and he did much to ameliorate the condition of his subjects by
the establishment of schools and other useful institutions.
When the Arsacidse were expelled from the Persian throne
(a.d. 226), Chosroes I., surnamed the Great, was king of Ar¬
menia. Being allied to the expelled family, he naturally took
up arms in their defence; and marching against the usurper
Ardashir he defeated him in battle. Chosroes, shortly after,
was assassinated by Anag at the instigation of Ardashir, and
Armenia became subject to Persia, a.d. 232.
In the massacre of the royal family which ensued, none
escaped but Tiridates, a son of Chosroes, who fled to Rome; and
afterwards, with the assistance of the Romans, succeeded in esta¬
blishing himself upon the throne, a.d. 259. The first act of his
reign was the persecution of the Christians. St Gregory, sur¬
named the Illuminator, was cast into prison ; but the king being
miraculously cured of a dangerous distemper by that saint, he
and most of his people embraced the Christian religion. The
introduction of Christianity tended to arouse the animosity of
the Persians; and from this period Armenia became the theatre
of almost uninterrupted struggles between the Romans and
Persians, until Theodosius the Great agreed to cede to Persia
the eastern part of the country, which was hence called Persar-
menia, while the western part was attached to the Roman Em¬
pire. Theodosius nominated Arsaces IV., then king of Armenia,
governor of the western division ; and the Persian king, in order
to conciliate the people, appointed Chosroes III., a descendant
ARM
of another branch of the Arsacidae, governor of the eastern Armenian
part. On the death of Arsaces IV. his dominions were con-Language,
ferred on the commander Caza von ; and the rule of the Arsacidse /
in Persarmenia ended with Ardasches IV. who was dethroned
by the Persian king Bahram V. in 428. From that time Arme¬
nia ceased to be a kingdom, and till 632 it was ruled by Persian
governors. From the time that the Persians obtained a footing
in Armenia they strenuously endeavoured to subvert Christi¬
anity, and to establish Paganism in its stead. For that purpose
they had recourse to the most cruel persecutions, and frequent
insurrections were the consequence. From 632 till 859 Arme¬
nia was the scene of almost incessant struggles between the
Greeks and Mohammedans, and it became by turns subject to
each. At the latter date the dynasty of the Pagratidae, who had
settled in Armenia at an early period, came into power. This
family was of Jewish origin, and had risen to be one of the
most powerful in that country. Ashod, one of this family, so
gained the confidence of the khalif as to be declared king of
Armenia in 885, and his title was afterwards recognized by
the Greeks. He reigned thirty-one years ; and his descendants
maintained their authority in Armenia till 1079, when Gagik
was treacherously murdered by the Greeks, and the greater
part of the country became dependent on the Grecian empire.
Koussen, a relative of the late king, founded a small princi¬
pality in the Taurus Mountains, north of Cilicia, which gra¬
dually extended its boundaries to the Mediterranean. The
princes of this house allied themselves with the European
monarchs in the crusades. This kingdom maintained its inde¬
pendence till the year 1375, when the last king Leon VI. was
taken prisoner by the Mamelukes of Egypt. After a captivity
of six years he obtained his liberty, and wandered through
Europe from one country to another till the time of his death,
which took place at Paris in 1393. In 1583 Armenia was
overrun by the Ottomans, who treated the people with such
cruelty that great numbers of them took refuge in Persia and
other countries. In 1604 Shah Abbas made an incursion into
Armenia, and carried off a great part of the inhabitants ; and
from that time Armenia lost every shadow of nationality and
independence. The greater part of the country was annexed
to Turkey, and divided into pashalics ; while the eastern part
remained subject to Persia. Since the commencement of the
present century, Russia has, from time to time, acquired con¬
siderable portions of this territory; and at present Armenia
forms the Turkish pashalics of Erzeroom, Trebizond, Diarbe-
kir, Kars, and Van, part of the Persian province of Azerbijan,
and the Russian government of Transcaucasia ; Mount Ara¬
rat being, as it were, the central boundary-stone between them.
—See Historice Armeniacce, by Moses of Chorene ; Memoir<:$
Historiques et Geographiques sur VArmenie, par M. Saint
Martin; History of the Vartan, translated by Neumann; Jour¬
nal of the Geographical Society; Kinneir’s Memoirs of the
Persian Empire, and Travels in Armenia; Ker Porter’s
Travels, &c.
ARMENIAN Language. The translation of the Bible
by Miesrob is the earliest monument of the Armenian or
Haikan language that has come down to us. The dialect
in which this version is written, and in which it is still pub¬
licly read in their churches, is called the old Armenian. The
modern Armenian not only departs from the elder form by
dialectual changes in the native elements of the language
itself, but also by the great intermixture of Persian and
Turkish words which has resulted from the conquest and
subjection of the country. It is, perhaps, this diversity of
the ancient and modern idioms which has given rise to the
many conflicting opinions that exist as to the relation in
which the Armenian stands to other languages. Thus Cir-
bied and Vater both assert that it is an original language,
that is, one so distinct from all others in its fundamental
character as not to be classed with any of the great families
of languages. Eichhorn, on the other hand, affirms that the
learned idiom of the Armenian undoubtedly belongs to the
Medo-Persian family. Whereas Pott says that, notwith¬
standing its many points of relation to that family, it cannot
strictly be considered to belong to it; and Gatterer actually
A II M
Armenian classed it as a living sister of the Basque, Finnish, and
Version.^ 'Wre|s}1 languages.
As to form it is said to be rough, and full of consonants ; to
possess ten cases in the noun—a number which is only exceeded
by the F innish ; to have no dual; to have no mode of denot¬
ing gender in the noun by change of form, but to be obliged
to append the words man and woman as the marks of sex—
thus to say prophet-woman for prophetess (nevertheless, mo¬
dern writers use the syllable ouhi to distinguish the feminine);
to bear a remarkable resemblance to Greek in the use of the
participle and in the whole syntactical structure ; and to have
adopted the Arabian system of metre.
Until the third century of our era, the Armenians used either
the Persian or Greek alphabet. In the fifth century, however,
the translation of the Bible created the necessity for characters
which would more adequately represent the peculiar sounds of
the language. Accordingly, after a fruitless attempt of a cer¬
tain Daniel, and after several efforts on his own part, Miesrob
saw a hand in a dream write the very characters which now
constitute the Armenian alphabet. The 38 letters thus ob¬
tained are chiefly founded on the Greek, but have partly made
out their number by deriving some forms from the Zend al¬
phabet. The order of writing is from left to right. Miesrob
employed these letters in his translation of the Bible, and thus
ensured their universal and permanent adoption by the nation.
(Gesenius; article Palceographie, in Ersch and Gruber.) (j. n.)
Armenian Version. The Armenian version of the Bible
was undertaken in the year 410 by Miesrob, with the aid of
his pupils Joannes Ecelensis and Josephus Palnensis. It
appears that the patriarch Isaac first attempted, in conse¬
quence of the Persians having destroyed all the copies of
the Greek version, to make a translation from the Peshito;
that Miesrob became his coadjutor in this work; and that
they actually completed their translation from the Syriac.
But when the above-named pupils, who had been sent to
the ecclesiastical council at Ephesus, returned, they brought
with them an accurate copy of the Greek Bible. Upon this
Miesrob laid aside his translation from the Peshito, and pre¬
pared to commence anew from a more authentic text. Im¬
perfect knowledge of the Greek language, however, induced
him to send his pupils to Alexandria, to acquire accurate
Greek scholarship ; and, on their return, the translation was
accomplished. Moses of Chorene, the historian of Armenia,
who was also employed, as a disciple of Miesrob, on this
version, fixes its completion in the year 410; but he is con¬
tradicted by the date of the Council of Ephesus, which ne¬
cessarily makes it subsequent to the year 431.
In the Old Testament, this version adheres closely to the
LXX. (but, in the Book of Daniel, has followed the version of
Theodotion). Its most striking characteristic is, that it does
not follow any known recension of the LXX. Although it
more frequently agrees with the Alexandrine text, in readings
which are peculiar to the latter, than it does with the Aldine
or Complutensian text; yet, on the other hand, it also has fol¬
lowed readings which are only found in the last two. Bertholdt
accounts for this mixed text by assuming that the copy of the
Greek Bible sent from Ephesus contained the Lucian recension,
and that the pupils brought back copies according to the Hesy-
chian recension from Alexandria, and that the translators made
the latter their standard, but corrected their version by aid of
the former. ^ The version of the New Testament is equally
close to the Greek original, and also represents a text made up
of Alexandrine and Occidental readings.
1 his version was afterwards revised and adapted to the Pe¬
shito, in the sixth century, on the occasion of an ecclesiastical
union between the Syrians and Armenians. Again, in the thir¬
teenth century, an Armenian king, Hethom or Haitho, adapted
the Armenian version to the Vulgate, by way of smoothing
the way for a union of the Roman and Armenian churches.
Lastly, the bishop Uscan, who printed the first edition of this
version at Amsterdam in 1666, is also accused of having inter¬
polated the text, by adding all that he found the Vulgate con¬
tained more than the Armenian version. The existence of the
verse 1 John v. 7, in this version, is ascribed to this supplemen-
VOL. III.
ARM 617
tary labour of Uscan.. It is clear from what has been said, that Afmen-
the critical uses of this version are limited to determining the tieres
readings of the LXX. and of the Greek text of the New Tes- ||
tament which it represents, and that it has suffered many al- Arminius.
terations which diminish its usefulness in that respect, (j. n.) 1 ^
ARMENTIERES, a small handsome town in the depart¬
ment Du Nord, in France, containing 6675 inhabitants. It
was taken in 1667 by Louis XIV., who dismantled it. The
river Lys traverses the town, and forms a small harbour.
Its principal manufactures are cotton, linen, lace, thread, and
sailcloth. Long. 3. 3. E. Lat. 50. 40. N.
ARMIGER, a title of dignity belonging to such gentle¬
men as bear arms ; and these are either by courtesy, as sons
of noblemen, eldest sons of knights, &c.; or by creation,
such as the king’s servants, &c. See Esquire.
ARMILLARY Sphere. See Geography, Globes.
ARMINIANS, a religious sect, which arose in Holland,
by a separation from the Calvinists. They followed Armi¬
nius, who, thinking the doctrine of Calvin with regard to
free-will, predestination, and grace, too severe, began, in the
year 1.591, to express his doubts concerning them; and
upon further inquiry adopted sentiments more nearly re¬
sembling those of the Lutherans. After his appointment to
the theological chair at Leyden, he thought it his duty to
avow and vindicate the principles which he had embraced ;
and the freedom with which he published and defended them
exposed him to the resentment of those that adhered to the
theological system of Geneva, which then prevailed in Hol¬
land ; but his principal opponent was Gomar, his colleague.
1 he controversy which was thus begun became more gene¬
ral after the death of Arminius, in the year 1609, and in¬
volved the United Provinces in civil discord. The Cal¬
vinists, or Gomarists as they were now called, appealed to a
national synod. Accordingly the synod of Dort was con¬
vened by order of the States General, in 1618, and was com¬
posed of ecclesiastical deputies from the United Provinces,
as well as from the reformed churches of England, Hessia,
Bremen, Switzerland, and the Palatinate. The principal
advocate in favour of the Arminians was Episcopius, who at
that time was professor of divinity at Leyden. It was first
proposed to discuss the principal subjects in dispute, and
that the Arminians should be allowed to state and vindicate
the grounds on which their opinions were founded: but some
difference arising as to the proper mode of conducting the
debate, the Arminians were excluded from the assembly,
their case was tried in their absence, and they were pro¬
nounced guilty of pestilential errors, and condemned as cor¬
rupters of the true religion. In consequence of this deci¬
sion they were treated with great severity, deprived of all
their posts and employments, their ministers silenced, and
their congregations suppressed. However, after the death
of Prince Maurice, who had been a partisan of the Gomar¬
ists, in the year 1625, the Arminian exiles were restored
to their former tranquillity ; and, under the toleration of the
state they erected churches and founded a college at Am¬
sterdam, appointing Episcopius to be the first theological
professor. Ihe Arminian system has very much prevailed
in England since the time of Archbishop Laud, and its sup¬
porters in other countries are numerous.
The Arminians are also called Remonstrants, from a
humble petition, entitled their Remonstrance, which, in the
year 1610, they addressed to the states of Holland. Their
principal writers are Arminius, Episcopius, Yorstius, Gro-
tius, Curcelkeus, Limborch, Le Clerc, and Wetstein ; not
to mention many others of more modern date.
ARMINIUS, a celebrated German chief. See Germany.
Arminius, Jacobus, whose real name in Low Dutch was
James Hermanni, a famous Protestant divine, was born at
Oude Water, in Holland, in 1560. He was ordained mini¬
ster at Amsterdam on the 11th of August 1588, where he
4 i
618 A 11 M
Armistice soon distinguished himself by his sermons, which were re-
II markable for their solidity and learning. Martin Lydius,
^ rms' j professor of divinity at Franeker, judging him a fit person
to refute a polemic in which Beza’s doctrine of predestina¬
tion had been attacked by some ministers of Delft, Armi-
nius at his desire undertook the task ; but upon thoroughly
examining the reasons on both sides, he adopted the opinions
he proposed to overturn, and afterwards went still farther
than the ministers of Delft had done. In 1600 he opposed
those who maintained that ministers should subscribe the
confession and catechism every year. During a pestilential
disease which raged at Amsterdam in 1602, he acted with
the greatest resolution and courage, in assisting the poor and
comforting the sick; and Lucas Trelcatius and Francis Junius
dying of that disease at Leyden, the curators of that univer¬
sity chose Arminius professor of divinity there. He was
afterwards made doctor of divinity. Disputes upon grace were
kindled in the university ; and he was likewise involved in
a new contest occasioned by a disputation of his concerning
the divinity of the Son. These contests, his continual la¬
bour, and the vexation at seeing his reputation blasted by
slanders in relation to his opinions, impaired his health, and
threw him into a fit of sickness, of which he died on the
19th of October 1609. Arminius was esteemed an excel¬
lent preacher: his voice was low, but very agreeable ; his
pronunciation admirable ; he was easy and affable to per¬
sons of all ranks, and facetious in conversation amongst his
friends. The curators of the university of Leyden had so
great a regard for him that they settled a pension upon his
wife and children. His several treatises, collected in a 4to
volume, were published at Leyden in 1629, and have been
frequently reprinted.
ARMISTICE, in Military Affairs, a temporary truce
or cessation of arms for a very short space of time. The
word is compounded of arma, arms, and sisto, to stop ox-
cause to stand still.
ARMLET, an ornament which is worn on the upper arm.
In the East, bracelets are generally worn by women, and
armlets only by men. The armlet, however, is only in use
among men as one of the insignia of sovereign power. The
Egyptian kings are represented with armlets, which were
also woi-n by the Egyptian women.
ARMORIC, or Aremoric, something that belongs to
the province of Bretagne or Britany, in France. The
name Armorica was anciently given to all the northern and
western coast of Gaul, from the Pyrenees to the Rhine,
under which name it was known even in Caesar’s time. The
word is of Bas-Breton origin, and signifies maritime ; com¬
pounded, according to M. Menage, of ar, upon, and mor, sea.
ARMORY, a storehouse of arms, or a place wherein mi¬
litary habiliments are kept ready for use. There ax-e armo¬
ries in all arsenals, citadels, castles, &c.
ARMOUR, a defensive habit, wherewith to cover and
secure the body from the attacks of an enemy. In ancient
statutes this is frequently called harness. A complete ar¬
mour anciently consisted of a casque or helm, a gorget, cui¬
rass, gauntlets, tasses, brassets, cuisnes, and covers for the
legs, to which the spurs were fastened. This formed ar¬
mour cap-ci-pie, and was used by the cavaliers and men-at-
arms. The infantry had only part of it, viz., a pot or head-
piece, a cuirass, and tasses; but all light. Lastly, the horses
themselves had their armour, wherewith to cover the head
and neck. Of all this furniture of war, scarce anything is
now retained except the cuirass and helmet; the gox-get ox-
neck-piece, which was latterly a mere ornament, and of no
defence, being no longer used.—See Meyrick’s Ancient
Armour.
ARMS, Arma, in a general sense, includes all kinds of
weapons, whether for defence or offence. See Army.
ARM
Arms, or Armories, in Heraldry, marks of dignity com- Arms
posed of certain figures and coloui-s, and box-ne on bannei-s, II
shields, &c., for the distinction of persons, families, and Al™^y‘
states. See Heraldry. v
ARMSTRONG, John, M.D., a physician, poet, and mis-
cellaneous writer, the friend of Thomson, Mallet, and Wilkes,
was born about the year 1709, in Castletown parish, Rox¬
burghshire, where his father and brother successively were
ministers of the Scottish church. He completed his edu¬
cation at the University of Edinbxxrgh, where he took his
degree in Physic, Feb. 4. 1732, with much reputation. His
px-ofessional success, however, does not seem to have been
at any time considerable, as he probably paid more atten¬
tion to literary than to medical labours. He took up his re¬
sidence in London, and in 1746 was appointed one of the
physicians to the Llospital for lame and sick soldiers behind
Buckingham House. In 1760 he was appointed physician
to the army in Germany, which appointment he held till the
peace of 1763. In a poetical epistle to John Wilkes in 1761,
he drew xxpon himself the enmity of the satirist Churchill,
and afterwards quarx-elled with Wilkes himself. His latter
years seem to have been embittered by disappointments,
as is evinced by the tone of his writings, in which he par¬
ticularly directs his sai-casms against his medical brethren
and the reviewers. He died in 1779, and was found, not¬
withstanding his want of professional success, to have saved
upwards of L.3000.
Dr Armstrong’s fii’st publication was a humorous pam¬
phlet, entitled An Essay for Abridging the Study of Physic,
Sc., containing much clever and well-directed satire. It
appeared anonymously in 1735. Of his numex-ous subse¬
quent essays, sketches, and poems, the only one by which
he is now remembered is his didactic poem, entitled rFhe Art
of Preserving Health, first published in 1744. As a poet¬
ical composition, its value is but small. It contains, how-
ever, some passages of considerable merit; and, considering
the nature of the subject, is perhaps as successful a per¬
formance as could have been expected. His smaller pieces,
including Benevolence, a poetical epistle ; Taste, an epistle
to a young critic ; Sketches by Launcelot Temple, Esq., fyc.,
were published along with the Art of Preserving Health,
in 1770, under the title of Miscellanies. They generally
display much humour and acuteness of observation.
Armstrong, John, M.D., an eminent physician and me¬
dical writer, was born in 1784, at Bishop Wearmouth in
Durham. Having received some preliminary education,
he completed his studies at the University of Edinburgh,
where he obtained his medical degx-ee in 1807. He then
became a candidate for practice in his native place, but soon
afterwards removed to Sunderland, where he engaged in
extensive practice, and became physician to the dispensary
in that town. This situation he resigned in 1817, and set¬
tled in London, where the reputation he had already ac-
quix-ed by his writings prepared the way for his future suc¬
cess. As a lecturer, also, in the Webb Street School at
London, Dr Armstrong was highly popular. His lectures,
edited by Joseph Rix, were published in 1834 in one vol¬
ume 8vo. His principal work is that entitled Practical Il¬
lustrations of Typhus Fever and other Febrile and Inflam¬
matory Diseases, which was pxxblished in 1816. Dr Arm¬
strong died of pulmonary consumption in 1829. Lie is re¬
presented as a man of estimable chax-acter,—yet it is to be
regx-etted that he had the temerity to depreciate such men
as Mead, Cullen, and Heberden ; though their reputation
indeed, stands too high to be affected by such criticism.
ARMUYDEN, a seapox-t town of the United Provinces,
in the island of Walcheren, formerly very flourishing, but
now inconsidei’able. Pop. 1340. Long. 3. 40. E. Lat. 51.
30. N.
619
A K M Y.
Army. An army, says Dr Johnson,1 is “ a collection of armed
nien obliged to obey one man.” This definition, however,
tionT" has little else than its brevity to recommend it. An army,
it is true, is “ a collection of armed men,” and such a
“ collection” is generally “ obliged to obey one man,” that
is to say, it is commonly placed under the exclusive con¬
trol and direction of an individual chief or leader. But it
does not follow that “ a collection of armed men obliged
to obey one man” is the distinguishing or principal cha¬
racteristic of an army, since a gang of robbers or banditti
would equally answer this description. To be at all ap¬
plicable, therefore, the definition of army must be at once
more comprehensive and more precise ; in other words, it
must include the specification of those peculiar circum¬
stances or attributes, the aggregate of which constitutes
the complex idea sought to be resolved. Hence an army
may, we think, be more accurately defined, a certain por¬
tion of the community selected, raised, or assembled, for
the defence of the state, by means of conscription, volun¬
tary enrolment, tenure of military service, or otherwise;
armed, disciplined, and organized, conformably to a given
system, which is considered best calculated for giving full
development and efficacy to its collective force; and com¬
manded by a chief or leader, with subordinate officers in
regular gradation, to carry his orders into effect, and move
the living machine, thus constructed, as he shall think pro¬
per to direct. It is an artificial or scientific combination
of a great number of powers, individually small or insig¬
nificant, so as, by their union and concentration, to ac¬
complish mighty and important deeds; a force which
states and nations create out of the elements of their
strength, as mechanicians form engines by taking advantage
of and skilfully combining the action of the primary me¬
chanical powers ; an instrument, in short, so contrived as,
though originally intended for the best, to be equally
available for the worst purposes, being alike fitted for de¬
fence or aggression, for protection or conquest, for restrain¬
ing and punishing the dishonest ambition of others, or
affording the means of gratifying our own. An army,
therefore, may be considered a species of movable engine,
composed of a vast number of individual parts or powers,
so arranged and organized as not only to act in concert,
but to exert their whole aggregate force in any direction
and upon any point which may be ordered or required.
At the present day this denomination is applied to any
given number of soldiers, consisting of artillery, infantry,
and cavalry, of various descriptions, all completely armed
and provided with engineers, a train of artillery, ammuni¬
tion, magazines, commissariat, and other necessary ad¬
juncts, subject to the command of a general, having un¬
der him lieutenant-generals, major-generals, brigadier-
generals, colonels, majors, captains, and subalterns :2 And
an army is now composed of battalions or squadrons, regi¬
ments, brigades, divisions, and sometimes corps d’armee;
two or more battalions or squadrons forming a regiment,
two or more regiments a brigade, two or more brigades
a division, and two or more divisions a corps d’armee. So
much for definition and description.
General Were we called upon to trace to its origin the history
ikserva- of war, we should find it necessary to ascend through
lions. every form and graciation of society to the very cradle
of the human race. Admitted on all hands to be one of Army,
the greatest evils, war is also, unhappily, one of the old-
est. “ II est triste d’imaginer,” says a celebrated mili¬
tary writer, “ que le premier art qu’aient invente les
hommes, ait ete celui de se nuire, et que, depuis le com¬
mencement des siecles, on ait combine plus de moyens
pour detruire I’humanite que pour la rendre heureuse.”3
This is a truth which cannot be disputed. The passions
of rivalry, jealousy, hatred, revenge, cupidity, thirst of
power or ambition, were born with the world; and these,
in their turn, gave birth to war, which again produced the
desire of conquering or combating with success. But, in
proportion as this desire came to prevail, men would na¬
turally be led to reflect as to the means best fitted to
insure its gratification: and as experience must soon
have convinced them that the battle was not always to
the strong, nor the race to the swift,—or, in other words,
that mere brute force, openly applied, was in many cases
insufficient to secure the victory, and, in most, productive
of a loss that countervailed it,—they must early have
discovered that some degree of combination was requi¬
site, and certain extrinsic qualities necessary, to render
it effectual; that violence might find an auxiliary in cun¬
ning, and resistance be paralysed by stratagem and sur¬
prise. Such, accordingly, is the state of things which
generally obtains amongst savage tribes, however warlike
and enterprising. They seldom go down to battle openly
and boldly; nor do they consider victory, when dearly
purchased, as either honourable or desirable. Artifice
is their main resource. The first principle of their sim¬
ple tactics is to steal unperceived upon the enemy, and
overwhelm him, while unsuspicious of attack and unpre¬
pared for resistance. In this and similar principles, how¬
ever, we discover the origin and primary development of
the military art. Its source is in the forest or the wil¬
derness. But as war is the first art which men invented,
so it is also that which was soonest cultivated and im¬
proved. It kept pace with the progress of society;—as
mankind multiplied, and communities extended them¬
selves, it received a corresponding expansion ;—more
means were combined, and a greater number of men were
assembled. This was the second stage of the art, where
it remained long stationary, and in nearly the same state
in which we find it at the present day among some of the
Asiatic nations. Science had not digested nor systema¬
tized the rude and shapeless mass of knowledge which ex¬
perience had supplied, or suggested new combinations of
existing means. But ambition at length gave a fresh sti¬
mulus to improvement, by opening up a new theatre for
its expansive energies ; and successive conquerors contri¬
buted largely to the cultivation of an art which became
the instrument of their glory. In their hands, according¬
ly, it determined the destiny of nations ;—it raised up or
destroyed empires ;—it produced mighty revolutions;—it
overthrew old dynasties, and created new ones in their
stead ;—and, amidst all the havoc and desolation occasion¬
ed by the pursuit of false glory, it contributed, upon the
whole, to the cultivation of those sciences and arts which
have a tendency to mitigate the natural ferocity of man,
and ultimately to render conquest itself less destructive,
and war less sanguinary.
Dictionary, voce Army. 2 James’s Military Dictionary, voce Army.
3 Essai General de Tactique, par Guibert, vol. i. p. 59, Disc. Prelim. Paris, 1803.
620
ARMY.
Army. Results so vast leave no doubt whatever, that the art
which was principally instrumental in producing them,
must have made considerable progress at a very remote
period of the world. It is in fact in the early and semi-
barbarous stage of society that the military virtues are
found in the greatest perfection. The mind is then fierce,
ardent, energetic, and daring ; peculiarly accessible to the
illusion of warlike renown, and undistracted by any of
those influences or impressions which act so powerfully
upon man in civilized life; while the body, unpampered
by luxury, unenfeebled by indulgence, is a fit companion
for such a spirit, and capable of enduring, without diffi¬
culty, the fatigues and privations incident to war. Add
to this that, at the period of which we speak, the only
law generally recognised and respected is the law of the
strongest; that the necessity of self-defence, of protect¬
ing person and property from violence and spoliation,
keeps men continually prepared to repel force by force*
or to retaliate one aggression by another; that, conse¬
quently, the disorders which distract society re-act upon
and foster the turbulent spirit in which they have their
origin ; that war thus becomes a trade which all are either
disposed or compelled to pursue ; that, to bold and adven¬
turous spirits, it opens up the only path which leads to
fortune and to fame, and thus holds out irresistible temp¬
tations to embark in military enterprises. At such a pe¬
riod all men are soldiers, and war is their natural employ¬
ment ; in it they live and move and have their being.
But necessity is the parent of invention, and the mother
of arts; and to it the science of war was indebted for its
first improvements. Armies are unwieldy machines, which
cannot be moved without some degree of organization,
nor supported without considerable care and foresight,
nor led into action with an enemy without a certain know¬
ledge of tactical combinations. It is obvious, therefore,
that wherever we read of such masses of men having been
assembled, whether for purposes of aggression or defence,
we may safely consider this fact as of itself conclusive,
that the military art had there reached the second stage
of its progress, or, in other words, had made considerable
advances. History may be silent as to the precise extent
to which improvement had been carried, and the records
of the past may afford no clue to direct our inquiries con¬
cerning the composition and organization of the armies of
remote antiquity ; but if it be once admitted that such
armies existed, and that they defended some countries
and overran or conquered others, this admission will im¬
ply no inconsiderable knowledge of the art of war on the
part of those by whom they were organized and directed.
Discipline of some kind or other is the bond which keeps Army,
together large bodies of men : without it they are a mere
mob or rabble, incapable alike of action or direction, and
formidable to none save the people of the country where
they happen to have congregated. Even the Tartar
hordes of Genghis Khan and Timour had an organization
and discipline of their own, by means of which these bar¬
barian conquerors were enabled to impel their fierce and
warlike masses against the enfeebled and effeminate sol¬
diery of countries advanced in wealth and in civilization
and the same observation applies still more forcibly to the
Asiatic and Turkish armies of our own time. In a word,
we may adopt with some qualification the remark of Gui-
bert, when speaking of the progress of the military art:
“ II preceda,” says he, “ chez tous les peuples, les arts et
les sciences, et y perit a mesure que celles-ci s’eten-
dirent.”1 2 The details into which we are about to enter
will fully illustrate the truth of these general observa¬
tions.
The earliest military establishment of which history has Ancient
preserved any record is that of Egypt under the reign of Egyptian
Sesostris, or, as he is denominated in the monumental arm.v-
sculptures of that wonderful country, Rhamses ;3 who
was considered the greatest of the Egyptian kings after
Osiris,4 and has generally been supposed by chronologists
to have flourished about seventeen centuries before our
era.5 But Osiris was an ideal being, the offspring of m}'-
thology, and the hero of fable, adored by the Egyp¬
tians sometimes as a deified mortal, sometimes as a per¬
sonification of the Nile, and sometimes as the symbo¬
lical representative of the solar orb. Sesostris, on the
contrary, is claimed by history as a real personage; and
although the accounts which have been preserved of
the reign of this prince, chiefly by the Greek historians,
are dashed with a considerable admixture of exaggera¬
tion and romance, we cannot reasonably doubt the ex¬
istence of the monarch, however we may be inclined to
question the exploits of the hero and the achievements of
the conqueror. The substance of these accounts, indeed,
when considered in connection with the corroborative evi¬
dence supplied by the Egyptian monuments, and the
traces of his expedition which remained even in the age
of Herodotus, may be regarded as the more deserving of
credit that, while scepticism has little to oppose to them
except its own incredulity, the statements of the Greek
historians are not only consistent with one another, but
in strict accordance with the uniform tradition and be¬
lief, as well as with the records, of that country, the mo¬
ther of arts and civilization, which, under this renowned
1 Timour or Tamerlane, of whom unfortunately we know so little, has left an institutional or elementary treatise on war and the
art of conducting armies, each page of which affords proof of a natural genius for commanding men, as well as of tact and skill in em¬
ploying them to the best advantage. See Instituts de Timour, par Langles; also Jomini, Traits, des Grandes Operations Militaires, tome
viii. p. 678. Paris, 1616.
" Essai General de Tactique, vol. i. p. 60.
3 One of the difficulties which occur in our inquiries concerning Sesostris arises from the different names by which he has been de¬
signated by ancient writers. He has been variously called Sesostris, Sesoosis, Sesochis, Sesonchosis, Sethosis, Sethos, Harnesses, Hameses,
Ithamses, Ramestes, Rampses, Yexores, and /Egyptus. But most of these appellations were probably titular. Thus, Sesostris may
be Se-sios-t-he, which signifies,domini, donum soils ; Sesoosis may, in like manner, be a corruption for Se-sios-sios,.yf/h/.s domini
dominorum ; and Rhamses or Ram esses, d e r i v e d from Re, sol, and Mes, gignere, may signify Begotten by the Sun. But it is not always
possible to render ancient Egyptian names according to the grammatical rules established in the Coptic language, and, therefore, such
etymologies as those now proposed are to be received as purely conjectural. The common designation of this monarch on the monu¬
ments is Rameses-Meiamoun, Rhamses beloved of Ammon ; or, adopting the etymology of Rhamses just proposed, Begotten by the Sun,
Beloved of Ammon ; in which case both appellations would be merely titular. Vide Sir W. Drummond’s Origines, book iv. chap. 13,
and Champollion’s Precis du Systems Hicroglyphiqne, p. 223. Paris, 1824.
4 Manetho apud Euseb. Chron. lib. i. In Manetho apud Josephum contra Appionem, lib. i. p. 1053, this monarch is indifferently called
Ramesses and Rampses.
5 Chronologists have been unable to fix the precise date of the reign of Sesostris. Larcher, the celebrated translator of Dionysius
of Halicarnassus, adopts and defends with much warmth the chronography of Herodotus; while others, rejecting the authority of
the father of history, endeavour to determine the era of the Egyptian monarch from the scanty data furnished by Diodorus and
Strabo. The objections to the conclusions of Larcher, stated by Sir William Drummond in his Origines, book iv. chap. 13, appear to
be perfectly unanswerable.
A R
Anriy. sovereign, is supposed to have reached an unprecedented
height of military glory.
Sesostris, however, did not create the military spirit to
which he appears afterwards to have given such ample de¬
velopment. This was in a great measure the work of his
father, Amenophis III., who, shortly after the birth of his
son, is said to have assembled all the male children born on
the same day, and to have given them the same educa¬
tion. I\o distinction was made between the young prince
and his companions. They were alike engaged in the
same studies, trained to the same exercises, inured to the
same haidships, and instructed in the use of the same
arms. A rigid discipline prescribed unremitting exertion,
while daily privations and fatigue hardened and prepared
t em foi the duties of war. In establishing this military
seminary, Amenophis appears to have intended placing
around his son a faithful band of soldiers, attached to
him by the associations of early friendship, and the ties
of brotherhood in arms. Nor did the result disappoint
his expectations. Arrived at manhood, the prince and
his companions soon evinced how much they had pro¬
fited by their education,—how well they merited the con¬
fidence reposed in them. With bodies rendered vigorous
and athletic by labour and exercise, and with minds cul¬
tivated by the best studies, they were already fitted to
act both as soldiers and as generals, to serve with eneroy,
or to command with skill. Sent by his father at an early
age to command an expedition against the Arabians, the
prince, accustomed, as well as his companions, to suffer
long both from hunger and from thirst, could meet upon
equal terms the wandering and yet unconquered tribes,
who chiefly trusted for their defence to the barrenness of
their inhospitable deserts. Arabia was subdued and an¬
nexed to the Egyptian monarchy. He afterwards direct¬
ed his march to the west, and his father lived to see the
greater part of Libya conquered by his victorious son.
When Sesostris mounted the throne, therefore, his mili¬
tary fame was established. The qualities of his mind, his
dauntless courage, and his daring ambition, seemed to be
announced by his personal appearance ; and the people,
no doubt, easily associated the character of the hero with
. tb0 robust frame and gigantic stature1 of their new mo¬
narch. But it is more material to state, that the success
of his arms, in his wars with the Arabians and Libyans,
had inspired him with the hopes of making yet more ex¬
tensive conquests ; and, if we may credit the'Greek histo¬
rians, the perilous project of subjugating the world must
have been already familiar to the mind of Sesostris when
he succeeded to the crown. Amidst the burning sands
of Libya, and in the depth of the Arabian deserts, the
phantom of universal empire showed itself, and he vowed
to pursue it.2
His resolution being thus taken, no time appears to have
been lost by the new sovereign in preparing his subjects
for an enterprise, which could not be undertaken but in
defiance of all the counsels of prudence. He caused va-
rious reports V* be spread abroad, artfully attributing his
pioject to othei causes than his own ambition. His
daughter Athyrtis, famed for her wisdom, as a sort of
Egyptian Cassandra, proclaimed the facility with which
hei father would conquer the earth : the success of the
enterprise was prognosticated by omens, by sortilege, and
by divination : and the people were reminded that, at the
bnth of besostris, Phtha had appeared to his father in a
dream, and had predicted to Amenophis that the new-
M Y. 621
boin boy should one day become master of the world.3 Army.
Nor did the Egyptian king content himself with influen- '***~y~^
cing opinion in his favour by means of prophecies, prodi¬
gies, and visions. His natural sense taught him that other
and more rational precautions were necessary; that a
king who is not popular at home, should not think of
making conquests abroad. His first object, therefore,
was to secure the affections of the Egyptians: and for
this purpose he employed all those arts which, exercised
by sovereigns, are so powerful in conciliating popular fa¬
vour. Some he won by his munificence, others by his
clemency; the selfish were secured by his liberality, the
vain were flattered by his condescension and affability;
even traitors to the royal authority were allowed to escape
with impunity, and public debtors were liberated from the
prisons in which they were confined.4 On the other
hand, that he might provide for the tranquillity of his
kingdom, and leave none behind him who either would or
could attempt a revolution in his absence, he made a par¬
tition of power among the chief men of the nation, divid¬
ing the whole territory of Egypt into thirty-six nomes or
prefectures, over which he appointed as many governors,
each of whom was charged with the collection of the royal
revenues, and the administration of the laws within his
own particular district. He at the same time elevated
his brother Armais to the rank of regent of the kingdom ;
and, except that this prince might not wear the royal dia¬
dem, he was permitted to assume all the pomp of a mo¬
narch ; an indulgence which he so far abused as to usurp
the crown in the king’s absence, and to attempt his life on
his return home from his long and perilous expedition.5
Having completed these and other necessary arrange¬
ments, Sesostris next proceeded to raise an army. The
peace establishment of the kingdom, as previously orga¬
nized by this prince, appears to have consisted of a nume¬
rous militia, divided into two classes, denominated kala-
sires and harmatopoii, and amounting, according to He¬
rodotus, to 410,000 men, distributed throughout the dif¬
ferent provinces as a species of military colonists, each
man being allowed a portion of land adequate to the main¬
tenance of himself and family. This formed the nucleus
of the mighty force which Sesostris. now raised for the con¬
quest of the world, consisting, if we may believe Diodorus
Siculus, of 600,000 infantry, 24,000 cavalry, and 27,000
war chariots; a force certainly equal to the magnitude of
the enterprise in which he was about to engage, though
it is difficult to conceive how the population of a small
country like Egypt, supposing it ever so dense, could have
supplied so vast a body of men, exceeding, by more than
200,000, the numerical strength of the army with which
the Emperor Napoleon invaded Russia, and which was by
far the largest ever assembled in modern times. No pre¬
cise infoimation has reached us as to the composition, or¬
ganization, and discipline of this expeditionary army. We
only leain, incidentally as it were, that the king chose as
the leadei s of his less experienced troops, the companions
of his youth, trained, like himself, to the use of arms, and
exceeding 1/00 in number; that disgrace or infamy was
attached to disobedience of orders and neglect of duty,
and that meritorious or valorous deeds were liberally re¬
warded^ circumstances which, taken in connection with
the particulars above stated, seem to warrant the conclu¬
sion, that the military system of Egypt had reached no
small degree of improvement, and that the science of war,
in all its branches, had made considerable advances. With
(Iublt,S,an(1 tour Palms> or about seven feet in height, and seemed formed
1 to wblcb bls actlve was afterwards exposed. Diodorus, lib. i. sect. 55.
Drummond’s Origines, book iv. c. 13.
Diodor. Sic. lib i. sect. 53.
by nature to sustain all the toils and
Diodor. Sic. lib. i. sect. 54.
Drummond’s Originet, loc. suvr. cit.
622 A R
Army, a view to the ulterior objects of the expedition, Sesostris
also collected or fitted out a fleet of 400 sail; and the
ships are said to have been of large dimensions, adapted
to the purposes both of war and transport.1
With these immense preparations the warlike monarch
at length commenced his perilous enterprise. He invad¬
ed Ethiopia, and compelled the inhabitants to pay him a
tribute in ebony, gold, and ivory. Even the ferocious
Troglodytes yielded to the conqueror. Advancing far¬
ther to the southward, he passed the frontiers of Ethiopia,
and entered the country extending beyond Sennaar to the
Mountains of the Moon, where he left various monuments
both of his power and of his piety. In the Straits of Dira
or Babelmandeb he joined his fleet, consisting, as above
stated, of 400 sail, which had already compelled the in¬
habitants of the islands in the Erythrean Sea, and of the
adjacent continent, to acknowledge his authority. The
victorious monarch next proceeded to India, which he
completely overran, extending his conquests beyond the
Ganges, and subduing some of the countries which lie
between that river and the Eastern Ocean. He then di¬
rected his course towards the country of the five rivers
or Punjab; crossed the immense reticulation of streams,
which ultimately unite their waters with the Indus; and
ascended the table-land of central Asia. Nor were tbe Scy¬
thian nations able to resist the torrent as it rolled west¬
ward through Tartary, behind the mountains of Imaus, and
north of the Caspian, to the river Tanais and the Palus
Moeotis. Having entered Europe, Sesostris passed through
Sarmatia, Dacia, and Mcesia, nor halted until he arrived
in Thrace, where he erected columns to perpetuate the
memory of his victories, and to prove the extent of his
conquests. From Thrace he crossed over into Asia Minor,
and advanced into the plains of Colchis (rendered so fa¬
mous in Grecian story by the expedition of the Argonauts
and the fable of the golden fleece), where he founded a
colony on the banks of the Phasis, and erected monu¬
ments, some of which were in existence in the age of He¬
rodotus. He then marched against the Assyrian empire,
which he conquered, and thus seated himself on the
throne which had been occupied by Ninus and Semira-
mis. Finally, surrounded with the trophies of victory,
and enriched with the spoils of nations, Sesostris return¬
ed to Egypt in triumph, after having been thirty years
engaged in an expedition, undertaken in defiance of all
the dictates of prudence, yet, if we believe the concur-
M Y.
rent testimony of historians, terminated without a single Army,
reverse of fortune.2 Such is the military story of the re-
nowned Rhamses.3 That it involves many improbabilities
is obvious; but what portion of ancient history is free of
them ? Mankind, in every age of the world, have taken
delight in the marvellous; and if the ancients appear to
have been pleased with reading romances in history, the
moderns seem equally disposed to read history in romances.
The great difficulty in forming an accurate judgment as
to the story of the Egyptian monarch arises from the
total want of details. We hear nothing of the generals to
whom he was opposed, of the cities which he besieged, nor
even of the battles which he fought. Historians relate
his triumphs, but are silent respecting the skill which ob¬
tained them. At the same time, it cannot reasonably be
doubted, we think, that there is a large substratum of
truth in the narratives which have reached us respecting
this extraordinary personage. By the concurrent testi¬
mony of the ancient authors, confirmed by the evidence
derived from the Egyptian monuments, he is represented
as a great warrior and conqueror; as the first, and, we may
almost add, the last, of the Pharaohs who pursued the
phantom of military renown, and sought for glory in dis¬
tant expeditions: nor are there wanting circumstances
which warrant the conclusion, that he overran some coun¬
tries, conquered others, and left traces of his progress in
many parts both of Asia and Europe. That he establish¬
ed a regular army, and provided a fleet to co-operate with
it in his expedition against the countries of the East, are
facts which seem to be as well attested as any in ancient
history.4
“ C’est chez les peuples d’Asie, chez les Perses sur- Persian
tout,” says Guibert, “ que 1’art de la guerre commen^a a armies,
prendre quelque consistancebut he adds, “ apres la
mort de Cyrus, le luxe lui fit quitter la Perse, et il passa
chez les Grecs.”5 This remark, however, must be taken
with some important qualifications. As a general propo¬
sition, it is doubtless true that the military art first as¬
sumed consistence among the Asiatic nations, particular¬
ly the Persians; for the warlike spirit of Egypt seems to
have expired with its first and only conqueror. But it is
utterly absurd to maintain that the death of Cyrus was
productive of any change in the military system of Persia,
or that this event led to the transference which Guibert
has so gratuitously supposed. Cyrus, in as far as we are
able to distinguish his character, and form a judgment
1 Origines, iibi supra.
* Diodorus, lib. i. sect. 54 and 55 ; Strabo, lib. xvi.; Herodotus, lib. ii. c. 103 and 110; Manetho apud Joseph, contr. Apion.; Julius
Africanus apud Syncellum. In all the countries through which he passed, Sesostris left monuments behind him; and where he encoun¬
tered serious resistance, the columns he erected bore this inscription : “ Sesoosis, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, has subdued
this region by force of arms.” Diodorus, ibid.
a The information given to Germanicus when he visited the ruins of Thebes, by some of the elder Egyptian priests, relative to
this monarch, and the military establishment he had created, is thus recorded by Tacitus in the second book of his Annals : “ Mox
(Germanicus) visit veterum Thebarum magna vestigia; et manebant structis molibus litterse iEgyptim, priorem opulentiam com-
plexae ; jussusque e senioribus sacerdotum patrium sermonem interpretari referebat habitasse quondam septingcnta millia setati mili-
tari : atque eo cum exercitu regem Rhamsen Libya, /Ethiopia, Medisque et Persis, Bactriano ac Scytha potitum; quasque terras
Suri Armeniique et contigui Cappadoces colunt, inde Bithynum, hinc Lycium ad mare imperio tenuisse,” &c. The strength of the
army of Sesostris, as here stated, very nearly coincides with the amount given in the text, on the authority of Diodorus. According
to the latter, this army consisted of 600,000 infantry, 24,000 horse, and 27,000 armed chariots ; which, as at least three men fought
in one chariot, would make a total of 695,000 men, or only 5000 less than the number reported by the priests to Germanicus on the
faith of the monuments.
4 Origines, ubi supra. “ It would be in vain,” says Sir William Drummond, “ to deny to the traditions of ages, to the records of
history, and to the authority of monuments, that Sesostris must have been one of the greatest princes that ever lived ; while we may
fairly confess our doubts of the extent of his conquests, and acknowledge that we cannot ascertain at what period he flourished. The
existence of the monarch we may consider as certain ; and some of the achievements of the conqueror we may admit to be probable,
though we cannot fail to perceive, that the number of his triumphs has been amplified by exaggeration, and the history of his reign
crowded with fictions. It is known that the great Ramesses or Ramestes created at least one obelisk, on which he announced
himself to be loved and gifted by all the gods of Egypt; but it may be questioned whether he had a right to call himself the master
of the whole habitable world. We may believe that Sesostris obtained many victories, and subdued many regions ; while we may
still avow that we are unable to tell when this mighty monarch reigned, where were the limits of his empire, what humbled nations
bowed down before his throne, or what captive kings were yoked to his triumphal car.”
‘ Essai General de Tactique, vol. i. p. 61.
A R M Y.
Amiv
of his achievements, appears to have been a wise prince,
a warlike monarch, and a great conqueror ;2 while the vic¬
tories achieved by the Persians under his command, con¬
trasted with the fatal reverses which they afterwards ex¬
perienced, may induce superficial observers to imagine
that the knowledge of the art declined after the hero’s
death. No opinion, however, can possibly be more erro¬
neous ; except, indeed, it be that which represents the
Greek tactics as having been primarily derived from the
Persian, to which, as will appear in the sequel, they bore
not the slightest resemblance. The qualities of the Per¬
sian troops may, perhaps, have deteriorated, and, under
the influence ot luxury and refinement, the military cha¬
racter of the nation may have declined; but the system
of organising armies and making war continued, in a great
measure, unchanged: nor, as far as the military art is
concerned, would it be easy to discover any material dif¬
ference between the tactics of Cyrus, who was uniformly
victorious, and those of Xerxes, Mardonius, and Darius,
who experienced the most disastrous defeats. It should
also be remembered, that the former led Asiatics against
Asiatics, and that the nations he subdued were among
the most effeminate and voluptuous of the ancient world :
whilst the latter were called to contend with the Greeks in
their best days, when their bodies were robust, their hearts
strong, and their discipline admirable; and when their ar¬
mies were commanded by men fired alike with the love of
liberty and of glory, and not only conversant with the sci¬
ence of war, theoretically considered, but eminently skilful
in all those resources which neutralize superiority of num¬
bers, and enable handfuls of men to snatch the victory
from masses apparently overwhelming and invincible.
The strength of the Persian army consisted in its ca¬
valry, which was always of excellent quality, and capable
of achieving great things had it been properly command¬
ed. This was emphatically evinced at the passage of the
Granicus, where its gallant conduct attracted the admira¬
tion of every officer in the Macedonian army, from the
king to the humblest dilochite in the ranks.2 Notwith¬
standing the absurd principle upon which it was formed,
and the total want of support, owing to the treachery or
terror of the Greeks in the pay of Darius, who had been
brought forward to sustain it, this cavalry bravely disput¬
ed the passage; drove Ptolemy, who commanded the van¬
guard of the Macedonian army, back into the river; charg¬
ed the heads of the columns as they successively ascended
the bank in order to deploy, with the utmost impetuosity;
and maintained the combat until it was attacked by the
formidable phalanx in front, and by the light infantry on
both flanks, when it was at length forced to retire.3 The
I ersian infantry had none of the qualities for which the
cavalry was distinguished, and seems, in fact, to have
been little better than a military mob, without coherence
or solidity; while the vast numbers of this arm which
ivei e commonly brought into the field impeded the action
°L ^le cavalry, which they were incapable of supporting,
and served only to create confusion, and supply food for
t ie slaughter, when opposed to disciplined armies com-
623
manded by men conversant with military combinations. Army.
Marathon, I lataea, and Mycale, all bear witness to the
truth of this observation. The war-chariots formed ano¬
ther source of disorder and weakness. Their number, like
that of the infantry, was excessive ; and as these vehicles
could only act upon level ground, they were altogether
useless and unavailing in a broken country, or against a
skilful commander With regard to the numerical strength
of the Persian armies, we have no precise information, and
can only form a conjecture from the statements, almost
always exaggerated, of the Greek historians as to the
numbers actually brought into the field. Xerxes, who
had taken by descent a hereditary hatred of the Greeks
invaded Europe, it is said, and entered Greece at the
head of an army, which, with its retinue of servants,
eunuchs, and women, amounted to upwards of 5,000,000
of souls ; a statement which, if true, would imply that the
Persian nation had risen en masse to overrun the countries
of the West. Yet this vast multitude, or rather horde, was
arrested in its progress by 300 Spartans at the pass of
Thermopylae; and that mountain gorge would have be¬
come the scene of its total defeat and destruction, had not
a base Trachinian betrayed this devoted band of heroes,
and enabled the Persians to attack it at once in the front,'
the flank, and the rear. At Marathon, Datis and Arta-
phernes, lieutenants of the Great King, brought into the
field 100,000 foot and 10,000 horse,4 which were beaten
by 10,000 Athenian infantry and 1000 Plataean auxiliaries,
commanded by Miltiades. At Plattea, the Persian force,
consisting in all of 300,000 men, was again defeated with
great loss by a handful of Lacedaemonians and Athenians
under Pausanias. And at the battle of Mycale, fought
on the same day with that of Plataea (22d September
479 b. c.), 100,000 men, the wrecks of that portion of the
army more immediately under the command of Xerxes,
which had just returned from the unsuccessful expedition
to Greece, were completely overthrown and dispersed by
a small body of Greeks, who stormed their entrenched
camp, slaughtered several thousands, and carried off an
immense booty. On comparing these various numbers,
and making due allowance for casualties, it would appear
that the Persian monarch must have entered Greece with
about 000,000 fighting men; an enormous force numeri¬
cally considered, but not too great to provoke incredulity,
vyhen we reflect on the mode in which the eastern na¬
tions have always made war, and further take into account
the cncumstance, that nearly the whole of one reign and
part of another were consumed in making preparations for
this ill-fated expedition.
Of the state of the Persian army in the reign of Alex¬
ander, Arrian has furnished us with many important par¬
ticulars, especially in his account of the battle of Arbela,
which is the more interesting, as it gives us some insight
respecting the Persian tactics under the last Darius. Ac¬
cording to this writer, who had consulted the memoirs of
Ptolemy, one of Alexander’s generals, but who, neverthe¬
less, seems to have possessed the Greek talent for exag¬
gerating numbers, the army which Darius brought into
aim os t ^ very ofTna t h” h as *1 n 'hp th°Se f 1Sfesostris' h1avf b.f|n ?° exaggerated by historians, and embellished by fabulists, that
mm-e of truth^- fact in fthan g^S^SX s^y. ^ a
tent with UmToccSiedY^theMaiSL?8: ^ thisf~on’ commanded by Memnon, who drew it up in a single line of equal ex-
Iv towards the bank of the Cranim ■ w a Jln1^ ]0,!_ ^ otber bank of the river. The ground on which it was posted sloped gradual-
able for the effective action of such A 'K 1 'VA Y6 steel? difficult, and hence no position could have been chosen more favour-
bilities were never'brought into nil t ltS Werf Paral7sed’ which comes nearly to the same thing, its full capa-
or support fGuischardt MimtArf' D■/•,C<aiSedueilce lts linear formation, which admitted only of detached efforts, without ensemble
M^res sur les Grecs et les Remains, tom. i. p. 251-258. Lyons, 1760.)
0. ii. T1!)/“double"^ amomif T fl’(fmm at MAfhon W3?’ according to Valerius Maximus (1. v. c. 4), 300,000; according to Justin
( u. c. »), uoume this amount, or 600,000 men. No attention whatever is due to such extravagant exaggerations.
ARMY.
624
Army, the field on this occasion consisted of 1,000,000 infantry,
40,000 cavalry, 200 chariots armed with scythes, and 15
elephants ; a statement which appears equally incredible,
whether we regard the absolute amount here assigned, or
attend to the glaring disproportion between the relative
numerical strength of the different arms. Quintus Cur-
tius, who reduces the infantry to 600,000, and raises the
cavalry to 145,000, exaggerates at least with method, and
thus avoids an objection fatal to the numerical accuracy
of the military historian. The disposition of this enor¬
mous force, as described by Arrian, shows the incongru¬
ous elements of which it was composed. According to
the custom of the Persians, the king placed himself in the
centre, having around him his relations and the officers of
his court, with his ordinary guards, foot and horse, which
sometimes amounted to 15,000 men. These he support¬
ed by a body of Greeks in his pay, upon whom he placed
great reliance, and by other corps d'elite furnished by the
native army. The Persians, the Susians, and the Candu-
sians composed the left; on the right were the Syrians,
the Assyrians, and other nations, subjects or allies of Per¬
sia; and the whole was formed into squares or masses of
prodigious depth, evidently with the intention of resisting
the compact formation of the Macedonian phalanx, of
which the Persians had already had woeful experience.
These different nations were variously armed, some with
missile weapons, others with pikes, hatchets, maces, &c.;
and cavalry were stationed in the intervals between the
squares. The reserve was composed of those for whom
no place could be found in the first line ; and being drawn
up too close to it, served only to augment the confusion.
The infantry of the left was flanked by the main body of
the Persian cavalry, and part of that of the Bactrians;
together with two corps, one Scythian and the other Bac-
trian, a little in advance. On the right, the Armenian and
the Cappadocian cavalry were posted in a similar manner,
though not in equal force. Two hundred armed chariots
were drawn up before the left, and fifty before the right
of the infantry, while the elephants and fifty more chariots
were placed in advance of the centre.1 Such was the dis¬
position of the army of Darius on this memorable and de¬
cisive day. It was doubtless bad in many respects, par¬
ticularly in the disproportionate crowding of all arms on
the centre and left, while the right was left comparative¬
ly weak and uncovered; but its greatest defect, insepar¬
able, perhaps, from the heterogeneous composition of the
army, consisted in this, that the defeat of any one part of
the line was certain to throw the whole into irretrievable
disorder, and to end in a complete rout. Still it showed
very considerable knowledge of the military art; while the
battle which followed, and which was bravely contested,
is even yet considered a study for tacticians.
The Greek From the earliest times, the genius of the Greeks, ad-
armies. venturous and free, inclined them to war. This, at first
a consequence of their position, became in time an attri¬
bute of the national character, and gave rise to institu¬
tions which, in their turn, served to diffuse and confirm
the spirit in which they had originated. Divided into a
number of petty states, which were separated often by
imaginary boundaries, and naturally jealous of one another,
Greece was a scene of never-ending contention, and the
theatre of almost continual war. New causes of difference,
in the shape of injuries, encroachments, or insults, real Army,
or imaginary, were incessantly arising; and as each state
was alike proud of itself, suspicious of its neighbours or
rivals, and, above all, watchful of its independence, the
wrong done, or believed to have been done, was promptly
followed by retaliation, which again provoked a repetition
of the offence, and thus led ultimately to war. Such a
state of things naturally fostered a warlike spirit, and
gave birth to military institutions; while the necessity of
self-defence, still more than the love of conquest or of
glory, rendered it imperative that every citizen capable
of bearing arms should be ready to appear in the field at
the call of his country. But experience soon taught the
important lesson that numbers did not constitute strength,
and that a small body of men prepared by early training
for the duties of war, and subjected to a system of regu¬
lar discipline, were capable of contending, on equal terms,
with great numerical odds. When this discovery was first
made, we have no means of ascertaining precisely; but it
is one which must early have occurred to the rulers and
governors of small states like those of Greece, the scanty
population of which imposed upon them the necessity of
devising the best means for rendering its disposable
strength effective and available. Hence we find, that
one great object of the early statesmen and legislators of
this country was to organize a system of physical and mo¬
ral education adapted to its peculiar position and circum¬
stances ; to engraft the military spirit on those institutions
which were destined to form the general character of
their countrymen; and, amidst the pursuits of peace, to
prepare the minds and bodies of their citizens for encoun¬
tering the fatigues, privations, and perils of war. Nor did
their labours prove fruitless or vain ; for the institutions
thus prepared being suited alike to the genius and condi¬
tion of the people, soon struck their roots, as it were, into
the soil, and ere long produced those fruits which have
for ages been the wonder and admiration of mankind. But
less perhaps of this wonder and admiration is due to the
bravery of the Greeks, eminent as it always was, than to
their discipline, organization, and conduct in the field.
Among them all the branches of the military art were si¬
multaneously cultivated, and received the most import¬
ant improvements. Their formation was rendered com¬
pact and formidable ; combining solidity and the power of
resistance, with a mobility which made these qualities
available on different points, even in action. Their tac¬
tics were singularly adapted to the peculiar character of
their troops, and were founded on the most certain prin¬
ciples of the art.2 And, in later times, we find strategy
recognised and taught as a science in the schools ;3 while,
in the field, it received, in several respects, a development
which no other nation, ancient or modern, has yet been able
to surpass. Lastly, we may observe, that until the reign of
Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, Greece had no
standing army. Her strength consisted in her militia; and
to this description of force she was indebted for the im¬
perishable glories of Marathon, Plataea, and Mycale, when
the myriads of the Persian invader were successively
overthrown. But, from the causes above indicated, and
the incessant contests in which the different states were
engaged with each other, this militia had acquired the
principal characteristics of a regular force, both as regards
1 Guischardt, Mtmoires Militaires sur les Greet et les Romains, tom. i. p. 260-61.
2 Guibert, in his Discours Prelimiuaire, part second, underrates the tactics of the Greeks. “ Je compare les guerres des Grecs,”
says he, “ et la plupart des guerres des anciens, a cedes de nos colonies dans 1’autre continent. J’y vois cinq ou six mille hommes les
uns centre les autres, des champs de bataille e'troits, oil Toeil du ge'ne'ral peut tout embrasser, tout diriger, tout reparer. Uti Ion major
conduiroit aujourd'hui la manoeuvre de Leuctre et de Mantime, comme Epaminondas,” p. 82. It will be fortunate for modern armies when
their “ good majors” are as skilful and as brave as Epaminondas.
3 Guischardt, Memoircs Militaires, tom. ii. p.' 155.
A R
Array, organization and discipline, and consequently was of nearly
equal avail against an enemy in the field.
The Spar- To the institutions of Lycurgus Sparta was indebted
tan army, for her military pre-eminence among the states of Greece.
lo exclude all refinement and luxury, to cultivate the
sterner virtues of abstinence and self-denial, to inure the
body to hardships and the mind to suffering, to inculcate
self-sacrificing patriotism, and to form great characters,
appear to have been the principal objects of this iron-
hearted legislator; who accordingly laid the foundations
of his institutions in a system of primary education, in¬
tended and calculated to convert the free male popula¬
tion of the state into a military community, and to deve-
lope to the utmost all those physical and moral qualities
which render men invincible in war. Nor did the results
disappoint the calculations upon which this system had
been founded. 1 rained from their earliest years to suf¬
fer the extremes of heat and cold, hunger and thirst, to en¬
dure pain with unflinching fortitude, and to despise danger
and death ; habituated to the most implicit and unques¬
tioning obedience to all placed in authority over them ;
and continually exercised in running, wrestling, swimming,
ball-playing, and martial games of all sorts, as well as
in stratagems, surprises, and ambuscades; the Spartan
youth, when called to take the field, were prepared at
once to enter upon the duties of war with alacrity and
vigour, and to regard with indifference all the privations
and fatigues of the severest campaign. Nor were their
discipline and organization inferior to their military qua¬
lities. The Spartan phalanx, which formed the basis of
the Macedonian, consisted of eight files in depth.1 The
files weie placed at intervals of six feet from one another
when disposed in open order; in close order the distance
was three feet; in locked order one foot and a half; the
intervals being thus diminished one-half at each approxi¬
mation. The open order was that observed on the march,
and in evolutions or manoeuvres; the close order was for
the attack; and the locked order was that in which an
attack was received. The front rank consisted of picked
men ; the rear rank Avas also select; while those upon whom
least dependence could be placed had their station in the
centre, in order to give impetus and momentum to the
column by their weight and physical power. The differ-
M Y.
625
ent parts of the phalanx were classed according to a re- Army,
gular system, and, in particular, the covering file was
matched in quality as nearly as possible with the file in
fiont; so that if the whole or any part of the front rank
faded, the vacancies were supplied by the second files,
without disordering the line. The arms, offensive and
defensive, of the soldier, consisted of a spear or pike, a
short sword or dagger, and a shield or buckler of an oval
form, which was fastened round the neck and at the left
shoulder by means of straps. But latterly Cleomenes
changed this clumsy encumbrance for the Macedonian
shield, originally invented by the Carians, which was fast¬
ened on the left arm by a ring or belt, so as to leave the
soldier free to employ both hands in giving force and di¬
rection to the pike. The Spartans were also familiar with
the most approved evolutions, which they performed with
equal celerity and precision. The rear of the phalanx
became the front, or the front the rear, by the shortest
and simplest operation; while, by redoubling its forma¬
tion, it became a solid square, bristling on every side with
pikes, and, in locked order, wholly impenetrable to attack,
except upon broken ground. Rapid changes of front
even in the presence of an enemy, refusing or advancing
a wing at a critical moment, turning an enemy’s flank, and
many other manoeuvres, which are still considered equally
delicate and difficult, were frequently executed with the
most complete success by the commanders of these for¬
midable columns. In a word, the Spartans may be re¬
garded as the founders and first improvers of that military
system, which attained its perfection under Alexander,
and placed the crowns of Asia at his feet.2
dhe Athenian military force consisted of three classes ; The Athe.
first, the heavy troops, bv'kirai, armed with a spear, a dag- nian army-,
ger, a cuirass or corslet, and an oval shield, and reserved
for the phalanx or main battle ; secondly, the light troops,
mXraorcci, armed with a light spear, a javelin, and a target,
and destined for skirmishing, seizing or maintaining posi¬
tions, and covering the movements of the phalanx; thirdly,
irregular troops, y^i/Tjra/, without defensive armour, but
provided with missile weapons, such as javelins, bows
and arrows, and slings, for harassing an enemy on his
march, or performing the duties of light troops in the
field.3 The phalanx or main battle consisted entirely
talinn 512 min 1 u t i 6 ^ ^ enomoties or platoons, and each enomotie of 32 men ; thus making the whoh* strength of the bat
organization and strenphof” Seir’Ss.6””8 th!“ Ule S'“rt“S 5lu<liousl-v “"“aled from the observation of foreigners the internal
Avhen^beaten^generahy'retire^frorn ? a rffUlar ^ in fC^0rd 'vith the cadeuce of militai7 music, and, even
to produce his shield as a moof S he had fo mhf °t-d5> ho"'evfl reduceId 111 "umber. After battle, every soldier was obliged
away his shield he was disgraced for ever • thetd^f di-m ^ 1 ^ d°’ bT-elj and steadi1^ If he had ^st or thrown
the love of military gforT^^^^ ^ . ,Bllt tlds was of rare occurrence; for
had combined to eradicate foL from theiXTom^ r?6 Shartan PeoPle werf al owed to cherish; and both education and discipline
sions merged in one. The Snartan mother and tim s & 'Y V . n°wlJ in t leir vocabulary. In this singular country all pas-
of battle, and sometimes refused to recSnise a, of ??ni i , en husband had fallen honourably in the field
only mourners on account of the disaster at T 1 Wltb j'*iemae/vea such of their relatives as had survived a defeat. The
day. disaster at Leuctra were those whose friends and kinsmen had escaped the slaughter of that bloody
riflemenTr ^ ^ the SrenadieP’ the ^cond to the light infantry, and the third to the
mans, made severalTanges was di^rent at different times ; for the Greeks, like the llo-
For example, when Arrian mentions tlf C ,• cnce the apparent discrepancies which we meet with in the accounts of historians,
ganization which Philin and Alex-m 1 c''3 ° ^16 ancieut Greeks, he speaks of the times which preceded the constitution and or-
faXa were ffitroduced Ti .the Great gave to their tro°Pa- The oval buckler, larger than common, and the long pike or
Some of the Creeks s0Vcrei£?ns, and found to add incalculably both to the defensive and offensive power of the phalanx,
the Ach-eans tn lav a- i ti ’ P1(P!ed themselves on not adopting the changes of Alexander; but Philopoemen at length persuaded
the Athmans to lay aside their ancient arms, and assume those of the Macedonians. b 1 u
VOL. III. ,
4 K
626
ARMY.
Armv.
The Mace¬
donian
army.
of natives of Attica, and was drawn up according to
tribes or communities, probably with the view of ex¬
citing a generous rivalry in deeds of arms. The light
armed troops were partly native and partly foreign;
the slingers and archers were wholly foreign. The ca¬
valry, like the heavy-armed infantry, consisted of natives
alone, and were of a good description, being remarkably
alert, intelligent, and enterprising. Thus composed, the
Athenian army was prepared for every species of warfare,
and equal to the most arduous achievements. The intel¬
ligence, activity, quick perception, and daring spirit of
enterprise for which the native of Attica, the French¬
man of Greece, was distinguished, rendered him formi¬
dable in desultory warfare, alert in his movements, and
prompt in taking advantage of every favourable circum¬
stance ; insomuch that the Athenian light troops foiled, and
on some occasions even discomfited, the renowned Spartan
phalanx. The Athenian phalanx was less compact than
that of Sparta, and, owing to the character of the people,
as much perhaps as to its formation, less adapted to receive
and repel an attack; but in the charge it was perfectly ir¬
resistible. Its onset was terrible, and overthrew all be¬
fore it. The cause of this must be sought in the difference
of national character. The Spartan was chiefly celebrated
for his passive, the Athenian for his active courage.
Hence the one was powerful in resistance ; the other for¬
midable in attack. The Spartan was steady, devoted, and
firm; the Athenian bold, enterprising, intelligent, and
full of address and dexterity. If the one was less capable
of resistance, the other was more ardent and impetuous;
their military qualities were as opposite as their natural
characters, but both were admirable of their kind; and if
it had been possible to combine them together in equal
proportions, perfect soldiers might have been formed, and
a perfect army organized. The Athenians, we may ob¬
serve, were the first of the Greeks who advanced upon
the enemy at an accelerated pace corresponding to what
is now called double-quick time. This innovation was
first introduced by Miltiades at Marathon, in order to
give increased momentum to the charge which he direct¬
ed against the Persian masses; and it was consecrated in
Athenian tactics by the glorious result of that ever-me-
morable day.1
But the very principles which had saved the states of
Greece from foreign invasion, and enabled them to main¬
tain their independence, were destined to form the basis
of a military establishment, more formidable, because
more complete in all its parts, than any which that or
other countries had yet produced, and organized for the
express purpose of serving as an instrument for subverting
Grecian liberty. We allude of course to the Macedonian
army in the reigns of Philip and his son Alexander the
Great. The founder of this establishment, Philip of Ma-
cedon, was a man of unquestionable talents, of convenient
principles, and of boundless ambition, tlaving improved
his natural parts by associating with the scholars, states¬
men, and philosophers of his age; and having been ini¬
tiated into the scientific principles of the art of war under
Epaminondas, the most celebrated master of the time; he
was early fired with a love of military glory, and a lust of
conquest and dominion. But although the brilliant period
in the annals of the Greek states was past when Philip made
his appearance, and these communities had already begun
to show symptoms of decline, enough of the ancient spirit
still remained to convince him, that, without creating new
means, and organizing a force different from any which had
yet existed, he could never hope to realise his ambitious
projects, by rendering himself the master of Greece. The
sagacity of Philip was fully on a level with his ambition.
He saw that in the rude shepherds and hunters of Mace¬
donia might be found the raw material of an army; that
discipline and organization were alone wanting to convert
this material into an invincible force ; and that to render a
military force completely eftective, or, in other words, to
derive from it the utmost benefit it was capable of affording,
it was indispensably necessary to depart from the militia
system which had hitherto prevailed, and to start from the
principle that no army could be good which was not per¬
manent. He was thus the first who fully comprehended
the importance of a standing army, both as regards the
efficiency of a military body itself, and also with reference
to projects of conquest or ambition; and he may further
claim the distinction of having been the first to organize
a permanent force. In prosecuting this design he showed
a skill, and a knowledge of the principles of militarj' or¬
ganization, equal to the sagacity evinced by its concep¬
tion. Adopting the Spartan phalanx as the basis of his
system, he gave it greater depth and solidity, so as to
render it irresistible in the attack, and impenetrable when
drawn up in position. He changed or improved its ar¬
mour both for offence and defence; and, in particular, in¬
troduced the large oblong buckler, and the sarissa or Ma¬
cedonian pike, the most formidable weapon of ancient
times. The light-armed troops were also placed on a bet¬
ter footing than they had ever before been among the
Greeks, being formed in demi-phalanges, which, without
materially lessening their mobility, rendered them ca¬
pable of combining their efforts in an effective manner
with those of the heavy-armed infantry. The equipments,
arms, and discipline of his cavalry were in like manner
improved, and their organization perfected, with the ut¬
most care and diligence. In a word, all that was ex¬
cellent in the different Greek systems was combined in
the Macedonian; while their defects were avoided, and
improvements introduced wherever these seemed to be
either expedient or necessary. Such was the general
character of the military establishment which Philip
created for enabling him to trample on the liberties of
Greece, and which Alexander employed in subjugating
the world. We shall now speak of its different parts in
detail.
The phalanx was composed of files of a certain depth,
and of regular combinations of those files. The lochos or
file was a number of soldiers ranged in line, one behind
the other, from the head to the serre-jile or ouragos. The
file consisted at different times of different numbers of
men, as eight, ten, twelve, and sixteen. Alexander chose
the last, because it formed the best proportion relative
to the extent and depth of the phalanx; nor did it pre¬
vent the archers and slingers, stationed behind, from
launching their missiles at the enemy, over the heads of
the phalangites. If the phalanx was doubled to form a
solid column, or reduced to one half in order to extend
its front, the respective depths of 32 and 8 still remained
proportional; but if the original depth of the file had
been only 8, as in the Spartan phalanx, the latter evolu-
Armj.
1 It is very much to be regretted that no military or scientific description has been preserved of the battle of Marathon. The ac¬
counts which have reached us, being written by men ignorant of military affairs, are meagre, confused, and unsatisfactory ; contain¬
ing details, indeed, of the numbers engaged, and the amount of the slain, but giving little or no information respecting the combina¬
tions and manoeuvres which decided the fortune of the day. One thing only is certain,—the victory was the result of consummate
generalship on the part of the commander, and of heroic valour on that of the soldier.
A K
Army, tion could not have been performed with safety, because
it would have reduced the depth to 4, and thus deprived
the formation of its peculiar characteristic of solidity.
The preference given to the number 16, therefore, was
on account of its divisibility, and its admitting of evolutions
consistently with the nature of the phalanx, which could
not have been attempted with files composed of any other
number, greater or less. The best man was chosen as the
head of the file, and named lochagos ox protostate ; the se¬
cond was called epistate; the third bore the same name
as the first, the fourth the same as the second, and so on
to the last; so that each file was composed of protostates
and epistates, ranged alternately from the lochagos to the
ouragos, who was also a picked man.1 The junction of
two or more files was denominated syllochism. It was
effected by placing the protostates and epistates of the one
exactly opposite the protostates and epistates of the other ;
and one man, considered in reference to his juxtaposition
with another, was called parastate. The junction of all
the files formed the phalanx; of which, therefore, the
lochagi, or heads of files, constituted the front rank, and
the remaining para states in alignement, as far as the ou-
ragi or scrrc-jiles, the depth.
The phalanx, thus composed, was divided into two equal
parts ; one called the right wing or head, and the other the
left wing or rear, ihe point of separation or division was
variously denominated the navel, the mouth, and the joint¬
ure of the phalanx. And as the principle of this formation
was, that every combination should be divisible into two
equal parts, so the phalanx, as finally constituted by Alex¬
ander^ was composed of 16,384 heavy-armed men, the
half of which number was considered sufficient for light
troops, and the half of that again, or the fourth of 16,384,
sufficient for cavalry; while the divisibility into equal
parts afforded great facility for executing with precision all
manner of evolutions, and extending or diminishing at plea¬
sure the front of an army. The total number of the phalanx
being, as already stated, 16,384, and each file consisting of
16 men, it follows that there were in all 1024 files. But
each combination of files had its peculiar and appropriate
denomination. Two files united formed a dilochie, under
a dilochile; four files, a tetrarchie, under a tetrarch; two
tetrarchies, a laxiarckie, under a taxiarch or centurion;
two taxiarchies, a syntagma or xenagie, under a syntag-
matarch or xenagos ;2 two syntagmata, a pentecosiarchie,
under apentecosiarch ;3 two pentecosiarchies, a chiliarchie ;
M Y. 627
two chiliarchies, a merarchie or telarchie; and two me- Army,
rarchies, a phalanx of 4096 men in 256 files, which was ^
commanded by a general, under the name ofphalangarch.
Again, two phalanges formed a diphalangarchie; and
two diphalangarchies, a tetraphalangarchie, or the grand
phalanx, which thus consisted ot two wings or dipha¬
langarchies, four phalanges, eight merarchies, 16 chili¬
archies, 32 pentecosiarchies, 64 syntagmata, 128 taxi¬
archies, 256 tetrarchies, 512 dilochies, 1024 files, and
16,384 men. The front might be extended bv simply
augmenting the distance between the files; the "phalanx
was closed by lessening the distances between the ranks
and the files, and thus diminishing both its front and its
depth. Its locked order was called synapism, in which the
ranks and files were so closely approximated, that the
soldier could not turn.4 In this formation the men at the
exterior of the mass held their bucklers before them; the
next rank raised their bucklers over the heads of those
immediately in front of them; the third rank held their
bucklers over the heads of the second, and so on; thus
forming a sort of roof, over which the archers in the rear
sometimes passed to the front, and which, from the buck¬
lers being joined like the scales of a crocodile, resisted and
thi'ew off the heaviest missiles discharged by the enemy.
As every thing depended on the steadiness of the heads
of files and their epistates of the second rank, both were
gens delite or picked men. When the phalanx was closed
for action, each man occupied only three feet of ground
in rank and file. The pikes or sarissce were 24 feet in
length, 6 feet being behind and 18 feet before the grasp;
consequently (as the ranks were three feet separate), the
second rank advanced the pike 15 feet, the third 12, the
fourth 9, the fifth 6, and the sixth 3 feet; thus present¬
ing an array of points such as never bristled along the
front of any other military mass or column. The soldiers
of the other ranks, as they could not employ their pikes,
pushed on those before them, and, by their weight, served
to augment the violence of the shock.5 In this case every
thing depended on the serre-files or ouragi, who were the
keys of the phalanx, and, like the lochagi, picked men.
Such was the Macedonian phalanx,0 which was destined
to conquer the world, and to be, in its turn, conquered
by the world’s conquerors. It yielded to superior tactics
and greater mobility.
Ihe light-armed infantry were drawn up in different
ways, according to the nature of the ground and the dis-
1 Some authors designate a file stichos, others dccuria. They who apply the latter epithet seem to suppose that it consisted of ten
men which ,s not true as respects the Macedonian file. We have followed, in the text, the nomenclature of Arrian, whose authority
on this subject is decisive. With regard to the term enomotie, which has so much puzzled commentators, we hpve already shown that
it means something different from a file, or part of a file. It was a term peculiar to the military system of Sparta, whence it passed
certained^ °f Greece' including the Macedonian ; but no data have been given from which its precise import can be as-
Ihe syntagma m xenagic had four supernumerary men; a standard-bearer, an officer who marched behind and performed the duty
I01' to repeat the orders. This section, ranged in order of battle, formed a perfect square. (Arrian’s
of our major, an adjutant, and a ci
Tadics.)
'rhe P^ccosiarchic of the Macedonians answered to the lochos of the Spartans. This n.ust be kept in mind in the nerusal of Th„
cydides and Xenophon, otherwise both will be unintelligible. P perusal ot Ihu-
and at Mant^? V'lf'f" that EPamin„onda91w.as in1(,ebte(I {!)r the victories which he gained over the Lacedemonians atLeuctra
therefore nrnvP,Tt 1 Iheban army was formed in columns of attack, upon a front considerably less than the depth. The shock,
strikffiir a Ib'bfnn ^ pha ‘TX; .whlch was on,-v eight deep. Xenophon compares it to that of a heavy vessel
* s rpf a hf ht one amidships with her bow, and dashing her to pieces by the collision. ^
the phaltanx8 The secfi™!^ °f,battle{ 01'the necessity of sending out detachments, made no change in the form and disposition of
the ranks and files bu n fi alwa-VS)kePt "P to their lul1 complement of ranks and files. The effect ive diminution fell! not upon
phalanx. ‘ ’ h * 1 t le number of the sectlons, whlch were retrenched in proportion as they filled up the void in the
6 r~"
that,
sternation.
et “ ',,usieu;s if Alexander had commanded it, the Roman tjuld iiave told
inn- to the stnniditv nf PI ii;r -aS 11 mse.^emc*1 strated that the loss of the battle of Cynocephale was mainly, if not exclusively, ow-
vantages of its formation lost* ^ committing tbe phalanx upon broken ground, where its flanks wfere uncovered, and the principal ad-
628
A R M Y.
Army, position of the enemy; sometimes before the phalanx,
sometimes behind it, sometimes on both wings, sometimes
only on one. Their formation was in all respects similar
to that of the phalanx, and their files, eight deep, were
combined upon analogous principles. The Macedonian
cavalry was of various descriptions, as kataphracti, light
horse, and acrobolistce. The hataphracti or cuirassiers were
completely covered with defensive armour; the man with
a cuirass and cuisses of iron scales, the horse with a
frontlet and mail. Their offensive arm was the Macedo-
nvm pike. The light cavalry, unencumbered with heavy
armour, carried lances and missile weapons. The acrobo-
listce had no lances, and, like the Armenian or Turkish
cavalry, used only the bow and arrow. They were a spe¬
cies of Cossacks or irregular horse, and performed the
duties of such. The usual formation of the regular cavalry
for attack was the cuneiform, which had been introduced
by Philip, from an idea that it was the order best calcu¬
lated to pierce an enemy’s line ; but they were sometimes
drawn up in squares, sometimes in the form of a rhombus,
and sometimes also in a line.
The numerical strength of the Macedonian, like that of
other ancient armies, can only be conjectured from the
numbers actually brought into the field. In the time of Phi¬
lip it probably never exceeded a grand phalanx, with its pro¬
portional complements of light troops and cavalry, 28,603
in all, and a few thousands of auxiliary troops. At the pas¬
sage of the Granicus, Alexander’s army consisted of above
30,000 infantry and 5000 cavalry; from which we may
conclude that it was composed of one grand phalanx, with
its proportional complements of light troops and cavalry,
and about 6000 auxiliaries. But it was afterwards power¬
fully reinforced; for Alexander paid great attention to
recruiting, especially in Greece, and had always generals
detached from the army for the purpose of raising new
levies in that country. Accordingly we find that, at the
battle of Arbela, the Macedonian army consisted of two
grand phalanges, or 32,768 heavy armed infantry, two
corps of peltastce,1 each 8186 strong, and 4096 cavalry, in¬
cluding the Thessalian horse, besides several thousand
auxiliaries, chiefly irregular troops; thus making a grand
total, including auxiliaries, of at least 60,000 fighting men,
or 54,000 regular and 6000 irregular troops.
It has been supposed by some that this army, like that of
Carthage, was heterogeneous in its composition ; that men
of all nations were to be found in its ranks ; and that a stern,
unrelaxing discipline constituted the only vinculum or tie
by which the naturally discordant mass was held together.
There cannot possibly be a greater mistake. The Mace¬
donians, it is true, formed but the nucleus, as it were, of
the army; and, both in the reigns of Philip and Alexander,
recruits were obtained in considerable numbers from the
neighbouring states of Greece. But whatever shades of
difference might have been produced by local circumstances
and diversity of institutions, the inhabitants of all these
states were essentially one and the same people; identical
in origin, distinguished by like peculiarities physical and
moral, and possessing a general national character. In
what respects, then, can the Macedonian army be consi¬
dered heterogeneous ? None but Greeks were admitted
into the ranks of the phalanx, or those of the light infan¬
try and cavalry; no barbarians were received even as
auxiliaries. It was composed exclusively of people of
the same country and the same general character, who
all spoke dialects of the same language, shared a common
temperament, and were distinguished by their physical
configuration, no less than by their intellectual and moral
attributes, from the inhabitants of the surrounding na¬
tions. If ever there was an army, therefore, which dis¬
cipline could render more completely homogeneous than
another, it was that of Macedon during the reigns of
Philip and Alexander; nor do we know of any modern
army to which this epithet can with equal justice be
applied. The British army is composed of English,
Scotch, Irish, Welch, and Highlanders; the French, of
Bretons, Normans, Gascons, Alsatians, Savoyards, and
many other tribes; the Austrian, of Hungarians, Bohe¬
mians, Transylvanians, Croatians, and Germans ; the Prus¬
sian, of Silesians, Saxons, Poles, Pomeranians, and Bran-
denburgians; and the Russian, of Muscovites, Poles,
Sclavonians, Tartars, Circassians, Armenians, and innu¬
merable other races; yet all these are considered na¬
tional armies, and have each, in fact, a national character.
But if such assemblages are to be regarded as homoge¬
neous, we know not upon what principle the Macedonian
army, composed exclusively of Greeks, can possibly be
viewed in a different light, or supposed to have had no
other bond of union than what was created by discipline
alone.
Army.
The only other Greek armies which seem to require The Thc-
notice are those of the Thebans and of the Achaeanban 311,1
League. The Theban army, like Theban independence, Ac*1?E‘an
may be said to have been created by Epaminondas, and s‘
to have expired when that great captain fell in the arms
of victory upon the field of Mantineia. Still it is a strik¬
ing example of what genius and discipline may effect, even
when called to work upon the most unpromising mate¬
rials. Epaminondas found it a rabble, and he left it the
most formidable military force which Greece had ever yet
known. He gave it that organization which rendered it
victorious at Leuctra and Mantineia, and which shook
to the very foundation the power of the Lacedsemonians.
Aware that the Spartan phalanx was invincible by any
similar formation, and that he could only hope to pre¬
vail by bringing against it a greater concentration of
physical energy, he organized the Theban army in co¬
lumns upon a front less than their depth, so as to enable
him to direct the whole or any part against a given point
of the enemy’s line, and to bear it down by an irresistible
superiority of force; and he adapted his tactics to this
organization. At the battle of Leuctra, accordingly,
Epaminondas, observing the Lacedaemonians advance their
two wings before the centre, so as to form the order
which the Greeks called the half-moon, instantly attacked
the centre of one of these wings, and, having penetrated it,
soon succeeded in throwing the whole into irretrievable
confusion. Here the onset was made by one wing in
column against another in comparatively open formation;
and hence the Theban order of attack became the oblique,
which is erroneously supposed to be a discovery of mo¬
dern times. At Mantineia the Lacedaemonians carefully
avoided the blunder for which they had paid so dear at
Leuctra, and kept their forces more concentrated; but
Epaminondas, forming the whole of his infantry in a single
column, precipitated it upon a part of the enemy’s line,
overthrew it, and thus decided the fortune of the day.
The Theban army, immediately after the battle of Leuc¬
tra, is said to have amounted to 50,000 men. This, how¬
ever, is probably an exaggeration.—With regard to the
army of the Achaean League, it continued insignificant for
1 For an able and learned account of the peltastce, who sometimes formed considerable bodies, particularly in the armies of Alexan¬
der and his successors, and whose reputation almost equalled that of the phalanx itself, see Guischardt’s note to his Translation of
Arrian’s Tactics, in the second volume of his Mtmoires Militaires, p. 177-
ARMY.
The Car¬
thaginian
arm v.
^Army. the greater part of a centurj' after that celebrated confe-
deraey was entered into. Aratus was the first who placed
it on a respectable footing, and taught it to conquer at Ca-
phyae; and he was succeeded by Philopcemen, incomparably
the most scientific commander of ancient times, who com¬
pleted its organization, and led it to victory at the second
battle of Mantineia, where the Spartans, under Macha-
nidas, were completely defeated, and the tyrant himself
slain by the hand of the Achaean chief. This victory was
exclusively owing to the superior tactics and dispositions
of Philopoemen; who, instructed by the successes of the
1 tomans, had contrived, with infinite skill, to combine, in
the formation and arrangement of his troops, the advan-
tageS' of the legionary order with those of the phalanx,
ihe invaluable fragment of Polybius, containing a de-
sciiption of the battle of Mantineia, gives no account of
the numbers engaged. Me learn, however, that Philopoe¬
men having assembled the troops of the League, spent
eight months in perfecting their discipline and organiza¬
tion before he ventured to commit them in the field
against so experienced and warlike an enemy as the
Spartans.1 An army is a piece of mechanism which only
acts effectively when all the parts are combined and ad¬
justed together so as to insure the most complete con¬
cert and unity of operation ; and discipline is the mean by
which this important result is produced. It is in fact the
art of creating a new power; and so great is its efficacy
that it sometimes developes in men those qualities which
it only professes to direct and regulate.
ihis lemark is strikingly exemplified in the history of
the Carthaginian army. That army was almost entirely
composed of mercenaries, or at least of levies drawn from
countries differing in language, in manners, in customs, and
in character. In its ranks were to be found Africans, Spa¬
niards, Gauls, Boians, Insubrians, Etruscans, and various
other races ; yet such are the fusing effects of discipline,
that this apparently heterogeneous mass vanquished the
Romans on the Ticino; overthrew their legions in three
pitched battles, at Trebia, Thrasymenus, and Cannm ; and,
if Hannibal had known how to profit by victory, might
have planted the Carthaginian standards amidst the ruins
of Rome. The advantages of a truly national army are
great, especially in reverses: it may be beaten, but can¬
not easily be destroyed: and even its disasters may teach
it that experience which will ultimately conduct it to vic¬
tory ; as happened to the Romans in ancient, and to the
Russians under Peter the Great, in modern times. But,
on the other hand, many instances might be produced to
show, that the most effective armies may be organized out
of the most discordant and unpromising materials; and
that, while nothing can supply the want of discipline, dis¬
cipline can almost atone for and remedy every thino-.
With an army composed as we have already described,
Hannibal maintained, during sixteen years, the war against
the Romans in Italy, without sustaining any serious re¬
verse ; nor did he withdraw, until his presence was ren¬
dered necessary for the defence of his country ; which the
successive defeats of the other Carthaginian commanders,
both by sea and land, had uncovered, and exposed in its
turn to the attacks of an invader. Finally, he was van¬
quished at Zama from the same cause which had render-
ed him so often victorious—namely, superiority of disci¬
pline : for although his military genius never shone forth
more transcendently than in his last field, and although
his dispositions were in all respects worthy of his high
629
imputation, yet the raw and undisciplined levies which Army,
formed the strength, or rather the weakness, of his army,
were in no condition to contend with the Roman legions,
whom sixteen years of incessant warfare had improved both
m discipline and experience.2 In reflecting upon the is¬
sue of this, decisive conflict, which terminated the long
and sanguinary struggle between the rival republics of
Carthage and Rome; and, above all, in considering the
precarious nature of that power which is built on the un¬
certain foundation of military glory; the mind insensibly
passes from the contemplation of the fate of the Cartha¬
ginian chief to that of a still greater commander, which
in some measure resembles it^from the days when these
wailike republics contended for the empire of the world
to our own times, when, in a new field of Zama, another
bcipio conquered another Hannibal.
With regard to the numerical strength of the Cartha¬
ginian army, it appears to have varied at different times.
Ihe force with which Xantippus defeated Regulus, and
made him prisoner, did not probably exceed 20,000 men;
and we learn incidentally that the heavy-armed infan¬
try which the Lacedaemonian had formed in phalanx, con¬
formably to the tactics of his country, amounted to be¬
tween 8000 and 9000 men, and were all native troops.
But when the Carthaginians afterwards invaded Spain,
they recruited their armies from the population of the
country, and that of the neighbouring provinces of Gaul,
until the total numerical strength of these must have consi-
derably exceeded 100,000 men. Livy assures us that Han¬
nibal set out on his expedition to Italy at the head of
100,000 foot and 10,000 horse, but that he lost 30,000
men in crossing the Alps ; so that, according to the Roman
historian, he must have entered Italy with about 80,000
men. But the numbers actually brought into the field
completely disprove this statement: for it is admitted by
Livy himself that, at Trebia, Hannibal had only 30,000
infantry and 10,000 cavalry, and that he vanquished at
Cannae with 40,000 foot and 10,000 horse. We shall be
nearer the truth, therefore, if we suppose that the inva¬
sion of Italy was undertaken with little more than half the
number of troops mentioned by Livy; and that the losses
sustained in crossing the Alps were, in a great measure,
repaired by the recruits which Hannibal drew from the
Boians, Insubrians, and his other allies; a supposition which
seems completely borne out by the authority of Polybius.
But when the Carthaginian general set out from New Car¬
thage for Italy he left two other armies in Spain ; and, if we
assume these to have been each about 30,000 strong, while
the force under his own command exceeded 50,000, it
will follow that, at this time, the Carthaginians had con¬
siderably more than 100,000 men of all arms in the field.—
Let us now attend to the composition and organization of
that strictly national force with which these well-disciplined
condottieri were called to contend, and by which, after sus¬
taining many reverses, they were ultimately overthrown.
le army of Rome, in the days of her conquests, was The Ro
perhaps the most perfect, certainly the most formidable, man army,
which the world had yet seen ; and the superiority which
it ultimately obtained over the military force of every na¬
tion to which it was opposed, seems to have been exclusive¬
ly owing to the pre-eminent excellence of its discipline and
organization. “ Xulla enim alia re videmus populum Ro-
manum orbem subegisse terrarum,” says Vegetius, “ nisi
armorum exercitio, disciplina castrorum, usuque militim.
Quid enim adversus Gallorum multitudinem paucitas Ro-
' fee Guischardt’s commentary on this battle, MSmoires Militaires, tom.
* We must again refer to Guischardt, tom. i.- oie •
tations of Folard, who seems to have been alike
tattle, Memoircs Militaires, tom. i. p. 177.
i. i. p. 216, more especially as this very able military commentator exposes the misrepresen-
i 'e incapable of comprehending the narrative of Polybius, or the dispositions of Hannibal.
630 A R
Army, mana valuisset ? Quid adversus Germanorum proceritatem
brevitas potuisset audere? Hispanos quidem non tantum
nuraero, sed etiam viribus corporum nostris praestitisse, ma-
nifestum est. Afrorum dolis atque divitiis semper impares
fuimus. Graecorum artibus prudentiaque nos vinci, nemo
unquam dubitavit. Sed adversus omnia profuit tyronem
solertem eligere, jus(utita dixerim) armorum docere, quo-
tidiano exercitio roborare, quaecunque evenire in acie, at¬
que in prceliis possint, omnia in campestri meditatione prae-
noscere, severe in desides vindicare. Scientia enim rei
bellicae, dimicandi nutrit audaciam. Nemo facere metuit,
quod se bene didicisse confidit. Etenim in certamine bel-
iorum, exercitata paucitas ad victoriam promptior est:
rudis et indocta multitudo, exposita semper ad caedem.”1
The military age was seventeen ; and, when the exigencies
of the state! required it, every citizen, from seventeen to
forty-six, or even fifty, was obliged to enrol himself as a sol¬
dier. Except on pressing emergencies, however, the more
youthful part of the population was preferred, as that which
could be most effectually trained to the exercises and form¬
ed to the discipline of war.2 These were of the most severe
description, and had for their object not merely to instruct
the soldier in the use of arms, in marching, and in evolutions,
but to develope and improve to the utmost his physical
powers; to inure him to labour, fatigue, and hardships of all
kinds; to qualify him for surmounting with ease the va¬
rious obstacles and difficulties incident to a state of active
warfare ; to give precision and rapidity to his movements ;
and, above all, to create that confidence in himself, and
that unbounded reliance upon the efficacy of order, subor¬
dination, and combined action, which nourish audacity,
yet temper it with coolness and steadiness. Besides the
use of arms, of which we shall hereafter speak, the young
soldier was, accordingly, trained to the exercises of running,
leaping, vaulting, wrestling, and swimming, armed as well as
unarmed: he was required to perform long and frequent
marches, at the rate of four miles an hour, carrying a load
of sixty pounds weight: he was carefully instructed in the
use of the tools necessary for throwing up; all manner of
field-works, particularly fortifying the camp: and, even
after he had been found qualified to join the legion, he was
constantly employed, while in camp, either in the prac¬
tice of these manly exercises, or in acquiring greater dex¬
terity and precision in the use of his weapons. The Ro¬
man soldier knew no intervals of idleness, and was not al¬
lowed time to indulge in dissipation. The camp was his
home: war was his business: its exercises formed his
amusement: its success constituted his glory. In the
legion to which he belonged were concentred all his hopes,
all his thoughts, and all his affections.
In raising troops to constitute the legions, the method
adopted by the Romans was that which they denominated
election; because the magistrates chose from the different
M Y.
tribes the citizens whom they considered best fitted for Army,
the military service. The consul or the praetor assembled
in the Campus Martius, or in the Capitol, all the citizens,
who were bound to concur in the formation of the legions,
raised every year, conformably to a decree of the senate;
and this obligation included all Romans within the age
above specified, who had not served twenty campaigns
as foot soldiers, or ten campaigns as horsemen or knights ;
with the exception, however, of the lowest class, which was
exempted from military service on account of its poverty.
The number of legions commonly raised was four ;3 and
the first step consisted in the appointment, either by the
people or the consuls, of six tribunes to each legion. The
conscripts being classed according to their tribes, the ma¬
gistrate, charged with the levies, then elected four succes¬
sively from each tribe. Of every four thus designed the
tribunes of each legion in their turn chose one, whose name
was immediately inscribed in its muster roll; and this
operation, which established a perfect equality in the
composition of the legions, was repeated until they had
received their proper complement of men. On the ter¬
mination of the election each legionary individually took
the sacramentum or military oath ; swearing to be obedient
to his general, and to execute his commands in all things
to the utmost of his power and ability. Nor was this a
vain ceremony; for the Romans, trained up in the fear of
the gods, had a peculiar reverence for the sanctity of an
oath. Roman citizens alone were admitted into the
legions, until the time when the civil wars led to the sub¬
version of the republic, and the violation of all established
rules. Those, however, who had completed the prescribed
period of service, or had attained their fiftieth year, were
no longer obliged to take arms in defence of the state,
and were only liable to be called out in the event of the
city being threatened with some imminent danger. But
these brave veterans, habituated to a military life, fre¬
quently inscribed themselves as volunteers, and thus served
both as models and examples to the young legionaries, who
seldom failed to profit by their experience, and generally
showed an ambition to come up to their standard.
As soon as the military oath had been administered, the
tribunes dismissed the legionaries, having first indicated
the time and place where they were afterwards to assemble
in order to be embodied. At the general muster, on the day
fixed for this purpose, the youngest and poorest in each le¬
gion were selected as velites ; the next in order were chosen
as hastati; the class immediately above constituted the
principes ; and the triarii were formed of the oldest and
richest citizens elected to serve in the legions; the differ¬
ent classes being thus arranged according to their arms,
their fortune, and their age. The legion was commonly
composed of 1200 hastati, 1200 principes, 1200 velites, 600
triarii, and 300 cavalry or knights; thus making its total
1 Vegetius, De Re Militari, 1. i. c. 1. Itaphengii, 1G07*
2 “ Adolescentes legend! sunt, sicut ait Sallustius: nam primum juventus, simul ac belli patiens erat, in castris per laboris usum
militiam discebat. Melius enim est, ut exercitatus iuvenis causetur setatem nondum advenisse pugnandi, quam doleat praeteriisse.
(Yegetius, 1. i. c. 4.)
* A consular army consisted of two legions, and of a certain number of troops furnished by the socii or allies of Rome. The infan¬
try of the allies, according to Polybius, did not surpass in number the legionary infantry in a consular army, but their cavalry was
double the number of the knights. The fifth part of their infantry and the third part of their cavalry formed a corps d'tlite, called
extraordinary or elect, under the immediate orders of the consul; while the remainder of the social troops were divided into two corps,
one called the right and the other the left wing. Hence a consular army consisted, in Roman troops, of 0000 legionaries of the line,
2400 ve/ito, and GOO knights; in social troops, of G700 infantry of the wings, 1700 extraordinary infantry, 800 cavalry of the wings,
and 400 extraordinary cavalry; making a total of 18,GOO men. Rut when Rome had a difficult war to carry on, two consular armies
were raised, and both the consuls took the field; which, in fact, happened almost every year. Lastly, when urgent circumstances re¬
quired it, the consular armies were doubled and united in order to contend with a formidable enemy. Thus the Romans assembled
at Cannae four consular armies, or nearly 80,000 men, to try the fortune of arms against Hannibal; and, in the heat of the second
Punic war, they raised as many as twenty-three legions, or considerably more than 100,000 men. “ Alors,” says Rogniat, “ les ar¬
mies se multiplierent en raison de ce grand nombre de legions; les deux consuls choisissaient celles qui leur convenaient, et le com-
mandement des autres etait confie u des preteurs, a des proconsuls, et a des propreteurs.” {Considerations sur I'Art de la Guerre,
p. 28, 30.)
ARMY.
Ar|‘'y. strength 4500 men. The tribunes, in concert with the
centurions, divided the three classes of hastati, principes,
tnarii, into ten ranks, manipules, or companies each : the
veliteswere distributed in equal portions among these thirty
manipules: and the cavalry were divided into ten parts,
called turmce or troops. Such is the account given by
Polybius, who, doubtless, describes the legion as it was
constituted in his time.
Ihe hastati, so called from the hasta or spear with
which they were originally armed, commonly formed
the first line in the order of battle; the principes were
placed in the second line; whilst the oldest and best
legionaries, classed under the name of triarii, consti¬
tuted a reserve in the third line. The triarii were ori¬
ginally the only troops armed with the pilum, a species
of heavy javelin, which will be described hereafter; and
hence they are sometimes designated by the ancient his-
torians under the name of pilani, while the principes and
hastati are denominated ante pilani; but these denomina¬
tions necessarily ceased when the three lines adopted the
same aims. Ihe velites, distributed among the manipules,
as already mentioned, were the light infantry of the legion,
of which they formed about a fourth part; and known at
fiist under the name of rorarii and accensi, they were af¬
terwards called velites, and ultimately/emzfara. But the
readei must be careful not to confound these light troops,
which always formed part of the legion, with the cohorts
of archers and slingers attached to the armies in the time
of C rnsai ; since the latter were merely auxiliary troops,
and had nothing whatsoever in common with the legion.
The legionary cavalry, composed of a body of 300 horse,
denominated the ala or wing, and forming about the
twentieth part of the legion, was divided into ten turmce,
of thirty horsemen each; while the turma was again subdi¬
vided into three decuriee, of ten cavaliers each; and the
whole was chosen from among the equites or knights,
who formed one of the first orders at Home.
When the classification had been completed, the tribunes
of each legion proceeded to the appointment of centurions,
fhey commenced by naming ten jdrst centurions in each
class, except that of the velites; after which they proceeded
to the nomination of an equal number of second centurions ;
and the legionary infantry being divided into ten mani¬
pules of hastati, ten of principes, and ten of triarii, among
which the velites were equally distributed, they assigned
a first and a second centurion to each manipule; the first
commanding the right, and the second the left of the ma¬
nipule, under the orders of the first, whose place he sup¬
plied in the case of absence or death. The tribunes also
named three decurions in each of the ten turmce of horse ;
but the decurion first named had the sole command, and
the two others were only his lieutenants. Thus a legion
had sixty centurions or officers of infantry, thirty decurions
or officers of cavalry, and six tribunes or officers of the staff.
The tribunes commanded the legion each in his turn du¬
ring two months; and this continued to be the practice until
the epoch of the civil wars, when, for reasons sufficiently
obvious, the command was intrusted to a legatus or lieuten¬
ant-general. The tribunes on service superintended the
establishment and fortification of the camp, disposed the
guards necessary for insuring its safety, transmitted to
the centurions the orders of the general, took care that
these were duly executed, and attended to the discipline
and exeicise of the troops; whilst the others were placed
by the legatus or the consul at the head of detachments,
reconnoissances, or foraging parties, and intrusted with
631
the command of posts, or employed on particular missions,
for raising contributions of money, provisions, clothing,
cincl aims in the conquered countries; in a word, they
were staff officers disposable for all kinds of service. The
centurions were divided into several grades. Besides the
distinction of first and second, established with reference
to the manipule, they took precedence among themselves
according to the relative distribution of the classes to
which they belonged; so that a centurion of the triarii
ranked above a centurion of the principes, and a centu¬
rion of the principes above a centurion of the hastati.
And the first centuiion of each class, that is, the primi
hastati centurio, the primus princeps, and the primipilus
or primipili centurio, commanded the whole of his class,
01 one of the lines of battle of the legion; which accounts
for the high consideration that these three superior officers
enjoyed among the Romans. They were commonly ad¬
mitted to the council of the general, along with the tri¬
bunes; and the primipilus, the chief of all the centurions,
by reason of the pre-eminence of his class, commanded
the whole legion in the absence of the tribunes. Further,
each centurion and decurion chose for himself, or received
from the tribunes, a sub-officer to aid him in the details
of the service; and we learn from Vegetius, that there
was moreover placed at the head of each squad or tent
of ten soldiers a decanus or corporal, who performed the
duties of that humble rank.1
Such was the constitution of the legion in the time of
Polybius, the friend and contemporary of the second
Scipio, But an important, we might almost say a radi¬
cal, change in its organization was afterwards introduced ;
a change which has been ascribed to Marius, and which
appears to have commenced at the epoch of the wars
against Jugurtha. The legions then ceased to be ranged
in lines of hastati, principes, and triarii; for the last or¬
der of battle, according to the ancient formation, of which
historians give any account, is that of Metellus against
Jugurtha, as described by Sallust. From this period we
always find the legions ranged by cohorts, without dis¬
tinction of classes, in a double or a triple line. The clas¬
sification which had been originally occasioned by differ¬
ence of arms no longer served any purpose, after all the
troops of the line were armed in the same manner; except
to divide the legion into three large bodies of about 1600
each, including the velites, which formed part of them
But experience proving that such bodies were too nume¬
rous to be easily directed by a single commander, and too
heavy and lumbering for the exigencies of Roman tactics,
their place was supplied by a number of smaller and more
manageable bodies, and the legion, consequently, divided
into ten cohorts, each consisting of three manipules, under
six officers, who preserved their denomination and com¬
mand in their respective manipules. The force of the
cohort was raised from 400 to 600 men, thus making the
total strength of the legionary infantry 6000; and the
first cohort was composed of picked men, who were in¬
ti listed with the eagle, under the orders of the primipilus.
A new ordei of battle was also adopted, the legions beino-
commonly drawn up in two lines of five cohorts each, leav-
ing small intervals between each cohort. But Caesar,
justly considering these lacunce dangerous, and thinking
the new formation deficient in solidity, preferred a con¬
tinuous alignement, and recurred to the ancient forma¬
tion in three lines, placing four cohorts of each legion
in the first, three in the second, and three in the third
line.
Army.
1 Erant decani, decern militibus prsepositi, qui nunc caput contubernii vocantur.
llogmat, Considerations sur I'Art do ia Guerre, p. 7, et seqq. Paris,
1820.)
(Vegetius, De Re Militari, 1. ii. c. 8. See also
632 A R
Arm}T. The civil troubles which led to the subversion of the re-
public produced still further changes. For a time the le¬
gionary cavalry entirely disappeared, and their place was
supplied by auxiliary horse: strangers, and even slaves,
were admitted into the legions, the force of which varied
from 4000 to 6000 men : and the social troops disappear¬
ed by the admission of all the natives of Italy to the rank
of citizens. In the imperial times, as we learn from Ve-
getius, the legion consisted of 6100 infantry and 726 caval¬
ry. The decimal division of the infantry into cohorts re¬
mained the same. “ The cavalry,” says Gibbon, speaking
of that attached to an imperial legion, “ without which the
force of the legion would have remained imperfect, was di¬
vided into ten troops or squadrons ; the first, as the compa¬
nion of the first cohort, consisted of 132 men, whilst each
of the other nine amounted only to 66 : the entire estab¬
lishment formed a regiment, if we may use the modern
expression, of 726 horse, naturally connected with its re¬
spective legion, but occasionally separated to act in the
line, and to compose a part of the wings of an army.”1
This is at once clear and precise. But it has, nevertheless,
been supposed, and not without reason, that when the
legionary cavalry was augmented, the number of turmce
was proportionally increased; and that no such inequality
as that mentioned by Gibbon existed between the turma
attending the first cohort and those attached to the others.
In fact the turma or squadron, at this period, consisted of
32, or, including the decurion, 33 men; and as the total
number of cavalry belonging to the imperial legion was
726, it follows that there were in all twenty-two turma:,
of which four, or 132 men, were attached to the first co¬
hort, and two, or 66 men, to each of the remaining nine.
The result in both cases, however, is the same; while
Gibbon’s statement may perhaps be preferred as proceed¬
ing upon the more ancient division.2
The armour of the Roman infantry consisted of the demi-
cylindrical buckler or shield, the cuirass or pectoral, the
casque or helmet, and the ocrea or greave. The demi-
cylindrical buckler or shield, four feet in length by two
feet and a half in breadth, and constructed in the form of a
tile, was composed of two or three pieces of timber fashioned
and secured together in the manner of staves, covered
with leather, strengthened at each extremity by a band
M Y.
of iron, and provided in the middle with an umbo or boss Army,
of metal, for the purpose of turning aside the missiles and
pikes of the enemy. The casque, helmet, or head-piece
of brass was variously formed, but generally fitted with
projections at the base for protecting the neck and shoul¬
ders, and attached under the chin by mentonnieres, covered
with scales of brass. The cuirass or pectoral was a hollow
plate of brass about a foot square, adapted to the form of
the chest, and fastened with thongs of leather protected
by metallic scales ; but the centurions and foremost le¬
gionaries rendered themselves still more impenetrable to
the steel of the enemy by using chain armour covered
with brass scales. Lastly, the ocrea was a species of boot
or greave, fortified with iron, and worn on the right leg,
which the soldier advanced in striking his adversary.3 Their
offensive arms were the javelin, Xhepilum or heavy dart, the
pike, and the sword. The sword called Spanish4 was com¬
mon to all the infantry of the legion. It had a short broad
blade of excellent temper, which served either to cut or
thrust,5 and was worn by the soldier on the right thigh. The
javelin belonged exclusively to the light infantry or velites.
It was a species of dart, with a round shaft about three feet
in length and an inch in diameter, shod at one extremity
with iron about four inches in length, and tapering to a very
sharp point. In the day of battle the light troops had
each seven of these weapons, which they launched at the
enemy with much dexterity and precision. When it be¬
came necessary to have recourse to the sword before the
whole or any part of the javelins were thrown, the soldier
passed them to his left hand, which remained free in con¬
sequence of the buckler being attached to the left arm.
The light troops were also provided with bows and ar¬
rows, and slings, which they used in skirmishing at a dis¬
tance. The pilum or heavy dart, intended to serve prin¬
cipally as a missile, was originally borne by the triarii
alone, whence the name of pilani, but was afterwards ap¬
propriated to the hastati and the principes. Its shaft was of
such a thickness as to be easily grasped by the hand ;6 and
the weapon, including both wood and iron, was about seven
feet in length. The iron, however, was of the same
length as the wood, extending to the middle of the shaft,
which was firmly inserted in it, and made fast by nails
driven transversely ; and it was of a square form, of an inch
1 Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. i. chap. iii. p. 13, 14, 8vo ed.
2 “ The turma of the Romans,” says the Count von Bismark, “ had, according to Vegetius, eight files and four ranks ; ten turmce
formed a legion ; the distances between the turmae were equal to their front.” {Cavalry Tactics, p. 273, Engl, transl.) It would be cu¬
rious to learn in what edition of Vegetius the Count discovered that the turma of the Romans had eight files and four ranks, and that
ten turmce formed a legion, or brigade of infantry and cavalry united in very unequal proportions. Unless the Count has found out
something to which the Romans themselves were strangers, he must have fancied that, in describing the formation of the infantry of
the legion, Vegetius was speaking of the cavalry.
3 When the Roman soldiers threw their pila or heavy darts, they had the left leg foremost; but when they engaged in close com¬
bat with the sword, they were taught to advance the right leg, which was accordingly protected by the iron-covered greave or boot
above mentioned. (Vegetius, lib. ii. cap. 15 and 16; Justus JLipsius, lib. iii. dial. 2, Dc Mil. Rom.; Guischardt, tom. ii. p. 160.)
4 The gladius Hispaniensis is thus described by Polybius:—’Ana 2s ru tuv-tw 2s ■rip rov 2s|.o» <psjs/ pnoov. KaXovm 2s aurr,*
IBHP1KHN- 2s avryj xsvrnpoc 'hta.cpo^ov, xarcctyogav s^ uptyotv toiv ptgotv (Ziuiov, 'bice, ro rev ofiiXnrzcv cevrris i(T%vqov x.at povipov tivcei. 1 he name
of this weapon sufficiently indicates its origin. An unknown writer, quoted by Suidas, says that “ the Celtiberians excelled all others
in the manufacture of swords, strongly-pomted and double-edged; wherefore the Romans, laying aside the swords which had been in
use among their ancestors, replaced them, in the time of Hannibal, with the Spanish blades. But (he adds) although they assumed
the form, they were unable to imitate the temper of the steel and the beauty of the workmanship.” Josephus says that, in his time,
the Romans had two swords—one of considerable length, which hung at the left side, and another about a foot long, which they carried
on the right thigh; in other words, a sword and a dirk, like the Scotish Highlanders. Similar changes in the arms of the soldiery
may be remarked every century.
The Romans invariably gave the point, and derided the practice of those who depended on the cut rather than on the thrust.
“ Prseterea non ccesim,'" says Vegetius, “ sed punctim ferire discebant. Nam csesim pugnantes non solum facile vicere, sed etiam de-
risere Romani. Caesa enim quovis impetu venial, non frequenter interficit; cum et armis vitalia defendantur, et ossibus. At con¬
tra puncta, duas uncias adacta, mortalis est. Deinde dum caesa infertur, brachium dextrum latusque nudatur. Puncta autem tecto
corpore infertur, et adversarium sauciat ante quam videatur.” {Dc Re Militari, 1. i. c. 12.) This, we believe, is still accounted sound
doctrine of fence.
6 This seems to be the meaning of the Greek word TaXaurriaioi, applied by Polybius to the shaft or helve of the pilum; for,
taking it in its ordinary acceptation, the shaft of the pilum would have been four inches in diameter; a size which, considering the length
of the weapon, and the weight of its iron, would have rendered it an impracticable arm. Dionysius of Halicarnassus confirms this opi¬
nion by describing the pila as xuooTXvfa or weapons that completely fill the hand. Polybius compares this formidable arm of offence
to a boar-spear.
ARM Y.
Army.
and a half at its greatest thickness, but its diameter gra¬
dually diminished to the point, which was exceedingly
sharp, and near to which was placed a hook or barb, that
served to retain the weapon wherever it penetrated. Be¬
sides this arm, which was necessarily heavy, the soldiers
were sometimes provided with another of the same kind,
but less massive both in the wood and the iron, which they
held in the left hand, and discharged immediately after
the former. The pilum was a weapon peculiar to the Ro¬
mans. As soon as they came within a proper distance of
the enemy, they began the combat by launching these
heavy darts, with a force which, from their weight and
the temper of the steel points, caused them frequently
to penetrate both buckler and cuirass, so as to inflict the
most hideous and desperate wounds. Having discharged
these missiles, the legionaries instantly drew their swords
and rushed upon the enemy with the utmost impetuosity,
befoi e he could recover from the effects of the volley of
pilu, by which his first ranks were generally overthrown.1
Ihe pike of the triai'ii, a weapon equally adapted for attack
or defence, onset or resistance, was longer, less thick, and
consequently more manageable, than t\\epilum, which was
of little use except at the moment of commencing battle.
Armed with this weapon, the veteran reserve of the legion
often awaited depiedferme, the shock of cavalry as well as
infantry; and Livy assures us that they seldom or never
quitted their pikes in battle. “ The triarii,'' says he,
speaking of a particular occasion, “ disfigured the faces
of the Latins with their pikes, the points of which had
been blunted in the combat.” These troupes d!elite, there¬
fore, may be considered as the pikemen of the legion;
although instances are to be found where they abandoned
the pike and had recourse to the sword, which was always
the weapon m which the Romans placed the greatest con¬
fidence, and with which, indeed, their most celebrated
feats in arms were achieved. It may be proper to add,
that, although this description principally applies to the
legion as constituted in the time of Polybius, and although
great changes were subsequently introduced, yet the arms,
offensive as well as defensive, of the legionaries, remained
nearly the same ; with this exception, however, that all the
troops of the line were at length armed in precisely the same
manner, namely, with the Spanish sword and the pilum.
Ihe horse had very nearly the same armour as the foot,
and they were latterly provided with offensive arms simi¬
lar to those used by the cavalry of the Greeks ; namely,
with a lance, having a shaft resembling two cones joined
together at their bases, and pointed at both extremities,
and a long, large sword, suspended by a shoulder-belt at
the right side. There was a time, indeed, when they had
only slender lances, pointed at one extremity, and wore
no cuirass; but experience soon showed the necessity of
adopting the Greek arms and equipments. The Roman
cavalry was generally composed of a superior description
of men, denominated knights, who on all occasions dis¬
played the greatest valour; but they seldom mustered in
force sufficient to produce great results, and their organi¬
zation appears to have been in many respects defective.
It is evident, that a man placed on the back of a horse,
without a saddle, or stirrups to serve as a fulcrum for re¬
action, can never exert half his proper force, nor combine
it effectively with the momentum acquired from the ve¬
locity and weight of his horse. “ Ces cavaliers,” says
Kogmat, “ ne pouvaient etre choisis que parmi les che¬
valiers, qui formaient un des premiers ordres a Rome.
Letat leur fournissait ordinairement des chevaux; mais,
peu habitues a fequitation, ou persuades qu’on est plus
fort a pied qua cheval, ils mettaient souvent pied a terre,
pour prendre une part plus decisive aux combats serieux!
Telle etait (he adds) 1’opinion des Romains, de la supe-
riorite de 1 infanterie sur la cavalerie, que, non content de
n avoir qu un petit nombre de cavaliers, ils les transformai-
ent encore en fantassins dans les occasions critiques.”2
The Roman generals, even in the time of the consuls, do
not seem to have followed any particular order of battle, but
to have changed it according to circumstances, or the na-
tui e of the enemy they had to contend with. This is evinced
by the various dispositions which were made at the battles
of I unis, of Cannae, of Zama, and many others that might
be mentioned. But still the chequer order or quincunx
was that most frequently employed in the earlier times of
the republic; owing, doubtless, to the facility it afforded
of forming line or column at pleasure. Leaving the ve-
htes or light troops out of view, as constituting no part
of the main battle, the reader will observe that the mani-
pules of the first line, or the hastati, were formed upon a
front varying according to the depth, which was generally
ten, but not unfrequently six; and that the interval be¬
tween each manipule was exactly equal to its front. Thus,
supposing the legion 5000 strong, a manipule of 140 men
would be ranged ten deep upon a front of fourteen ; and
as each soldier occupied three feet,3 the extent of front
presented by a manipule would accordingly be fourteen
yards.. Since the first line, therefore, consisted of ten mani-
pules, it contained of course nine intervals of fourteen yards
each ; exactly opposite to which, but at a considerable dis¬
tance in the rear, were stationed nine of the ten mani-
pules of the second line, or principes, drawn up in the same
manner as those of the first, upon fronts of equal extent;
the tenth manipule of the latter outflanking by the whole
length of its front the right or the left wing, as it might be,
of the first line. The triarii, of less depth than the hastati
<xx\o. principeS) but for the most part in continuous forma-
tion, occupied the third line. Now, it must be obvious at
the first glance, that this order of battle presented several
important advantages. By advancing the manipules of the
principes through the above-mentioned intervals, until they
dressed with those of the hastati, line was at once form¬
ed: again, by moving them fourteen yards either to the
right or left, the depth of the formation was doubled;
while, by placing the manipules of the triarii exactly be¬
hind those of the principes, as was done when the legions
were menaced by elephants, the whole was formed into co¬
lumns, separated into intervals equal to their respective
fronts, through which these animals, pursued and goaded
by the vehtes, might be driven to the rear, without doing
The weight of^thi^am^ne'perme^ttoitras^dele^darder dXnu" T- U 866 Co™nentar.iesde Civili, lib. iii. cap. 92.
enemy with their javdins and other missiles before the action became vemTal'' IsThe hostile8line busmess.0^t^ ve!it^s to harass the
through the intervals or bv the flanks where thev frenov-iK. v. t- j ,e llostl‘e lmes approached, the light troops retired
other, the hastati and principes darted1 their mhi "and thet" i i 1 s a 10j1a'1^ when the former were within a short distance of each
,0^con,bat He”“,he>•"«*
^ Considtrahons sur l Art de la Guerre, "p. 10, 11. Paris, 1820.
Roman soldier was consequently^flne Square fee^ of e-round (ilstafnc^.of tliree ^et from one another, the whole space occupied by the
is to be observed, however thM he second ink of fC ^ thlS °Pe,r °rder1WaS 861(10111 ^parted from, even in the charge. It
cover those of the second, the fourth to cover hoi T S° ^ t0 -C0Ver the intervals of the the <*ird to
nip^individuafiy was a precise type of their collective disposition in o°rdTr oVbattkf ? m ^ W°rdS’ ^ arra^ement of each ma-
4 L
634 A R
Army, any mischief. Lastly, if it was desired to form the legion
in three continuous lines, this was instantly effected by
simply closing up the intervals between the manipules of the
first and second lines; the Enamor reserve being, as we have
already said, drawn up in a continuous formation, except
when it became necessary to open a passage for elephants.
And all these various evolutions were performed with a
rapidity and precision which have seldom been equalled
and never surpassed by the troops of any other nation.
At a later period, however, the Roman tacticians em¬
ployed a different order of battle, distinguished for its
greater compactness and solidity, as well as for the facility
and rapidity with which it might be formed from the order
of march, even in presence of the enemy. According to
this method each manipule of the legion formed only a single
rank in its order of battle; consequently the two classes
* of hastati and principes, ranged each upon its first manipule
as a front, formed two lines ten deep. But as each man
occupied three feet every way, and as the lines were se¬
parated by an interval equal to half the extent of their
front, it is obvious that each line occupied a front of 120
yards, by from ten to twelve yards in depth; and that
they were separated from each other by an interval of about
60 yards. Again, at an equal distance in i-ear of the prin¬
cipes, the triarii formed the reserve of the legion in the
third line; and the whole, ranged in this manner in three
lines, constituted a square order, as deep as it was broad ;
while the turmce of the cavalry covered the flanks of the
lines, and the eagle or standard of the legion was intrust¬
ed to the keeping of theprimipilus on the right of the line
of the triarii. This order, usually denominated legio quad-
rala, was that adopted by all skilful generals when in pre¬
sence of an enemy. But the different legions composing an
army were ranged upon the same principle, with reference
to one another, as the different ranks of the same legion;
in other words, they were formed en echelon ; each legion¬
ary line thus making one of the sections of the column,
and the baggage occupying the intervals, while the velites
covered the flanks. In this order of march, if the enemy
threatened an attack on the front, each legion in succes¬
sion formed line with that at the head of the column; the
second almost in an instant, the third somewhat later, and
the fourth, or the most remote, in about seven minutes,
which were accounted sufficient for developing the order
of battle on the front. But the order of battle on the
flank was of still more rapid formation. For, the baggage
withdrawing from between the sections, and assembling
on the side opposite to the enemy, each legion executed
what is technically called a quart de conversion on its/ws-
tati, and the whole army immediately found itself in order
of battle ; two minutes being sufficient for the performance
of this simple evolution. It seems evident, then, that the
, celebrated quadratum agmen of the Romans, which has
hitherto been so often treated of, and so little understood,
consisted of a certain number of legiones quadrates dispos¬
ed en echelon, or at least in column, as we have just de¬
scribed : and, from the advantages of this order of march,
particularly its rapid convertibility into an order of battle
either on the front or the flank, it is easy to understand
the reason why the Roman historians have censured so
severely the generals who neglected to adopt it in presence
of the enemy. So much, then, for Roman tactics, as con¬
nected with the elementary formation of those brigades
or divisions which constituted the units of Roman armies.
M Y.
The distinguishing characteristic of the legion consisted Army,
in its astonishing mobility, united with its power of pre-
serving its order of battle undisturbed, and of constant¬
ly rallying when forced to give way. It possessed a sort
of flexibility which enabled it to adapt itself to every
change and variety of circumstances; and no other mili¬
tary body, perhaps, ever executed so numerous evolutions
in the presence of an enemy. Its attack was impetuous
and formidable; but if that failed, it then displayed its
most characteristic excellence, by fighting in retreat. In
this way it vanquished the phalanx, although it was un¬
able to withstand the direct shock of that dense body in
the open field. At the battle where Flaminius defeated
Philip in Thessaly, the Macedonian phalanx gained con¬
siderable ground on the legions ; but the Romans, although
forced to give way, preserved their order,—returned repeat¬
edly to the charge,—and, even while in the act of retiring,
extended their line so as to gain the flank of the Greeks.
Philip durst neither accelerate his march, nor send out
any detachment in pursuit; so that twenty manipules had
time to turn his flank and fall upon his rear, which
speedily decided the fate of the battle. As the phalanx
acted with long pikes, and in close order, the least de¬
rangement caused by the ardour of the soldier in pursuit,
or by inequality of ground in its march, necessarily ex¬
posed it to the legion ; which, dividing itself into a number
of separate corps with the same facility that it formed one
corps and one line, possessed the power of attacking it on
two or more sides at the same time. “ La legion doit
done,” says Guischardt, “ etre envisagee sous deux faces.
Comme infanterie en bataille contre une autre infanterie,
elle eut son ordonnance particuliere a rangs et files diverts,
conformement a ses armes; et alors elle n’eut rien de
commun avec la phalange. Lorsqu’elle a eu de la cava-
lerie en tete, elle cessa d'avoir son ordonnance particu¬
liere.”1 This wise distinction rendered the legion formi¬
dable alike to every nation on which Rome chose to make
war ;2 but neither as infantry against infantry, nor as in¬
fantry prepared to resist cavalry, which duty was princi¬
pally performed by the triarii, until all distinction of
classes and arms merged in a homogeneous formation, had
it any thing in common with the phalanx; for its victo¬
ries, no less than its reverses, had demonstrated the in¬
utility of deep formations, and showed that its real power
depended on its distributive rather than its concentrative
energies,—on its mobility and flexibility rather than on
its weight or impulsion. Hence, on the day of Pharsalia,
it was remarked, as an extraordinary circumstance, that
Pompey had formed his legions ten deep; a novelty which,
as every schoolboy knows, served no other purpose, on
that occasion, except to add to the carnage.
In following the Romans in their wars under the em¬
perors, we find their discipline and their tactics declining
from age to age, in the same manner as they had advanced
and improved. The spirit of change, though productive
of some ameliorations, proved ultimately fatal to the le-
• gion. As long as the Romans continued faithful to the
precepts and rules of the ancient masters, their infantry
maintained its superiority: in proportion as these were
departed from it declined; until at length, having lost
all its distinctive qualities, it was constantly beaten and
overthrown by the numerous cavalry of the barbarians.
To ascribe the gradual declension and ultimate fall of this
infantry to luxury, refinement, love of ease, corruption of
* Mhnoires Militavres, tom. i. p. 84.
2 The cavalry of the Parthians, though peculiarly formidable, durst not attack the legions commanded by Marc Antony, and con¬
fined itself to harassing them from a distance with its arrows. At the battle of Nicopolis, a single legion of the army of Domitius
defeated and put to flight the whole cavalry of king Pharnaces ; and, with a handful of infantry and some horse, Pompey defied the
numerous cavalry of king Oroses.
ARMY.
Army, manners, or other analogous causes, is merely to indite
silly common-places, displaying the most profound igno¬
rance of history and of human nature. Its catastrophe
was occasioned by the decay of discipline alone. For ex¬
perience shows that hardy and effective soldiers may be
formed in the most polished as well as in the rudest and
most uncivilized periods of society; and that nothing
more is necessary to produce this result than an uncompro¬
mising system of discipline. Accordingly, under Vespasian,
and 1 itus, and Trajan, and Hadrian, and Aurelian, and
other warlike emperors, who enforced the precepts of the
ancient masters, and restored the ancient discipline, the
Roman infantry regained its reputation, and proved itself
as formidable as it had ever been in the best times of the
republic. I he corruption was not in the soldiers, but in
the men by whom they were organized; in those whom the
experience of so many ages, and the conquest of the world,
had failed to impress with a due conviction of the value
of that system of discipline by which such prodigies had
been performed. “ On ne peut voir sans indignation,” says
Guischardt, “ la mauvaise ordonnance que les Remains
au terns de Vegece avoient substituee aux anciens modeles.
Ils etoient ranges sur six de hauteur, et meme quelque-
fois sur trois. Chaque rang avoit des armes differentes,
dont la plupart etoient des armes de jet, c°mme des arcs
et des frondes. D’un rang a fautre il y’avait six pieds
d intervalle, et dans les files on avoit retranche les trois
pied de distance, parcequ’on ne se battoit plus avec
1’epee: on avoit meme oublie le veritable usage du pi-
lum. Le troisieme et le quatrieme rangs devoient de
terns en terns se detacher, et charger a la tete de la ligne,
et revenir ensuite a leur poste. On ne sauroit rien ima-
giner de plus pitoyable. Ces deux chapitres de Vegece
marquent bien clairement 1’ignorance de hauteur, et la
decadence de la bonne discipline chez les Romains.”1
from innovations like these, and others still more absurd
which succeeded them, what results could be anticipated
except those which history has recorded; namely, dis¬
graceful defeats, calamitous reverses and, at length, the
final overthrow of the Roman power itself? The legions,
degenerated into a feeble militia, sold the empire which
they were incapable of defending; and having neither the
courage which sometimes supplies the place of discipline,
nor the discipline which supplies that of mere courage, they
fell an easy prey to the swarms of Goths, Huns, and Van¬
dals, by whom it was successively overrun, and at last
completely destroyed.
Armies of The fall of the Western Empire, like that of a colossal
the middle structure, was succeeded by a thick cloud, which over-
agts. spread Europe, covering it with darkness and desolation.
All that remained of science or of art perished in its ruins,
and the only relic of the catastrophe was the shadow of a
mighty name. But the barbarians who had subverted the
Roman power appear to have brought with them, from
their forests and wildernesses, the elements of a system
which was destined to thicken the darkness in which it
originated; to bind Europe for ages in the fetters of the
most abject thraldom; nay, even to maintain a long and
fierce struggle against the reviving energies of the human
mind, and the regenerative powers of society. Its foun¬
dations were laid in their peculiar character and habits,
as affected by their position and their wants; and, as
they had fought neither from the love of glory, to which
they weie insensible, nor from a thirst of vengeance,
which nothing had contributed to stimulate, the only
fruits they dreamt of reaping from victory were the spoils
of the vanquished. The countries which all had con-
G35
quered were considered the property of all, and each Army,
claimed a share proportionate to his services and the num-
bei of his retainers. Subsisting rights or possessions weigh¬
ed as nothing in the estimation of these wild hordes, who
sought for establishments in genial climates and fertile re¬
gions. They demanded a territorial division and appor¬
tionment, which was accordingly made upon some rude
principle of equalization. But, as these lands were the
reward of military service, so they were to be held by that
tenure alone. The common interest and the common
defence required that this condition should be annexed
to the allotment, or, as it was afterwards called, the feu.
Each great vassal of the liege lord was bound to have in
constant readiness to take the field, a certain number of
men, clothed, armed, and equipped at his own expense,
tlence arose the feudal system, which, founded on military
rather than civil principles, was an aggregation of petty
sovereigns and petty principalities, under a nominal head,
to whom ah swore fealty, but few or none owned obedi¬
ence; a military aristocracy, in short, under the mask of a
monarchy. But this system, however well calculated to
keep alive a spirit of ferocity, seemed to oppose a formidable
barrier to the revival of the military art. Its maxims, ne¬
cessarily hostile to the establishment of a standing army,
by which the great barons might have been coerced, limited
the force of the state to the contingents of feudal militia,
which the crown vassals could bring into the field; a tu¬
multuary mass, without coherence, which the first victory
or the first reverse generally dispersed. During this period,
accordingly, the wars of Europe were desultory and inde¬
cisive. An incursion constituted a campaign, and a foray
an expedition. Armies were everywhere without order
and without science; battles were gained by accident or
by valour, never by discipline ; while conquests, rapid as
torrents, were generally as destructive and as transitory.
Ihe love of military glory was extinguished; petty wars,
occasioned by baronial feuds, raged fiercely, preying upon
the vitals of society ; and the fruits of organized barbarism
were general misery and desolation. The people were
abject serfs, the barons ferocious brutes, the sovereign an
absolute cipher. Anarchy, tyranny, ignorance, and spiri¬
tual thraldom, formed the characteristics of the first ages
of feudalism.
At length, in the eleventh century, arose a monk, called The cr
Peter the Hermit, who preached with all the fervour, sades.
and more than all the success, of any known apostle, the
duty of recovering the Holy Sepulchre from the infidels ;
and as the church lent her powerful aid to second the
efforts of Peter’s enthusiasm, the contagion soon spread
throughout every part of Europe, and thousands of all
countiies lushed forward to enlist under the banner of
the cross. The history of mankind affords no parallel to
the madness that was thus produced, either as regards
its universality or its duration. It affected all Christen¬
dom in nearly an equal degree; and, during two centu¬
ries, army after army marched for Palestine, to melt away
under the sultry sun of Syria, or to be mowed down by
the swords of the Saracens. But it agitated the minds
of men by a new and powerful impulse; and although
its essence consisted in the wildest fanaticism which had
ever taken possession of the species, yet that inexplicable
fienzy, combining with a spirit of enterprise and adven-
ture, gave birth to institutions which were destined to
exert a powerful influence upon thewhole frame of society,
and which have left a marked impression even on the
manners, customs, and feelings of modern times. Viewed
in a military light, the armies of the crusaders were mere
1 Manoires Militaires, prel. disc. xxxv.
636
ARMY.
Invention
of gun¬
powder.
First pe¬
riod.
tumultuary masses, impelled by fanaticism to deeds of
heroic valour, but as destitute of order and discipline as
their leaders and chiefs were ignorant of military science;
nor had all the reverses they sustained the effect of incul¬
cating the simplest principles of the art of war, or teach¬
ing the necessity of adopting some kind of organization.
Every thing was trusted to numbers without combination,
and to individual bravery exerted as chance or impulse
happened to direct. And so deeply engrained in men’s
minds was the spirit of feudalism, and so incompatible did
that spirit show itself with the slightest advancement in
the military art, that the mailed chivalry of the ages im¬
mediately succeeding the crusades, although offering the
finest elements that ever existed for the organization of
an invincible force, appears at no time to have had any
principle of effective combination, or to have been capable
of acting with unity and concert in any grand operation.
Yet the principal strength of armies in the middle ages
consisted in their cavalry ; which, composed of men of su¬
perior grade, and formidable from its bravery no less than
from the armour of proof in which it was encased, easily
proved itself superior to infantry without formation, and
with no other discipline than that which instinct dictates
even to the most barbarous tribes.
But a new epoch approached. Gunpowder was invent¬
ed, or at least improved, by Berthold Schwartz, a Francis¬
can monk of Cologne, and was first employed in warlike
operations in the early part of the fourteenth century.
This discovery, as Guibert justly remarks, did not lead to
any immediate improvement in the art of war: indeed a
century and a half was necessary in order to make the use
of fire-arms general; but it is nevertheless to be considered
as the real cause of the complete reform which was at
last effected in the constitution of armies, as well as in
their discipline and tactics. Since the first employment
of gunpowder, there have been seven ‘principal periods in
the history of the military art.
The first begins with the employment of cannon, and
extends to Charles VIII.’s campaign in Italy; or from the
early part of the fourteenth until towards the end of
the fifteenth century. This period, during which the art
of war began to revive from the state of barbarism into
which it had sunk since the downfall of the Roman em¬
pire, includes the wars of the Spaniards against the Moors,
of the English against the French, and finally, of the Ita-r
lian republics against each other. The cavalry, composed
of the nobility and gentry, still constituted the flower of
armies, and formed the chief support of princes and their
kingdoms. At the storming of fortresses, or when im¬
portant posts were to be occupied and defended, and a
bold, determined soldiery was required, the knights dis¬
mounted and fought on foot. They were the dragoons of
that age. Each knight was attended by his esquire ; and,
besides these there were also archers, generally the vas¬
sals of the knights, who, being more lightly armed, and
riding smaller horses, served as a kind of light horsemen.
At the beginning of the fourteenth century, indeed, the
distinction of heavy and light horse was common in Euro¬
pean armies. The former, consisting of tenants in capite,
holding of the crown by tenure of military service, or their
substitutes (servientes), were denominated men-at-arms,
from their being armed cap-d-pied; the latter, composed of
yeomen, were named hobilers. The knights rode what were
denominated war-horses, which, like their riders, were
covered either with chain or plate armour, or with both; Army,
and these men of iron carried a long and powerful lance
armed with an iron head, a long sword, a short sword, a
dagger, and a mace or battle-axe.1 Their formation for
combat was exceedingly simple. They fought man to
man; each armed knight singling out his opponent, and
riding against him with his couched lance, in order to throw
him out of his saddle, or to make him prisoner. The
esquires, or armour-bearers, followed as a second rank, or
at least acted as seconds to the knights, whom they as¬
sisted in battle, bringing them fresh arms and horses when
required, and seeking opportunities of distinguishing them¬
selves in order to obtain the honour of knighthood. No¬
thing, however, was known of scientific movements, un¬
til Charles the Bold compiled an exercise book in 1473,
instructing cavalry how to attack in close and extended or¬
der, or to link the horses and fight on foot. An engagement
was generally commenced by single knights riding forward
and challenging opponents from the hostile army ; and
the result of these single combats sometimes determined
the fate of the day.2
The second period, from the campaign of Charles VIII. Second pe-
in Italy to the beginning of the wars in the Netherlands, or r’0^-
from the end of the fifteenth to the middle of the sixteenth
centuries, comprises the wars of the French, Spaniards, and
Germans, in Italy. During this period chivalry gradually
declined, and war began to assume a new aspect. At the
close of the contest with England in 1445, Charles VII.
of France established the first standing army, consisting
of 16,000 infantry and 9000 cavalry, divided into fifteen
campagnies d'ordonnance ;3 he appropriated funds for the
payment of these troops, and appointed officers to discip¬
line and command them; and, although apprehensive at
first as to the success of the experiment, he at length suc¬
ceeded in organizing a force, which enabled his successor
to repress the turbulent spirit of the feudal aristocracy, to
strengthen the power of the crown, and to carry on foreign
operations with a consistency and vigour hitherto un¬
known. The Italian campaign of Charles VIII. proved the
superiority of a standing army over an assemblage of feu¬
dal militia, and consequently established its reputation.
With a force of about 20,000 men, he overran the whole
of Italy ; and, had his ambition been equal to his success,
or rather had he known how to reap the fruits of victory,
he might have rendered himself permanent master of that
country. Other nations imitated the example of France :
a change took place in the military system of Europe:
the practice of calling out knights ceased of itself: and
mercenary, or at least paid troops, regularly disciplined
and organized, became the only force that was trusted or
employed. The characteristic of this period was deep
formation, both in the cavalry and the infantry.
The third period comprehends the great war of inde- Third p<.
pendence, carried on by the Netherlanders, in order to ri°d*
emancipate themselves from the yoke of Spain; and it
extends from 1568 to the general suspension of hostilities
in 1609. Here fought, on one side, art, and an army
formed by the experience of more than half a century of
war, under Charles V. and his son Philip II.; on the other,
the inhabitants of the Low Countries, living only by trade
and the arts of peace. A people, consisting chiefly of
manufacturers and merchants, inhabiting a country of
small extent, and already much exhausted by a long-con¬
tinued exercise of tyranny and oppression, scrupled not
1 Meyrick’s Critical Inquiry into Ancient Armour, vol. i. p. 174. Chain-armour first became covered with plates at the beginning
of the fourteenth century ; but entire plate-armour did not make its appearance until about a century after.
* The only military productions of this period were the regulations of Charles the Bold, above-mentioned, with those of Louis
VII. of France, and of John Ziska, general of the Hussites.
* See Fere Daniel, vol. i. p. 155.
A R
Army.
Fourth
period.
t ^ draw the sword, in defence of their liberties, against
the richest monarch of the age. the sovereign of Spain
and the Indies, and master of the most numerous as well
as the best-disciplined forces, commanded by generals dis¬
tinguished above their contemporaries by their skill in the
art of war.1 * A more unequal contest cannot well be ima¬
gined ; and never was the issue of any dispute more con¬
trary to what the parties had reason to anticipate. But the
struggle was protracted ; and in proportion as the Nether-
landers were formed to war, the bravery and discipline of
the Spaniards relaxed. Under the skilful tuition and able
conduct of Nassau, the foe which had at first appeared
so contemptible to the haughty Spaniards, tore the laurels
from their brows, and at length drove them, defeated and
disgraced, from the country which had suffered so long
under their grinding oppression and their insolent misrule,
ibis war was followed by great changes, both in the or¬
ganization and tactics of armies. The cavalry was divid¬
ed into cuirassiers and light horse; the use of the lance
was discontinued,- and its place supplied by the sword
and pistol for the heavy, and the carbine for the light
horse ; and these were now trained to execute a variety of
movements and manoeuvres at full speed. The infantry
was also placed upon a better footing, both in respect to
discipline and formation; although the prejudice in fa¬
vour of columns or masses seems still to have continued,
notwithstanding frequent experience of their inutility, as
well as of the destruction to which they were exposed from
the concentric fire of artillery.
The fourth period comprises the Thirty Years War, the
pretext for which, according to Bulow, was the happiness of
heaven, but the motive the goods of the earth : it extends
from 1618 to 1648. The peace which had terminated the
struggle for independence in the Low Countries, after a
protracted contest of above half a century in duration,
lasted only nine years ; when a new war broke out, which
can only be considered a continuation of the former. The
hero of this war was Gustavus Adolphus; and he, like
Prince Maurice of Nassau,3 was the creator of new tactics.
Ibis warlike monarch departed from the dense formation
of his predecessors, and drew up his infantry six deep;
which was considered an innovation that nothing but his
success could justify. His opponents, Tilly and Wallen¬
stein, formed their infantry in solid masses thirty deep;
which, nevertheless, proved unable to contend with the
linear formation of the Swedish troops. Until about the
middle of this war, it still continued the practice to form
cavalry in from four to eight ranks. But Gustavus also
departed from this rule, and formed it in three ranks;
although it appears from Harte, that, at the battle of
Leipsic, it was drawn up four deep, probably on account
of the dense formation of the imperial cavalry, which was
formed in eight ranks. In the intervals he stationed pla¬
toons of infantry, fifty and upwards strong, as well as light
guns ; doubtless from a conviction that cavalry, unless sup¬
ported, were unable to contend with infantry. His great
object appears to have been, to give greater mobility to the
M Y.
637
Army.
two principal arms of a military force, and thus to gain in
celerity of movement what he had lost in weight or im- S * * * * *^"Y
pulsion. He knew that the momentum would remain the
same, if the motion was increased proportionally to the
diminution in weight.
The fifth period comprehends the wars of the French Fifth
in Italy, in Germany, and in the Netherlands, as well asP61301*
the northern and Turkish wars, and embraces a period of
ninety years; namely, from 1648 to 1738. The peace of
Westphalia put a period to nearly a century of war. The
results of this conflict were the secularization of ecclesi¬
astical property, the complete establishment of the Pro¬
testant religion, the recognition of mental freedom, the
decay of the Papal power throughout Europe, and the
triumph of national independence. But during the long-
continued struggle in Germany, two hereditary enemies
appeared,—the Turks and the French. The former were
expelled in a single campaign, and never again attempted
any serious invasion. The latter entered upon a series of
wars of which we have not yet probably seen the termi¬
nation. The ambition of Louis XIV., however, and the
wars to which it gave rise, rapidly developed the art of
carrying on military operations, and formed generals whose
names adorn military history. Opposed to a French Tu-
renne, Luxembourg, and Conde, stand Montecuculi, Marl¬
borough, and Eugene of Savoy; Louis of Baden may rank
with Catinat or Vendome; and many other generals of
eminence illustrate this period, which was less remarkable
for changes in the constitution and organization of armies
than for the talents displayed in conducting their operations
in the field. It was the era of great commanders. In the
north the Swedes, Poles, Brandenburgians, and Muscovites,
fought alternately on the plains of Poland and the steppes
of the Ukraine. Under Charles XII. the Swedish infantry
attained a high degree of perfection, and proved uniform¬
ly successful until it was so rashly committed at Pultowa;
while the cavalry, without defensive armour, which the
chivalrous monarch rejected, consisted almost entirely of
dragoons.4 The principal improvements of this period,
however, are chiefly due to the French, who made rapid
advances in all the branches of military science.
I he sixth period includes the three Silesian wars ; Sixth
namely, from the beginning of the first Silesian war in period.
1740, to the breaking out of the French revolutionary war
in 1792. For a century previous to this, Prussia appears
to have been chiefly employed in preparing herself for the
brilliant part which she acted under Frederick II. To
the celebrated elector, Frederick William, the Prussian
military power in a great measure owed its origin. This
prince grew up, as it were, in a camp, and, even in his boyish
days, was present at the sieges of Breda and the Schen-
kenschantze. Arrived at the government, he endeavoured
to infuse a new spirit into the army; and so well did he
succeed, that, in 1672, he was enabled to promise the re¬
public of Holland an auxiliary force of 20,000 men. At the
period of his death the elector left behind him a well-or<>-a-
nized army of30,000. When Frederick the Great (or, as he
1 AY atson’s History of Philip //. vol. i. p. 428.
eaininj ground a'tThP a™11’ f ^ k reinedf arilles P0Uur la cavalerie.” (Mtmoires, liv. i. c. 2.) And this opinion seems to be
gaining ground at the present day; for experience has shown, that cavalry can never make anv serious imnression bv means of fire
arms, while with swords alone, they are wholly unfit to contend with infantry. ' impression by means of fire-
I B‘smark s Caua/n/ Tactics, p. 307 ? Guibert, Essai General de Tactique, p. 68.
fide nee in itsdf charge the^eml^ thecavahy, without any connection with or dependence upon other arms, but from con-
with success “He kmew ” Zl l * h?rfr ^ *peued’ 'Vltll0ut finng>led equally against intrenchments and batteries, and always
increased ^rid often mounti Go a°U>!l fl™*' a by,the of“otion’the natural vivacity of the majority of mankind is
that at such a momenT death fo^es tblird ^ alK 5°lhardy enthusiasm, leaves no time for consideration or calculation of danger ;
im/ warrior” (CaZln, TV-ovlo -uo • —but.wlth llvinS colours—presents itself to the soul of the wildly-rush-
and it was probably this neculiantv of t *"0’ 3~1- ^ the Sai?e tmie Cllarlfs appears to have had a love of fighting for its own sake;
tuositv which neither natural r' .„t'®niP^rament, as much as any calculation of results, which gave to his movements thatjmpe-
tuosity, which neither natural nor artificial obstacles could check or resist. *
ARMY.
638
Army, is called by the Germans, der Einzige, the Unequalled) as-
cended the throne, he found the army about 80,000 strong,
and drilled to a precision of movement, as well as a ra¬
pidity in firing, until then unknown. This was owing to
the exertions of Prince Leopold of Dessau, who may be
considered the founder of the modern system of tactics,
having invented the iron ramrod and the equal step,—
reduced the formation of the infantry from four to three
ranks, thereby increasing the effect of musket fire,—and,
in short, laid the foundation of the system which Fre¬
derick afterwards improved, by giving to infantry-move¬
ments greater lightness and facility. With an army thus
prepared for action, Frederick took the field in 1740.
But the first two wars passed quickly by; and the inter¬
vals of peace were employed in reforming whatever expe¬
rience had shown to be defective in his system,—in prac¬
tising a vast variety of deployments,—and, above all, in
introducing that celerity of movement which had become
so essential in modern armies, with reference both to their
numbers and the extent of their front. When the third
Silesian or Seven Years War broke out, Frederick, forsaken
by his allies, and menaced on all sides by powerful ene¬
mies, seemed on the very verge of destruction. But if he
stood alone, he stood unmoved, like the oak, braving the
storm, and conscious of the power to weather it. Nor
was he without some peculiar and decided advantages.
On the one hand, his natural coup d’ceil, which was per¬
fect; the unity and power of his will; the habit of his troops
to remain firm in all situations, and to execute every
movement with precision, even in the very tumult of battle ;
the never-shaken confidence in their leader, and the en¬
thusiasm with which he was regarded by them: and, on
the other, the division, weakness, and want of system or
connection in the enemy’s plans of operation; their par¬
tial and lukewarm mode of execution; together with the
inferiority of their troops in organization, and of their com¬
manders in genius :—these were the causes which enabled
Frederick to retire from this bloody seven years conflict
with a prodigious increase of fame, and without the loss of
an acre of territory.1 “ Depuis la guerre de la Succession,”
says Guibert, “ on n’avoit pas vu tant d’armees en cam-
pagne et reunies centre un seul prince. Sa science et
leurs fautes furent le contrepoids de tant de forces. Ja¬
mais guerre ne fut plus instructive, et plus feconde en
(jvenemens. 11 s’y fit des actions dignes des plus grands
capitaines, et des fautes dont les Marsin auroient rougi.
On y vit quelquefois le genie aux prises avec le genie,
mais plus souvent avec 1’ignorance. Partout ou le roi de
Prusse put manceuvrer il eut des succes. Presque par-
tout ou il fut reduit a se battre, il fut battu: evenemens
qui prouvent combien ses troupes etoient superieures en
tactique, si dies ne letoient pas en valeur.”2 Such was
the character of the Prussian army of this period, and
such the military genius of the great monarch by whom it
was commanded. Mere tactical details are foreign to the
object of this article, and therefore we abstain from enter¬
ing into them, excepting in as far as they may seem ne¬
cessary to throw light upon the constitution and composi¬
tion of armies. That of Prussia was long considered a mo¬
del for imitation. Under Generals Siedlitz and Ziethen its
cavalry attained a degree of perfection unequalled either
before or since. “ There was but one Seidlitz,” says Count
von Bismark. In playing the mighty game of war, its in- Array,
fantry was also superior to any other of that age ; and if
subsequent events somewhat tarnished its reputation, it
has never ceased to be one of the best organized and most
completely equipped bodies of foot in Europe. The Aus¬
trians, as their wont is, only improved on compulsion, and
when fairly beaten out of their old system of masses and
deep formations.
The armies and the science of this period, however, Seventh
were destined to be far outnumbered and surpassed in period,
the seventh and last, which embraces the military sys¬
tems and establishments of our own times. These, ac¬
cordingly, we shall now proceed to describe in detail;
confining our accounts principally, if not exclusively, to
their actual rather than to their former condition and
strength; and commencing with the army of France, which
has not only played a most conspicuous part since the
commencement of the revolutionary wars, but has latterly
served as a sort of model on which the other armies of
Europe have been more or less formed.
From time immemorial, the Gauls were inhabited by a French
race of men distinguished for their bravery. Hardy and army,
enterprising under the two Brenni, obstinate and perse¬
vering in their attacks against Caesar, we find them cutting
a conspicuous figure as auxiliaries in all the wars of ancient
Rome. They passed through the middle ages with equal
distinction; and if they were forced to yield to the irrup¬
tion of the Franks, the amalgamation of the two nations
had only the effect of adding to their energy. The wars
of Charlemagne and the crusades; the successive inva¬
sions of Italy by Louis XII., Charles VIII., and Francis I.;
and, lastly, the struggles maintained against all Europe
by Louis XIV., showed what might be expected from
French armies when properly commanded. But the fatal
results of the Seven Years War, the wretched intrigues of
the court of Louis XV., and still more the spirit of infatua¬
tion which appears to have become endemic after the dis¬
graceful Hanoverian expeditions, eclipsed, in an instant,
ages of glory, and rendered the army of France an object
of ridicule to Europe. After the peace of 1762, some mea¬
sures were taken with the view, as was pretended, of re¬
medying the supposed defects in the constitution of the
army, and restoring its character. But the French minis¬
try of that day, ignorant of the real circumstances which
had led to its successive defeats, and incapable of com¬
prehending the dispositions and strategical movements by
which success in war is attained, contented themselves
with searching into the most minute details of discip¬
line and instruction for the causes of failures which were
solely attributable to a bad choice of generals, and a faulty
direction of great operations. They imagined that the
armies of Frederick had triumphed in consequence of
oblique marches, the particular cut of their uniforms, and
a thousand other absurdities which it would be impossible
to credit, were not the amusing discussions of that period
embodied in public documents of unquestionable authen¬
ticity ; they disputed about ployments and deployments
en tiroirs, about tranches and plesions, about a Prussian
order and a French order; they formed camps in order
to judge of the advantages of these different systems;
and they fancied that they had discovered the sublime of
the art in the mechanism of the instruction of platoons.3
1 Bismark’s Cavalry Tactics, p. 323. 2 Guibert, Essai General de Tuctique, tome i. p. 77, 78.
3 “ On e'toit si fort engoue de tout ce qui ressemblait a la tactique Allemande,” says Jomini, “ qu’il suffit a cetle epoque de por¬
ter un nom Tudesque pour faire une fortune militaire. Un certain capitaine Pirch, sorti des rangs de I’armee Prussienne, passa pour
un emule de Fre'deric, sur la simple presentation d’un memoire dans lequel il donnait des idees pour aligner des bataillons sur les
drapeaux ; on se crut heureux qu’il daignat accepter un regiment et I’instruire suivant sa me'thode.” (Histoire Critique ct Militaire des
Guerres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 214.) Under the government which promoted Pirch, and indeed under that which succeeded it,
Kle'ber, Moreau, and even Napoleon himself, would have been condemned to an eternal nullity.
A 11
Arm)-. “ Encore un pas retrograde,” says Jomini, “ et les troupes
EranRaises se fussent trouvees au niveau des soldats du
PaPe-”1 But the American war gave a check to these
mischievous fooleries, and revived the spirit of emulation,
which is the source of the most brilliant feats in war; while
the expeditions to Grenada and St Eustatius, together with
the campaigns of Lafayette, Saint-Simon, and Rocham-
beau, in a great measure restored the reputation of the
french arms, and prepared the way for still more import¬
ant achievements. The staff, the government, and the
faiseurs were still divided between different systems. But
while the chiefs were perplexing themselves with theories,
the troops improved both in discipline and manoeuvres; and
had it not been for the repeated shocks which their orga¬
nization experienced in consequence of frequent changes
of ministry, and the introduction of certain radical inno¬
vations, which completely broke up the old battalions in
order to amalgamate them with new levies, Louis XVI.
would have possessed an army capable of defending the
monarchy, and might have been able to restrain and re¬
sist that revolutionary frenzy to which he Mas destined
soon to become a victim. In consequence of the disorga¬
nization thus introduced, the regiments of the line were in
a wretched condition at the breaking out of the war in
1792. But a single measure saved them from destruc¬
tion. The nomination officers taken from the tiers-etat
filled the ranks with an ambitious and warlike youth, burn¬
ing to distinguish itself; while emulation, the chances of
preferment, and the love of country, supplied for a time
the M'ant of discipline, and formed powerful motives for
stimulating improvement.
At the end of the year 1791, the French infantry con¬
sisted of 105 regiments of two battalions each, 14 bat¬
talions of light troops, and 170 battalions of national vo¬
lunteers ; or 394 battalions in all. By the decree of the
5th May 1792, the number of the volunteer battalions was
raised to 200, and the strength of each was increased from
226 to 800 men. The cavalry was composed of two regi¬
ments of carabineers, consisting of four squadrons each ;
24 regiments of heavy cavalry of three squadrons each;
18 regiments of dragoons of three squadrons each; 12 regi¬
ments of chasseurs of four squadrons each; and6 regiments
of hussars of three squadrons each; in all 206 squadrons.
8o that the total strength of the French army at this period
did not exceed 160,000 infantry, 35,000 cavalry, and 10,000
artillery; while 20,000 men were still wanting to bring the
different regiments to their full complements. But this
deficit was soon supplied by the multitude of volunteers
who flocked to the national standards when the duke of
Brunswick invaded France at the head of the Prussian
army.2 The revolution, however, had not yet developed
its energies ; nor had the Mrorld as yet any suspicion of the
prodigies which the system of terror, afterwards organized,
was destined to achieve. In 1795, France presented the
formidable aspect of a vast camp. The decrees of the 23d
August and the 5th September 1794 had hurried the whole
youth to the frontiers. Nearly 1,200,000 men M'ere in the
pay of the republic ; and, after deducting those employed
in accessory services, and in the navy, the number of com¬
batants in the field cannot have amounted to less than about
/00,000. Ihe official state of the force of the French
armies, as at the 5th April 1794, presents an aggregate of
794,334 men, including garrisons, but exclusive of the army
of the interior, whose head-quarters were at Paris ; which,
allowing one fifth for those in the depots and for the sick,
would give an effective force, present under arms, of at
least 650,000 men; the most formidable which Europe
M Y. 639
had ever seen assembled in the field. “ Ce dev elopement Army.
de forces, sans exemple dans les annales modernes,” says
Jomini, “ tenait d autant plus du prodige, que la nation
se trouvait livree a tous les dechiremens d’une guerre ci¬
vile, et aux persecutions d’un gouvernement odieux. Mais
ce ne fut pas aux levees seulement que ces efforts se
bornerent: tout ce qui compose les elemens de la puis¬
sance nationale, avoit etc porte a un degre de tension in-
connu dans les siecles modernes.”3 Nor did the “ prodigy”
stop here. In the month of March 1795, France had^en
armies in the field, the active force of which amounted
to 449,930 combatants, besides 120,850 in garrisons, and
388,450 sick, prisoners, or detached; in all 959,190 sol¬
diers. But the active force, or number present under
arms, did not form the half of the effective, and scarcely a
third of the complete military strength of France at that
period; for, as 200,000 men were still wanting to bring
the effective force up to the full establishment, and as the
most active measures were in progress to make up the de¬
ficit, the total number of Frenchmen under arms in 1795
cannot have fallen much short of 1,100,000 men. It M'ill
not be denied, therefore, that the Comite du Saint Publi-
que possessed extraordinary energy, and that terrorism
proved the salvation of France.
But this state of exertion was too violent to be of long
continuance; and neither the population of the country,
nor its exhausted resources, were sufficient to maintain so
enormous a force in the field. Accordingly, in the suc¬
ceeding years of the republic, the aggregate of the differ¬
ent armies seldom exceeded 480,000 effective men, and
generally fell short of this number. But when Napoleon
had mounted the throne, and had organized the system of
conscription, he obtained an unlimited command over the
whole of that part of the population capable of bearing
arms; and as he acted upon the principle, first recom¬
mended by Cato, of making war support itself, he was
not only able to repair the losses sustained in his various
campaigns, but, on most occasions, to take the field with
a predominating superiority of numbers. The establish¬
ment of the trench army, in 1805, amounted to 341,412
infantry of the line, 100,130 light infantry, 77,488 cavalry,
46,489 artillery, and 5445 engineers; making a total of
650,964 men, or a force equal to that organized by the
terrorists in 1794 and 1795. But this establishment was
afterwards greatly increased; and it is calculated that,
at the time of the Russian campaign, there were in the
depots, in the hospitals, and in the field, not less than
1,200,000 men, of whom about 850,000 might be consi¬
dered as effective. Hence, we are enabled to account for
the extraordinary phenomenon of Napoleon’s appearance
in. Germany at the head of a new and formidable army,
within a few months after the annihilation of his veteran
masses amidst the steppes, snows, and frosts of Russia,
and making head for more than a year aftemards against
the utmost efforts of the allied powers.
One of the first cares of the Bourbons, on their se¬
cond icstoration in 1815, was to re-model the army, and
place it on a footing adapted to the new order of things.
Ihe .most obvious maxims of policy recommended a pro¬
ceeding which alone could give stability to the restored
dynasty. ^ But such changes are necessarily the work of
time; anci we need not therefore wonder that nearly ten
years should have elapsed before the important object
was accomplished. The French army was re-organized,
augmented, and placed on a new footing, in virtue of
three royal ordonnances, dated the 27th February 1825;
the first of M'hich related to the infantry, the second
* Gucrrcs dc In liccolutioiiy ubi supra.
2 Ibid. tom. i. p. 224-25.
3 Ibid. tom. v. p. 29.
640
A K M Y.
Army.
to the cavalry, and the third to the artillery and engi¬
neers.
But, in 1830, the Bourbon dynasty was again expelled
from the throne. Louis Philippe, the son of the famous
Due d’Orleans (Egalite), was proclaimed king of the French;
and again the army was re-organized. The policy of the
new French king led him to find employment for the army,
and the conquest of Algeria soon furnished occasion for its
increase, and the employment of his sons in foreign com¬
mands. Louis Philippe was ejected in 1848 during a sud¬
den and violent republican movement; and for four years
France was a species of democracy, ruled by an assembly
with a military president, which, in its turn, in 1852, was suc¬
ceeded by an empire. The present ruler, the nephew of Na¬
poleon I., was elected emperor by seven millions of votes; and
as, from the peculiarity of his personal position and his views
of foreign policy, it became necessary to augment and par¬
tially reconstruct the army, it has now been placed upon the
following footing:—
The etat-major, or staff, consists of 700 officers, including
the marshals, generals, &c., and an “ intendance militaire” of
240 persons. Of the general officers there are two grades
—generals of division and generals of brigade. Under Louis
Philippe, the superior rank were called lieutenant-generals,
and the generals of brigade were termed marechaux-de-
camp.
The British system of making general officers the nomi¬
nal colonels of regiments, is utterly unknown in the French
army. Every general, without exception, is either an officer
or commander of the legion of honour. The corps of the
etat-major consists of 25 colonels, 25 lieutenant-colonels, 90
chefs-d’escadron, 140 captains of the first class, 140 captains
of the second class, 100 lieutenants. These are attached to
the different military divisions, and fill all the regular staff
appointments. All aides-de-camp are appointed from this
corps. Many of them are employed on the great military sur¬
vey ; and there is either a captain of the second class, or a
lieutenant appointed to every regiment, both of cavalry and
infantry. The civil force, connected with the etat-major,
called the “ intendance militaire,” has a certain number of
its officers attached to each division. Its numbers and grades
of rank are,—22 intendants militaires, 40 sous-intendants
1st class, 100 sous-intendants 2d class, 52 adjoints-a-l’in-
tendance 1st class, 26 adjoints 2d class. The infantry of
the French army consists of,—75 regiments infantry of the
line, 25 regiments light infantry, 10 battalions of chas-
seurs-a-pied, 6 companies veteran sub-officers, 6 companies
veteran fusiliers, 9 companies of fusiliers-de-discipline, 3
companies of pionniers-de-discipline, 1 regiment of Zouaves,
4 battalions of light infantry of Africa, 2 regiments foreign
legion, 3 battalions native tirailleurs. Each regiment of the
line consists of 3 battalions, of 8 companies each; a chef-
de-bataillon, answering to our rank of major, commanding
each battalion. The colonel is not a nominal officer, but ac¬
tually commands the regiment, and is always present with it.
The staff of each regiment consists of,—1 colonel, 1 lieut.-
colonel, 3 chefs-de-bataillon, 1 major, 3 captains adjutants
major, 1 captain treasurer, 1 sous-lieutenant assistant-trea¬
surer, 1 captain d’habillement, 1 porte drapeau, a sous lieu¬
tenant, 1 lieutenant of the etat-major, 1 surgeon-major 2d
class, 2 aide majors 2d class, 24 captains, 24 lieutenants, 24
sous-lieutenants, making, in the whole, 89 officers belonging
to, and present with each regiment.
The chasseurs-a-pied (rifles) consists of ten battalions of
eight companies each; there is no officer in the corps of
higher rank than chef-de-bataillon, each battalion being as
perfectly independent of the others as if it were a separate
regiment. They existed first as the chasseurs-de-Yincennes,
but were re-organized and much increased in numbers by
the Due d’Orleans in 1840 (when they were termed the
chasseurs d’Orleans). At the last revolution, the name was Army,
altered to chasseurs-a-pied ; and they have now resumed the
title of chasseurs-de-Vincennes. The staff of each battalion
consists of,—1 chef de bataillon, 1 captain acting as major,
1 captain adjutant major, 1 sous-lieutenant, instructor in
firing, 1 lieutenant-treasurer, 1 surgeon aide-major, 1st class,
8 captains, 8 lieutenants, 8 sous-lieutenants. A company
consists of 140, including officers, which makes the whole
force, including bands, &c., to consist of about 11,500 men ;
this is the only rifle corps in the service. The nine compa¬
nies of fusiliers-de-discipline, and the three companies of
pionniers-de-discipline are penal corps; and men, for various
offences, are sentenced by court-martial to serve in them for
limited periods; with one exception, they are in Algeria.
The six companies of veteran sous-officiers, and the six com¬
panies of veteran fusiliers, require no particular notice; they
are quartered in various garrison towns in France. They
were reduced in 1848 from eighteen companies to twelve.
The French cavalry is organized at present, pursuant to a
decree, bearing date the 8th September 1841, which regu¬
lates the number of regiments. The only way in which the
force has been augmented or diminished, has been by alter¬
ing the number of men in each squadron, no new regiments
having been formed since that period.
Considerable alterations were made previously; and to
show the increasing estimation in which the lance is held as
a cavalry w eapon, 7 regiments of chasseurs were transferred
to the corps using that arm, and are at present respectively
the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th, 7th, and 8th regiments of lancers,
instead of being the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th, 13th, and 14th
chasseurs. The division of regiments into troops is never
practised ; every regiment of French cavalry is divided into
five squadrons, each having a captain commandant, a captain
en second, a lieutenant en premier, a lieutenant en second,
and three sous-lieutenants. The number of men is 140 in
each squadron: the number of horses varies, but generally not
more than half the squadron are mounted, or 70 strong.
The staff of each regiment is the same, viz., 1 colonel, 1
lieutenant-colonel, 2 chefs-d’escadron, 1 major, 1 captain
instructor, 2 captains adjutants, 1 major-captain treasurer,
1 sub-lieutenant assistant-treasurer, 1 captain d’habillement,
1 porte etendard a sub-lieutenant, 1 lieutenant, or captain
of the etat-major, 1 surgeon-major 2d class, 1 surgeon aide-
major, 1 veterinary en premier, 5 captains commandant,
5 lieutenants en premier, 15 sub-lieutenants, 5 captains
en second, 5 lieutenants en second, making altogether 51
officers in every regiment; some of the subalterns, how¬
ever, of each, are either officers of instruction, or pupils at
the great cavalry school at Saumgr. The term major is
not, as with us, a grade of army rank; it is only used re-
gimentally; the major is a chef-d’escadron in the cavalry,
and a chef-de-bataillon in the infantry, and wears the same
uniform. The terms used for the non-commissioned offi¬
cers in the French cavalry differ much from those in use in
our service; and it is very difficult to compare the two toge¬
ther ; some of their functions being so entirely distinct. The
adjutant sous-officier, is a squadron sergeant-major; mare-
chal-des-logis chef is a quarter-master sergeant; marechaux-
des-logis and marechaux-des-logis-fourriers are sergeants-
major ; brigadier fourrier is a sergeant; brigadier is a corpo¬
ral ; the adjutant sous-officier is distinguished by one gold
epaulette, if the officers wear silver, and vice versa; the other
non-commissioned officers have the same distinctive marks
as in the infantry.
The cavalry for European service consists of three divi¬
sions, cavalry of the reserve, cavalry of the line, and light
cavalry. There are 12 regiments of the reserve, 2 cara¬
bineers and 10 cuirassiers; 20 regiments of the line, 12 dra¬
goons and 8 lancers ; 22 regiments of light cavalry, 13 chas¬
seurs and 9 hussars. There are also 5 squadrons of guides
ARM Y.
Army, of the etat-major, and 4 companies of cavaliers veterans,
making the whole cavalry force for home service about 44,000
men, supposing the regiments to be complete, and on the
peace establishment. None of these troops are employed in
the colonies, as there are the chasseurs d’Affique and spahis
for Algeria, and a squadron of spahis for Senegal; their
other colonies require no cavalry.
The French Artillery, in its organization, differs consider¬
ably from the English; instead of being one corps, it is divided
regularly, like the line, into regiments which have nothing
whatever to do with each other. These regiments are all
exactly on the same footing, the horse artillery not forming
a separate regiment but according to the exigencies of the
service ; a certain number of batteries in each regiment are
horse. 1 he whole force at present consists of 15 regiments
of artillery, 13 companies of artillery workmen, 6 squadrons
of the Frain des Parcs. The artillery divisions of France
do not correspond with its military divisions: there are nine
altogether; eight in France itself, and the ninth comprising
the three provinces of Algeria. Each division is commanded
by a general of brigade, and is again divided into two or
three directions, at the head of each of which is a colonel.
There are a considerable number of officers on the staff,
from the number of government works which are under their
superintendence, there being not less than 17 establishments
for making powder and refining saltpetre, and more than a
dozen arsenals de construction and manufactures darmes;
most of these have foundries attached to* them, and are all
under the superintendence of the artillery. The Comite
Consulatif de VArtillerie is in some respects the French
Board of Ordnance. As its name implies, it is more a board
of advice than of practical interference, as there is a bureau
belonging to the minister of wrar from which the actual
orders emanate : the Comite Consulatif consists of 5 gene¬
rals of division, and 3 generals of brigade. The whole force
consists of 17 generals, 46 colonels, 46 lieutenant-colonels,
152 chefs-d’escardon, 680 captains, and 550 subalterns, in¬
cluding about 80 sous-lieutenants at the school; of these about
300 hold staff appointments, not interfering with the etat-
major, which furnishes the army staff, but as the directors of
laboratories, inspectors of forges, &c. The first 14 regiments
are regular artillery, each consisting of 16 batteries, which
is the term used instead of companies or troops; the establish¬
ment of a battery is very similar to that of a company of
British artillery, there being a captain-commandant, a cap¬
tain en second, a lieutenant en premier and a lieutenant en
second; the gunners and drivers are not the same as with us,
but are quite distinct from each other, there being a certain
number of each to every battery according to the nature of
its service. A battery may be in three positions, either a
horse battery, where all the men are paid alike; amounted
foot battery, where the drivers are paid like the horse bat¬
tery, but the gunners much less; or a dismounted foot bat¬
tery, in which, of course, there are no drivers; as in the
cavalry the corporals are termed brigadiers, and the sergeants
fourners, which is literally harbingers. The staff of a regi-
ment of artillery consists of,—1 colonel, 1 lieutenant-colonel,
7 chefs-d’escadron, 1 major, 1 riding-master, a captain, 2
adjutants-major, captains, 1 officer d’habillement, a captain,
1 treasurer, a captain, 1 assistant-treasurer, 1 sub-lieutenant,
1 lieutenant of the etat-major, 1 surgeon-major, 2 assistant-
surgeons, 1 veterinary en premier, 32 captains, 32 subal¬
terns. A horse battery consists of 4 guns, 8-pounders, and 2
howitzers, 15 centimetres in diameter, which is about £ of
an inch more than the English 24-pound howitzer; each
gun and each waggon is drawn by six horses, which, with
the two extra waggons and the spare team, make 90 harness
horses for each battery. I he horses are generally very good
and they pay considerable attention to their being properly
matched. The mounted foot batteries consist also of four
VOL. III.
guns, either 8 or 12 pounders and two howitzers; the guns
and waggons have four horses each. The 15th regiment
consists of 12 companies of pontonniers, pontoon men, with
a proportionate regimental staff: like our sappers and miners,
tne men admissible to the corps must understand some trade
that is likely to be useful to the service. There is one com¬
pany generally in Algeria, and the other companies with the
headquai ters are at Strasbourg. Ihe uniform is the same
as the artillery, and they are officered indiscriminately with
the other regiments. The 13 companies of artillery work¬
men are employed at the different foundries and arsenals;
there are 2 captains and 2 lieutenants of artillery attached
to each company, and their uniform is the same; some of
these companies are employed in Algeria, and the rest at
home. 1 he train des pares d'artillerie consists of 6 squad¬
rons, of 8companies each; a chef-d’escadron commands each
squadron, and has a captain under him commanding en
second; the companies are commanded by lieutenants, and
have one sous-lieutenant each. There are also five com¬
panies of veteran artillery, who, like the other veteran com¬
panies, do garrison duty in various fortified places.
The Engineers form a distinct corps altogether, and are
not, as with us, merged into the Ordnance; in fact they have
no more to do with the artillery than they have with the
cavalry and infantry; they have their comite consulatif of
8 generals, and their separate bureau in the office of the
minister of war. The active force consists of 12 generals,
28 colonels, 29 lieutenant-colonels, 106 chefs-de-bataillon,
380 captains, en premier and en second, 190 subalterns, in¬
cluding about 50 sous-lieutenants, who are at the school of
Metz.
The Troupes du Genie are the same nearly as our sap¬
pers and miners, and are officered in the same manner by
the engineers. They consist of 3 regiments, each of which
has 16 companies; the regiments being divided into 2 bat¬
talions : the staff of each consists of the following officers,
—1 colonel, 1 lieutenant-colonel, 2 chefs-de-bataillon, 1
major, 2 adjutants-major, captains, 1 surgeon-major, 2 as¬
sistant-surgeons, 32 captains, and 40 subalterns. The men
are required to have been brought up either as smiths, car¬
penters, miners, quarrymen, or masons, the first company of
each regiment being exclusively miners. They have also a
certain proportion of drivers, sappeurs conducteurs, to each
battalion. At present 12 companies are in Algeria, the rest
in Europe. Attached to the corps are two companies of
workmen, and one company of veterans. The engineer di¬
visions of France are neither the same as the military nor as
the artillery divisions. There are 21 districts, which are
termed directions in France. Each of these is under the
superintendence of a colonel, who has from 4 to 14 officers
under him, either field-officers or first captains, according to
the number of fortified places or towns where there are bar¬
racks in the direction. Algeria is divided into three direc¬
tions, according to its provinces, and has besides an etat-
major du genie ; not including the officers commanding the
companies of sappers, there are about 36 engineer officers
in the colony at present. The engineers are the only army
corps who have anything to do with the other French co¬
lonies. The Infanterie de la Marine perform all the colo¬
nial duty apart from Algeria. This they can do very well
with a small force, as the colonies are few and comparatively
insignificant. I hose in which officers of the engineers are
stationed are,—Guadaloupe and Martinique, in the West In¬
dies ; Cayenne, in Guyana, South America; Senegal, He
de la Reunion, republicanized from the He de Bourbon ;
Nossibe, and Madagascar; Mayotta, one of the Comora
Islands between Madagascar and the coast of Africa; Oce¬
anic, the Marquesas, and Tahiti. There is one other corps
in the French service, not belonging either to the artil¬
lery or engineers; it is called the Trouoes de VAdminis-
4 M
641
A K M Y.
642
Army, tralion, and is divided into two sections,—the first is the
's-—battalion of government workmen, consisting of 7 com¬
panies ; the second section is called the corps des equipages
militaire; it consists of 4 squadrons of 4 companies each,
and 3 companies of workmen. This corps bears nearly the
same relation to the commissariat that the sappers do to the
engineers; the French government not being much in the
habit of obtaining their supplies through the medium of
contracts, are obliged to keep very large establishments of
their own. For instance, the whole of the bread that is sup¬
plied to the troops in Paris comes from a government fac¬
tory, nearly opposite to the Hotel des Invalides. This is all
done by the workmen of the first section ; the qualification
required of every person entering the corps is, to be either
a butcher, baker, carpenter, locksmith, joiner, or mason.
The 4 squadrons of the second section are employed in con¬
veying provisions and commissariat stores from place to place,
and their companies of workmen make and repair all the
waggons and carts that are necessary for that purpose. At
the same time, although their employment is of a civil na¬
ture, they are regular soldiers, have their own officers, and
are properly armed and equipped, the workmen as infantry,
the squadrons as cavalry; the uniform is gray, with red
trousers, shakos like the other troops, and silver epaulettes
for the officers. The badge of the corps is a star, which is
on their buttons and accoutrements. The regular com¬
missariat corps is very numerous, and is divided into three
distinct branches; each comprising a separate body of of¬
ficers ; the ranks, however, are the same in each branch,
they are:—
Corresponding to
Officers d’administration principaux, Commissary-general.
comptables, 1st Class,...Dep.-com.-gen.
2d Class,....Asst.-com.-gen.
Adjutants en premier, Dep.-asst.-com.-gen.
... en second, Com.-clerk.
The first section consists of 328 officers of different ranks,
and is devoted exclusively to the management of the mili¬
tary hospitals, the medical officers only attending to them
professionally. The second section has 78 officers in it, and
manages the clothing of the army—the respective colonels
of regiments not being also their tailors, as with us—and the
issue of tents and all kinds of camp stores. The third sec¬
tion, consisting of 362 officers, manages the preparing and
issuing all kinds of provisions for the whole army. The
uniform is nearly the same as that of the medical staff; it is
a blue coat without epaulettes, red trousers, and a cocked
hat.1
The French army is at present recruited partly by volun¬
tary enrolment for a term of years, and partly by requisi¬
tions ; in other words, on nearly the same principle which
obtained before the revolution of 1790. The system of re¬
quisition is of course subsidiary or supplementary to that of
voluntary enlistment; but, in the event of another war, it
would unquestionably become the principal, if not the only,
resource of the army. And this applies to other nations as
well as to France. Modern manners, customs, habits, and
pursuits, are primarily adverse to the military service ; and
this opposition can only be overcome by a conscription of one
kind or other. Napoleon laid it down as a principle, “ que Army,
la conscription est le mode de recrutement le plus juste, le
plus doux, le plus advantageux au peuple.”2 But without
being prepared to go this length, it may be admitted that it
is equal in its operation ; that its results are certain ; and that
the supplies it furnishes are of the best quality: whilst vo¬
luntary enlistment is at best a precarious resource, and sends
to the ranks little else than the scum and dregs of the people.
At the same time, the French army, as at present consti¬
tuted, bears a much smaller proportion to the entire popu¬
lation of the country, and is consequently less burdensome,
than that of any other nation of Europe, England only ex¬
cepted. The peace establishment of Great Britain presses
even more lightly upon the general mass of the population ;
but, in the event of a war, the proportion would, in all pro¬
bability, become as unfavourable for the people as that of
the French conscription under Napoleon, namely 1 in 33 or
34. Such, at least, was the case during the greater part of
the last war, particularly after the rupture of the short-lived
peace of Amiens.
The national character of every people is commonly de¬
veloped in a very striking manner by its army. “ The French¬
man,” says Count Bismark, “ courageous, impetuous, nay,
even terrible in attack, does not possess that cold-blooded,
quiet circumspection and endurance which is so indispen¬
sable in a defensive warand hence he concludes that a
war against the French ought to be carried on offensively.
“ A cautious but not the less uninterrupted offensive must
be the ruling principle in all projects of operation against the
French.”3 Major Beamish delivers a similar opinion. “ The
French,” says this officer, “have, with much judgment, gene¬
rally endeavoured to become the attacking party. I hey thus
not only derived the usual advantage of that system, but
adopted the mode of warfare which was peculiarly suited to
their national character. The French soldiers are impetuous;
but their courage requires excitement, to which motion so
much contributes. Abstract motion, however, is not sufficient
to impel the French soldier into action : he must be first ex¬
cited by the example of his officer ; and were it not for the
extreme and universal gallantry displayed by the officers of
the French army, few instances of impetuous courage would
be recorded on the part of the men. It has been said that
‘ the French officers will always lead, if the men will follow
and there have been instances where the former have nobly
sacrificed their lives to produce this effect.”4 General Foy,
whose endeavours to depreciate the British are at such va¬
riance with the better points of his character, says that “ to
Frenchmen you must always speak,” and that “ the intoxi¬
cation of the French is gay, sparkling, and daring; a fore¬
taste to them of the battle and the victory.”5 A still higher
authority confirms these opinions. “ Le Franjais, naturel-
lement brave, actif, et impetueux,” says Baron Jomini, “fait
aisement des conquetes, mais il les perd avec la meme facilite.
Des qu’il cesse de marcher en avant, une sorte de degout
s’empare de lui; il est difficile de le contenir. Depuis la
revolution, surtout, cette disposition s’etait accrue de plus en
plus : les liens de la discipline ne retenant plus le soldat, il
etait devenu mutin, raisonneur, et indocile.”3 Colonel Na¬
pier’s opinion appears substantially to coincide with that of
1 Bulletin des Sciences Militaires, p. 1850-51-52.
2 Napoleon having established “ qu’un million d’ames fournit chaque annee 7000 a 8000 conscrits, et que les besoins de I’administration
et des divers etats n’en reclaimait que moitie,” he therefore concluded, “ qu’une levee annuelle de 3500 hommes n’offrait, deduction faite
des morts, que 30,000 hommes en dix ans,” or about a thirty-third part of the entire population. (See liogniat, Reponse aux Notes Cri¬
tiques de Napoleon. Paris, 1823.) But the draughts on the population of France were never carried to the full extent of the principle,
and seldom exceeded 1 in 43 or 44.
3 Cavalry Tactics, p. 336, Engl, transl.
4 See Major Beamish’s Note to the passage in the Cavalry Tactics above quoted.
5 History of the War in the Peninsula under Napoleon, vol. i. p. 158, Engl, transl.
B Histoire Critique et Militaire des Guerres de la Revolution, tom, iii. p. 125.
A R
Army. Jornini and other competent judges.1 In fact, no military
nation of Europe has gained so many splendid victories, and
sustained so many disgraceful defeats, as the French ; whose
whole history, indeed, consists of an extraordinary alterna¬
tion of the most brilliant successes and the most calamitous
reverses, of triumphant ascendancy and abject humiliation.
“ Aucune nation,” says Guibert, “ n’a perdu de batailles aussi
honteuses, aussi decisives, que la notre ; aucune n’en a gagne
si peu de decisives et de complettes.”2
Spanish The Spanish army, which, under Charles V., Pescara, the
army. Duke of Alba, and the Constable of Bourbon, had proved it¬
self so formidable—extending the theatre of its exploits from
the Pyrenees to the Po and the Adige on the one hand, and
to the Elbe, the Meuse, and the Waal on the other—dege¬
nerated rapidly under the disastrous reigns of the last
princes of the House of Austria. When Philip V. ascended
the throne at the beginning of the last century, it scarcely
amounted to 15,000 men. By that prince and his successors,
however, it was gradually increased, until, in the year 1792,
its establishment amounted to 116,000 infantry, 12,200 ca¬
valry, with upwards of 10,000 artillery, and its effective force
to about 120,000 men of all arms. At present its effective
amounts to 90,000, and its disposable force to 75,000 comba¬
tants. It is composed of the general active staff, of the staff
of the fortresses, of the household troops and royal guard, of
the infantry and cavalry of the line, with artillery, engineers,
and veterans. Its staff consists of 6 captain-generals, 77 lieu¬
tenant-generals, 122 major-generals, 350 brigadier-generals,
with inferior officers in proportion. There are 15 captain¬
cies, viz., 12 territorial and 3 colonial. In Spain, and its pos¬
sessions contiguous to the Peninsula, there are 150 fortresses,
posts, forts, citadels, or open towns where troops are in gar¬
rison. The household troops consist of six squadrons of the
body guard and a company of halberdiers: of these four
squadrons are Spanish, and two foreign, called Saxons, in
honour of the queen. The royal guard is organized like
that of France, and consists of two divisions of infantry, one
division of cavalry, and three companies of artillery, one of
which is horse-artillery. The first division consists of four
regiments of grenadiers, each composed of two battalions, di¬
vided into eight companies of 120 men each ; and the second
of two regiments of the elite of the provincial militia, divided
into three battalions of four companies each. The cavalry
forms a division of two brigades ; and the artillery consists
of three companies of 100 men, each serving a battery of six
pieces mounted. The infantry of the line consists, first, of
10 regiments of three battalions each; secondly, of the Swiss
regiment Wimpffen, one battalion only; thirdly, of a regi¬
ment, fixed at Ceuta, composed of four companies of 100 men
each, the refuse of the army. Seven regiments, of two bat¬
talions each, of the same number and composition as those
of the line, form the light infantry. The militia consists of
42 regiments of one battalion each, which is divided into
eight companies. The cavalry consists of 13 regiments, of
which 5 are of the line, and 8 light horse, each of four squad¬
rons, composed like those of the royal guard ; together with
two companies of cuirassiers at Ceuta, one formed of native
Spaniards, and the other of Moors. The royal corps of ar¬
tillery is divided into the theoretical and practical. The
M Y- 643
troops of this arm consist, first, of 6 battalions of foot artil- Army,
lery, in garrison at Barcelona, Carthagena, Sevilla, Coruna,
and V alladolid ; secondly, of 4 companies of horse-artillery,
in garrison at Carthagena and Sevilla; thirdly, of 5 com-
pa.nies of artificers ; fourthly, of 5 battalions of the train ;
fifthly, of 3 brigades and 15 companies fixed in garrison, but
exclusive of the personnel in America. This arm has a splen¬
did museum at Madrid, besides a theoretical and practical
school, directed by a brigadier-general or colonel, in the prin¬
cipal town or place of each province. The engineers are a
corps of officers not regimented or brigaded, consisting of an
engineer-general, 10 directors sub-inspectors, 17 colonels,
20 lieutenant-colonels, 34 captains, and 56 lieutenants ; to¬
gether with a regiment of sappers, consisting of 2 battalions
of 8 companies each, viz., 5 of sappers, 1 of miners, 1 of pon-
toneers, and 1 of workmen. The establishments of this arm
are, a topographical depot-general, or collection of maps,
plans, and military memoirs ; a museum containing represen¬
tations in relief of the fortresses, and different models of for¬
tification ; and an academy for the instruction of young offi¬
cers intending to enter this branch of the service, after they
have passed through the primary school of Segovia. All these
establishments are situated in the capital.
Ihe Spanish army is recruited by voluntary enrolment,
and, in case of insufficiency, by ballot or conscription. The
term of service is eight years for the first enrolment or ballot,
and two or four for the second, when the soldier becomes
entitled to an increase of pay. Before the war of indepen¬
dence no one could attain the rank of officer without having
been a cadet; and each cadet was bound to prove his no¬
bility. But after the return of Ferdinand these proofs were
dispensed with, and serjeants now obtain a third of the sub¬
lieutenancies ; the other two-thirds being reserved for the
pupils of the military school of Segovia, who have passed the
customary examinations at the end of their course of study.
1 he dress and equipment of the Spanish army are in the
worst state; the pay of the troops is exceedingly irregular ;
and their discipline is, in consequence, as bad as it is pos¬
sible to imagine, or rather, there is scarcely such a thing
known.3 “ L’Espagnol, sob re, vigoureux, infatigable,” says Jo-
mini, “ possede de grandes vertus guerrieres, mais il manque
d’activite soutenue. Si dans ces dernieres revolutions,
son caractere se soumit difficilement a la discipline, nous
avons ete induit it penser, en observant 1’esprit du peuple,
que dans les temps ordinaires, il y serait plus facilement
ploye. Son courage tumultueux pretait beaucoup a une
prompte desorganisation, car la deroute est toujours com-
pagne de cette disposition naturelle des esprits chez les
peuples meridionaux.”4 In a word, the Spaniards afford a
striking illustration of the truth of Napoleon’s maxim, that
in war ike moral is to ihe physical force as three parts to
one.
After the general peace of 1814, when all the powers ofp0rtu"uese
Europe had reduced their military establishment, Portugal army,
alone did not follow their example, but fixed the peace esta¬
blishment of its permanent army at 49,268 infantry and 5230
cavalry; which, with the militia, made a force of 59,325
men, or about 22 soldiers for every 100 inhabitants. Such
a state of things, however, was much too violent to be dur-
apier, //isfory of the War in the Peninsula, vol. i. p. 10. See also vol. iii. p. 329, where, in describing the attack of the British
position on the crest of the Sierra de Busaco, 27th September 1810, Colonel Napier renders justice to the “astonishing efforts of valour”
on re part ot the h rench, and ably discriminates the respective characteristics of the troops engaged on that occasion. The onset of the
Trench was truly terrible, and at one moment had very nearly succeeded.
2 Essai General de Tactique, tom i. p. 176.
3 Notice sur VAr™ee Espagnole, redigee sur El Estado Militar de 1828 et sur un manuscrit. Paris, 1829. Bulletin des Sciences Mili-
tcnres, om. v. p.^ . With regard to the present state of discipline, or rather of indiscipline, of the Spanish army, the author of the
o ice o serves, , a discipline n a^ jamais subsiste dans farmee Espagnole. Ce n’est pas qu'il manque de r^glement; il en existe un
or e en u, re ige a\ec soin d apres le notre (le Pranfais) de 1792; mais c’est un frein qu’on n’a pu jusqu’ici amener 1’Espagnol a sup-
porter. Au respect pres que le soldat a pour son officier, il n’y a pas 1’ombre de discipline.”
Ihstoire Critique et Militaire des Guerres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 242.
A R M Y.
644
Army. able. Accordingly, one of the first cares of the constitu-
v'—tional government of 1821 was to reform a military system
so disproportionate to the population and the financial re¬
sources of the kingdom. The armed force since that period
has therefore consisted exclusively of the permanent army
and the militia. The permanent army is composed of a
general staff, an engineer corps, 24 infantry regiments of the
line of one battalion each, 6 regiments of chasseurs-d-pied,
and 12 regiments of ckasseurs-d-cheval of 3 squadrons each,
4 regiments of artillery, a battalion of engineer artificers, a
company of soldiers of the train, a police guard, and 30 com¬
panies of veterans. The general staff consists of an inde¬
terminate number of lieutenant-generals, 16 major-generals,
24 brigadier-generals, 6 superior officers, 6 subalterns, 12
aides-de-camp, 12 secretaries, 10 employes, and a veterinary
surgeon-in-chief; in all 100. The engineer corps (corpo de
engenheiros) is composed of 4 colonels, 4 lieutenant-colonels,
8 majors, 12 captains, 12 lieutenants of the first class, and
12 of the second; in all 64. Each regiment of infantry of
the line and of light troops consists of 44 officers and 780 non¬
commissioned officers and soldiers. The effective strength
of a regiment of artillery is 551 men, including 33 officers.
The corps of the train of artillery (artilheros conductores),
reduced to a single company by the organization of 1821,
is composed of 12 officers, 30 soldiers, and 70 mules {bestas
muares). The battalion of engineer artificers consists of
201 men, including 12 officers. Each of the 30 companies
of veterans is from 70 to 80 strong, including 2 officers. The
police guard of Lisbon consists of a battalion of infantry of
8 companies and 980 men, including officers ; together with
a battalion of gens d’armerie d cheval 238 strong, divided
into 4 companies. The effective force of the permanent
army on the peace establishment is therefore about 29,000
foot and 4500 horse—18,000 foot are in active service, 4600
in Africa, and 4400 in the Portuguese settlements in Asia.
The militia form 48 regiments of infantry, of the same
strength and composition as those of the line ; together with
six separate corps, of which three are infantry, two cavalry,
and one artillery ; amounting in all to 38,542 men, and, with
the army of the line, making the total of land forces 68,187
men of all kinds and arms. The ordinenzas, which formed
441 legions or capitanea mores, were abolished by the Cortez
in 1822, to the great satisfaction of the nation, which justly
regarded this institution as a most grievous scourge. They
were a sort of levy en masse, which all individuals between
the age of 16 and 60, unless serving in the regular army or in
the militia, might be called upon to join at the shortest notice.
1 he army, which is indebted for its organization to Marshal
Beresford, is well disciplined and instructed. Its equipment
and arms are the same with those of the English troops.1
Austrian At the period when the Emperor of Germany engaged in
array. war with revolutionary France, the Austrian army wTas on a
very effective footing, both in regard to organization and
numbers. The infantry, it is true, though well trained and
disciplined, wanted vivacity, and its physical was superior to
its moral force. But the cavalry, which was composed of
admirable materials, rivalled the Prussian squadrons in in¬
struction, and surpassed them in other particulars. The
artillery and engineers were also good, although the matCrid,
less perfect than that of the French, was either too heavy
for pieces in position, or too light for efficient service in the
field. Nor was the staff deficient either in erudition or in
talents ; but its theories were antiquated and vague, resting Array,
partly upon the system of cordons attributed to Lascy, and
partly also upon certain hypotheses, which it was gravely
proposed to put to the test of experiment in the field. At
the commencement of the war with France, the imperial
army consisted of 232 battalions of infantry and 220 squad¬
rons of cavalry; and as the battalions were very strong,
being raised by means of reserves to 1200 men and upwards
each, the whole of the Austrian force at this period may be
estimated at 240,000 foot, 35,000 horse, and 10,000artillery.2
But the reverses it experienced in consequence of an obsti¬
nate adherence to a vicious system, and the exigencies of
the long and protracted struggle with republican and im¬
perial France, led to successive augmentations of the effec¬
tive force, until at one time it considerably exceeded 700,000
men of all arms. At the general peace of 1814, however,
Austria, exhausted by a war of five-and-twenty years, reduced
her military establishments nearly one half; adjusting the
scale of peace so as to render it commensurate with that
which, it was conceived, France would adopt as soon as the
Bourbons felt themselves in a condition to re-organize a per¬
manent force. Several changes have since been made ; but
the account which follows, derived from the most authentic
sources,3 will be found to exhibit a correct view of the actual
force and organization of the Austrian army consisting of
the troops of the line, and the militdr-grdnzen, or military
of the frontiers.
The infantry, exclusive of the 17 regiments of the fron¬
tiers, is composed of 58 regiments of the line, 1 regiment of
chasseurs, 12 battalions of chasseurs, and 5 garrison batta¬
lions ; besides, in time of war, the infantry of the staff and
the landwehr. Of these, 3 are recruited in Lower and 2 in
Upper Austria, 5 in the interior and in the Illyrian provinces,
9 in Bohemia, 5 in Moravia, 11 in Galizia, 4 in the Vene¬
tian States, 4 in Lombardy, 12 in Hungary, and 3 in Tran¬
sylvania. The different regiments are designated respec¬
tively by the names of their provinces, and those of the of¬
ficers who are proprietors therein (inhaber). A regiment of
the line consists, in time of peace, of 1 colonel, 1 lieutenant-
colonel, 3 majors, 21 captains, 73 subalterns, in all 99 of¬
ficers, not including 5 staff-officers, 2 grenadier and 16 light
infantry companies, containing 3318 men. The companies of
grenadiers form separate battalions, commonly consisting of
three divisions or six companies. The Hungarian and Tran¬
sylvanian regiments consist, in time of war, of 4 battalions
of 6 companies each ; and the company contains 200 men.
The force of the infantry of the line amounts, therefore, on
the peace establishment, to 1044 companies of fusiliers and
116 of grenadiers, or 174 battalions of fusiliers and 20 of
grenadiers, making a total of 314,912 men; and, during war,
to 1134 companies of fusiliers, or 189 battalions, and the
same number of companies or battalions of grenadiers, or
487,670. By the military frontiers are understood the pro¬
vinces and districts conterminous with Turkey, to the east
and south of the empire ; which, by reason of the military
service, internal as well as external, that their male popula¬
tion is subject to, have an organization entirely military, some
districts of Transylvania alone excepted. These military
provinces furnish 17 regiments of national infantry, a bat¬
talion of tschaikists or watermen of the Danube, and a regi¬
ment of hussars (szekler), who, inasmuch as they are liable
to be called to join the army, really form part of it, but who
1 Notice sur VArmee Portugaise, extrait analytique de l Essai Statistique sur le Royaume de Portugal et d'Algarve, par Adrien Balbi.
Paris, 1827. Bulletin des Sciences Militaires, tom. iv. p. 121.
2 Jomini, Guerres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 232.
3 The account of the Austrian army, given in the text, is derived partly from the AUgemeine Militdr-Zeitung, which appeared at Leipzig
and at Darmstadt in 1826, partly from the Constitution de VArm.ee Austrichienne of Bergmayr, partly from the Annuaire Militaire Au-
trichien, and partly from Mr Edward Thompson’s “Austria,” published in 1849, together with a variety of papers in the Bulletin dcs
Sciences Militaircs.
A R M Y.
645
Army, in respect of their particular organization, may be considered,
in time of peace, as constituting a distinct force. Military
Croatia comprehends six districts, each of them furnishing a
regiment, which bears the name of the chief place of the dis¬
trict, and consists of 12 companies. The service of these
regiments in time of peace is confined to guarding the cor¬
don. Similar service is rendered by the regiment of gens
d’armes in Lombardy, and the military cordon in Galizia.
I he light infantry is composed of the imperial regiment of
Tyrolese riflemen, consisting of 4 battalions of 4 companies
each ; 12 battalions of chasseurs, 4 companies each in time
of peace, and 6, with a depot company, in time of war ; 17
national frontier infantry regiments, and 1 Illyrian Banatisch
battalion. A company of chasseurs consists of 195 men, in¬
cluding officers. The garrison battalions, composed of a sort
of demi-invalids, unfit for the service of the line, are stationed,
1 in Buckowina, 1 in Esclavonia, 1 in Hungary, 1 in Dal¬
matia, and 1 in Lombardy, and consist each of six companies,
with the same complement of officers and non-commissioned
officers as the companies of the line. The divisions of in¬
fantry of the staff (stabs-vnfanterie-division), are composed
in the same manner; and organized, in time of war, for the
purpose of guarding the headquarters and the magazines of
the army, and of removing the wounded from the field of
battle to the nearest hospitals. The number of battalions
of the landwehr is seventy. In each district of country
(Hungary, Transylvania, and Italy excepted) assigned for
the recruitment of a regiment, two battalions of landwehr
are raised and attached to such regiment; the one contain¬
ing the men who are the least necessary to their families,
and the most proper for the service, and the other, the sur¬
plus of those who are obliged to form part of the landwehr.
The first battalion is exercised fifteen days in the year, the
second only eight hours. The commandants receive their
orders from the colonel of the regiment of the line to which
their battalions are respectively attached. The landwehr is
principally destined for the service of the interior; but it
may also be sent to an active army. In either case it is paid
the same as the troops of the line.
The cavalry consists of 8 regiments of cuirassiers, 6 of
dragoons, 7 of light horse, 11 of hussars (exclusive of the
frontier regiment), and 4 of hulans ; together with, in time
of war, the dragoons of the staff {stabs-dragonner); all raised,
like the infantry, in different provinces, viz., 3 regiments of
cuirassiers in Bohemia, 3 in Moravia, 1 in Lower Austria,
and 1 in Central Austria; 3 regiments of dragoons in Mo¬
ravia, 1 in Upper and Lower Austria, and 1 in Lower and
Central Austria; 1 regiment of light horse in Moravia, 4 in
Bohemia, 1 in Galizia, and 1 in Italy. The hussars of the
11 regiments are all either Hungarians or Transylvanians.
The regiments of hulans consist of inhabitants of Galizia
and volunteers. In time of peace, the regiments of cuiras¬
siers and dragoons consist of 6 squadrons, and the other
regiments of 8; making in all 260 squadrons. Two squad¬
rons make a division ; and, in regiments which have 8 squad¬
rons or 4 divisions, 2 are commanded by the majors. The
dragoons of the staff, of which there are several divisions in
time of war, have the same destination as the infantry at¬
tached to it, and are besides employed in repressing dis¬
orders committed by marauders, and in other like services.1
4 he artilUn-y is divided into three parts, or distinct corps,
viz., the field artillery (feld artillerie); the artillery of the
arsenals and magazins {feld zeugamt); and garrison artillery
(garnison artillerie). The field-artillery consists of a corps
of bombardiers, 5 regiments of field artillery, and a rocket
coips. The corps of bombardiers has a staff, and 5 com¬
panies of 204 men each, including officers. It is recruited
by corporals of artillery, and performs the most difficult as
well as important service to the army. A regiment of field
artillery is composed of a staff* and 4 battalions, one of 6
companies and three others of 4 companies each ; making
in all 18 companies. A company serves three or four bat¬
teries of 6 pieces; and each battery is commanded by a lieu¬
tenant or major-firemaster. The train of the army furnishes
the horsing of the batteries, which is under the command of
officers of that corps, and generally independent of the chiefs
of batteries, but subordinate to them in this particular ser¬
vice. I he rocket corps is established at Neustadt, near
Vienna, where it has for some years been occupied in fabri¬
cating Congreve rockets, we believe with considerable suc¬
cess. The artillery of the arsenals and magazins, consist¬
ing of a staff and personnel of the necessary workmen, fur¬
nishes^ the field artillery, and the equipages of war, with the
requisite arms and munitions, and it guards them when in
magazine. The garrison artillery, charged with the service
in fortresses, is divided into fourteen districts, determined
by the provinces, and proportioned in numbers to these dis¬
tricts. The district of garrison artillery of Vienna compre¬
hends an arsenal, containing all the equipage of sieges; and
attached to it are a foundry, an establishment for boring
cannon, and manufactories of saltpetre and gunpowder.
The engineer department comprehends a corps of en¬
gineers, with the sappers and miners. The pontoon train is
attached to the staff, and is under the direction of an oberst-
schiffamt or chief of boats. The train of corps of military
equipages (militdr-fuhrwesens-corps) is wholly independent.
The engineer corps is composed of 4 generals, 6 colonels,
9 lieutenant-colonels, 18 majors, 42 captains, 30 captains en
second, 30 lieutenants, 30 sub-lieutenants, and 12 cadets.
Each command of military division embraces a district of
fortification ; consequently there are fourteen such districts,
to each of which is attached a director, who is taken from
the generals or officers of the engineer staff. In each place
there is also an engineer-in-chief, who is an officer of the
staff or a captain of engineers ; but in Vienna, Milan, Peter-
waradin, and Venice, the director performs the functions of
chief engineer. The corps of miners is composed of a staff,
five companies, and a garrison detachment; and the corps
of sappers, of a staff like that of the miners, six companies,
and a garrison detachment. The pontoon corps consists of
a staff and 2 battalions of 4 companies each. In time of war
the number of battalions is three, two of which have 6 com¬
panies and one 4; besides a company in depot. The train
or corps of military equipages consists, in time of peace, of
12 divisions of transport (transports-division), and 20 sets
of horses for field batteries (exercier-batterie-bespannung).
Each division is provided with 90 horses; and all the de¬
tachments of the corps stationed in a province are under the
ordei s of a commandant. In time of wrar the military equi¬
page train consists of seven principal divisions, viz., 1. the
artillery transport division; 2. that of pontoons ; 3. that of
flying bridges; 4. that of baking ; 5. that of health for the
its excellence in^anv bloodv eT t ^Perior composition, organization, and discipline of the Austrian cavalry, which has proved
3d September 1796 WaSeben a el lr talel‘t; haS neVer failed to distinguish itself. At the battle of Wiirtzburg,
neau o^rthrew it and lhus iw^nty-four squadrons of cuirassiers, attacked the French cavalry under Bon-
of^ order which’he had received dashedin^'t.he M JL IT “™Prf.Sfd with the ^P01*^6
of the order which he had received, dashed i^he << This raanamvre „‘he add,
^psic°^^ Au^rla^cuirassiers To6110*1 ^ thG ^ witLut stirring rs^^verthrownT At 2 btttL ^
rvJL.U U._J_ ™ cuirassiers,^commanded by Nostitz, “covered themselves with trlorv. ’ On the 16th October, at one o’clock in tin*
. - ^ iiu.a ctwciiteu cue cnarrre without
V05®*'‘,c°vered witl glory.’ On the 16.h October, at one o’clock in th,
threw them* and then brok-e spv VPaSSC e . ®18se at Grobern, attacked the lancers and dragoons of the French imperial guard, over*
threw them, and then broke several squares of infantry. Other instances of a similar kind might be mentioned.
646 ARMY.
Army, transport of the wounded; 6. that of victualling; and, 7.
that of general transport.
Two regiments of the same or different arms form a bri¬
gade, which is under the orders of a major-general; and two
or three brigades form a division, which is commanded by a
field-marshal-lieutenant. In time of war, corps d’armee are
organized, each consisting of several divisions, and under the
orders of a general of cavalry or artillery, or of the oldest
field-marshal-lieutenant. In the Austrian army there are
at present 10 field-marshals, 18 generals of cavalry and ar¬
tillery, 67 field-marshal-lieutenants, and 118 major-generals,
in actual service; 9 generals of cavalry and artillery, 30
field-marshal-lieutenants, and 92 major-generals, unem¬
ployed. The guards form no part of the army. They are
divided into the noble body-guard of arquebusiers, the Hun¬
garian body-guard, the guard called trabans, and the civic
guard. The military institutions of the first order consist of
the company of cadets at Olmiitz, that of Gratz, the military
academy for cadets at Vienna, the five regimental schools
of artillery, the school of bombardiers, and the academy of
engineers. The total of the peace establishment of this
army is 315,000 infantry and 50,000 cavalry, with a reserve
of 250,000; while its war establishment, which can be or¬
ganized in four months, may be estimated at 488,000 infan¬
try and from 60,000 to 65,000 cavalry.
Prussian At the death of Frederick the Great, the army of the
army. Prussian monarchy, amounting to about 200,000 combat¬
ants, was accounted the best in Europe. Proud of a struggle
without example in modern annals, and of the superiority
of the genius of their king, the victors of Leuthen, Rosbach,
and Torgau added to this force of opinion an instruction in
great manoeuvres, which the troops of no other nation ap¬
proached, much less rivalled.1 The successor of Frederick,
to whom this superb army descended, though possessed
neither of his genius nor his ambition, was at great pains to
maintain the reputation which it had acquired; and some
laurels that had been easily gathered in the Low Countries
seem to have inspired him with the notion that it was still
capable of equalling, perhaps surpassing, the brilliant achieve¬
ments which had established its renown. In this spirit, and,
doubtless, believing that the French nation might be reduced
with the same facility as the insurrection in Holland, the
Prussian monarch put himself at the head of the confede¬
racy formed to crush a people who had risen in arms to as¬
sert their liberties and preserve the integrity of their terri¬
tory. But the issue proved how much he was at fault in
his calculation. For a mercenary and mechanical army,
however perfect its discipline and instruction may be, can
never triumph over a generous people, inspired by patriotism,
endowed with high military qualities, and resolved to con¬
quer or to die in defence of their liberties. Besides, the
Prussian army of this period2 was not a national one, nor was
it animated by a common feeling. The half of it, as at
Frederick’s death, was still composed of deserters from all
nations, or volunteers enlisted in every circle of the empire :3
it was neither inspired by the genius of its chief, nor excited
by any feeling calculated to improve its moral force : disci¬
pline formed the only tie by which it was held together.
Nor was it long ere its inferiority was proved, and its pride Army,
severely humbled. The affair of Valmy opened the king’s v*—
eyes; and henceforth, more docile to the suggestions of
prudence, he negotiated for permission to withdraw to the
right bank of the Rhine the wrecks of that army the glory
of which had just been eclipsed in the plains of Champagne
by battalions of youthful volunteers. He had been taught
a lesson by which he did not fail to profit; and after the un¬
successful campaigns on the Rhine, he crept ingloriously
out of the contest which he had been so eager to commence ;
leaving the empire and Austria to the undivided resentment
of the conquerors. But he re-established his army, while
his late ally was maintaining a death-struggle. The parades
and manoeuvres of Potzdam were resumed with their wonted
eclat; confidence revived; and Frederick began to flatter
himself that he alone could re-adjust the disturbed equili¬
brium of Europe. He failed, however, to observe the prodi¬
gious development which the military art had received in the
course of the revolutionary war; or at least he neglected to
profit by the discoveries to which it had given birth: and,
as he had formerly deserted his ally at the beginning of the
contest, so now he took the field just at the moment when
that same ally was being overthrown at Austerlitz, and com¬
pelled to accept the terms dictated by the conqueror. And
at Jena as at Auerstadt, at Halle as at Lubec, he paid the
price of his procrastinating folly. But misfortune, a rough
schoolmistress, had inculcated some useful lessons. The
military constitution of Prussia was changed; foreign re¬
cruitment ceased; a national army was formed; the privi¬
leges of the nobles were abridged; old institutions were re¬
formed ; discipline was improved by being simplified ; the
arming and equipment of the army were improved in all
their branches; the best parts of the French military sys¬
tem were adopted ; the patriotism of the nation was roused,
in short, during five years, Prussia was silently but actively
employed in preparing those elements of strength which, in
1812, delivered the monarchy from the yoke of the stran¬
ger, and re-established her at the head of the second-rate
powers of Europe.
The armed force of the Prussian monarchy is composed,
first, of a permanent army ; secondly, of a war reserve or
landivehr in two bans ; thirdly, of a landsturm, or sedentary
national guard. The permanent army is composed of young-
men of family who are destined to the profession of arms, and
are named officers after undergoing certain examinations ; of
volunteers who clothe, equip, and support themselves for a
year at their own charge ; of persons between the ages of 17
and 40 who enlist voluntarily and receive regular pay; of a
part of the youth from 20 to 25 years of age, raised by means
of requisition ; and, lastly, of veterans or soldiers who con¬
sent to remain in the service beyond the term prescribed by
the law. The infantry consists of 40 regiments of 3 batta¬
lions and 9 regiments of 2 battalions, besides 6 battalions of
chasseurs and carabineers, forming in all 140 battalions ; the
cavalry, of 38 regiments of 4 squadrons each, 10 of which
are cuirassiers, 5 dragoons, 13 hussars, and 10 hulans, in all
158 squadrons ;4 the artillery, of 24 brigades, each consisting
of 2 batteries, 8 field pieces ; and the gens-d!armerie, of 8
1 Guerres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 228. Notice sur le Svsteme Militaire de la Prusse, Bullet, des Scien. Milit. tom. iii. p. 417, 461,
541, et tom. v. p. 417. See also Archiv fur neuere Kriegs und Armee Geschichte, vol. i. part 1st, and Zeitschr. fur Kunst, Wissenchaft, und
Qeschichte des Erieges, part 2d, 1817.
2 At the commencement of the French Revolution the Prussian army consisted of about 120,000 infantry, 35,000 cavalry, and from
7000 to 8000 artillery, with a most respectable corps of engineers. (Guerres de la Revolution, i. 232.) In 1806, it amounted to 260,000
men of all arms. (Etat. Comparatif de VArmee Prussienne en 1806 et en 1827. Bullet, des Scien. Milit. tom. v. p. 417.)
3 Jomini reckons the number of foreigners serving in the Prussian army at this period at only a third part of its entire strength; but
we agree with the author of the Notice sur le Systeme Militaire de la Prusse in thinking it amounted to a half. The data on which this
conclusion is founded appear amply to warrant the statement made in the text. (Hist. Grit, et Milit. i. 233.)
4 The Prussian cavalry, in the time of Frederick, was confessedly the best in Europe. “ L’infanterie Prussienne,” says Jomini,
« quoique manceuvriere etait cependant loin d’atteindre le degre de perfection auquel Seidlitz avait porte le cavalerie: cette derniere
arme tenait alors le premier rang en Europe.” (Hist. Grit, et Milit. i. 231. See also Cavalry Lectures, p. 329.)
ARMY.
647
Amy. brigades, divided each into 2 detachments.1 All the youth
who have not served five years in the active army or in the
reserve, form part of the first ban of the landivehr, until they
attain the age of 30 years complete. The second embraces
those from 32 to 40 years of age: and both classes, during
time of peace, remain at home, pursuing their ordinary avo¬
cations. But, in the event of war, the first ban is destined
to reinforce the permanent army; and the second, to form
the garrisons of strong places, and even, in case of need, to
send detachments to the army in the field. The landwehr,
like the permanent army, is composed of infantry, cavalry,
and artillery. In the year 1827, the infantry of the first ban
consisted of 116 battalions, and the cavalry of 104 squadrons.
Hence, if we include 54 garrison companies, and 18 of in¬
valids at Berlin, Stolpen, and Rybnik, the total of the peace
establishment of the Prussian army will amount to 122,000
men, while that of war would not be less than 250,000 men
of all arms : and such is the admirable military organization
of the country, that two months only are necessary to raise
the army to the full complement of the war establishment. In
Prussia the cavalry is a preponderating arm. Of the 122,000
men composing the peace establishment, 37,000 belong to
this branch of the service. The landsturm is a levy en
masse of men from the age of 17 to that of 50, and in cases
of imminent danger, it is called out by a royal ordonnance.
It is formed into urban and rural companies, and, like the
French national guard, performs, if necessary, the duties of
the interior ; thus leaving the whole of the permanent army
and the land we hr available for the service of the field. The
actual constitution of the Prussian army is strictly economi¬
cal in all its parts, and the number of military functionaries
is reduced to the lowest possible scale consistent with the
efficiency of the service. In Prussia every man who wears
a uniform works hard for his money.
All Prussians, from the age of 20 to 50, are held liable to
military service, but they only serve regularly from 20 to 26.
The duration of service is consequently fixed at five years;
but, in time of peace, the requisitionary youth remain only
the first three years under their colours, after which they re¬
turn to their homes, and are not called out again, except for
a few weeks towards the expiry of the fifth year, when they
are inscribed in the landwehr of the first ban. The popu¬
lation of Prussia being 11,500,000 souls, about 98,000 males
will annually attain the twentieth year of their age. Hence,
if we deduct 38,000 for such as are excepted from military
service on account of their age or their status in society, the
total number of disposable persons, between the age of 20
and 25, will amount to 395,000. And if to this we add that
portion of the male population from 25 to 32 years of age
who are eventually called to the service, it will follow that
Prussia, without having recourse to the second ban of the
landivehr, could raise 900,000 men trained to the use of
arms ; while France, even since 1824, when the re-organi¬
zation of her army commenced, could scarcely bring into the
field more than 480,000 men, of which the one-half would
be nearly uninstructed in the use of arms. The annual re¬
newal of this army hy thirds renders it necessary to push,
with the utmost activity, the instruction of both infantry and
cavalry, and to pay little regard to that martinet precision
which formerly characterized the Prussian tactics, but which
is of so small use in the presence of an enemy. The showy
on parade has consequently been sacrificed to the useful in
the field ; and the mere foppery of war has given place to
movements and evolutions, which are recommended alike by
their simplicity, and by the testimony which experience, the
best of all instructors, has borne in their favour. So long
ago as the year 1808, the degrading discipline, introduced by Army,
the father of Frederick the Great, was abolished by the
kriegs-artikel or the martial law ; and military punishments
are now principally confined to hard drills, confinement of
various degrees, retrogradation in rank, and some others of
a still milder description. Finally, the first grades are the
reward of merit established by examination, and as such open
to all; while, from the rank of sub-lieutenant to that of gene¬
ral, and even beyond it, seniority, that conservative law of
acquired rights, regulates the advancement of officers, and
ultimately insures the veteran his reward. Thus, after sus¬
taining the greatest disasters, the Prussian army has survived
its dispersion in 1807, and risen, as it were out of its ashes,
stronger and better constituted than at the period when it
was so rashly opposed to the undivided power of France,
wielded by the master-hand of the greatest warrior of mo¬
dern times. “ Heureux les gouvernemens,” says a French
military writer, “ auxquels les malheurs servent de lemons!”
Nor would their “happiness” have been much diminished
had such governments remembered in victory the promises
made to the people in misfortune, and shown but half as
much zeal to improve their condition as to rectify the defects
of their military systems.
At the period of the Emperor Alexander’s death, the dis-Russian
tribution of the Russian and Polish forces was that of an army-
army ranged in order of battle, with its front facing the
west. 1. The advanced guard of this army was formed by
the Polish army and the corps d’armee of Lithuania; pre¬
senting a mass of 80,000 combatants, under the command
of the Grand Duke Constantine. In point of mechanical in¬
struction, no army in Europe could be compared to it. Dis¬
posed in cantonments of about 150 leagues in length, from
Lowicz to Minsk, and 146 in breadth, between Kowno and
Dubno, it could be concentrated, at Warsaw or at Brzecs-
Littowsky, in less than three weeks. 2. The army of the
right was composed of the corps d’armee, cantoned in Cour-
land and Livonia, of the corps of the guard, and of the first
corps of the cavalry of reserve; which, united, formed also
a mass of 80,000 combatants. These were perhaps the only
troops which, in point of mechanical perfection, rivalled the
army of the advanced guard under Constantine. Their can¬
tonments extended from Polangen to Pleskof, about 132
leagues, and from Revel to Wilkomirsz ; and eighteen days
at the most were sufficient for assembling them on the Nie-
men. 3. The army of the left, denominated the second
army, was equally formed of a mass of 80,000 combatants,
cantoned in the Chersonesian governments. The greatest
depth of its quarters, from Choczym on the Pruth to Czer-
kasy on the Dnieper, was about 106 leagues ; and the great¬
est breadth 180 leagues, between Machnowka, near the
southern frontier of Volhynia and Simpherapol in the Cri¬
mea. Three weeks were necessary for concentrating it on
the Pruth. 4. The army of the centre, called also the first
or grand army, forming a mass equal to the three preceding
armies, and consequently consisted of 240,000 combatants.
Its cantonments extended on one side to more than 234
leagues, or from Kaszin, on the frontier of the government
of Tver and of Jaroslaf, as far as Saratow; and, on the other,
to upwards of 320 leagues, from Ostrog to Moroum, on the
frontier of the government of Vladimir and of Nijei-Novo-
gorod. It required six weeks at least for concentrating it¬
self in the province of Volhynia. 5, Besides these four
armies, consisting of 480,000 men, Russia had also seve¬
ral corps, of various descriptions, amounting to more than
267,000 men ; viz., the corps of Finland, of Orenburg, and
of Siberia, 45,000 strong; the corps of the Caucasus, 85,000;
1 The gens-d’armerie is of three kinds: the armee gens-d'armerie, divided into detachments stationed at the headquarters of generals
of corps-d’arm6e; the land gens-d’armerie, consisting of 80 wachtmeister and 1240 gens-d’armes, of whom 1080 are mounted; and the
granz-gens-d'armerie, which assists the employes of the customs in discharging their duties on the frontiers.
648 A R
Army, the military colonies, 67,000; and the troops in garrison,
70,000 ; thus making a grand total of 747,000 men exclu¬
sive of the Kirgishes, Baschkirs, and other Tartar hordes,
of whom from 250,000 to 300,000 may in case of exigency
be brought into the field. The whole military force of the
Russian empire, at this period, may, therefore, be estimated
at above a million of men, or a forty-ninth part of the entire
population ; while the country, as we have just seen, was
organized into one vast camp, arranged upon strategic prin¬
ciples, so as to render the transition from a state of peace to
a state of war easy and expeditious, and, with formidable
means of aggression, to combine defensive resources of almost
incalculable extent.1
The contest with Turkey in 1828 and 1829, and Poland
in 1830, produced no sensible derangement of this system,
and only altered for a time the relative proportions in the
numbers of the four principal armies, according as troops
were moved upon the various strategic points in the theatre
of war. But the lacunce created by the casualties of cam¬
paigns in Moldavia, Bulgaria, Rumelia, and Circassia, have
been already filled up ; and consequently the above account
of the military organization and force of the Russian empire
is as applicable in 1853 as it was from the death of Alexan¬
der in 1826 to the commencement of the Turkish war in
1828. A fact, however, is mentioned by M. Tolstoy, lately
an officer of the Russian staff, which shows the utter ground¬
lessness of the fears generally entertained of the aggressive
powers of Russia at the commencement of the late contest
with Turkey. From a variety of data, derived from authen¬
tic sources, that officer exhibits the situation and force of the
Russian army at different periods of the campaign of 1828,
and proves, we think to demonstration, that it never had
more than 88,000 men in its first line ;2 a force, which was
not calculated, certainly, to excite any very great degree of
alarm in the minds of other nations. M. Tolstoy, it is true,
alleges that political reasons prevented the employment of
a greater force ; and that if the Russians only brought for¬
ward 88,000 men in the first campaign, “ c’etait qu’ils ne
voulaient point effrayer 1’Europe et reveiller des jalousies qui
sommeillaient.” But closer observers will perhaps see reason
to believe that the real cause why the campaign was under¬
taken with a force comparatively so small, did not consist in
any particular respect for the “ slumbering jealousies” of
other nations, but in the inability of Russia to take the field
with a larger army ; that her physical means are out of all
proportion greater than her financial resources or power of
developing them in a foreign war ; and that, however for¬
midable or invincible she might prove to an enemy invading
her own territory, a long period must yet elapse before she
can be in a condition to occasion any serious uneasiness to
the nations of the south and west of Europe. Even in the
campaign of 1829, when so many losses were to be repaired,
and the reputation of the Russian arms, if possible, to be freed
from the tarnish they had contracted in the course of the pre¬
ceding one, Count Uiebitsch was compelled to attempt the
passage of the Balkan with no more than 30,000 men ; and,
in point of fact, he appears to have arrived at Adrianople in
the month of October, with less than the third of that small
force ; a miracle of fortune, certainly, but, at the same time,
a conclusive proof of the exhausted state of the Russian
finances, and of the inability of the Czar to carry on a distant
and protracted war. Diebitsch owed his success to two
causes: the powerful co-operation of the fleet, and the de¬
spairing fatalism, or rather infatuation, of the Turks. But
M Y.
the fortunate result of the enterprise cannot blind the world Army,
as to the circumstances under which it was undertaken, nor
conceal the weakness which preternatural folly, on the part
of the Osmanlis, at length gilded with victory.
The Russian infantry consists of 72 regiments of the line,
of 7 battalions each ; 12 regiments of the guards; and 12
of the grenadier corps, and amounts on paper at the peace
establishment to 624,000 men, inclusive of the infantry of
the independent armies of Orenburg, Siberia, the Caucasus,
and Finland.
Each regiment consists of 4000 men, under a pulkoonick
or colonel, and divided into seven battalions (four of which
are effective), of four companies, each under a chef-de-ba-
taillon. The company consists of 200 men, exclusive of
officers, sub-officers, and other persons attached to it, so
that four companies make up a battalion of 1000 men ; and
it is under the command of a capitan, a parooschick or lieu¬
tenant, a jmtparooschick or sub-lieutenant, and a praper-
chick or ensign. Four officers may appear a small allow¬
ance for a company: but, in the first place, Russian soldiers
are much more easily managed than our dare-devil fellows,
in whose blood the wild spirit of freedom revels so fiercely ;
and, secondly, the fundamental principle upon which the army
of the Czar is organized is that of economy in every branch
of the service, particularly in the number of officers.
Hence, for an effective regular force of 747,000 men,
there are no more than 14,224 officers, or one for every 52
men ; a proportion, we believe, considerably lower than that
which obtains in any other European army, except perhaps
that of Prussia. This reduced number, however, has been
found to answer well enough in practice; and, indeed, a
multitude of officers is only necessary for armies like that of
France, which require to be encouraged and stimulated by
the example, the voice, and the gestures of its officers, when
in presence of an enemy.
Every company has a small green yaschick or waggon
attached to it containing sixty rounds of ball cartridge for
each man, in addition to those he carries in his pouch, be¬
sides the company’s books and cash-chest. To each bat¬
talion there is attached one standard, beside which is kept a
drum for assembling the men. There is only one band for
the three battalions composing a regiment. The imperial
guard, consisting of the elite of the three arms of infantry,
cavalry, and artillery, amounts in all to 40,000 men.3
The Russian regular cavalry consists of 12 regiments of
the guard, divided into cuirassiers and light horse. 24 regi¬
ments of cavalry of the line, 24 regiments of cavalry of re¬
serve, 12 regiments of cavalry of the grenadier corps, 2
regiments of Caucasian dragoons, and model regiments.
Each regiment consists of 9 squadrons of 160 men per
squadron, or 1440 men per regiment, giving consequently
a regular cavalry force of 103,680.
The irregular cavalry is composed of more than 136,000
Cossacks, Baschkirs, Kirgishes, Turcomans, Kussilbashes,
&c., who are only called out during time of war, and on the
return of peace are sent back to their steppes to resume their
nomadic course of life. The cavalry is organized upon the
same principle as the infantry. It is formed into corps
d’armee, and two batteries of horse artillery are attached to
each division, or 48 pieces to a corps d’armee. The light
division of the guard is composed of a regiment of dragoons,
one of hulans, one of hussars, and one of chasseurs. The di¬
vision of heavy cavalry of the guard consists of the regiment
of chevaliers-guards, of the regiment of horse-guards, and of
1 Etat des Armees Russes et Folonnaises d Vepoque de la mart de l Empereur Alexandre, ou comparaison entre ccs deux armees et les autres
puissances armees de VEurope. Paris, 1826. Mauvillon, Milit'dr Blatter for 1826, part 1st. Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom. iii. p. 385.
2 Replique a la Reponse de M. MagnUr aux Observations d'un officier d'etat-major Russe sur la derniere campagne de Turquie, par J.
Tolstoy, ancien officier d'etat-major Ilusse. Paris, Ledoyen, 1829. Dix chapitres sur lu Guerre d'Orient. Paris, Delaunay et Dupont,
pg29, " 3 Captain Alexander’s Travels, i. 100.
A B M Y.
649
Army, tlie cuirassiers of the emperor and empress. The last two
regiments, as well as the chasseurs of the light divison, be¬
long to the young guard. The guard is recruited in the
regiments of the line, from which it draws all the finest men,
and to which it never fails to send back every one who has
given the slightest cause for dissatisfaction. The clothing
and equipments are superb; and the greatest attention is
paid to the appearance of the troops, which has of late years
been much improved. There are, however, many contrasts
of costume in the army. Some of the regiments of guards
retain uniforms which have long been obsolete, and are
striking from their very antiquity.
Equitation is also anxiously cultivated, and vast pains have
been taken to improve the men in this art.1
The Russian, like the French artillery, is divided into
horse and foot. It employs 55,000 men. The horse, or
flying artillery, comprising 400 guns, is divided into brigades
or battalions, of two divisions or squadrons, each serving 12
light pieces. The foot artillery of 1320 guns, is divided in¬
to brigades or regiments, each commanded by four superior
officers, and divided into two companies of battery, and two
light companies. The two former are destined each to serve
12 pieces in battery; the two latter, 12 light pieces each.
A brigade of foot-artillery with 48 pieces of cannon is at¬
tached to each division of infantry of 6 regiments ; while
each division of cavalry composed of 4 regiments has a bri¬
gade of horse-artillery of 24 pieces.
Thereisalsoin each corps d’armee a general of artillery who
receives the orders of the inspector-general of the artillery.
Tbe personnel of the companies is determined and organ¬
ized according to the service which the different kinds of
artillery require; so that the ■personnel of the battery com¬
panies is considerably stronger than that of the light com¬
panies. The train is well organized, and the attelages of
the different batteries and pieces are ample.
The engineer department is also on a respectable footing,
though inferior in science to those of the other great mili¬
tary nations. The Russians have never been remarkable
for skill in fortification, but their field-works have in general
been judiciously executed.2
The system of recruiting in Russia is exceedingly auto¬
cratical. When new levies are wanted, orders are issued
to the headmen of villages ; each of which is required to
furnish a certain number, according to the amount of its
population. The selection is made by the headman, who is
perfectly absolute in the matter ; and J ews are now obliged
either to serve or to pay for substitutes, who are not easily
procured in a country like Russia, where so few of the lower
class are their own masters. Formerly, it was very difficult
to prevent the men from deserting on the road to the depots ;
since the circumstance of being selected as a soldier was
considered as tantamount to perpetual banishment from
family and friends. Hence, it was no uncommon spectacle
to see numbers of these wretched serfs fastened together
like a cordon of felons going to the hulks, or tied on telegas
or carts, and thus conveyed to the depot. But since leave
has been given to soldiers to visit, at intervals, their native
villages, and the period of service has been limited to 20
years, the dislike to the army has begun to abate, and re¬
cruits show less disposition to desert, although the military
profession is still sufficiently unpopular. When the recruit,
or rather conscript, arrives at the depot, he is immediately
stripped, washed, and shaved: If he wishes to retain any
article of the dress which he brought with him, he is obliged
to purchase it back. The only thing he is allowed to retain,
without paying for it, is the cross of silver or brass which he
wears round his neck. This, superstition spares him, as the only
consolation of his miserable existence; and because, however
passive in other respects, the most abject serf would become
dangei’ous, if deprived of an emblem which had probably
been handed down from father to son for many generations,
and the loss of which is considered the greatest misfortune.
The Russian soldier is docile, submissive, and brave : like
all slaves, he is supple, subservient, and cunning: like all
natives of the northern regions, he is hardy, patient, and en¬
during. He has no other thought than to do implicitly as
he is desired; and there is a pertinacity in his nature which
inclines him to persevere, or to stand firm, as the case may
be, without troubling himself about consequences. His
courage is the result of insensibility rather than of moral force
of character ; and hence it is commonly more of a passive
than of an active character. But there is, nevertheless, an
element of indomitable ferocity in his composition : amidst
all the apparatus and parade of civilization he is still three
parts a barbarian. Hence his most brilliant achievements
have been performed under men upon whom the force of
civilization had made as little impression as on himself, and
whom the instinct of sympathy had taught to develop his
natural barbarism. The Italian campaign of Suwaroff affords
a striking illustration of this remark. When that “ hero-
buffoon ” arrived in Italy at the head of his 20,000 Russians,
to take the command-in-chief of the allied forces, General
Chasteler, head of the staff of the army, proposed to him to
make a reconnaissance of the French, who had retired be¬
hind the Oglio. “ Des reconnaissances !” exclaimed the
Muscovite chief, “ je n’en veux pas ; elles ne servent qu’aux
gens timides, et pour avertir I’ennemi qu’on arrive ; on trouve
toujours I’ennemi quand on veut. Des colonnes, la ba'i'on-
nette, I’arme blanche, attaquer, enfoncer,—voila mes recon¬
naissances !” At Novi, at the Trebbia, and during his ex¬
traordinary campaign in the mountains of Switzerland, this
wonderful barbarian, who had the instinct of genius, and a
coup d’ceil which has never been surpassed, proved that these
were not empty words. By a kind of rude but infallible in¬
spiration he discerned intuitively the true strategic points on
which to move; and by the spell of his barbaric genius he
rendered the Muscovite soldier invincible. In the cam¬
paign of 1812, we find another, though less striking, illus¬
tration of this peculiar characteristic of the Russian troops.
Barclay de Tolly, a foreigner,3 in character and feeling, com¬
manded in the early part of it; displaying a watchfulness,
a prudence, and a sagacity in divining the intentions of his
adversary, which proved him a great master in the art of
war, and, beyond all question, saved the Russian empire.
But still the army was discouraged ; and Alexander felt it
necessary to place at its head, as well as second in command,
two of the ancient companions in arms of the conqueror of
Italy. Its courage instantly revived ; and the bloody day of
Borodino attests how well it repaid this compliance with its
wishes. The Russians have a strongly-marked national charac¬
ter, which foreigners can never duly appreciate ; nor will its
best energies be displayed in war, except under the command
of men who feel its influence as powerfully as the meanest sol¬
dier in its ranks. The moral force of their army consists in a
certain nondescript fanatical ferocity, which such men as
Suwaroff, Bagration, and Kutusoff can alone fully develop.4
Army.
1 The men ride according to a system adopted of late years in Prussia and the Netherlands, the peculiarity of which consists in
throwing the legs farther backwards, so as to break the perpendicular line formed in the French riding-school by the position of the
body and thigh. Revelations of Russia.
2 Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom. ii. p. 493. Zeitsch, fur Rriegswissenschaft, 1826, part 3d, p. 254. 3 He was of Scottish descent,
* Lieutenant-General Baron Jomini describes the llussian soldier with that predilection in his favour which may not unnaturally be
expected from the aide-de-camp general de S. M. L'Rmpereur de Russie, and grand croix de plusieurs ordres. But even while he paints
VOL. III. 4 N
650 A R
Army. In Sweden, union and confidence have always subsisted
's—between the soldier and the citizen ; and hence the desire
of military service is so common among all classes of the
nation, that sending a man to the army is not there, as else¬
where, a punishment. In 1811, when the peasantry broke
out in insurrection against the conscription by ballot, they
offered to take arms without exception in the event of war,
to submit to be drilled together in time of peace, and to
equip themselves at their own charge, provided the obnoxious
innovation was abolished; tenders which were wisely ac¬
cepted on the part of the government. The present mili¬
tary establishment of Sweden is considerably below what a
nation constitutionally warlike might be supposed to main¬
tain ; but as the aim of the government is to husband the
public money, and, if possible, to relieve the country from
the pecuniary difficulties entailed upon it by the folly and
extravagance of the ex-king, all the departments of the public
service have been placed on the most economical footing.
The actual standing army, accordingly, does not exceed
35,000 men of all arms, the militia, however, is more nu¬
merous ; and, from the peculiar aptitude of the Swedes for
military exercises, it exhibits a very soldier-like appearance,
though only trained for a few weeks annually. Like the
regular army, it is composed both of horse and foot, and
must afford a ready resource in the event of war. The or¬
ganization of the whole is excellent. The regiments of the
line are recruited neither by voluntary enrolment nor by
conscription, but by a kind of intermediate system ; every
landed proprietor furnishing a certain number of soldiers, to
each of whom a house and a portion of land are allotted for
his maintenance. The Swedes have been long and justly
celebrated for their martial qualities ; and no modern nation
of so small extent has made so conspicuous a figure in his¬
tory. They are brave, hardy, and naturally heroic men ; of
superior physical and corresponding moral power; and, as
soldiers, equal to any in the world.1
Danish The Danish army consists of rather more than 30,000
army. men, with a reserve of about 14,000. Of this force 2157
are divided throughout the kingdom of Denmark, and 9655
stationed in the duchies ; while the remainder are employed
in garrison, or occupy cantonments in the vicinity of the
capital. The whole is composed of a staff of 23 officers ; a
corps of engineers of 32; an artillery corps of 3202 men,
divided into 22 companies; 6126 cavalry, divided into ten
regiments, one of which is a regiment of guards ; 13,412 in¬
fantry, divided into thirteen regiments of two battalions each,
one of which is also a regiment of guards ; 2753 chasseurs,
divided into five battalions of four companies each ; and,
lastly, a rocket corps, amounting to 156 men. The two
regiments of guards are composed of very fine men, and have
M Y.
a noble appearance. The artillery consists of twenty bat- Army,
teries of eight pieces each; besides a company of sappers v—
and miners, one of pontoon men and pioneers, with a detach¬
ment of artificers, and a laboratory establishment.
The Danish soldier is a quiet, hard-working man, who goes
about the peasant’s farmyard like one of his own farm-ser¬
vants, puts up with the same fare and lodging, looks after the
cattle, feeds the pigs, and makes himself useful. The Dan¬
ish service was notorious formerly for the barbarity of its
discipline. The slightest error in observing the most absurd
regulations in dress and drill incurred the most severe cor¬
poral punishment. The cane of the under-officer was inces¬
santly at work on the shoulders of the wretched soldier. It
was not uncommon sixty years ago for the men to sit up all
night previous to a grand review, to tie their queues, powder
their hair, and save it from being deranged by lying down ;
as the slightest derangement or want of uniformity in pigtails
or sidelocks brought down severe punishment. Suicide was
frequent; and officers as well as men were brutalized by the
cruelties they had to witness, inflict, and suffer. The late
king, Christian VIII., abolished entirely, and at once, the
infliction of corporal punishment at the discretion of officers
and under-officers. The minor military transgressions could
only be punished by arrest, extra duty, and such punish¬
ments as are now adopted in our armyj flogging and
caning were abolished. The officers of the old school of
military discipline and dress, the martinets of the parade-
ground, predicted the entire ruin of their well-drilled, well-
cudgelled little army, by these innovations. The men were
no longer enlisted for life. They served only three years,
after which, those who wished to become under-officers,
served two years in a military school, and, three years after¬
wards, as under-officers; and eight years concluded their
term of military service, unless they chose to re-engage.
The clothing, dress, drill, were simplified; and the Danish
soldier is now scarcely distinguishable from the Prussian or
other German soldiers. The Danish army is composed of
peasants accustomed to hard work, from the great exertions
which their climate imposes on the husbandman to get his
seed into the ground in due season. Wet, and cold, and
night work, hardship, and labour, are familiar to them ; and
the Jutlanders, in particular, are men of greater physical
powers, and more roughly bred and fed, and hardier than the
peasantry of Holstein, or of the south of Schleswig. The
Danish soldiery, and the classes from which they are drawn,
are, at this day, men of the same character as the peasantry
of the feudal ages. They have the same implicit confidence
in, and personal attachment to, their leaders. I heir cap¬
tains, lieutenants, and under-officers are to them what the
baron, his standard-bearers, squires, and pages were to their
era beau that infantry “ qui avait prouve a Pultava, a Kunersdorf, a Choczim, a Ismael, et dans mille actions centre les Turcs ou les
Suedois, ce qu’on pent attendre de son inebranlable fermete,” he shows his usual discrimination of military character^and makes^several
observations which appear to us equally striking and original. “ L’opinion generalement accreditee en Europe,, says he, que le
paysan Russe, ne possedant rien, gagne heaucoup a devenir soldat, est denuee de fondement. Un grand nombre d entre eux, outre les
champs de ses maitres, cultive des fruits, des legumes, travaille et trafique a son compte. Beaucoup sont a leur aise; et la vie, du soldat
dans 1’interieur du pays, ne leur porte pas envie au point de la desirer. Mais quand ce paysan est sous les drapeaux, il s y attache
comme a une seconde patrie Eleve de la maniere ia plus rude, sous un climat terrible, il est le plus rohuste de 1 Europe, le plus
capable de soutenir les fatigues et les privations. Il ne connait rien de plus sacre que ses devoirs; soumis a 1 ordonnance comme aux
precepts de sa religion, aucune fatigue, aucune intemperie, ne peut lui faire negliger les obligations qu elle impose. On voit dans toutes
leS marches et durant une campagne entiere, le cannonier presde sa piece, au poste qui lui est assigne par le reglement, et a moins d etre
frappe par le fer ennemi ou autorise par son chef, il ne la quitterait pour rien au monde. Le soldat du train cire son harnais au bivouac
par 15 degres de froid et aux jours fixes, comme il le ferait dans un bon cantonnement pour aller a une parade. Get esprit admirable
d’ordre et de precision, joint a I’instinct naturel que le soldat a de se pelotonner au lieu de fuir quand il est enfonce, rend les defaites
extremement rares. Sans doute, une telle troupe est moins facile a rallier sur le terrain qu’une armee Franfaise, ou 1’intelligence du soldat
supplee souvent au defaut d’ordre; mais elle est aussi plus difficile a rompre Get instinct qu’aucune des troupes de I’Europe ne pos-
sede au meme degre, s’est fortifie chez les Russes par les guerres centre les Turcs. La, tout fuyard est sabre par les nuees de cavaliers
qui se repandent sur les flancs et les derrieres de 1’armee. Ce n’est qu’en restant fermes et reunies qu’on 6chappe a une destruction
inevitable.” This is a tolerably good reason for the “ instinct” of which the gallant author speaks. He adds, “ La plus parfaite egalitd
regne dans 1’armee, car une fois dans la carriere des armes, aucun obstacle n’empeche de la parcourir. Pour s’en convaincre, on n a
qu’a voir les noms des generaux distingues dans 1’histoire militaire de Russie ; on y trouvera autant de plebeiens, ou de bas-officiers par¬
venus par leur merite, que dans tout autre pays.” {Guerres de la Revolution, tom. i. p. 254-256.)
1 Alexander’s Travels, vol. ii. p. 267.
A K 31 Y.
Array, forefathers. Their relation is preserved in the army from
the men and officers growing up together in the same regi¬
ment, and becoming known to each other. Officers are
rarely shifted from the regiment in which they have begun
their service, and regiments are rarely removed, in time of
peace, from the province in which they have been first raised
oi quartered. The Danish soldier, like the peasant in the
days of chivalry, thinks the real battle is but beginning when,
in most modern armies, it is considered ending—when the
combatants come hand to hand in the charge of bayonets.
1 he firing is considered a mere preliminary, however bloody;
and at Idstadt, and again at the siege of Frederickstadt, dur¬
ing the war with Prussia, regarding the duchy of Schleswig-
Holstein in 1849-50, the Danish troops slackened, and even
ceased their fire altogether, on command—a manoeuvre in
ace o the enemy, and in the heat of an engagement, which
ew troops of the most highly disciplined armies would have
the coolness to practise, or their commanders the confidence
1Il.t1hciI*11en to venture upon. But the implicit confidence
of the Danish soldiery in their leaders, and of the leaders in
t eir men, and their military intelligence and submission to
orders, seem innate. 1 heir ideas of warfare are formed on
the tales and ballads of the times of chivalry, when personal
combats decided battles; and no country is so rich in po¬
pular songs and traditionary stories, from the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries.
Waldemar Scier (the Victorious), his good queen Dagmal,
the wars in the unhappy times of his sons, and of Eric of
1 omerama and his gallant queen Philippa, the sister of our
Henry V., and the exploits of the knight Ebbesen, and his
battles against the Holstein Count Gert, are household lite¬
rature among the Danish peasantry, and, as far as literature
can do so, have formed the character of the people. The
Danish soldiers are men of the fifteenth century, led by
officers of the nineteenth. The under-officers appear to
stand on a higher footing in the Danish service than the non¬
commissioned in ours. They are appointed in the same way,
by the recommendation of the captain of the company, and
are selected from the soldiers of three years’ service. On
their appointment they absent for two years to the military
academy, where they are instructed in various branches of
knowledge connected with military duty, which they could
not be taught so well with their regiments. Outpost-duty,
patrol-duty, and all that depends upon the military intelli¬
gence and eye of the under-officer, was done in a more sa¬
tisfactory manner in the Danish than in the insurgent army.
I he latter was under great disadvantage in the field from
want of experienced or instructed under-officers and officers
who understood and had the confidence of the men. The
defeat of the “ Schleswig-Holstein ” army is attributed to
this want by the German officers who have written on the
war. The Danish non-commissioned officers have the moral
weight of a better-educated class, as well as that of their
military rank, among the men. The officers are highly-
educated, gentlemanly men, superior in tastes and acquire¬
ments to the majority of our officers, their education being
very much superior. They are all bred from a very early
age at the military academy of Copenhagen, in which the
languages and literature of other countries, as well as of their
own, and all the mathematical and other sciences connected
with the military profession, are very carefully taught, and
they undergo very strict examinations before they pass as
cadets. 1 hey join a regiment as privates in the ranks, rise
to be under-officers, in which rank they remain for two or
t nee years, and are appointed second-lieutenants afterwards,
and rise by seniority in regimental rank. Captains and
subalterns, both in cavalry and infantry regiments, are, in
general, as young men for their rank as officers in our ser-
v ice. T he military officers are often provided for, after long
strvr!^e’ bY offices in the customs or the v>—
foiest department. The subaltern officer is not allowed to
marry unless ht can prove that, besides his pay, he and his
proposed wife have an income of 600 dollars; and he must
also insure his life to the extent that his widow may enioy
an annmty equivalent to his pay. The pay is small; about
400 dollars yearly, or about L.45 sterling, is the pay of a lieu¬
tenant: but, on actual service, the officer has a field allow¬
ance, and living is extremely moderate. It is not merely
the cheapness of provisions, but the simpler habits of living
timt make one country less expensive than another. The
officer in Denmark maintains his station in society on his
small pay, and is in manners, appearance, education, and all
gentlemanly accomplishments and feelings, equal to the best
of our own regimental officers, and very superior to the many
ignorant, uninformed youths who formerly joined our regi¬
ments without any preparatory education or examination.
heaitillery of the Danish army is said to be excellent, and
ball piactice with artillery is even a favourite amusement, on
summer evenings, with the citizens of Copenhagen. In the
Danish dominions the inhabitants of the great towns are
exempt from the conscription for the landwehr, or general
military service, but they fiirnish battalions of local militia,
winch do military duty in the town as part of the garrison,
and which elect their own officers, up to captains inclusive,
and are clothed and equipped at the expense of the corpo¬
rations. 1 hey are a kind of volunteer force, but liable to
seive, in the event of an invasion, like other troops, and then
receive pay, subsistence, and quarters, according to their
rank, like the officers and men of the regular army. The ar¬
tillery of the city of Copenhagen was called out in the last
war; and the “ shoemaker’s brigade,” as it was called by the
soldiers, from its captain being a respectable tradesman of
that craft, an amateur artillerist, was as well served, and as
effective in the field, during the three years of warfare, as
any brigade of guns in the army.1
The electorate of Saxony, with a superficies of 717 square Saxon
miles, a population of 2,104,336 souls, and a revenue of about army.
780,000 thalers, maintained in 1792 an army of about 32,000
men, being a 66th part of the population ; and on this foot¬
ing it remained till 1800, when it was increased to 38,000
men, being a 56th part of the population. But Saxony
having in 1802 gained a small increase of territory in conse¬
quence of the treaty of Luneville, though, at the same time
it lost about 1, / 78,000 thalers of revenue, the army was re¬
duced to 31,000 men, of which 22,000 were infantry and
6d)0 cavalry. This state of things continued until 1806
when the military force was raised to 36,000; Saxony having
then a population of 2,276,000 souls. In the year 1809 she
furnished a contingent to France of 16,000 men, who, under
the command of Bernadotte, afterwards king of Sweden, took
part in the memorable campaign of that year, and fought
at the battle of Wagram; but the Emperor Napoleon was so
little satisfied, either with the conduct of these troops, or that
of their leader, on this occasion, that he was with difficulty
prevented from stigmatizing both in the orders of the day.
fter the peace of Vienna in 1810, the Saxon army was re-
organized upon the model of the French, and its contingent
i men formed the seventh corps of the grand army
which invaded Russia in 1812. It was commanded by Ge-
neial Reynier. On the disastrous termination of the Rus¬
sian campaign, its wrecks, re-organized from the troops re¬
maining in Saxony, entered into line in 1813, after the battle
of Lutzen ; and on the conclusion of the armistice with the
Hessian corps and that of General Durutte, it formed again
the seventh division. The defection of the Saxon divisions
at Leipzig, on the 18th of October 1813, is well known.
651
Army.
Denmark and the Duchies, by Samuel Laing.
652
A R M Y.
Hanove¬
rian army,
Army. The king of Saxony having lost his liberty in consequence
—^ of the result of that disastrous day, his army was dissolved
and replaced by a landwehr of from 10,000 to 12,000 men,
which followed in the train of the allied armies when they
invaded France. In 1815, however, the army was recon¬
stituted to the extent of a third of its former strength ; and
underwent various changes until 1824, when it was finally
placed on the footing on which it now stands. The infantry
at present consists of two companies of grenadier guards
of 100 men each, four regiments of infantry of three bat¬
talions each, two battalions of light infantry, one battalion of
carabineers, and one of chasseurs; in all sixteen battalions
of four companies each, or 9984 men. The cavalry, which
formerly consisted of horse guards, cuirassiers, hulans, and
hussars, has been transformed into four regiments of light
horse, consisting of four squadrons of two companies each,
or 467 men on the footing of peace ; in all 1872. The ar¬
tillery consists of one regiment* making twelve companies,
two of which are horse, amounting to 1060 sub-officers and
soldiers, together with a train of 189 men and as many horses.
A dozen officers without troops, and a company of sappers
67 strong, compose the engineer department. The institu¬
tions connected with the army are a school for cadets, and
a military academy, both at Dresden. The reputation of
the Saxon infantry is low ; but the cavalry is better than the
infantry, and is well qualified for the service of the advanced
posts, which was its usual destination under Napoleon.1
The composition of the Hanoverian army was fixed by
a royal decree of the 14th July 1820. The infantry con¬
sists of twelve regiments of two battalions each, and the bat¬
talion is divided into four companies. There are two of
these regiments guards; and the whole are divided into three
brigades, the first consisting of five regiments, the second of
four, and the third of three. Each regiment consists of 42
officers and 1284 men. There are eight regiments of cavalry,
two of cuirassiers of the guard, four of hussars, and two of
hulans; and each regiment is composed of four squadrons,
48 officers, 433 men, and 403 horses. The artillery con¬
sists of one regiment of two battalions, each divided into
three companies, one of which is horse, and contains 70 of¬
ficers, 1158 men, and 210 horses. The corps of engineers
and artificers consists of 19 officers and 46 men. The ar¬
tillery is of the English model and calibre, and its batteries,
both horse and foot, consist of six pieces and a howitzer each.
The total strength of the army, therefore, including the staff',
amounts to 825 officers, 20,091 men, and 3431 horse. The
period of service in the infantry of the guard is four years
only, but in all the other corps six years. The cavalry and
artillery are recruited as much as possible from volunteers.
The Hanoverians make excellent soldiers; and it is well
known that, during the Peninsular campaigns, no part of the
Duke of Wellington’s army more frequently distinguished
itself than the King’s German Legion, which was almost ex¬
clusively composed of Hanoverian volunteers.2
Bavarian The Bavarian is one of the largest of the third-rate ar-
army. mies. Its infantry consists of a regiment of grenadiers of
the guard in three battalions, of 16 regiments of the line in
two, and of four battalions of chasseurs ; presenting an
effective force of 39 battalions, or 53,420 men. Its cavalry
is composed of four regiments of cuirassiers in four squad¬
rons each, and six regiments of light horse in six squadrons;
forming a total of 56 squadrons, or 6944 men, and horses
in proportion. The artillery corps, commanded by a lieu¬
tenant-general, consists of one regiment of cannoneers of
two battalions, one regiment of horse artillery, and one Army,
regiment of artificers, pontoneers, sappers, and miners. Each w^ ^
battalion of artillery is divided into six companies, one of Bavarian
which consists of light troops ; and the companies of pon-army.
toneers, miners, and sappers, have each an effective force
of 100 men, including officers. The engineer corps is com¬
posed of a general, a colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, two ma¬
jors, two captains, eight lieutenants of the first class, eight
of the second, and six conductors, and is divided among
the five directions of Munich, Augsburg, Nuremberg,
Wurtzburg, and Lindau. The Bavarian army, therefore,
consists of 53,420 infantry, 6944 cavalry, 5580 artillery,
1464 train, and 150 artificers; in all 67,558. Every Ba¬
varian, the clergy only excepted, is obliged to bear arms in
defence of his country ; but, in practice, students and per¬
sons necessary to their families are usually exempted ; and
permission is likewise granted to serve by substitute. The
method of recruitment is conscription. Besides the per¬
manent army, there is a reserve destined to reinforce it;
and, in the event of war, the landwehr may be equally called
upon to support the army, when reinforced by the battalions
of the reserve, but only in the interior. The landwehr is
divided into two classes, one of which comprehends those
who are least capable of performing active service, and who
cannot in any case be employed beyond the limits of their
district. In time of peace it co-operates in the mainten¬
ance of public tranquillity, when put in requisition for that
purpose, and when the troops of the line are deemed in¬
sufficient. The Bavarian army is well organized, and has
always maintained a respectable character for discipline
and bravery. The cavalry is considered superior to the in¬
fantry.3
The small army of Wurtemberg requires only a brief Armies of
notice. Its infantry consists of 8 regiments of 2 battalions, A'urtem-
divided each into 4 companies ; its cavalry, of a squadron berS and
of guards, a squadron of chasseurs, and 4 regiments of horse,l a t u'
each divided into 4 squadrons ; its artillery, of a regiment
of 6 companies, 3 horse and 3 foot, besides a garrison com¬
pany : but it has no engineer corps distinct from that of
the artillery. Its peace establishment is composed of 368
officers, 1504 sub-officers, and 5184 soldiers ; or 6996 com¬
batants, and 1806 horse : on a war footing it would amount
to 520 officers, 2302 sub-officers, and 14,508 soldiers, or
17,330 combatants, and 5228 horse. The Wurtemberg
army is recruited by voluntary enrolment and forced levies.
The military age is from 18 to 30 for enrolment, and from
20 to 25 for levies ; and, in both cases, the elite of the po¬
pulation only is taken. This little army is well officered,
and enjoys some consideration. The grand duchy of Baden,
the seventh state of the Germanic confederation, has a su¬
perficies of 279 square miles, with a population of 1,108,000
souls, and supports a military establishment of 12,433 men,
although it is only bound to furnish a division of 10,000
men (the 2d of the third corps) as its contingent.4
The organic law of the military constitution of the Ger-Army of
manic confederation, adopted on the 9th April 1821, in thethe Get'-
fifteenth full sitting of the diet, and forming the basis 0n ™anic c.oU'
which the federal army has been organized, is exceedinglylet eilitl0‘1'
complex, and altogether unsusceptible of analysis within the
space which the limits of this article afford. Its leading pro¬
visions, however, may be shortly stated, and are as follow :
—The army of the confederation is composed of the con¬
tingents of all the states members thereof, raised according
to the formation of their particular matricule or computa-
1 Coup d'CEil sur la Force et VOrganisation de I’Armee Saxonne depuis 1792 jusqu'en 1824. Paris, 1825. Geist der Zeit. Feb. 1821.
bulletin des Scien. Milit. ii. 49.
2 Militdr Blatter, vol. i. p. 183. 1821. Bulletin des Scien. Milit. ii. 55. 1825.
3 Zeitschrift fur Kriegswissenchaft, No. 24, p 242. Hof und Staats Handbuch des Kbnigreichs Bayern. Munich, 1828.
* Allegemeine Militdr Zeitung, No. 10, 1828. Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom. vi. p. 65.
ARMY.
Nether¬
lands
ax-mies.
r™£- tlon m the diet. The proportion of the different arms is
conformably to the principles of the new tactics.
1 he federal army is formed of corps d’armee of a single na¬
tion or of combined corps, and both are subdivided into di¬
visions, brigades, and regiments. No state of the confede¬
ration, whose contingent forms one or more corps d’armee,
can combine contingents of other states with its own in the
same division ; and the states which have corps or divisions
combined, concert together the manner of forming and or¬
ganizing them, and in case of dispute the diet decides. In
t ie organization of the federal army regard is had to the in¬
terest resulting from the particular relations of different
states, in as far as can be done consistently with the general
object of the confederation ; and as the rights and duties of
all the confederate states are the same, it is specially provided
that every appearance of supremacy on the part of one state
over another is to be avoided. The contingent of each state
must always be completely equipped and ready to take the
held as soon as it shall be called to do so; but the force
and assembling of the army to be raised, as well as of the
reserve, are regulated by particular dispositions of the diet.
• 1 he ordinary contingent of each state is one-hundredth
part of its population, conformably to a table prepared and
rectified from time to time by the diet. 2. The proportion
of the cavalry of the federal army is fixed at one-seventh of
the total of the troops; and two field-pieces are required
|(nrvxVe7 x2000 men of the contingent, besides one for every
1000 of the reserve in arsenal. 3. The federal army con¬
sists of 10 corps d’armee, 7 simple and 3 combined, designed
in the order of the digits or primary numbers ; and every
coifs has at least 2 divisions, each division at least 2 bri-
gades, each brigade at least two regiments, each regiment
of infantry at least two battalions of 800 men each, and each
regiment of cavalry at least 4 squadrons of 140 men each.
Ihe minimum of a contingent of cavalry is 300 horse, of
infantry 400 men, and of artillery a battery of six or eight
pieces. 4. As the contingent of each state must be ready
to take the field in a month after it is called upon, all the
materiel of armament and provisions necessary for the con¬
tingent must be deposited in the arsenals of each state, and
all the contingents of the army must be kept up to their
full complement even in time of peace. 5. The generalis¬
simo of the confederation is chosen by the diet in ordinary
assembly, and his functions cease when the federal army is
dissolved. 6. The commanders of the corps of every nation
oi state have the rights which the sovereign whose troops
they command may think proper to confer upon them, with¬
out deviating from the principles upon which the military
constitution is founded. There is a great number of other
dispositions and regulations, touching a variety of matters ;
but those above specified are the principal, and may serve
to convey an idea of the military constitution of this great
confederacy, organized in imitation of that which, while it
seemed to strengthen the hands of Napoleon, proved even¬
tually, by the defection of its members, one of the chief
causes of accelerating his fall.1
I he military power of the United Provinces dates its com¬
mencement from the middle of the fifteenth century, when,
after a. long and sanguinary struggle, they succeeded in
emancipating themselves from the yoke of Spain ; and in the
following century it received considerable development, in
consequence of the wars which they had to maintain against
inn In / '°2 the7 hacl in their PaY upwards of
00,000 men, exclusive of 30,000 who were in the service
of the Dutch East India Company. But this period may be
regarded as the highest condition of the army of Holland,
which subsequently declined both in number and reputation ;
sothat in 1775 it did not exceed 30,000 men, fully one-third
653
of whom were foreigners. In ] 789, Holland, with a popu¬
lation of 2,340,000 souls, inhabiting a country of 625 square
miles, supported an army of 36,000 men, consisting of 40 re¬
giments of infantry and 10 of cavalry ; and with this force
it joined the first coalition against the French republic In
1792 the Dutch army had been increased to 39,000 infantry
3450 cavalry, 1560 artillery, and 260 miners and pontoneers’
making a total of 44,270 combatants. But in the campaigns
of 1 / 93 and 1794 they afforded the Prince of Orange occa¬
sion for displaying considerable military talents, put his army
to a decisive test, and impressed all with a conviction that its
degeneracy in moral force was equalled only by the radical
defects of its organization. The conquest of Holland by the
French, however, was followed, in 1795, by the re-organiza¬
tion of the army on new bases ; and so great was the effect
of the changes thus introduced, that the Batavian troops, led
b.y Dumonceau and Daendels, rivalled the French, by whose
side they fought, both in discipline and valour, and at Alk-
maei, on the Rednitz, and on the Danube, bravely upheld the
ancient reputation of the Dutch arms. At the peace of 1815,
Belgium having been united to Holland in order to form a
constitutional monarchy, and England having restored the
greater part of the Dutch colonies which had fallen into its
hands during the republican and imperial regime, the new
kingdom of the Netherlands at once, and as it were per sal-
turn, took its place among states of the second order, with a
continental superficies of 1165 square miles, and a population
of 6,166,854 ; and lost no time in organizing a military sys¬
tem suited to its position and rank among the nations of
Europe.
Belgian Army. But in 1830, a revolution having broken
out in France, its influence extended to Brussels. The Bel¬
gian provinces were severed from the crown of Holland in
August of that year. In July of the following year (Bel¬
gium having in the meanwhile assumed a republican form),
the allied powers of Europe recognized the independence of
the state, and it was declared a kingdom ; Prince Leopold of
baxe Coburg being elected to the sovereignty. A soldier
himself, and aware how much the Belgian frontier was ex¬
posed to aggression, he paid great attention to the constitu¬
tion of the army, and at this moment it rivals in discipline,
order, and intelligence, the best armies in Europe. The force
was fixed in 1836 at 42,000 men, but its numbers vary with
the appearance of danger, and at this moment (June 1853)
an increase of 60,000 men has been resolved upon. The
force is divided into infantry of the line, horse and foot chas-
seurs, lancers, cuirassiers, guides, gens d’armes, and a con¬
siderable train of artillery, sappers, miners, &c. There is like¬
wise an extensive general staff, a staff corps, a provincial staff;
an administrative service, and a health establishment. The
general staff comprises 9 lieutenant-generals and 18 major-
generals in active service ; 2 lieutenant-generals and 4 ma¬
jor-generals in reserve. The staff corps consists of 12 su¬
perior and 40 subaltern officers. The provincial staff com¬
prises 5 commandants of provinces (generals or colonels) 21
commandants of fortresses and 35 fort adjutants, In the ad¬
ministrative service are 1 superintendent-in-chief, 1 first-
class and 4 second-class superintendents, and 16 sous-in-
tem ants or inferior superintendents; 29 captains quarter¬
masters, 61 paymasters, and 29 barrackmasters. The health
service or medical department is composed of 1 inspector-
general, 4 surgeons-in-chief; 7 garrison surgeons, 28 regi¬
mental surgeons, 29 surgeons of battalions of the first class,
and 38 ditto of the second, 20 assistants, 1 principal physi¬
cian, 30 physicians of three classes, 1 veterinary inspector, and
- 7 veterinary surgeons of the first, second, and third class.
The infantry consists of 1 regiment of carabineers, 2 of
chasseurs, 1 of grenadiers, and 12 of the line. These regi-
Army.
Bulletin dea Sciences Milit. tom. r, ak Tni n . . , „ . .
’ F ’ rgunique de la Constitution Militaire de la Confederation Germanique, 1821.
654 A U M Y.
Army, ments are divided into three active and two reserve batta-
—lions each, the carabineers having four battalions of the one
and two of the other. There are likewise two stationary com¬
panies (compagnies sedentaires), one disciplinary division, and
one company of enfants de troupe. The staff of each regi¬
ment is composed of 1 colonel, 1 lieutenant-colonel, 1 ad¬
jutant-major, and 2 paymasters. Each service battalion has
1 major and 1 adjutant; each reserve battalion 1 major and
1 paymaster; each active company contains 1 captain, 1
lieutenant, and 1 sub-lieutenant; each reserve company 1
captain and 1 lieutenant, and each depot company 1 major,
1 captain, 1 lieutenant, and 1 sub-lieutenant.
The cavalry is composed of light and heavy. The former
are divided into 2 regiments of dragoons and 2 of lancers,
each of 6 active and 1 reserve squadron ; and the latter con¬
sist of 2 regiments of cuirassiers of 4 active and 1 reserve
squadron, and a regiment of guides of 6 active and 1 reserve
squadron. The staff of each regiment consists of 1 colonel,
1 lieutenant-colonel, 2 or 3 majors (according to the num¬
ber of squadrons), 1 captain and adjutant, 1 lieutenant-ad¬
jutant, and a paymaster. The squadrons comprehend, each,
v 1 captain, 1 captain en second, 2 lieutenants and 2 sub-lieu-
* tenants; and the depot squadron line 1 captain instructor,
1 captain commandant, 1 lieutenant, and one sub-lieutenant.
The Artillery consists of a staff of 14 superior and 19
subaltern officers; 9 commandants of artillery, and 24 gardes
cCartillerie. There is 1 regiment of horse artillery, di¬
vided into 4 field and 6 siege batteries, and 3 regiments of
foot artillery, each containing 5 field and 6 siege batteries,
a company of pontooneers, a company of artillery artificers,
one of armourer artificers, and a field train. The staff of a
regiment consists of 1 colonel, 1 lieutenant-colonel, 3 majors,
1 captain and adjutant, 1 lieutenant and adjutant, 1 captain
instructor, and 1 paymaster. Each horse battery compre¬
hends 1 captain commandant, 1 captain en second, 2 lieu¬
tenants and 2 sub-lieutenants ; each battery of foot artillery
has a captain commandant, a captain en second, and 3 lieu¬
tenants or sub-lieutenants. A siege and depot battery consists
of 1 captain commandant, 1 lieutenant, and 1 sub-lieutenant.
In the pontoon company are, 1 captain commandant, 1 cap¬
tain en second, 2 lieutenants, 2 sub-lieutenants. Each com¬
pany of artificers contains 1 captain commandant, 1 lieutenant,
and 2 sub-lieutenants. The field train contains 1 captain,
1 captain en second, and 3 lieutenants or sub-lieutenants.
The Engineers are composed of a staff of 13 superior and
47 subaltern officers, and a regiment of 2 battalions; each
battalion consisting of five companies. The staff of the re¬
giment consists of 1 colonel, 1 lieutenant-colonel, 1 captain
and adjutant, 1 paymaster ; each battalion has 1 major and
an adjutant; and each company is composed of 1 first and
1 second captain, 1 lieutenant and 1 second lieutenant. The
administration comprises 12 directors of hospitals, 12 sub¬
directors, 256 hospital employes, 16 directors of the bakery,
and 136 employes therein.1
But besides the regular army, the whole country is formed
into a civic or national guard of600,000 men. It is divided
into three corps or bans, each of which is subdivided into
legions, and the whole guard is raised in the different pro¬
vinces in just proportions. There is no time lost in the
Belgian army, a course of military instruction, of every de¬
scription, of the most practical utility, being unceasingly
pursued the whole year round. In winter, when the
troops leave the camp, their marching out commences,
and these marches are about 10 miles out and 10 miles in.
They never neglect a single opportunity of brigading these
regiments in the different garrisons ; it being a standing or¬
der that brigade field-days should take place regularly twice Army,
a-week, even where only two regiments are quartered to- v/'—
gether. Major Harvey, on the staff of Lord Frederick Fitz-
clarence, who had an opportunity of seeing the Belgian army
in one of its camps of instruction, says, “ I personally ac¬
companied the general in going round the line of sentries ;
and was permitted to put many questions as to his method
of completely protecting his front and flanks. The regiment
of lancers, under the command of Colonel Bester, attached
to this brigade, admirably performed their part, scouring the
roads in every direction, and sending in continual reports
from their different patrolling parties, their videttes being
posted with consummate judgment and intelligence. Nor
can I pass over my astonishment at the energy and rapidity
with which the column of infantry, composed of such young
soldiers, pushed forward through a deep sandy ‘ defile’ of
two miles in length ; nor how thoroughly they seemed to
understand and execute the principles of squeezing as large
a front as possible over and through the different obstacles
they met with, preserving their original extent of front up
to the very last moment, by which means the tail of the co¬
lumn was always in its right place, and not a straggler lagged
behind. In short, I never remember to have seen the spirit
of General Craufurd’s light division orders for the line of
march more rigidly adhered to, or more admirably carried
out. But whether in the mere pipeclay and parade move¬
ments in the open plain, where accuracy and uniformity of
execution formed the principal features, and where General
L’Oliver’s remarkable skill in handling his troops w7as so
conspicuous, or in the more essential movements of a cam¬
paign, such as passages of defiles, combined movements by
various columns directed on certain points, out-post duties,
&c., there was an amount of intelligence and practical con¬
fidence throughout, which impressed me with the convic¬
tion that a small ‘ corps d’arme] so well in hand, and so ably
commanded, would feel themselves quite a match for a far
more numerous, but less practised force.”2 *
The Dutch Army.—The army of Holland is of nearly
equal strength with that of Belgium, and has had the advan¬
tage of much careful drilling by Prussian officers. The mi¬
litia, however, does not approach the numerical strength of
that of Belgium. Holland rests her defensive strength upon
her navy, and trusts to the influence of alliances for her
internal tranquillity. The composition of the Dutch army
corresponds with that of Belgium. The general staff con¬
sists of 10 lieutenant-generals and 16 major-generals, and
the staff-corps of 7 superior and 19 subaltern officers. The
staff of the provinces and strong places is composed of 10
commandants of provinces, 8 commandants of fortresses,
and 29 fort-adjutants. The corps of “ intendance” consists
of 1 intendant-general, with the rank of general; 1 of the
first and 1 of the second class ; 2 sub-intendants of the first
class, and 3 of the second class ; 2 adjutants ; 21 captains
quartermasters, 51 paymasters, 21 administrators of quar¬
ters. The health department consists of 1 inspector-gene¬
ral, with the rank of general, 1 inspector, 6 first-class health
officers, 120 health officers, 27 physicians, and 3 veterinary
surgeons.
The Infantry is composed of one regiment of grenadiers
and chasseurs (light infantry), divided into four battalions
of 5 companies each ; 8 regiments of the line, each contain¬
ing 4 battalions of 5 companies, and 2 depot companies ; 1
battalion of instruction, a depot of discipline, and a recruit¬
ing depot. The infantry officers are 866 in number, thus
divided : 2 superior and 25 subaltern, forming the staff; 5
superior and 74 inferior in the grenadier regiment; 48 su-
1 Journal de VArmee Beige. Recueil d’Art, d'Histoire, et de Sciences Militaires.
2 The Camp at Beverloo. By Major H. B. Harvey, H.P., Military Secretary to Lieut.-Gen. Lord Frederick Fitzclarence, G.C.H.
Commander-in-Chief at Bombay.
ARMY.
Army.
Sardinian
army.
perior and 672 subaltern in the 8 regiments of the line ; 1
^ superior and 14 subaltern in the battalion of instruction; 1
superior and ten subaltern at the depot of discipline ; 1 su¬
perior and 13 subaltern in the recruiting department.
The Cavalry consists of a staff, four regiments of dra¬
goons of 4 squadrons each, and 2 squadrons of the Limberg
chasseurs, with 155 officers.
The Artillery comprehends 3 regiments of foot, and 1 of
horse, a company ofpontooners, and one company of artificers.
Each regiment consists of a staff, 5 horse batteries, 8 field
batteries, 33 siege batteries, and 2 squadrons of a field train.
The general staff comprehends 5 superior officers, 18 subal¬
terns, and 32 gardes d’artillerie. The regimental staff of
each regiment comprises 17 superior and 18 subaltern offi¬
cers. Each siege battery has 1 captain and 3 lieutenants ;
and each field and horse battery 1 captain and 4 lieutenants
and sub-lieutenants. The company of pontooners is com¬
posed of 1 major, 2 captains, and 4 lieutenants and sub¬
lieutenants ; the company of artificers of 1 captain and 6
lieutenants and sub-lieutenants ; and the field train of 1
captain and 2 lieutenants.
The Engineers comprehend a battalion of three compa¬
nies with 13 officers, and the staff consists of 88 officers.
Sardinia is the Prussia of Italy. It has been from old
times a military state in virtue of its geographical position be¬
tween the two great military powers, France and Austria.
Every Piedmontese (and this designation usually applies to
the soldier of the Sardinian states) is liable to military service,
and the man who has served his three years in the line re¬
mains disposable in case of war, for sixteen years to come.
Accustomed for ages past to these obligations, the Pied¬
montese has more military spirit than the Italian of any other
district, and makes a good soldier. A nobility, numerous
and brave, furnishes a body of officers worthy of command
in such an army.
The science of war is much cultivated at Turin; the ar¬
tillery, both as regards theory and practice, is of the first
class. The composition of the army is as follows:—A brigade
of guards, consisting of 4 battalions of grenadiers, and 2 of
jagers ; nine brigades of infantry, each brigade consisting of
2 regiments, each regiment of 3 battalions, namely, 2 in¬
fantry of the line (5 companies each), and 1 jager battalion
of 4 companies. The brigades are designated Savoy, Pied¬
mont, Aosta, Coni, Queen’s, Cosale, Pignerol, Savora, and
Acqui.
The infantry battalion, on its war footing, is from 1000 to
1100 strong, which gives to the whole infantry from 6000
to 7000 men. By calling in the reserves, this force may be
nearly doubled; but the greater part of these reserves exist
only on paper; those forthcoming have to be trained, and
a great proportion of them are fathers of families, with little
inclination for actual service.
One battalion of sharp-shooters, Bersaglieri (from ber-
saglio, an object aimed at), forms an independent corps. This
body, armed and trained after the ideas of a Piedmontese
noble, at a considerable pecuniary outlay from his own means,
vies with the French voltigeur in activity, and with the heavy¬
armed Swiss rifleman in precision of aim, and is the admi¬
ration of all experienced judges. Marine infantry can also
be applied on occasions of land service.
The cavalry consists of 6 regiments, 5 squadrons each;
Royal Piedmont, Genoa, Nice, Savoy, Novara, and Aosta.
Each regiment has about 600 horses. Its proper number
for service, indeed, is 1000, but there is a difficulty in rais¬
ing this amount, for the troop horses are generally imported
from North Germany. Men and horses are fine in appear¬
ance. The lance was formerly confined to each fifth squad¬
ron, but of late all have been armed with it.
655
Army.
The artillery consists of 2 batteries, 12 pounders ; 8 bat¬
teries, 6 pounders; 2 batteries of light sixes; horse artillery,
8 pieces to each battery; making in all 96 pieces. There
exists m addition a strong corps for service in the fortresses,
a part of which is disposable also for siege operations with
the army.
The engineer service is provided for by a battalion of sap¬
pers, to which is appended 1 company of miners.1
The Neapolitan army is scarcely deserving of notice, Neapolitan
either in a political or military point of view; for, next to the army,
soldiers of his Holiness the Pope, those of Naples are beyond
all dispute the worst in Europe. In 1792 the Neapolitan
army amounted to 30,000 troops of the line, as they were
called, and 15,000 militia; a force which was increased, in
1199, to 60,000 men of all arms; 40,000 of whom invaded
the Roman states during the campaign of that year, and con¬
ducted themselves rather like banditti than a regular army.
Formidable only to its allies, and to the country which *it
serves to retain in abject servitude, this army has since ex¬
perienced the most violent mutations; but its number at
present may be estimated at from 35,000 to 40,000 men of
all arms.
I he 24 cantons of Switzerland are defended in case of Swiss
need by the militia, which, in fact, comprehends the whole tronP3-
of the adults who may either be actually in the country or
elsewhere engaged. There are few Swiss who are not good
soldiers, though no regular army is kept up ; and so strong
is their patriotism, that, when the fiery arrow goes forth,
wherever they may be, they rally in defence of their native
mountains.
The Swiss have for ages been the hirelings of Europe,
either in public or private service, as soldiers, or as domestic
sei vants. Pay has for ages been the only influence in ge¬
neral and constant operation on the Swiss mind, in every
class of society, and has weakened the efficiency of any higher
influence and feelings in affairs than self-interest—Point
d argent,, point de Suisse, has extended from their military
to all their social relations. A great proportion of the young
men of Switzerland have small farms or houses, with por¬
tions of land, and rights to grazings in the alp of their native
parishes, to succeed to upon the death of their parents ; but
until that event in their social position, they are supernu¬
meraries at home, their labour not being necessary for culti¬
vating the paternal acres, and their subsistence costing more,
perhaps, than the land can afford. They have no colonies to
migrate to, no labour to turn to, except labour of skill, which
all cannot learn or live by, and no considerable manufactur¬
ing employment, except in two or three cantons, to absorb
their numbers ; and they enlist, therefore, readily for a few
years in Swiss regiments in foreign service. France, after
the restoration of the Bourbons, had about 17,000 men of
Swiss regiments; and the disgust of the French nation at
the preference shown to these mercenaries was a main cause
of the expulsion of Charles X. Naples has at present 4 re¬
giments of these mercenaries, Rome as many; and it is
reckoned that from 8000 to 10,000 Swiss are in foreign ser¬
vice at present, embodied generally in Swiss regiments distinct
from the native troops of the country. Thev are the condot-
tieri of the middle ages, serving for their pay, and without any
other principle or attachment, real or assumed, or any pre¬
text of higher motive for their service. In other services
the rudest soldier, the most arrant scamp, the vagabond, the
deserter from other regiments, lays the flattering unction to
his sovd, that destiny, folly, hard necessity, wildness of youth,
love of distinction, of country, of honour—something, in short,
connected with principle or fate, has led him into the mili¬
tary service. But these Swiss have no principle, real or
imaginary, but pay. They engage generally for terms of
1 Lning’s NoUs of a Traveller. Bulletin des Sciences Militaires.
ARMY.
656
Army, four or six years, and receive a bounty of one napoleon for
v''"*'' each year they engage for. This bounty is not paid to them
in full upon enlistment, but a portion of it is placed to their
credit in their livret or book, which every private has in
foreign services, and is paid to them at the expiry of their
engagements, to enable them to return home from the port
of Genoa, to which those serving in Italy are sent free of
expense, if they do not choose to re-engage for a new term
of years. They receive much higher pay than the native
ti’oops. A subaltern in a Swiss regiment in the Neapolitan
service has better pay than that of a captain in a Neapo¬
litan regiment. The men receive four gran and bread, and
the elite, or old soldiers who have re-enlisted, five gran per
day, and their ration of eight ounces of meat costs but three
gran. They are consequently well off as soldiers, are always
in good quarters, and under their own Swiss officers; and
both at Naples and Rome are undoubtedly fine, well-ap¬
pointed troops. Scotland formerly furnished the same kind
of condottieri to Holland, Sweden, and France; but the ad¬
vance of industry and manufacture at home, the colonization
of America, and the demand of England for labour from the
poorer country, extinguished this kind of military service ;
nor was it at any time so devoid of all connection with prin¬
ciple or chivalrous motives, as the Swiss enlistments of the
present day. The Scotch peasant enlisted under his clans¬
man, or the son of his landlord, who, from attachment to the
Stewart cause, or difference of religion, or from national pre¬
judice, preferred foreign service to the British, even with
inferior pay. The recruiting also for foreign service was
unacknowledged and private. But the Swiss government
sanctions the demoralizing system, allows the recruiting pub¬
licly, and with the same protection and regidation as for a
national army; and sells, for the benefit of a few aristocratic
families, principally of Bern, who officer these mercenaries,
the military services of her young men to support the most
arbitrary governments in Europe. The Protestant repub¬
lic of Bern furnishes one regiment entirely for the service
of the king of Naples, and even in the Pope’s body-guards
there are Protestants from Bern and other Protestant can¬
tons. No government can set principle at defiance with
impunity. These men return to their little spots of land,
devoid of religious habits or feelings, or attachment to any
religious faith. This service keeps up through the whole
population of Switzerland principles and conduct adverse to
religious character. The men who thus enlist to pass their
youth in the most vicious and bigoted cities in Europe,
Naples and Rome, are not the refuse of their country, but
the sons of respectable peasants, who are to return to their
little heritages and marry, and settle as fathers of families.
Ottoman At the period when the Ottomans first became formidable
army. to Europe, they may be said to have composed one immense
army. Every Osmanli was a soldier, and from the age of
sixteen to sixty held himself at the disposal of the state;
whilst all were animated with a martial fanaticism, which in
fact constituted the main sinew of their strength. They were
brave, ardent, enterprising; and if their services in the com¬
mon cause (which they could not withhold as long as they
were able to bear arms) remained unpaid, they were not un¬
requited. A third of the conquered land was distributed
amongst them, and held on the tenure of military service;
the peasantry cultivated the fields thus ceded to the soldiery,
and paid the rents to their military landlords ; and the hold¬
ers of the ziamets and Umars, or greater and lesser grants,
received from the fund of conquest rewards proportioned to
their services. But this system, although it placed a large
numerical force at the disposal of the chief, was nevertheless
attended with serious inconveniences. It created a sort of
feudal militia, but was incompatible with the existence of a
permanent force; it supplied means for a short expedition
or campaign, but a continued series of operations was con¬
stantly liable to be paralyzed by the soldiers returning to Amy.
their homes while these were still in progress. To obviate
this evil, it was resolved to raise a body of mercenaries, whose
services should be at all times available. Accordingly, Sul¬
tan Amurath, at the suggestion of his vizier, claimed as his
right the fifth part of the Christian youth captured in Bul¬
garia, Albania, Servia, and Bosnia; who, being instructed
in the law of the prophet, and inured to arms, formed a body
of soldiers totally distinct from those liable to serve in virtue
of their military holdings, and unconnected with the rest of
the empire by the ties either of birth or of kindred. Such
was the origin of the Janissaries. Organized into a regular
force, at a time when the armies of Christian powers con¬
sisted of a disorderly militia, and uniting courage and en¬
thusiasm with a species of discipline, and a blind obedience
to the will of their commanders, this powerful body swept
all before them, and spread far and wide the terror of the
Ottoman arms. Nor did the splendour of their achievements
suffer any eclipse as long as Christian captives could be ob¬
tained to fill the vacancies in their ranks. But when the Ja¬
nissaries ceased to form a class distinct from the great mass
of the nation; when they were allowed to marry and enrol
their children ; and when the odas or regiments became en¬
cumbered with men who preferred inglorious ease in the
bosom of their families to the toils and dangers of the battle¬
field ; they at the same time ceased to be formidable to their
enemies, and, like the praetorian cohorts of ancient Rome,
were dreaded only by their emperors. They could raise an
insurrection in the capital, demand the head of an obnoxious
vizier, and depose or murder an unpopular sultan ; but “ the
yellow-haired Giaours” had learned to despise them in the
field ; and, in their degeneracy, they seemed destined to ac¬
celerate the ruin of that empire which, in their better days,
they had contributed so largely to extend and consolidate.
On this class of men, however, did the Porte, until re¬
cently, depend in a great measure for defence against her
enemies; and although their inefficiency was daily becom¬
ing more apparent, and reform more necessary, every at¬
tempt to effect a change of system, and regenerate these
Osmanli praetorians, had proved either abortive or disas¬
trous. In vain did Selim try to remodel them, and restore
discipline. The attempt cost him his life. In vain did Mah¬
moud, on his accession, manifest an intention to enforce the
regulations of Suleiman the Magnificent. An insurrection
was the consequence. During three days the streets of the
capital ran with blood; and the sultan, in order to save his
own life, was obliged to command the execution of his
brother. But Mahmoud was not of a disposition to be
daunted by this failure, although it induced him to change
his mode of proceeding. He now saw that nothing less
than the complete destruction of the Janissaries would enable
him to improve the condition of his empire, by carrying
through the reforms which he already meditated; and he
waited patiently until he could strike the blow with a cer¬
tainty of success. In 1826, the Janissaries, who perceived
the storm gathering, again mutinied. But it was now too
late. They found the sultan prepared for them; and, in
raising the cry of insurrection, they only gave the signal for
their own destruction. The artillery-men and other troops,
faithful to Mahmoud, surrounded them in the Atmeidan:
they attempted to defend themselves, but without success:
20,000 perished in the conflict: and the Janissaries as a body
were from that moment annihilated. This achievement,
though accomplished at a terrible sacrifice of life, was in
x’eality an act of humanity as well as of sound policy; and,
viewed in its proper light, it reflects equal honour on the
wisdom and firmness of the sultan, who planned so judiciously
and executed so vigorously a measure full of peril in itsellj
yet absolutely indispensable as a preliminary step to im¬
provement of any kind.
ARMY.
ray
suppression of the corps of Janissaries having left
Mahmoud at liberty to remodel his army conformably to the
principles of European science and tactics, he hastened to
supply the void occasioned by the destruction of the force
to which the country had hitherto trusted for its defence;
and orders were immediately issued directing the enrolment
or a certain number of men in every province of the em¬
pire, excepting Albania, Bosnia, and the African states. But
the sultan experienced greater difficulty in raising new troops
than he had probably anticipated; for, although the law which
places the services of every Moslem at the disposal of the
sultan existed in full force, it applied only to a state of war;
and on no previous occasion had such a system of enrolment
been resorted to during time of peace ; a circumstance which
rendered it exceedingly obnoxious to the populace. An¬
other obstacle to the speedy reconstruction of the army con¬
sisted in the necessity of excluding from the new corps all
persons suspected of what may be called Janissarism; and
as it had been customary for every Moslem, on attaining
the age of manhood, to inscribe his name in some oda or
legiment of janissaries, the only method bv which Mahmoud
could hope to secure his troops from the contamination of
that pioscnbed sect was by enrolling none but bovs in his
army. But the adoption of such a plan necessarily created
a proportionate difficulty in filling the ranks ; while, to add
to the embarrassments of the Ottoman reformer, the new
system had scarcely been twelve months in operation when
Juissia declared war against the Porte. That this was a
politic proceeding on the part of the Muscovite government
no one can doubt. Mahmoud was caught in the very act
of transition from a bad system to a better one; the regi¬
ments of the Ottoman army were still incomplete; and the
unpopularity of the contest, with a dread of the Russian
arms, acted as an additional check to enlistment, and thus
aggravated the evils with which the sultan had to contend.
1 lie new troops were, however, brought into action. They
were as yet too ignorant of the advantages of discipline to
benefit by the instructions they had received; their ma¬
noeuvres served but to confuse them ; the officers were supe¬
rior to the men only in name, and the generals were equally
destitute of talent; the interior organization of the army was
lamentably defective; and the troops had but little confi¬
dence either in their officers or in themselves. Yet, with all
these disadvantages, the first campaign terminated favour-
ably for the Turks; and it cannot reasonably be doubted
thfit the second one (that of 1829), would have had a simi¬
lar result, if the Osmanhs had been commanded by a man
possessed even of ordinary military talents and enterprise.
illfv ^er1 Wau questionably a brave man ; and,
..!ke. Jusuff 1 asha, he was faithful as well as brave. But,
with 40,000 regular troops, superior to any that the Porte
had ever sent into the field, he allowed himself to be sur-
fhnntiaV m ?TtSCca °r Kuleftscha’ aud, having lost more
than the half of his force, was compelled to retire to Shumla
with the remainder. The succeeding events of the cam-
pmgn were the natural corollaries of this disastrous battle.
nhta ' TV '^ ing uP°n these> whith are foreign to the
objects of the present article, we shall proceed to give
stitutecP °Unt °f the 0ttoman army as it is at present con-
I he Ottoman army is composed of regular and irregular
infantry and cavalry, a corps of artillery, and a regiment of
bombardiers or miners. The Asmkiri Monsurei Moha- '
mediyes, or regular infantry, are said to amount to 50,000
men of whom 10,000 compose the imperial guard, quar¬
tered in and around Constantinople. They are recruited
from the mass of the people without distinction ; and al¬
though Mahmoud did not oblige the children of his nobility
to enter into the service, yet, at the beginning of the late
war, many enlisted voluntarily, and even some of the Ule¬
mas, or expounders of the law, forsook their peaceful pro¬
fession and enrolled themselves. The black and white sub¬
jects of the sultan are alike received as soldiers ; and in a
single regiment, may be seen every shade of “ the human
face divine,” from the jet-black complexion of the Ethiopian
or Nubian, to the white-visaged inhabitant of Rumelia.3
Once enrolled, a soldier is obliged to serve for life ; but it
frequently happens that discharges are granted. The re¬
gular troops are organized on the model of the French
army, and are divided into corps d’armee, divisions, brigades
and regiments. The corps d’armee is commanded" by a
seraskier, the division by a pasha of three tails, the brigade
by a pasha of two tails, the regiment by a miri-alay or colo¬
nel, and the battalion by a bimbashee or chef-de-bataillon.
A regiment consists of a regimental staff (including the
miri-alay or colonel, the caimacan miri-alay or lieutenant-
colonel, and the alay-eminy or major) and three battalions,
each composed of one bimbashee or chef-de-bataillon, one
sagh-col-aghassy or adjutant-major, one sol-col-aghassy or
adjutant, 8 yuzbashees or captains, 16 mulazims or lieuten¬
ants, 32 tchiaouches or serjeants, 48 on-bashees or corpo¬
rals, and 720 men ; making a total of 2484 officers and sol¬
diers. exclusive of a drum-major, an imaum or chaplain, and
a kiatip or clerk. The inveterate prejudices of the Mos-
lemin against the employment of European officers in the
service have prevented Mahmoud from placingany foreigners
in command of his troops; and these have hitherto been
disciplined, partly by officers who had served under Selim
in the Nizim Djedid, partly by persons sent from the Eo-vn-
tian army. The only footing on which the Turks will con¬
sent to tolerate a European officer is as an instructor; and
in this capacity Signor Calosso, a ci-devant captain of dra¬
goons in the Italian army of Prince Eugene Beauharnois,
!!as b(len employed by the sultan to superintend the discip¬
line of his cavalry. But the infantry have not been equally
fortunate, and are consequently labouring under very great
disadvantages. The officers, taken from the same class of
society with the common soldiers, differ from them in no-
img but rank and name: in the Turkish army there is no
one to look up to, no natural aristocracy created by supe¬
riority of condition and of knowledge : the same ignorance
and the same prejudices pervade all ranks: and, having the
benefit neither of examples nor of models, their progress in
discipline has been necessarily slow. The Turks seem to
t ink that performing the manual and platoon exercises with
tolerable precision, marching in companies instead of inde¬
pendently, and wearing a peculiar uniform, is sufficient to
c ass them with disciplined troops. But in their anxiety to
attain the end desired, they have overlooked some of the
most essential means. The soldier, for example is placed
the ranks before he knows how to march; and provided
e goes irough the manual and platoon exercises, it mat-
657
Army.
to Captain TranYs work" for^avwy ifon^dLablT porttanVih6^’ 7 T^' tak®this opportunity of acknowledging ou7oblig7ti^
—rf0” '~s ^ “• »»^
see every rece and eve““VuronP7arth Tmo’nS'ttem^^XmteS °b 'r00Ps,m1archi"g P“*. “ what kind of soldiers are those f You
and discijdine, if rigorously enforced, will in time mould even these
4 o
65S A R
Army, ters not whether his carnage be steady or the reverse. When
>n ranks, the men talk and laugh without restraint, and
even address themselves to their officers; whilst the latter,
instead of checking, encourage these improprieties, by join¬
ing in or retorting the rude ribaldry of the troops. Field-
officers are indeed treated with the most obsequious respect
by their inferiors; but the line which has been drawn be¬
tween the privates and -subaltern officers is by no means suf¬
ficiently distinct; and it is easy to perceive throughout, that
the hand of a master is wanting to combine all the elements
of discipline, which are now but imperfectly understood,
and to impress upon the higher ranks the necessity of study¬
ing their profession, in order to qualify them for discharging
the duties of command, as well as to ensure the respect and
obedience of the troops.
The Turkish cavalry had so long been celebrated for its
gallantry and enterprise, that the policy of remodelling it
seems exceedingly questionable. This, however, has been
attempted, though, as it appears, with very indifferent success.
Four squadrons of dragoons are attached to the guard, and
compose the only regular cavalry in the empire. These are
mounted and equipped in the European fashion; but the
horses are small in size, ill-conditioned, and badly groomed ;x
and the men find so great difficulty in accommodating them¬
selves to the European method of riding with long stirrups,
that their seat is loose and ungraceful, and they are not un-
frequently thrown from their saddles, to their own infinite
mortification. The scimitar, so effective in the hand of a
Turk when mounted in the fashion of his country, has also
been exchanged for the French light-dragoon sabre; a
weapon so differently balanced from that which the Osman-
lis have long been accustomed to handle, that they are not
likely soon to acquire much dexterity in the use of it. These
changes, in fact, seem the very wantonness of innovation ;
for whilst they have destroyed all that is national or charac¬
teristic in this description of force, they have substituted
nothing effective in its stead; and it will probably be
found that the Sultan sacrificed a superb light cavalry for
wretched dragoons. His policy should have been, to leave
to the I urks their national horsemanship and their national
weapons, and to direct his attention exclusively to field
tactics and manoeuvres, in order to give unity and effect to
those daring charges which they are so admirably fitted to
execute effectively in their own way. Without firmness in
their saddles or confidence in their weapons, the new troops
may make a tolerable appearance on parade ; but if sent into
the field, they will, in all probability, be found unable to con¬
tend with the worst description of horse to which they may
be opposed.
The artillery is of two kinds, viz., foot and horse. The
topejees or foot artillery are at present 6500 strong. Their
new organization is of very recent date ; they are now formed
into distinct regiments, and quartered over the empire.
The horse-artillery, though in a very inefficient state com¬
pared with ours, has made considerable progress in disci¬
pline. It is divided into two regiments of four troops each ;
and every troop consists of one captain, three subalterns,
180 men, 180 horse, and 10 guns; thus making the total
M Y.
effective strength of a regiment 786 men, 720 horses, and Army.
40 guns, which are commonly nine-pounders and five-and-
a-half-inch howitzers. The officers are supplied with horses
by the government; and the forage allowed to each horse is
nine pounds of barley and twelve pounds of chopped straw
per diem. The corps of bombardiers and miners amounts
to about 2000 men; but they are still quite undisciplined,
and as ignorant of the scientific as they are negligent of the
practical part of their profession; their gun carriages, plat¬
forms, and ammunition waggons, being in a shameful state,
and totally unfit for service. The education of artillery-
officers has hitherto been entirely neglected; but a college
has recently been established for their instruction in the
theory and practice of gunnery.
The irregular army may be said to comprise the whole
Mahometan population of the Ottoman empire; since, as
already stated, every Moslem, if required, is obliged to
join the army during time of war. The irregular cavalry is
raised by the Znaims and Timariots, who hold feudal grants
from the Porte on tenure of military service. The irregular
infantry is assembled by the pashas and inferior officers in
the provinces. Eighty years ago, the irregular cavalry con¬
stituted by far the most formidable and effective force be¬
longing to Turkey; but the country whence it was derived
having been wrested from the Porte by Catherine II., her
enemies now use it with great effect against her.1 2 The Khans
of the Crimea were most useful tributaries of the Porte, and
were at all times ready to take the field with from 40,000 to
50,000 horse of the very best description, considered as irre¬
gular troops. Brave, hardy, accustomed to support fatigue
and privation, inured to riding from their infancy, and obe¬
dient to their leaders, the Crim Tartars formed the main
strength of the Turkish armies ; and, superior to the Tima¬
riots, who had become enervated by peaceful habits, were
prepared for all kinds of service, nay even to encounter the
best regular cavalry that could be brought against them. The
loss of the Crimea, therefore, and of the enterprising troops
it supplied, inflicted a severe, if not an irrreparable, injury
on the military resources of Turkey. The irregular cavalry
is now principally drawn from the Asiatic provinces; but
as the Mahometan population has much decreased, this force
is consequently less numerous than formerly. The irregular
infantry, called Seimens, is furnished by the pashas, ayans,
mousselims, and voivodes; and, during the last war, some
regiments so raised received pay from the Porte. The men
were drawn from Rumelia and Asia; and it is not a little re¬
markable, that of those who distinguished themselves most
in the field, the majority had belonged to the proscribed
corps of Janissaries, many of whom are still to be met with
in all parts of the empire, notwithstanding the severe mea¬
sures adopted for their extermination. The spirit of Janis-
sarism, indeed, is still latent in a large portion of the popu¬
lation. The snake has been scotched, not killed ; and the
utmost vigilance will be necessary to prevent its resusci¬
tation.
The present strength of the whole Ottoman force capable
of being called into the field is, according to the most recent
accounts, as follows:—•
1 This may seem singular, considering the ideas generally entertained,of Turkish horses : but, in the first.place, these are very much
exaggerated; and secondly, the government was obliged to purchase horses wherever they could be found—in Asia, Rumelia and
Wallachia. The best horses belong to the irregular cavalry.
2 During the campaign against Russia in 1826, the Turks had generally bad information, frequently none at all, respecting the move¬
ments of the Russians; whilst clouds of Cossacks scoured the country in every direction, cut off the Ottoman eclaireurs, explored all the
routes and even bye-paths, and conveyed to headquarters prompt intelligence of the slightest movement on the part of the enemy. It
was this entire command of the communications which gave Diebitsch so great a superiority during the latter part of the campaign, and
enabled him to surprise the vizier at Kiulewtscha, to mask the celebrated march by which he turned the barrier of the Hajmus, and to
acquire for himself the well-merited distinction of Zabalkansky, or Passer of the Balkan. The troops sent to intercept him in the
mountain gorges arrived too late, and Zabalkansky was thus enabled, with a handful of troops, to dictate peace in the ancient capital of
the empire.
ARMY.
Army. Regular active army  138,680
Reserve    138,680
Irregular troops  61,500
Auxiliary contingent  llo'oOO
Total,   448,860
The military establishments of Turkey have yet, in a great
measure, to be created: but the sultan is indefatigable in
urging on improvement to the utmost extent of his crippled
means. The only founderies for casting cannon are in Con¬
stantinople. They are three in number: one of two fur¬
naces, attached to the military arsenal at Tophana; another,
also of two furnaces, near the naval arsenal; and a third of
one furnace at Hassquiou, the bombardier barracks. In one
of these establishments sufficient metal can be melted to cast
from five to seven guns at a time; but in all, the tools are
° t‘!e coarsest description, and everything is effected by
manual labour, without the aid of machinery. The work-
men are lurks and Armenians. The military arsenal at
op ban a contains a large stock of artillery of various calibres
and some of extraordinary length.1 The field-pieces are in
tolerable order, but the guns have neither sights nor scales.
Schools or colleges of medicine, of the marine, of music, and
of mditary instruction, have been for some years established
at Constantinople. The medical school contains about 400
students.2 Between three and four hundred young men are
instiucted at the military school, which is under the super¬
intendence of the chief bombardier, in mathematics and the
principles of fortification and gunnery; and some few French
works upon military subjects have been translated into Turk¬
ish for the benefit of the students. Sultan Mahmoud also
established a kind of commissariat department, under the
control of the Asker Naziry or superintendent of the troops;
and Turkey now boasts of good military hospitals under com¬
petent management. Great progress has been made in re¬
forming the pay department, in which enormous abuses for-
merly prevailed; the troops and the sultan having been alike
plundered by the knaves intrusted with this important branch
of the public service. But since the management of the
finance, commissariat, and general organization of the army
has been vested in the Asker Naziry, conjointly with the
seraskier and other high official persons, matters have been
placed on a much better footing, and the soldiers have now
little to complain of.
The barrack department in Turkey is extensive. Which¬
ever way one turns the eye at Constantinople, it is almost
sure to rest upon a great barrack. These buildings are nu¬
merous, and imposing, if not in their architecture, at least
in their size and spaciousness. Sultan Selim, when at¬
tempting for the first time to form a Turkish army, disci¬
plined in the European manner, erected several extensive
buildings for the accommodation of the Nizam Djeditt or new
troops ; but when the Janissaries got the better of him, they
knocked down most of these buildings. Sultan Mahmoud
was the great barrack-builder. Abdul Medjid has added
only one or two to the number. Taking into account the vast
barracks of Mahmoud at Daoud-Pasha outside the city the
immense barracks in the Asiatic suburb of Scutari/and
the barracks and commodious guard-houses on either side
of the Bosphorus, 100,000 men might be lodged here with¬
out much crowding. In the spring of 1848, several of these
great barracks were entirely empty, and there were others
t iat had but few inmates. More than one, which had cost
Mahmoud immense sums in 1828, were already neglected,
and showing symptoms of decadence. The artillery barracks
just outside the Pera suburb, were erected by Sultan Selim
and, upon plans and designs furnished by Count Sebastiani
and General Andreossy. They are well situated; they are
imposing in their extent, and seem to be in all respects well
suited to their purpose. The entire barracks could comfort¬
ably hold from 3000 to 4000 men. They are exceedingly
well ventilated. The distribution of the apartments or wards
is excellent. In each long room there are two double rows of
mats, each row accommodating about 55 men. The mat¬
tresses and bed-covers are stowed away in the middle of the
loom, in an open wooden screen which occupies very little
space ; they are neat and clean, and very well arranged. At
night the mattresses are spread over the matting of the floor.
Bedsteads are dispensed with, except in hospitals. But
hardly any Turks think as yet of using bedsteads, or of set-
tingapart roomsmerelyas bed-rooms. In the best houses they
sleep on the broad divans, or spread their mattresses on the
floor. In the morning the servants come in, and walk away
with the beds; and then the room where you have slept
becomes a drawing-room or a dining-room, or both in
one. During the day, bed and bedding are deposited in
presses or cupboards. Mr Macfarlane, who visited Turkey
three or four years since, writes,—“ The artillerymen’s mat¬
tresses were at least as good as those we generally slept upon;
as usual, the most slovenly feature was in the shoeing. In
the corridor, at the door of every barrack-room, there was a
multitudinous array of muddy, filthy boots and shoes, through
which it was not always easy to steer one’s way without
tripping. The soldiers must not enter the rooms with their
shoes or boots on. These are thrown off at the door: if the
men have slippers, they put them on ; if they have not, they
must walk on the soles of their socks. But the same rule
obtains everywhere: there is no walking a hundred yards
without being covered with mud in winter, and dust in sum¬
mer ; and then the Mussulmans, with almost the strictness
659
Army.
' i — wxLii cxinju&L me biriciness
of a religious observance, consider their carpets and mattings
as things to be trodden only by clean slippers or bare feet.
At the foot of the main staircase of every much-frequented
Turkish house, we invariably found a confused heap of mud-
boots, dirty boots, and shoes. It was so at Ali Pasha’s. When
the staircase happened to be a dark one, I never could help
blundering among some such heaps. The effect was very
disagreeable to other nerves besides the olfactory. A very
little care and arrangement would obviate it; but it is adet
old custom.
“ Tlle officer in command at the artillery barracks—one of
the many Achmet Pashas was civil and rather communi¬
cative. He agreed that the whole appearance of the soldiers
would be much improved if they were better shod, and would
make use of bi ushes and a little blacking. Their present pro¬
cess of cleaning boots and shoes (when they clean them at
all) is to rub them over with birch brooms, and then wash
them in cold water. Shoe-leather neither washes nor dries
well 5 and hence many bad colds and coughs. There was not
a jacket nor a pair of trousers in barracks but sadly needed
beating and brushing. The best of the artillerymen look
dirty and negligent in their persons. A neat old English or
But cannon of this^d/s/ifotirncan6//^ bo dfsch8 Carj7inj’ stone bads like those fired at our fleet when passing the Dardanelles in 1808.
carriages, but built in a wall Some of the /nnsTt ^ n e?ec\?h™ th\object Passe« their line of fire, as they are not mounted upon
^ There was nothing in Tu^ev which 9tl?nS Daf Relies carry balls 26* inches in diameter. P
destinarian prejudices, the Osmanlis nlaee unhm° leforra than tbe healing or rather the killing art. With all their pre-
at all times ready to acknowledge the superioritv^f Furrf ' m fhe sklU. and knowledge of physicians; and although they have been
obliged to intrust the welfare of their h/uoc ^ a °f)eans In tbe science of medicine, they have nevertheless for the most part been
as that of the learned hakim Yacoob, so admirabl^d^crTbed i^" kn°Wledse had been accluired much in the same manDer
660
ARMY.
Army. Austrian soldier is far cleaner and more tidy in coming off
a long and rough campaign, than these Turks, who are hardly
ever moved from their barracks. Achmet Pasha treated us
to pipes and coffee, and to the sight of some horse-artillery
exercise and manoeuvres. The guns were all brass; the
carriages were all painted with a very light green paint, which
had a bad and very mean effect. Neither guns nor car¬
riages were kept clean. The harness was abominably dirty.
The horses were all white or very light grays; they told us
that they were bred in Rumelia, in the country up above
Phillipopoli; I was much deceived if they were not all
Transylvanian or Hungarian horses—they bore a very close
family resemblance to a breed I had often admired in the
Emperor of Austria’s army. They were what we should
consider under-sized for that service ; but they were com¬
pact and strong, and not at all deficient in spirit; they were
well broken into their work, were admirable in hand, and
the artillery drivers drove them in good style. About a
dozen light field-pieces were very well handled in an in¬
closed field in front of the barracks. It was by far the
best specimen of military exercise we saw in Turkey; but
the Pasha showed us only his very best men. The instruct¬
ing officer was a German, who had been a serjeant of ar¬
tillery in the Prussian service. A few young Turkish sub¬
alterns seemed both active and intelligent; but the supe¬
rior officers were sitting down on stools, looking on, and
smoking their tchibouques. The Mahmoud barracks over
at Scutari, though wanting elevation, are truly magnificent
in length and breadth, and in situation. Take them alto¬
gether, they are the finest barracks I ever saw in any country.
We introduced ourselves to the commandant, Osman Pasha,
who was exceedingly polite and kind. He had studied at
Vienna, and was said to be a good artillery officer. He
spoke very modestly of the Sultan’s army, acknowledging
that it was still but in its infancy, and that the officers and
men have yet a great deal to learn. He dwelt with warm
admiration upon the admirable qualities of the Austrian
army, and the excellent military administration of that em¬
pire. He was a modest man, and so much the more likely
to be a brave one. He told me that the artillery was not
better paid than the infantry, but that the cavalry was of
late receiving some slight additional pay.
“ Before the conflagration the barracks could lodge from
6000 to 7000 men. There were now in it two regiments
of infantry, one regiment of artillery, and a few squadrons
of cavah-y. None of these men had been moved for very
many months; during the winter they had hardly quitted
their barracks. The cavalry were all lancers, and so indeed
were all the horse-soldiers we saw of this new regular army.
We heard of dragoons and of corps of heavy cavalry; but
we never saw a single specimen of either. They had no
horses in the country fit to mount a heavy regiment. The
Pasha sent one of his officers to conduct us over the bar¬
racks. Here, where there had certainly been no prepara¬
tion or previous notice, there were some few signs of sloven¬
liness and negligence; but, on the whole, one might fairly say
the barracks were in excellent order. The stables, like all
the Turkish stables I ever saw, were decidedly bad. They
would have thrown an English or an Austrian dragoon into
a passion. Soldiers who will not beat and brush their own
jackets are not likely to bestow much pains on the coats of
their horses; we never saw a trooper’s horse look as if it
were groomed. I believe these lancers of the imperial
guard were entirely innocent of the use of curry-combs and
brushes. What with the natural slovenliness of the men,
and the rough and dirty appearance of the horses, a regi¬
ment of lancers when united presented but a shabby picture
—a picture to excite derision on any parade or drill-ground
in Christendom. Some of my Frank friends argued that this
outward and visible show would not affect their fighting quali¬
ties. Ten doute. A good soldier is always a clean soldier;
it is by cleanliness and the care of his groom, as well as by
good food, that the trooper’s horse really becomes a war-
horse : the fellow who is so lazy that he will not clean his
own boots is the very man to be negligent of more impor¬
tant duties. In an excellent, open, extensive drill-ground,
offering the most glorious views of Constantinople, the Pro¬
pontis, the islands, the Asiatic coast, and the snow-covered
summits of Olympus, we saw some infantry being drilled by
Turkish officers, who, for the most part, seemed very much
to stand in need of drill themselves. It was slow and slo¬
venly work, but conducted with great calmness and good-
humour. The Sultan insists that there shall be no beating,
no cruelty, or harshness. There certainly was none here,
nor did I ever see any at Constantinople, except once, when
a hideous-looking Nubian officer was drilling some white
Turkish recruits in the broad galata moat, and soundly
thrashing the dull ones with a country riding-whip made of
buffalo’s hide. Part of a regiment which had fulfilled its
term of service, but which was kept together, and very in¬
correctly called a militia regiment, marched across the drill-
ground, and went to perform some light infantry movements
on the gently sloping hills between the barracks and the grand
cemetery of Scutari. These men were neater and cleaner than
the infantry in the barracks, from whom they were distin¬
guished by wearing the black cross-belts instead of white.
They trod over the ground with a good light step and their
evolutions en tirailleurs were quick and good. But here
again was the alloy, the canker of Turkish indolence: half
of the officers, instead of marching at double quick time
over the hills with their men, remained behind on the
drill-ground to gossip and smoke pipes with the officers
there. Several of the smaller barracks we visited were de¬
serving of all praise for order and cleanliness ; this was par¬
ticularly the case with those on the Bosphorus at Arneout-
keni, Bebek, and Roumeli Hissar. To the spacious bar¬
racks in Constantinople Proper, which stand round the Se-
raskier’s Tower, I was refused admittance. I believe that
this refusal was owing to my having expressed a too eager
wish to see the Seraskier’s prison, which stands within the
same great inclosure of lofty walls. Externally the barracks
looked neat and clean; they are very extensive, and admira¬
bly situated on the summit of one of the seven hills of Con¬
stantinople. Nearly every recent writer of travels in Tur¬
key has dwelt upon the magnificence of the views from the
top of the lofty tower of the Seraskeriat. We rather fre¬
quently passed the great inclosed square of the Seraskeriat;
but although here were the headquarters of the army, we
seldom saw the soldiers doing anything. But one afternoon,
in the month of March, when the French revolution of 1848
had started the Porte out of an easy slumber, we witnessed
a great show of activity in the square. About 1500 men
were exercising under the eye of a fat pasha (name un¬
known to us), and the great Seraskier himself was looking
on from a distant window, with a tchibouque in one hand
and an eye-glass in the other. The majority of these men
were not young recruits, but soldiers of some standing; yet
their performance was rather loose and slovenly. When they
formed in line, their line was far from being a right one :
their formations into squares, hollow and solid, were but
poor exhibitions. The men all looked slip-shod, and dread¬
fully dirty about the feet. With such shoes as they wear
it is scarcely possible for them to march well: they might
as well try it in their old unheeled paprashes. Many of the
men would have been, in better hands, excellent materials
for soldiers, being broad-chested and altogether well-made
fellows.
“ From this time exercise and military evolutions became
rather frequent at the foot of the tower of the Seraskier. At
first the Turks chuckled over the troubles and disturbances
Army.
Army.
of Christendom, but it was not long before they became ap¬
prehensive that these convulsions might bring about conse¬
quences and political changes that would be very fatal to their
empire. If they rejoiced when the revolutionarv principle
reached Vienna, and when Kossuth and anarchy raised their
lealus in Hungary, it was but for a moment, and only out of
the souvenir that the Austrians had been old enemies of the
smanhs ; and very soon they seemed to feel instinctively
that should any power be gained by the Czar, and any very
serious injury be inflicted on the Austrian Empire, the Ot-
toman Lmp,re would lose one of the best prop! upon which
fear wof ■ i°f them talkel? bif?; but misgivings and
r- . er.in cir liefts- In their ignorance, or very insuf-
dent information, they went on rather rapidly to the con-
clusion that it was all up with Austria; that Russia would
thpn^ he entire command of the Danube, and would
thence recommence war upon Turkey. The panic was, of
course, increased when insurrection broke out in their Danu-
bian principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia, and when
Russia, claiming her indlsputable right to interfere—a right
^cognized in successive treaties-began to march troopsL
wards Jassy and Bucharest. In the months of May and June
til l d/m ^ °r three times a’week at the
not lor ^n0tT,d!fule,dIybad’thefiringwa« certainly
not good. The Dadians powder was detestable; the
muskets were very bad, with the old flint locks. Hardly
any of the regiments had percussion locks. The bursting
of musket-barrels with the catastrophes attendant thereon
were alarmingly frequent. Before long it mav be verv im¬
portant that England should have a correct notion of the
value of this army. I would not underrate it, but I feel con¬
fident that, alone, it could never stand in the field against
the veteran troops of Russia; and that unless Christian offi¬
cers were put in the command (as we placed British officers
over the Portuguese), they would be very inefficient and
troublesome auxiliaries. A French officer who had studied
them well, who had lived long in the East, and who was also
perfectly well acquainted with the Russian army, said that
it was the most idle of dreams to fancv that this imperfectly
disciplined army of Abdul Medjid could meet the troops of
the Emperor Nicholas in the field. He considered that the
degree of discipline to which they had attained did not com¬
pensate for the loss of the fanaticism and enthusiasm which
animated their undisciplined predecessors; that they might
make a stand, and fight pretty well behind stone walls; but
that £n rase campagne they would fall like wheat before the
reaper s sickle, or go off like chaff before the wind. ; Ih
nmit point d ojficialite; they have hardly any competent
officers. As you ascend the scale of rank, instead of findino-
more science and experience, you usually find more igno¬
rance and inexperience. Generally the great pasha, placed
by court intrigue at the head of an army, has never been a
soldier, and is m military affairs about the most ignorant man
n that army. He takes some officer into his favour, and re-
ies for some time on his judgment and advice; then he
changes and takes another adviser; or if his difficulties be¬
come at all complicated, he will seek advice of a dozen
men, who may very probably entertain twelve different opi¬
nions and plans. Fancy then the jumble of every opera¬
tion! In their intolerance or their pride, unless a Fmnk
k er tin n renegade they will not allow him to exercise any
command—-they will not even permit him to wear a sword
p-ond drill ^ °n y,a desPlsed mstructor, little more than a
good did -serjeant-he may or may not be well paid, but
he cannot take real rank as an officer, or in fact be a pm of
the army. Here and there you may find a Polish, German,
ARM Y.
6G1
or Italian renegade, usually a deserter and a scoundrel. Army.
Hardly one of these fellows has ever been more than a non-
commissioned officer in his own country. Here they sud¬
denly became captains, majors, colonels. “ These are the men
the great pashas prefer. Low-born and low-bred, they can
submit to Turkish arrogance, and to treatment which no
gentleman can possibly tolerate. One may conceive how
competent are these renegades to the conduct of an army
in the held. I hen, who would answer a single hour for the
honour or common honesty of such a canaille? They have
deserted their colours; they have deserted their religion.
Let Russia, or any other assailant of Turkey, tempt them
with a good bribe, and they will desert the Sultan and sacri¬
fice his troops.”1
The reforms effected by Sultan Mahmoud in the military Greek
organization of the Turks rendered it expedient for the army .
Greeks to attempt to form regular corps, in order to keep on
a level with their enemy in point of discipline and tactics.
Accordingly, on the 27th February 1827, the president or¬
dered a military force to be organized in regiments (chili-
arc hies) of two battalions (pentacosiarchies), divided into five
companies {hecatoncharchies) each ; a regiment to consist of
a colonel {chiharch), two chefs-de-battalion (pentacosiarchs),
10 captains (hecatontarchs), 20 lieutenants (pentacontarchs),
40 sub-heutenants {eikosi-pentarchs), 80 serjeants (dode-
carchs), 160 corporals (pentarchs), and 800 soldiers ; in all
1122 men. Another decree of the 17th October ordains
the formation of a battalion of artillery of six companies,
with a suitable cortege of officers ; and embodied in it a sort
of provisional code of military law. Since Greece has
become a monarchy under European protection, a small
standing army has been organized, consisting of 8600 men
and officers.
mi * lle A™erajai} armies require only a very cursory notice. American
mt ot the United States, exclusive of militia, does notarmies-
amount to 10,000 men. It consists of eight regiments of in-
antry, four of artillery, one corps of engineers, 2 regiments
ot dragoons, 1 of horse fiisiliers,2 and a sort of general staff;
and it is formed into three divisions, each under the command
of a general officer. The republicans of the West have a great
aversion to a standing army, and only maintain a sort of skele-
ton, to be filled up, in case of need, from the militia force. The
mihtia of the United States in 1852, consisted of 1,850 284
men and 72 938 officers. The troops of the United States
excel in bush-fighting ; but they have neither organization
nor discipline, and on any other soil than their own would
be anything but formidable.—The Mexican army has been
much reduced since its reorganization under the law passed
™ the 4th of November 1848, numbering in 1849 not more
than 5200 rank and file in actual service.3 The black
army of Hayti consists of the emperor’s guard, with the
mfantry and artillery of the line. The guard, which ranks
at the head of the army, consists of two regiments of in¬
fantry, one grenadiers and the other chasseurs, and three
regiments of cavalry, one of carabineers, one of grena¬
diers, and one of chasseurs. There are 33 regiments of
mfantry of two battalions each, and every battalion has six
companies, viz., one of grenadiers 80 strong, one of chas¬
seurs 50, and four of fusiliers 44 men each. Attached to this
mfantry, and distinct from the guard, are two regiments of
dragoons of two squadrons, divided into two companies of 70
men each. The artillery consists of five regiments of two
battalions, divided into nine companies of 50 men each, in-
c uding officers. There is also an engineer corps, with 26
companies of 50 men each of artificers and pioneers. The
whole of the Haytian force, therefore, including the staff and
l Traveh in Turtey, 2 vols. 8vo. London, 1847-48
Fraser s Resources of all Nations.
Mayer’s Mexico, vol. ii. ch. x.; Hartford, 1852
662 ARMY.
Army, the president’s guard, amounts to about 26,000 or 27,000
-'v—''' men.1—We are not in possession of any accurate details
respecting the composition and force of the various South
American armies. The Brazilian is estimated at from
35,000 to 40,000 men, including militia ; the Colombian
or Venezuelan at from 15,000 to 20,000; the Peruvian
at 20,000; and the Chilian at from 10,000 to 12,000 men
of all arms. But these numbers are in a great measure con¬
jectural. The military force of the Argentine republic is
probably not greater than that of Chili or Venezuela ; while
that of Paraguay amounts to about 5000 regulars and
20,000 militia.2
British From time immemorial the inhabitants of the British
army. Islands have been distinguished for a determined bravery,
united with a degree of physical power, which belongs to
the people of no other nation; and hence, as soldiers, they
have never yet, when properly commanded, found their
match in the field of battle. “ L’Angleterre,” says Count
Turpin, in his commentaries on Montecuculi’s Memoires,
“ est elle peut-etre la nation ou la bravoure se soutient de¬
pths le plus long temps.” “ Our nation,” observes Dr John¬
son, “ may boast, beyond any other people in the world, of
a kind of epidemic bravery, diffused equally through all its
ranks; we can show a peasantry of heroes, and fill our ar¬
mies with clowns whose courage may vie with that of the
general.” The valour of a Briton is innate. It is a national
instinct, co-existent with and inseparable from the man him¬
self, and requiring no artificial excitement to bring it into
action; and it is as powerful at the present moment as it
was in the chivalrous days of Cressy, Poictiers, and Agin-
court. Hence, although the fortune of our arms may have
varied, the character of the soldier has always remained the
same; and at Waterloo as at Blenheim, and Ramifies, and
Malplaquet, he established his superiority in all those high
military qualities which render a nation invincible. But,
from various causes, the reputation of the British army,
which the campaigns of Marlborough had raised to the high¬
est pitch, and which the various actions of the Seven Years
War had gloriously sustained, began subsequently to de¬
cline ; while the disastrous results of American revolution¬
ary war created an opinion, which succeeding events ap¬
peared to confirm, of its total unfitness for prosecuting a
lengthened series of operations, or contending with any
prospect of success against the armies of other nations, par¬
ticularly those of the Continent. It was conceived to be
little better than a body of marines, well qualified to co¬
operate with the navy in partial expeditions, or in making
descents on the sea-coasts of any country with which Great
Britain happened to be at war, but incapable of maintaining
itself in the field, or of engaging in regular campaigns ; and,
to say the truth, there were not wanting plausible reasons
which might be alleged in support of such an opinion. For,
as if they had been determined, not merely to countenance
this impression, but really to render the army as inefficient
and as utterly destitute of consistence and energy as it was
generally believed to be, the British ministry persisted for
a series of years in wasting its strength in paltry expeditions,
or in effecting partial descents upon this or that country,
instead of combining one great effort calculated to influence
the general result of the contest. Yet, in 1795, the regu¬
lar army, including the force under the Duke of York in
North Holland, exhibited a total of 119,000 men, besides
about 42,000 employed in the colonies, in Corsica, in Gib¬
raltar, and in Portugal; a force which, directed with skill Army,
and judgment, might have saved the country from many
humiliations, prevented an enormous accumulation of debt,
and accelerated the termination of a sanguinary and ruinous
contest, from the effects of which the nation is still suffer¬
ing. The campaign of Egypt, in 1801, showed, it is tfue,
some small degree of energy, and, above all, afforded the
army an opportunity of proving its undiminished excellence.
But, unfortunately, on the renewal of the war in 1803, the
old system was resorted to, and all the prejudices which had
previously existed against the army were revived with ten¬
fold force ;—prejudices which outlasted the first successes
of the Peninsular campaigns, and which were only at length
overcome by an unexampled series of victories, obtained
over the ablest general and the best troops of which France
could boast.
“ The French army,” says Sir William Napier, “ was un¬
doubtedly very formidable from numbers, discipline, skill,
and bravery; but, contrary to the general opinion, the British
army was inferior to it in none of these points save the first,
and in discipline it was superior, because a national army
will always bear a stei’ner code than a mixed force will suffer.
With the latter the military, not the moral crimes, can be
punished; men will submit to death for a breach of great
regulations which they know by experience to be useful, but
the constant restraints of petty though unwholesome rules
they will escape from by desertion, or resist by mutiny, when
the ties of custom and country are removed ; for the disgrace
of bad conduct attaches not to them, but to the nations un¬
der whose colours they serve. Great, indeed, is that genius
that can keep men of different nations firm to their colours,
and preserve a rigid discipline at the same time. Napoleon’s
military system was, from this cause, inferior to the British,
which, if it be purely administered, combines the solidity of
the Germans with the rapidity of the French, excluding the
mechanical dulness of the one, and the dangerous vivacity
of the other; yet, before the campaign in the Peninsula had
proved its excellence in every branch of war, the English
army was absurdly underrated in foreign countries, and ab¬
solutely despised in its own. It was reasonable to suppose
that it did not possess that facility of moving in large bodies
which long practice had given to the French; but the in¬
dividual soldier was (and is still) most falsely stigmatized as
deficient in intelligence and activity, the officers ridiculed,
and the idea that a British could cope with a French army, .
even for a single campaign, considered chimerical. The
English are a people very subject to receive and to cherish
false impressions. Proud of their credulity, as if it were a
virtue, the majority will adopt any fallacy, and cling to it
with a tenacity proportioned to its grossness. Thus an ig¬
norant contempt for the British soldiery had been long en¬
tertained before the ill success of the expeditions in 1794
and 1799 appeared to justify the general prejudice. The
true cause of those failures was not traced, and the excellent
discipline afterwards introduced and perfected by the Duke
of York was despised. England, both at home and abroad,
was, in 1808, scorned as a military power, when she pos¬
sessed, without a frontier to swallow up large armies in ex¬
pensive fortresses, at least two hundred thousand3 of the best
equipped and best disciplined soldiers in the universe, toge¬
ther with an immense recruiting establishment, and through
the medium of the militia, the power of drawing upon the
population without limit. It is true, that of this number
Almanack National pour 1827. Bulletin des Scien. Milit. tom. v. p. 473.
2 Essai Historique sur la Revolution du Paraguay, par MM. Rengger et Lonchamp. Paris, 1827.
3 At the period in question the British army consisted of 30,000 cavalry, 6000 foot-guards, 170,000 infantry of the line, and 14,000,
artillery; in all 220,000 men. Of these between 50,000 and 60,000 were employed in the colonies and in India; hut the remainder
were disposable, because from 80,000 to 100,000 militia, differing from the regular troops in nothing but the name, were sufficient for
the home duties. If to this force we add 30,000 marines, the military power of Great Britain, at the time referred to, must have ex¬
ceeded 400,000 men, exclusive of local militia and volunteers.
ARMY.
Army.
many were necessarily employed in the defence of the colo-
nies ’ blit enough remained to compose a disposable force
greater than that with which Napoleon won the battle of
Austerlitz, and double that with which he conquered Italy.
In all the materials of war, the superior ingenuity and skill
of the English mechanics were visible ; and that intellectual
power that distinguishes Great Britain amongst the nations,
in science, arts, and literature, was not wanting to her gene¬
rals in the hour of danger”1
It is almost needless to add how conspicuously this brave
and unequalled army disproved the calumnious prognostica-
tions of its contemners and revilers ; how gloriously it esta¬
blished, in seven campaigns and more than twenty pitched
battles, its superiority over the veterans of France," crowned
with the .^urels of a hundred victories, and accounted in¬
vincible till called to contend with the men of our soil. Let
us now direct our attention to its composition and organiza-
By the constitution of this country, the king (or queen, if
t le sovereign be a female) is the supreme head and cap-
n-general of the army, which can receive no orders ex¬
cept such as emanate from him, and is bound to obey all his
orders, unless at variance with the fundamental laws of the
land ; m which case submission to his authority would be
declared rebellion against the constitution of the state and
the nation at large. To him belongs the power of declaring
war and concluding peace, of granting subsidies to his allies
and indemnities to his enemies: but no treaty is valid or
binding unless it be signed by a responsible minister ; and
without the authority of parliament he cannot touch a six¬
pence of his subjects’ money for this or any other purpose,
further, it is expressly declared in the bill of rights, and an¬
nually repeated in the preamble to the mutiny-act, which
forms the martial law of the British army, “that the raising
or keeping a standing army in time of peace, unless it be
with the consent of parliament, is against law in other
words, no military force can be raised or maintained in this
country except with the consent of the three estates com¬
posing the legislature, by which, in their collective capacity,
the sovereign power of the state is exercised. But in re-
gaid to the existing army, all measures and all acts deemed
necessary for its regulation, direction, and employment, are
decided upon by the king in council; and it is the duty of
the commander-in-chief of the forces for the time being to
direct the execution of such measures or acts, in all those
operations which are executed within the United Kingdom,
as we 1 as to superintend the organization, instruction, and
discipline of the troops belonging to the different branches
of the service. The secretary at war is, by the terms of his
commission or appointment, bound to give effect to the
orders of the commander-in-chief, issued with the approba¬
tion and consent of the sovereign; excepting in as far as
these shall appear to be contrary to the rules of the service,
or to make any alteration in the expenditure of the army:
in which cases it is his duty to make reference to the lords
of the treasury, and to act in strict conformity to their in-
s i ucturns. . is minister, in fact, who is not a member of
the cabinet, is specially charged with the administration of
the war department in all its branches. He is the organ of
communication between government and the army on the
one hand, and between the army and the government on the
other ; and he acts as a check upon the commander-in-chief,
while he is m his turn restrained by his responsibility to par¬
liament, to the country, and to the laws.
In the year 179o a secretary of state for the war de¬
partment was created, and it was not until the year 1801
that the colonial correspondence was transferred to the
office. In the first instance, and during the whole course
of the war, the principal business of the colonial department
was to exercise a general control over all the military de¬
partments, the secretary at war, the ordnance, and the
commander-in-chief; it was one head which directed all
their operations to one common end ; and as long as the
secretary of state made this his principal duty, which was
really and substantially the war department, that arrange¬
ment was good. The secretary at war was then, in point of
fact, a sort of subordinate to the secretary of state for the
war department. But at the end of the war, the mere
military business diminished in importance; and, on the
othei hand, the civil business of the colonial office was
rapidly increased in importance, because it was found that
during the war attention was very much turned away from
the civil affairs of the colonies, and that everything yielded
to the superior importance of military business. The con¬
sequence of that change after the peace was, that gradu¬
ally the secretary of state for the war and colonial de¬
partments came to exercise less and less control over any
details of military arrangements, and his attention came to
be more and more occupied in the civil affairs of the colo¬
nies. As the extent of correspondence increased, that aug¬
mented ; and the result has been, that for the last 30 years
the military affairs of the country have been transacted by
three or four different departments, and virtually without
any one effective head to direct their measures to one com¬
mon end. At this moment, in the colonial office it is abso¬
lutely impossible to execute what the theory of that office
implies, namely, to exercise a constant superintendence over
all arrangements with regard to the military force of the
country.2
The departments exclusively military are those of the
adjutant-general, the quartermaster-general, the commis¬
sary-general, the paymaster-general, and the Board of Ord¬
nance.
The adjutant-general’s department consists of the adju¬
tant-general himself, the deputy-adjutant-general, the assis¬
tant-adjutant-general, and the deputy-assistant-adjutant-
general, with ten or eleven clerks, three messengers, and a
keeper. The adjutant-general belongs to the personal staff
of the king, and accompanies his majesty and the com¬
mander-in-chief in all their reviews and military inspections.
He is named directly by the king, on the recommendation
of the commander-in-chief, and has the rank of lieutenant-
general, though for the most part only a major-general.
The deputy-adjutant-general is also appointed by his ma¬
jesty ; but the secondary offices of the department are filled
by persons nominated by the adjutant-general himself. This
officer may be considered as the director of the personnel
of the British army. Everything relating to the effective
or non-effective state of the troops; to formation, instruc¬
tion, and discipline ; to the direction and inspection of the
clothing and accoutrements of the army; to recruitment,
leaves of absence, or bounties to soldiers; to the employ¬
ment of officers of the staff; and to ordinary or extraordi¬
nary and official returns relative to these different matters,
whether required by His Majesty, by the ministry, by the
secretary-at-war, or by parliament, falls within the province
of the department over which the adjutant-general presides.
He is the regular channel through which commanders of
corps communicate with the commander-in-chief; and all
oiders, special instructions, and genera] regulations issued
by the commander-in-chief^ relative to the organization,
discipline, or instruction of the army, are prepared, addressed
tenaiU-Coloneb H. ^ ^ ^ 'SWA °f Franc6> from the Vear 1807 to the year 1814. By W. F. P. Napier, C.B. Lieu-
Evidence before the Select Committee of the House of Commons, 1851-52.
664 A R
Army, to the commanders of corps, and published by the adjutant-
general, conformably to the direction of the commander-in-
chief of the forces, acting in the name and on behalf of his
majesty. 1 he troops stationed in Scotland, however, in¬
stead of communicating directly with the adjutant-general’s
office in London, address themselves to the deputy-adju¬
tant-general who resides at Edinburgh ; and Ireland has an
adjutant-general of its own. It is also the duty of the ad¬
jutant-general to prepare, weekly, for the commander-in-
chief and the king, returns of the troops stationed in Great
Britain and Ireland ; and, monthly, for the commander-in¬
chief, the ministers, and the king, a general statement of all
the forces both at home and abroad.1
The quartermaster-general holds the same rank, and is
appointed in the same manner, as the adjutant-general.
His principal duties are to prescribe routes and marches,
to regulate the embarkation and disembarkation of troops,
to provide quarters for them, to mark out ground proper for
encampment, to execute military surveys, and to prepare
plans and arrange dispositions for the defence of a territory,
whether such defence is to be operated by the troops alone
or by means of field-works. Every Bril ish army on service
has a quartermaster-general, with assistants, who perform
functions altogether analogous to those which are discharged
in the department of quartermaster-general of the British
forces ; and it is admitted on all hands that, during the
Peninsular campaigns, this branch of service was, under the
very able direction of Sir George Murray, carried to a high
degree of perfection. Whenever the army, established for
the time in any position whatever, had to move in advance
and in a given direction, all the officers of the quartermas¬
ter-general’s staff, charged with the reconnaissances, imme¬
diately set out and spread themselves over the ground, each
individual taking the direction indicated to him, and push¬
ing his reconnaissance to the extent of a day’s march of the
army. About five in the afternoon these officers returned
to headquarters ; and by combining their different partial
sketches, a general plan was prepared, according to which
the quartermaster-general and the commander-in-chief
traced the routes to be followed, and the positions to be
taken up, by the troops who were to march on the morrow'.
This was the duty of every day while the army was in mo¬
tion ; and no better evidence can be produced of the ability
with which it was performed, than the circumstance that,
during the whole of the Peninsular campaigns, the army
never once took up a position in which it could be assailed
by tire enemy, however superior in numbers, with the re¬
motest chance of success. Attached to the office of quar¬
termaster-general of the forces is a Board of Topography,
with a depot of maps, plans, and military memoirs, and a
library containing the best military works that have been
published in different countries.2
The barrack department is a numerous one, consisting of
ninety functionaries in London, and eight in Edinburgh,
exclusive of barrack-masters, store-keepers, hospital store¬
keepers, barrack-serjeants, and clerks. Their principal duty
is to take care of the barracks for the reception of the
troops; and generally see that the troops are properly ac¬
commodated, both as to room and otherwise. There are
118 barracks in Great Britain, of which 102 are permanent
and 16 temporary. In Ireland there are 109 barracks, of
which 98 are permanent; and in the colonies there are 367
barracks. The number of persons which can be thus ac¬
commodated is 150,728 non-commissioned officers and men,
and 6218 officers.
The commissariat department consists of a commissary-
general, 16 deputy commissaries-general, and 154 assistant
M Y.
and deputy assistant commissaries, all of whom are employed Army,
in the colonies and the Mediterranean stations.
Their duties consist in supplying provisions, forage, and
camp as well as barrack equipage to the troops; in provid¬
ing the materials of the medical department of the service.
Every army on active service has its own commissariat, un¬
der the orders of a commissary-general, who is responsible,
in the first instance, to the general-in-chief, for the regular
supply of the troops under his command. In Portugal and
Spain, the provisioning of the army was effected by com¬
missaries stationed at different places, or attached to bri¬
gades, and paid from funds supplied by the commissary-
general of the army, consisting partly in cash and partly in
bills or debentures on the English government. Immense
abuses appeared to have prevailed in the commissariat de¬
partment during the early part of the Peninsular campaigns.
This is evident from the repeated orders of the day issued
by the Duke of W ellington against malversations on the
part of subordinates in this department; and not less so
from the fact, that notwithstanding all the care and vigilance
exercised by his Grace, many of these functionaries man¬
aged to realize fortunes.
The paymaster-general is the head of the army pay-office,
whence the issues for the payment of every description of
military service are made. This office consists of the pay¬
master-general himself, two deputies, an accountant-general,
a cashier, book-keepers, clerks, and other subordinates ; and
there are several deputy-paymasters abroad subordinate to
the general department at home. The paymaster-general
has no active control over the expenditure of the public
money. His duty is merely to make payments ministe¬
rially and without discretion, in pursuance of the warrants
directed to him by the secretary at war, the treasury, or both,
as the case may be ; or in honour of the drafts of the deputy
paymasters abroad, for the ordinary services of the army.
The pay-office must, therefore, be looked upon as an office
of account merely, and as affecting the public expenditure
only in as far as it performs the duties of an office of accounts
with regularity and expedition. The materials and docu¬
ments, which compose a considerable part of the account of
the paymaster-general, originate with persons over whose
conduct he exercises no manner of control. Indeed, there
is a regular succession in preparing them, from the regimental
paymaster to the agent, and from the agent to the secretary
at war, who finally delivers them at the pay-office. Differ¬
ent classes of accounts and documents are delivered in at cer¬
tain periods prescribed by the pay-office act. But large bal¬
ances of the public money are not now, as formerly, allowed
to remain in the hands of the paymaster-general, or at his
credit at the bank; nor can he derive any profit from the
custody of the public money, the balances being confined
within the narrowest possible limits. The establishment of
a regiment, with the royal regulations and warrants, is in fact
the instrument which regulates the pay of the army, and
is consequently the basis of all the documents which enter
or go out of the pay-office under that head of the service.
The ordnance department, which comprehends the artil¬
lery and engineers, is administered and commanded by a
master-general, assisted by a council or board, composed
of the surveyor-general, the clerk of the ordnance, the in¬
spector-general, who, with his agents, has the control of the
munition and stores, as well as of the accounts, and the prin¬
cipal store-keeper, who is responsible for the existence and
conservation of the whole materiel. The secretary of the
ordnance also attends the board. The written orders of the
master-general are, of course, executory in all the branches
of this department; but he commonly entrusts to the board
1 Dupin, Force Militaire de la Grande Bretagne, 1. ii. p. 54.
2 Ibid. 1. ii. p. 59.
A R M Y.
Army, the administration of the materiel and of the expenditure. In
case of absence or vacancy, and when the master-general does
not of himself exercise any part of his authority, the board in
like manner officiates in his stead. The ordnance has a spe¬
cial paymaster or treasurer, who advances thefunds necessary
for the department, on orders or drafts, signed by at least
three members of the council. Almost all the officers of the
board are at the same time members of the House of Com¬
mons. The sums voted for the support of this department pro¬
ceed upon estimates of the ordinary7 and extraordinary service,
and ol services unprovided for. The ordinary service com¬
prehends the provision for the ordinary establishments, civil
and military, for the year ensuing; the extraordinary includes
every service known beforehand of a temporary and contin¬
gent nature, during the currency of the year; and the ser¬
vices unprovided for consist of services which have either
been actually paid for in the course of the past year, or which
are supposed to have been paid, but which were not fore¬
seen when the estimates of the preceding year were pre-
paied. Among these unforeseen expenses are included va¬
rious additions which may have occurred in the individual
services voted in the ordnance estimates of the previous
year, to which are commonly added such sums as may be
considered necessary to make up the deficiency of the sum
allotted to the ordnance for the use of the naval service.
So much for the military departments. Let us now attend
to the composition of the army itself.
The British army consists at present of 12,056 cavalry and
119,976 infantry ; but of this force 2103 cavalry and 29,749
infantry are employed in the East India Company’s terri¬
tories ; leaving an available force, provided for in the esti¬
mates of the year 1853, of 9953 cavalry and 90,227 infantry,
oi 102,283 men of all arms, including officers. This force
Ls altogether exclusive of the artillery and engineers, &c.
The cavalry on home service consists of the first and se¬
cond regiments of life-guards, and the royal regiment of
horse-guards (blue) each of 344 rank and file and 274 horses,
with 19 other regiments of dragoon-guards and dragoons ;
namely, 7 of dragoon-guards, 3 of dragoons, and 9 of light
dragoons, including lancers and hussars, amounting to 5897
rank and file, with 4892 horses ; or, including the regiments
of life-guards, 6919 rank and file, and 5714 horses. In this
enumeration, however, the cavalry serving in India, the field
tiain, and the Cape corps of mounted riflemen are not in¬
cluded. The first regiment of dragoon-guards consists at
pit sent of 438 rank and file, and 361 horses ; but the re¬
maining regiments of the cavalry of the line have only 328
rank and file and 211 horses each. The officers and non¬
commissioned officers of a regiment of life-guards, on its pre¬
sent establishment, amount to 85 ; of a regiment of the ca¬
valry of the line, to between 60 and 70. Thus, supposing
the latter to consist of 368 privates, divided into 8 companies
or squadrons, such a regiment would have 1 colonel, 2 lieu¬
tenant-colonels, 2 majors, 8 captains, 8 lieutenants, 8 cornets,
1 paymaster, 1 adjutant, 1 quartermaster, 1 surgeon, 1 as¬
sistant surgeon, and 1 veterinary surgeon, or 35 officers in
all ^ besides 28 serjeants and 8 trumpeters ; making a total
of , 1 officers and non-commissioned officers, and raising the
entire strength of the regiment to 439 men. And the same
i elative pioportion obtains, whatever be the footing, in point
of effective force, on which the regiment is placed.
Since the peace of 1815, various changes have been made
in the arms and equipments of our cavalry. In the first place
armour was given to the life-guards, immediately after they
had proved its total inefficiency in the field of battle, and torn
t ie aurels of W aterloo from the redoubted cuirassiers of
lance. That armour must prove a decided impediment to
the efficacy of a dragoon on service, is what no one can for
a moment doubt. Its weight,1 the constant cleaning; which
it requires, the pain which its inflexibility must occasion un¬
der fatigue, and the obstacles it opposes to the free and full
action of the muscular powers of the human body, greatly
detract from its advantages. These, moreover, have been
over-rated; and we are much mistaken if it will not one
day be shown that the life-guards, encumbered with the cui¬
rasses, are immeasurably less formidable than they were when
their natural strength, weight, and activity, had full freedom
of action allowed them. In the next place, four of our regi¬
ments of light horse have been converted into lancers. We
agree in opinion with Montecuculi, that the lance “ est la
reine des armes pour la cavalerie and we also think, with
Major Beamish, that lancers should constitute the standard
cavalry of England. But we do not the less object to the
particular kind of lance introduced into our service, and the
description of cavalry to whom it has been assigned. No
nation possesses such materials as Britain for the formation
of redoubtable lancers ; no nation has the command of such
means of bringing them to perfection : and if solid squares
of infantry are ever to be penetrated by cavalry, it must be
performed by cavalry armed with the lance. But this will
never be achieved by such a weapon as that at present in use.
It must be effected by a lance of sufficient length to over¬
come the infantry bayonet, which, thus opposed, would no
longer be formidable ; and this lance must be put into the
hands of our heavy cavalry, particularly the household troops,
which, thus armed, would be able to contend on equal terms
with the best infantry in the world, and would unquestion¬
ably be capable of penetrating its closest formation.
The British infantry on home service is composed of 3
regiments of guards, viz., the 1st or grenadier regiment, the
Coldstream regiment, and the 3d regiment, amounting to¬
gether to 5260 rank and file ; of 99 regiments of the line,
consisting off battalion each, 850; of one rifle regiment (the
60th foot) and the rifle brigade, 2 battalions each; of 3 West
India regiments, the field train, 3 Newfoundland and 3 royal
veteran companies, the Gold Coast corps, the Ceylon regi¬
ment, the Malta fencibles, the Canadian rifle regiment, the St
Helena regiment, and the Cape corps of mounted riflemen ;
making a total of 66,240 men, exclusive of the guards. The
regiments of infantry of the line have only 1 battalion as a
constant nucleus. When additional battalions are raised,
they are employed separately, and commanded each by a
lieutenant-colonel. With regard to the colonelcy of a regi¬
ment, it is in a great measure a sinecure.
The ordinary staff of a battalion of 850 men rank and file,
consists of 1 lieutenant-colonel, 2 majors, 10 captains, 12
lieutenants, 8 ensigns, 1 paymaster, 1 adjutant, 1 quarter¬
master, and 1 surgeon with 2 assistants; in all 39 officers.
I he petty staff is composed of a serjeant-major, a quarter¬
master serjeant, a paymaster serjeant, an armourer-serjeant,
a schoolmaster serjeant, 10 colour-serjeants, 30 serjeants, a
drum-major, and 21 drummers ; in all 106 men. Hence the
total strength of such a battalion would consist of 39 officers,
106 non-commissioned officers, 40 corporals, and 760 sol¬
diers, or 906 men in all.2
The force at present serving in India consists of 4 regi¬
ments of light dragoons, and 21 battalions of infantry, or, in¬
cluding supernumeraries and others, 29,749 men and officers.
I he royal artillery forms only one corps, which is ab¬
surdly denominated a regiment, since, in the time of war, it
is increased to more than 24,000 men. The master-general
of the ordnance has the title and powers of colonel of the re-
665
Army.
crive to^hTreallyfinl rnen^vhoT^p ^ the llfe-guards weighs about 12 pounds. These cuirasses are as ugly as they are weighty, and
4 p
666 A R
Army, giment of artillery ; and a general officer, with the title of
deputy-adjutant-general, performs the functions of head of
the artillery staff, but is in no way dependent upon the ad¬
jutant-general of the British forces. The office of the de¬
puty-adjutant-general of artillery is at Woolwich, which may
be considered the headquarters of the ordnance. The royal
artillery corps consists of the brigade of horse-artillery, and
of the artillery serving on foot. The horse-artillery is sub¬
divided into companies called troops, 7 in number. It is un¬
der the orders of 1 colonel-commandant, 2 colonels en second,
4 lieutenant-colonels, while each troop is commanded by a
captain of the first rank, a captain of the second, and 3 lieu¬
tenants. The foot artillery is divided into 96 companies, un¬
der the orders of 12 colonels-commandant, 24 colonels, 36
lieutenant-colonels, 1 adjutant, 1 quartermaster, and a sur¬
geon, with 2 assistants in time of war, and 1 during peace.
In the year 1792, there were 4 battalions of foot artillery of
820 men each, with one of invalids containing 483 ; making
3707 in all. In 1814 there were 16,157 artillery men, form¬
ing 11 battalions of 1459 men each. The rocket corps is
attached to and forms part of the artillery ; and the same
holds true of the royal artificers, the field train, and the ar¬
tillery drivers.1
In the war which preceded the peace of Amiens, and even
in the early campaigns in Portugal, the engineer department
was in a very ineffective condition; particularly from the
want of the necessary means of transport, and partly also from
a deficiency both in the number and quality of military arti¬
ficers. In order to remedy these inconveniences, the Duke
of Wellington, in 1814, caused a brigade of engineers, con¬
sisting of a company of sappers and miners, with horses, cars,
and drivers, to be attached to each division of the army, and
to be regularly trained and exercised in field duties, as well
as in those which might be required of them in sieges.
A captain and a certain number of subalterns were spe¬
cially attached to each brigade, and were held responsible
for the effective condition both of the men and the horses.
Thus the remainder of the engineers, free from any em¬
barrassments relative to the materiel and personnel of that de¬
partment of the service, were enabled to give their undivided
attention to important military operations, and to contribute,
in a most essential manner, towards the success of the suc¬
ceeding campaigns. Five companies of sappers and miners
also served with the pontoon train, which consisted of 80
ontoons, besides forges, waggons, &c., drawn by about 800
orses ; the whole under the orders of a major of the bri¬
gade of engineers. Since the peace, great attention has been
paid both to the instruction and organization of this impor¬
tant branch of the service ; which, in the event of another
war, will be found on a very different footing, in point of
efficiency, from that on which it stood during the greater part
of the Peninsular campaigns. Experience taught important
lessons, which have been suitably and effectually improved.
The portion of the British army presently serving in In¬
dia amounts, as we have already seen, to about 30,000 men.
In addition to the regular force, a militia is enrolled in
England, numbering 80,000 men, divided into 85 regi¬
ments. These are kept in a state of preparation for any
emergent home-service by occasional training. The nu¬
cleus of an Irish and a Scotch militia is likewise preserved,
the staff of no less than 54 regiments being constantly en¬
tertained ; 15 of the regiments are Scotch—the residue
Irish. In the Channel Islands, also, are 10 regiments of
militia infantry, and 3 of artillery ; and in all the dockyards
of England (Portsmouth, Devonport, Sheerness, Chatham,
Woolwich, Deptford, Pembroke, &c.) the artificers and la¬
bourers are formed into brigades, properly commanded,
equipped, and drilled. Thirty-five yeomanry corps, the
M Y.
honourable artillery company, which has its headquarters in Army,
the precincts of the city of London, and the enrolled out-
pensioners of Chelsea Hospital, complete the defensive force
of the United Kingdom. It is mainly due to the energetic re¬
monstrances of the late illustrious Duke of Wellington, that
England is now in a condition vigorously to oppose hostile at¬
tempts from abroad, and to preserve domestic peace intact.
The following is the total expenditure of the military
establishments of the United Kingdom for the year ending
March 31. 1852:—
Army and militia services,  L.6,142,5 76 18 10
Ordnance department,  2,318,820 11 9
Commissariat department,  854,087 13 3
L.9,315,485 3 10
But there is an army belonging to the East India Com¬
pany consisting of no fewer than 250,000 men, chiefly na¬
tives of the country, who are for the most part trained
and clothed after the fashion of the British army. First
enrolled in the days of Clive and Laurence, 100 years
ago, the sepoys have at all times proved “faithful to their
salt,” exhibiting courage and endurance unsurpassed by the
finest European soldiery. In every corner of the continent of
India, in Burmah, China, Afghanistan, the shores of Persia
and Arabia, in Egypt, and even at Mauritius, in the pre¬
sence of French disciplined troops, the sepoys have distin¬
guished themselves alike by their bravery, their fidelity, and
discipline. And the result has been the entire subjugation
of the country, from Cape Comorin to the Himalaya chain
—from Nepaul to the Arabian Sea.
The army of the East India Company consists of 5 bri¬
gades of horse artillery, or 17 European and 5 native
troops ; 18 battalions of foot artillery, or 24 European and
18 native companies; 22 regiments of regular native ca¬
valry; 6 regiments of European infantry; 155 regiments
of regular native infantry ; 23 regiments of irregular native
cavalry ; 30 regiments of irregular native infantry ; 5 con¬
tingent brigades of all arms, and a native legion. These
troops are officered by Europeans, holding commissions
from the Crown and the East India Company, and expressly
educated for the service. The staff, and all officers in the
ordnance, commissariat, military account, survey, and pay
departments are held by commissioned officers in the service.
The pay and Indian allowances are upon a liberal scale, and
handsome pensions for life are granted to all classes after a
stipulated period of service.
The condition of the British soldier has been amazingly
improved of late years, producing a decidedly favourable
effect upon his morale, and creating a popularity for the ser¬
vice which it did not enjoy previous to 1830. The practice
of employing the agency of fear as a stimulus to good con¬
duct, has been superseded by the wLolesome policy of en¬
couraging merit by offering rewards for continued steadi¬
ness. Corporal punishment has been all but abolished—50
lashes now constituting the acme of punishment. Good
conduct externally honoured by medals and badges, is now
recompensed by a progressive increase to a soldier’s daily
pay; the sum of L.2250 is annually appropriated to annui¬
ties varying from L.10 to L.20, for which all non-commis¬
sioned officers of a certain amount of service are eligible;
schools have been established under the auspices of young
men especially trained to the duty of teaching ; libraries are
formed in all the great barracks ; medals have been freely
granted for good service in the Peninsula, India, Egypt,
&c.; provision is made for enabling a certain number of
married soldiers to reside away from the barracks, and
savings banks offer to the soldiery both the temptation to
save and the means of securing their property. Great and
Dupin, Force Milit. de la Grande Bretagne, 1. v., c. 4, p. 196.
A It M Y.
Army, important changes have of late years taken place in the
—arms and equipment of the soldiers ; and there cannot be a
doubt that in all future wars long marches will be executed
with greater facility, and campaigns brought to rapid termi¬
nation. The construction of the knapsack, and the method
of attaching it to the person, have been much improved,
and even at this moment further amendments are discussed.
The old musket, which seldom carried a ball above 180
yards, and was so irregular in its progress to the object aimed
at, that the proportion of the enemy killed to the number
of bullets propelled was 1 in 3000,—is gradually being
superseded by firelocks of an improved construction which
will carry a ball 800 yards.
The character of the British army has been earned in
battle and attested by victory. Wherever it has been even
tolerably led, it has conquered; nor is there any army in the
world which has sustained so few serious reverses. The
elements of which it is composed are such as, if fairly deve¬
loped in action, must, on anything like equal terms, insure
victory : for not only are the soldiers more robust, and pos¬
sessed of greater physical power (or, as it is technically called,
bottom), than those of any other nation, but they are also dis¬
tinguished by an unflinching, indomitable courage, which
may be safely reckoned upon at all times and in all circum¬
stances; which it is often difficult to restrain, but never
necessary to excite; and which always rises to a pitch of
sublime elevation at the prospect of the charge and the close
combat. They are the only troops in the world who look
with indifference on naked points, and who are constantly
impelled by a powerful instinct to close with their enemy ;
who maintain the distant battle with unyielding steadfastness,
yet rejoice when the moment arrives that is to rest the issue
of the conflict on the bayonet’s point, and a struggle hand to
hand with the enemy. Hence their fire is close, steady, and
destructive ; their charge, where it can be given, irresistible.
“ Les troupes Anglaises,” says General Jomini, “ se distin-
guent par leur bonne discipline et leur sang-froid; le soldat
s y enrole pour la vie [[this is a mistake ; soldiers may enlist
for any period], ce qui est bien extraordinaire chez un
peuple si jaloux de sa liberte, mais ce qui ne surprend pas
moins, c’est qu’il est docile et soumis: ces qualites essen-
tielles qui constituent une armee solide,sont peut-etre prefer¬
ables a une valeur brillante mais passagere. Les lines sont
permanentes ; 1’autre, justifiant le proverbe Espagnol, depend
de tel jour et de telle circonstance. La resignation et la
discipline unies au courage froid, ont des resultats invariables
et surs ; elles produisent 1’ensemble sans lequel il n’est point
de veritable force.”1 M. Dupin, in that part of his able
work in which he treats of the military force of Great Bri¬
tain, delivers an opinion somewhat similar to that expressed
by Jomini, though shaded by certain qualifications and abate¬
ments.
“ Il faut de dire,” says he, “apres les Franqais, tels qu’ils
ont ete pendant vingt-quatre ans dans nos armees, les An¬
glais sont les militaires les plus actifs de tout 1’Europe; ils
le sont d une maniere qui leur est propre. Leur activite n’a
pas les elans prodigieux dont nous avons tant fois offert de
memorables exemples; mais elle n’a jamais d’intermittence,
et se montre toujours la meme. Cela lui fait produire, au
bout d un temps donne, une somme de resultats plus grande
qu on n aurait pu le prevoir, d’apres la vue d'une action isolee
meme la plus brillante. Le soldat Breton a generalement
moins desprit naturel et de penetration que le soldat Fran-
qais ; mais 1’immobilite de son imagination rend ses actions
plus mesurees. Moins distrait par la vue des objets exte-
lieurs, par les souvenirs du passe, par les esperances ou les
terreurs de 1 avenir, il est toujours tout entier au moment
present. Plus attentif au commandement actuel, il com-
pense ainsi Vinferiorite de son intelligence. Incapable de
jugei les giands mouvemensqui s’executent, et surtoutceux
qui vont s’executer, pour ou centre lui, le danger futur ne
se peint pas meme a sa pensee. Il va done it la mort pre¬
sente sans s’inquieter de la mort a venir. Voila pourquoi
moral de 1’armee Britannique est presque impossible a
detruire par la mauvaise fortune.”2
In this passage there is some truth, mixed up with much
nonsense and misrepresentation. The British soldier, it
seems, is inferior to the French soldier in intelligence. And
why ? Because he does not concern himself about “ grand
movements executed and to be executed and because he
is more attentive to command, and goes to present death
without disturbing himself about death to come. These ap¬
pear strange grounds upon which to rest the alleged supe¬
riority of the French or the inferiority of the British soldier
in point of intelligence. That a native of this country, ad¬
mitted on all hands to be at least one of the most intellec¬
tual on the face of the earth, should be at once metamor¬
phosed by a red coat into a mere automaton or lump of liv¬
ing but impassible matter, would indeed be an extraordinary
phenomenon; nor must it appear less singular that the
French armies, with all their intellectual superiority, and all
their attention to “grand movements,” should have been con¬
stantly overthrown by our animated machines. But the
plain fact is, that the assertion is wholly erroneous. The
English soldier is inferior to no other that ever existed in
point of intelligence; and even the late General Foy, whose
book appears to have been written chiefly for the purpose of
calumniating our army, makes admissions which show that
such was his own real opinion, while maintaining a contrary
one. This officer repeatedly says that the non-commissioned
officers of the British army are superior in activity, intelli¬
gence, and zeal, to those of the same rank in any other army,
not excepting the French ; and that this superiority was con¬
spicuously evinced throughout the whole of the Peninsular
campaigns. But these persons are taken almost indiscrimi¬
nately from the ranks, and of course must represent the ave¬
rage amount of intelligence and activity diffused amongst the
private soldiers ; a circumstance which General Foy had not
adverted to when he made the admission in question; for he
was too good a Frenchman to allow British soldiers any merit
which he could decently and with any show of probability
deny them.
But the best answer to all his captious and querulous stric¬
tures is to be found in his own description of the conduct of
the British regiments at Waterloo. “ The cavalry which
supported them,” says he, “ was cut to pieces [this is not
true], the fire of their artillery completely silenced. The
general and staff officers were galloping from one square to
another, not knowing where to find shelter. Carriages,
wounded men, parks of reserve, and auxiliary troops, were
all flying in disorder towards Brussels. Death was before
them, and in their ranks; disgrace in their rear. In this
terrible situation, neither the bullets of the imperial guard,
discharged almost point-blank, nor the victorious cavalry of
France, could make the least impression on the immovable
British infantry. One might have been almost tempted to
fancy that it had rooted itself in the ground, but for the ma¬
jestic movements which its battalions commenced some
minutes after sunset, at the moment when the approach of
the Prussian army apprised Wellington that—thanks to num¬
bers, thanks to the force of inert resistance, and as a reward
for having contrived to draw up brave fellows in battle—
he had just achieved the most decisive victory of our
age.”3 The British army can desire no better panegyric than
667
Army.
1 Jomini, Guerres de la Revolution, tom. ii. p. 252.
toy, History of the Peninsular War, vol. i. p. 224, English translation.
Dupin, vol. ii. 1. 1, c. 1, p. 3, 4.
668 A R N
Army this, pronounced by a beaten enemy ; and if the French shall
Arn " d de cont*nue to com^,rt themselves with the idea that the British
Ronsil 6 so^'er deficient in intelligence, because he possesses that
■v , y strength of mind which no danger can appal, and that te¬
nacity which carries off the prey by sticking to it to the last,
it would certainly be a pity to deprive them of any slender
consolation which they may derive from cherishing such a
delusion. But instead of adding anything farther of our own,
we shall conclude by citing an authority which, on this as
on all other military subjects, is universally admitted to be
of the highest order.
“ That the British infantry soldier,” says Sir William Na¬
pier, “ is more robust than the soldier of any other nation,
can scarcely be doubted by those who, in 1815, observed his
powerful frame, distinguished amidst the united armies of
Europe ; and, notwithstanding his habitual excess in drink¬
ing, he sustains fatigue, and wet, and the extremes of cold
and heat, with incredible vigour. When completely disci¬
plined—and three years are required to accomplish this—his
port is lofty, and his movements free : the whole world can¬
not produce a nobler specimen of military bearing; nor is
the mind unworthy of the outward man. He does not in¬
deed possess that presumptuous vivacity which would lead
him to dictate to his commanders, or even to censure real
errors, although he may perceive them ; but he is observant,
ARN
and quick to comprehend his orders, full of resources under Army
difficulties, calm and resolute in danger, and more than usu- II
ally obedient and careful of his officers in moments of immi- Arnaul(1.
nent peril. ''"■“V™1’
“ It has been asserted that his undeniable firmness in
battle is the result of a phlegmatic constitution, uninspired
by moral feeling. Never was a more stupid calumny ut¬
tered. Napoleon’s troops fought in bright fields, where every
helmet caught some beams of glory ; but the British soldier
conquered under the cold shade of aristocracy : no honours
awaited his daring, no despatch gave his name to the ap¬
plauses of his countrymen ; his life of danger was uncheered
by hope, his death unnoticed. Did his heart sink therefore ?
Did he not endure with surprising fortitude the sorest of ills,
sustain the most terrible assaults in battle unmoved, and, with
incredible energy, overthrow every opponent; at all times
proving that, while no physical military qualification was want¬
ing, the fount of honour was also full and fresh within him ?
“ The result of a hundred battles, and the united testi¬
mony of impartial writers, of different nations, have given
the first place amongst the European infantry to the British ;
but, in a comparison between the troops of France and
England, it would be unjust not to admit that the cavalry
of the former stands higher in the estimation of the
world.”1 (j. b—e.) (j. H. s.)
ARNALL, William,apolitical writer, who was employed
by Sir Robert Walpole to write the Free Briton in defence
of his administration, for which, by the report of the secret
committee, he is said to have received L.10,997, 6s. 8d.
He died in 1741, at the age of 26.
ARNAUD de Meyrveilh, or Mereuil, a poet of Pro¬
vence, who wrote a book entitled Las Recastenas de sa
Contesse, and a collection of poems and sonnets. Petrarch
mentions him in his Triumph of Love. He is supposed to
have died about the end of the twelfth century.
Arnaud, Daniel, a still more celebrated troubadour than
the preceding, flourished about the same period. He was
born of a noble but poor family of Ribeirac in Perigord.
When at the court of Richard I., an English jongleur chal¬
lenged him to a trial of skill, and ten days were allotted for
preparation. Arnaud, who was disinclined for the task,
conti'ived by listening at the door of his rival to commit to
memory the whole of the poem which the other had pre¬
pared and was learning to recite. When the day of trial
was arrived, Arnaud requested permission to take the pre¬
cedence, and gave forth the poem he had so cunningly ap¬
propriated. The jongleur was stupified with amazement,
but Arnaud confessed the trick, the wager was withdrawn,
and the king made rich presents to them both. Arnaud is
extolled by Dante, Varchi, and Petrarch. Many of his
amatory poems have been preserved, and some of them
published by Raynouard. This name was likewise borne
by several other troubadours.
Arnaud de Ronsil, George, son of an eminent surgeon
at Paris, and some time professor of surgery in the college
of St Cosme. On account of an accident that occurred
while he was practising midwifery, he removed from Paris
to London, where he acquired great repute by his opera¬
tions, and his writings on surgical subjects. Before his time
the treatment of hernia had been but imperfectly under¬
stood ; and the surgeons of this country are indebted to the
observations of Arnaud for many of those improvements
which have since rendered their practice so successful in
this branch of the art. He died in 1774.
Arnaud, or Arnoldus, de Villa Nova, a famous phy¬
sician and alchemist, who lived about the end of the thir¬
teenth and beginning of the fourteenth century. He
studied at Paris and Montpelier, and improved himself by
visiting the schools of Italy and Spain. He was well ac¬
quainted with languages, particularly with the Greek, He¬
brew, and Arabic. His desire after the acquisition of know¬
ledge was ardent, but it carried him too far in his researches.
He put unlimited faith in astrology, and published a predic¬
tion that the consummation of the world would take place
in the year 1335. He practised physic at Paris for some
time ; but having advanced some new doctrines, he drew
upon himself the resentment of the university ; and his
friends, fearing he might be arrested, persuaded him to re¬
tire from that city. He went to Sicily, where he was re¬
ceived by king Frederic of Aragon with the greatest marks
of kindness and esteem. Some time afterwards this prince
sent him to France to attend Pope Clement in an illness ;
and in this voyage he perished by shipwreck on the coast
of Genoa about the year 1313.
Arnaud has been called the discoverer of the sulphuric,
the muriatic, and the nitric acids, as well as of the essential
oil of turpentine ; and is said to have been the first to give
regular scientific details of the process of distillation; but Dr
Hoefer (Histoire de la Chimie, tom. i., p. 385) has shown that
all these discoveries were made long before the time of Ar¬
naud. His works, with a life prefixed, were first printed at
Lyons in 1504, in one volume folio, and again in 1520 with
the notes of Nicholas Tolerus; andat Basil in 1515and 1585.
ARNAULD, Antoine, oneof thegreatestof French theo¬
logians and philosophers, was the twentieth child of Antoine
Arnauld, the most famous advocate of his time, who in 1594
distinguished himself in the Parliament of Paris by pleading
the cause of the University against the Jesuits. In the son
that formidable society found during his active and polemical
life a still more powerful and unwearied adversary. The
whole family of the Arnaulds was devoted to the 'cause of
Jansenism, and its female members, especially the celebrated
“ mere Angelique” are so identified with the history of the
History of the War in the Peninsula and in the South of France, vol. iii. p. 271, 272. London, 1831.
A R N A U L D.
Arnaidd. abbey of Port Royal, that some notice of them will neces-
sarily under the account of that remarkable institution,
fhe elder Arnauld was himself a liberal supporter of Port
Royal, and his wife, his six daughters, and five of his grand¬
daughters, became nuns there. Three out of four sons who
survived him became distinguished men.
Of these the youngest, Antoine, justly called by the Port
Royalists, le Grand, was born at Paris, Feb. 6. 1612. Af¬
ter studying at the colleges of Calvi and Lisieux, he turned
his attention to the study of law; but the influence of the
Abbe St Cyran, director of Port Royal, and the advice of
us mother, led him to choose the ecclesiastical profession.
1 he same influence directed him to study the works of St
ugustine, and he soon gave evidence of having entered in¬
to the spirit of that Father’s theology. In 1641 he took his
degree as Doctor of the Sorbonne, and after being twice re¬
jected on formal grounds, he was in 1643 admitted a mem¬
ber of the Society of the Sorbonne.
Before this time his mind had undergone a deep change,
he instructions of St Cyran, and the dying words of his
mother, had impressed him with religious convictions of a
more penetrative and influential kind than he had expe-
rienced hitherto, and from this time he devoted himself with
all the ardour of his soul to the defence and propagation of
what he believed to be the truth. In August 1643 he pub¬
lished his famous treatise de la Frequents Communion, ex¬
pressly directed against the loose and scandalous doctrines
of the Jesuits, who held on this subject that the beneficial
reception of the sacraments required no preparation, and
that open sin in the communicant is no bar to the benefits
of the Eucharist. The severer doctrine of Arnauld soon drew
down upon him the vengeance of the Jesuits ; and the sup¬
port of the parliament, and the approbation of a large body
of prelates and doctors of the Sorbonne, were not sufficient
to save him from their implacable hostility. He was obliged
to seek safety in flight, and though his subsequent life had
intervals of comparative security and repose, it may be said
that fiom this time till his death he lived a harassed and per-
secuted fugitive. r
His work on Frequent Communion is remarkable not
meiely on account of its important consequences to the
author, but as the first theological work in France written
in a pure and grammatical style, and entirely free from the
barbarous subtleties of the preceding centuries.
In the year 1656 the college of the Sorbonne showed its
complete subjection to the influence of the Jesuits, by ef-
acing the name of Arnauld from the list of its doctors, and
passing an act that no one should in future be admitted to
the degree who did not sign the censure passed upon his here-
sies;, 1 he accusation against him was founded on two pro-
positions in his Letter on Absolution—Lst', that the five here¬
tical propositions attributed to Jansenius were not contained
in the Augustinus, and 2d, that the Fathers of the Church
exhibit to us in the person of St Peter a saint who was de¬
ficient in saving grace.
From this time till 1668 Arnauld lived in concealment,
incessantly occupied in writing against the Jesuits, and ani¬
mating by his counsel and example the oppressed but power¬
ful party who recognized in him their head and oracle. About
the end of this period he composed the most enduringly
valuable of his numerous works, the Port Royal Grammar;
New Elements of Geometry; and the Port Royal Logie, or
Art of Thinking ; of all which it is sufficient to say that their
value as important contributions to their several departments
of science has not yet been superseded by the labours of sub¬
sequent writers.
In 1668 the so-called Peace of the Church, by Clement
IX., recalled Arnauld from his exile; and on this occasion he
was presented to the king and the papal nuncio, who re¬
ceived him with the outward forms of flattering distinction.
669
Arne.
To convince the world of the falsehood of the Jesuitical Arnauld
accusation that the Jansenists were the abettors of Calvinism, 11
Arnauld now devoted his controversial powers to the defence
of the Roman Catholic faith against the Protestants. The
great work composed chiefly by Nicole, but published under
the name of Arnauld, Perpetuite de la Foi de VEglise sur
l Lucharistie, a, voluminous and elaborate defence of tran-
substantiation, is the most important of these proofs of Jan-
senist orthodoxy.
His inextinguishable controversial ardour, and the perse¬
vering hostility of his enemies, once more drove Arnauld into
exile. In 1679 he received a formal order from Louis XIV.
to provide for his safety, and in the course of a few days he
was again an exile in the Flemish city of Mons. From this
time onward he had little rest till his death. Wandering
from one city to another he kept up unweariedly the war¬
fare in which he found his congenial element. Of the un¬
quenchable activity of his spirit, a characteristic illustration
is his well-known reply to Nicole, who urged him at one time
to think now of desisting from his harassing labours and in¬
dulging in some repose. “ Rest 1 ” said the untired warrior;
“ slla11 we not rest in Eternity!” At Brussels in 1694 his
manifold labours came to an end, in the 82d year of his age.
His body was buried where he died; his heart, at his own
request, was carried to Port Royal, of which he had been in
life the most redoubtable defender.
The life-long warfare of Arnauld was not confined alone
to the defence of Jansenism. His love of truth and of
discussion found subjects for his polemical activity in the
works of his most valued and intimate friends. Descartes
and Malebranche, Pascal and Domat, Nicole and Gilbert
of Choiseul, and his protector Pope Innocent XI., all in
various ways gave scope to his unconquerable controversial
zeal.
In Arnauld, says Mr Baynes, the able translator of the
ort Royal Logic, “ are found singularly united many of
the best virtues of his time* Love of truth and freedom,
fearless intrepidity, stainless honour, and inflexible justice,
are ever found in his writings. Bowing to the authority of
the church, yet confronting the thunders of the Vatican—re¬
jecting the old philosophy, yet reproducing the truth which it
contained—-accepting the new, yet fearlessly discussing its
dogmas with Descartes—he vindicated incessantly the claims
of reason and faith, with an earnestness and impartiality which
the love of truth alone could inspire. There is, indeed,
scarcely any sight, even in that age of great men and great
controversies, more inspiring than that of Arnauld doing bat¬
tle, single-handed, with all that was mightiest, both in church
and state—replying to every attack with an energy which
was never wearied, a fertility of resource which was never
exhausted, and a freshness of thought and power of argument
rarely equalled, and perhaps never excelled”—Introduction
to Port Royal Logic. (Edin. 1850.)
The works of Arnauld compose, in the edition of 1783,
48 veils, in 4to. This immense collection comprehends
treatises on theology, philosophy, literature, science, and
politics, all giving proof of that wonderful power which, in
t le midst of labours so constant and multifarious, never
showed any symptom of decline. Arnauld also had a con¬
siderable share in the famous translation of the Bible by his
nephew De Saci.
ARNA Y-LE-D UC, a town of France, in the department
of Cote d Or, which carries on a pretty good trade. It is
seated on the Auxois, in a valley near the river Aroux.
Pop. in 1846, 2331. Long. 4. 26. E. Lat. 47. 7. N.
ARND F, John, a famous Protestant divine of Germany,
b(5_n_ at Ballenstadt, in the duchy of Anhalt, in the year
1555. He died in 1621. His Treatise on True Christi¬
anity has been translated into several languages.
ARNE, Thomas Augustine, doctor of music, was born
670 A R N
Arnheim in 1*10, in King Street, Covent Garden, where his father
Arno WaS an uP^.°^s*:erer‘ served three years with an attor-
\ ■/ ney ’ his strong propensity for music prevailed over the
law, and he finally devoted himself to that science, in which
he soon became so eminent as to receive the degree of doc¬
tor from the University of Oxford in 1759. He was an ex¬
tensive composer, and adapted upwards of thirty musical
pieces for the stage. They are characterized by a natural
ease and elegance, a flow of melody, and a fulness and variety
without affected or extraneous modulation. His most cele¬
brated works are Artaxerxes, paraphrased from Metastasio;
the Masque of Comus ; the Opera of Operas, a burletta ;
the Guardian Outwitted; and the Rose ; some of which
have taken a permanent hold of the stage. Dr Arne died
March 5. 1778.
ARNHEIM, a fortified town of Holland, capital of the
province of Guelderland, 50 miles south-east of Amsterdam,
and 35 miles E.S.E. of Utrecht, with both of which it is
connected by the Dutch-Rhenish Railway. This has been
selected as the point of communication between the various
railways of Germany and Holland. It stands on the right
bank of the Rhine, about three miles below the point where
the Yssel branches off from it, and which is here crossed by
a bridge of boats. It is well built, and its neighbourhood
abounds with beautiful villas, parks, and gardens. It has a
grammar school and several learned societies, courts of
assize and commerce, a governor’s palace, and extensive
new barracks. The church of St Eusebius, in which the
old dukes and counts of Guelderland lie buried, contains
many sepulchral monuments of interest. It has a good port
on the river, an active general trade, and manufactures of
woollen, cotton, paper, tobacco, &c. Pop. in 1850, 18,671.
Eat. 51. 58. 46. N. Long. 5. 54. 43. E.
ARNICA, a botanical genus of the natural order of Com-
positae. The English name of A. montana is Leopard’s bane.
It is a powerful narcotico-acrid, and has been used in medi¬
cine, especially in chronic rheumatism, and as a diuretic in
atonic dropsy.
ARNISfEUS, Henningus, a philosopher and physician
of great reputation about the beginning of the seventeenth
century. He was born at Halberstadt in Germany, and was
professor of physic in the university of Helmstadt. His
political works are much esteemed. The most remarkable
of them is his book l)e Autoritate Principum in Populum
semper Inviolabili, printed at Frankfort in 1612. He wrote
also upon the same doctrine his three books, De Jure Ma-
jestatis, printed at the same place in 1610 ; and his Refiec-
tiones Politico, printed at Frankfort in 1615. He went to
Denmark by invitation, and was made counsellor and physi¬
cian to the king. He travelled into France and England,
and died at Fredricksborg in 1636. Besides the pieces al¬
ready mentioned, he wrote several philosophical, medicinal,
and poetical treatises.
ARNO (ancient Arnus), the celebrated river of Florence,
which rises in Monte Falterona, in the Apennines, and de¬
scends into the valley of Casentino, in Upper Tuscany. It
passes the town of Bibbiena into the plain of Arezzo, where
it receives the Chiana as a tributary, and enters the narrow-
valley of Laterina. Thence it issues through the rocky defile
Dell’ Inferno, pours into the lovely Yal D’Arno, sweeps
beneath the woods of Vallombrosa, and after receiving' the
Sieve, enters the plain of Florence, and proudly "flows
through the celebrated capital of Tuscany. Ten miles
below Florence, it is confined in an artificial channel, formed
by the ancient Etruscans, for the purpose of draining the
plain. It receives several tributaries, and enters the plain of
Pisa, which it traverses ; and after a further course of eight
miles, falls into the Tuscan sea. Its whole winding course
is about 140 miles. At Florence it is 400 feet wide, but is
fordable in summer. It is liable to sudden floods, and then
A R N
is impetuous, carrying down with it immense quantities of Arnobius
earth and stones, by which its bed is elevated; in many il
places requiring frequent embankment. On the banks of Arnold,
the upper Arno, are vast accumulations of fossil bones of
the elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, and bear, espe¬
cially between Arezzo and Florence. (t.s.t.)
ARNOBIUS, one of the earliest apologists of Chris¬
tianity in the west, was a teacher of rhetoric at Sicca (now
Keff), in Numidia, towards the end of the third century.
Becoming dissatisfied with his ancestral faith, and harassed
with doubts, which pursued him even in his dreams, he be¬
came desirous of embracing Christianity, and for this pur¬
pose applied to the bishops for admission into the church ;
but his former violent hostility to the faith led them to dis¬
trust him, and, before they would consent, they insisted on
some proofs of his sincerity. In compliance with this de¬
mand, he wrote against the Gentiles, refuting the absurdi¬
ties of their religion, and ridiculing their false gods. In this
treatise he has employed all the flowers of rhetoric, and dis¬
played great learning; but it is defective in arrangement,
and manifests but an imperfect knowledge of the Christian
faith. His work bears the title Adversus Gentes, and there
are several editions of it. The best is that of Orelli, Lips.
1816. 2 vols. 8vo. He wrote also a piece entitled De
Rhetoricce Institutione, which is not extant.
ARNOLD of Brescia {Arnaldm, or Arnulphus Brixi-
ensis), distinguished himself in the twelfth century, as the
founder of a sect which opposed the wealth and corruption of
the Roman clergy. He went into France, where he studied
under the celebrated Abelard. Upon his return to Italy he
put on the habit of a monk, and opened his invectives in the
streets of Brescia. He pointed his declamation against the
bishops, the clergy, the monks, and finally against the Roman
pontiff himself; to the laity only was he indulgent. In 1139
he was cited to appear before a grand council at Rome.
Elis accusers were the bishop of Brescia, and many others
whom he had ridiculed and insulted. Nor from his judges
could he look for much indulgence. He was found guilty,
and sentenced to perpetual silence. Upon this he left Italy,
crossed the Alps, and found a refuge in Zurich. After the
death of Pope Innocent II. he returned to Italy, headed
an unsuccessful revolt in Rome, and was ultimately con¬
demned to death and crucified in 1155. His name is de¬
serving of being remembered for the boldness of his attempt
to lower the power of the pope and his clergy, in an age
when the papacy existed in all the plenitude of its influence.
His followers were known as Arnoldists.
Arnold, Benedict, a noted officer in the war of Ameri¬
can Independence. He was born in Connecticut in 1740 ;
engaged with zeal in the cause of his countrymen, and rose
to be a general of brigade. He was appointed, after a wound
in the leg, to the command of Philadelphia, where he com¬
mitted such acts of rapacity, that he was tried by a court-
martial in 1779, and reprimanded. On this he resigned his
commission ; and appears from that time to have entered on
the dishonourable scheme, for which now he is chiefly re¬
membered, that of betraying his country to the British.
These negotiations led to the death of the gallant and un¬
fortunate Major Andre, while the guilty Arnold escaped to
the British headquarters. He retained in the British the
rank he had held in the American army, and was employed
in Virginia and Connecticut; in both of which he com¬
mitted great devastation, especially in his native province,
where he butchered the garrison of Fort Turnbull, and burnt
New- London. He was taken by the French while in our
service in the West Indies, but made his escape. On the
peace, he retired to Britain, where he died in 1801. His
duel with Lord Lauderdale, in 1 792, on account of some
vituperative expressions used by his Lordship at a public
meeting, is well known. (t. s. t.)
A R N
Arnold
Arnold Strutthan von Winckelried, one of the heroes
of Swiss independence. When Leopold Duke of Austria, in
conjunction with the nobles of Switzerland, attempted in
1386 to destroy the liberty of the people, the whole force
which the Swiss had to oppose a regular army of 4000 sol¬
diers amounted but to 1400 men, undisciplined and badly
armed. They met under the walls of Sempach in Lucerne,
and the Swiss were about to retreat, when the fate of the
day was decided by Arnold, who rushed forward, and seizing
in his arms the spears pointed against his friends, received
them in his bosom. The enemy was routed; Leopold and
most of his noble followers being slain; and the indepen¬
dence of Switzerland was secured. See Switzerland.
Arnold, Samuel, doctor of music, was born in 1740, and
was received into the royal chapel at an early age, where he
was successively the pupil of Mr B. Gates and Dr Nares.
In 1764, he became the composer for the orchestra of Co¬
vent Garden 1 heatre; and two years afterwards also had
the same office at the Haymarket. He is the author of 40
musical dramas, among which are The Maid of the Mill,
Inkle and Yarico, The Son-in-law, The Battle of Hexham,
The Surrender of Calais, The Babes in the Wood, The
Mountaineers, with the oratorios of Saul, Abimelech, The
Prodigal Son, and The Resurrection. In 1783, he was ap¬
pointed organist and composer to the king; and in 1789,
conductor of the Academy of Ancient Music. We owe
to him the publication of the works of Handel and Boyce.
He died in 1802, and was interred in Westminster Ab-
beY- (t. s. t.)
Arnold, Thomas, a clergyman of the Church of Eng¬
land, was born at West Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, on the
13th of June 1795. He was the son of William and Mar¬
tha Arnold, the former of whom occupied the situation of
collector of customs at Cowes. Deprived at an early age of
father, who died suddenly of spasm in the heart in 1801,
his initiatory education was confided by his mother to her
sister, Miss Delafield, who with affectionate fidelity dis¬
charged to him the office with which she had been intrusted.
From her tuition he passed to that of Dr Griffiths, at War¬
minster, in W iltshire, in 1803 ; and in 1807 he was removed
to Winchester, where he remained until 1811, having en¬
tered as a commoner, and afterwards become a scholar of the
college. In after life he retained a lively feeling of interest
in Winchester School, and remembered with admiration
and profit the regulative tact of Dr Goddard, and the pre¬
ceptorial ability of Dr Gabell, who were successively head¬
masters during his stay there.
As a schoolboy he was not particularly distinguished by
any of those attainments which usually determine the hon¬
ours of the class. Beyond a very retentive memory, a love
for solitary reading, and a certain precocity in the writing of
English verse, he afforded but few indications of any supe¬
rior power of intellect or any decided impulse towards lite¬
rary pursuits. He was shy and somewhat stiff in his man¬
ners, inclined to prefer the society of persons more advanced
in life to that of his schoolmates, and somewhat inordinately
resolute in holding by any opinion he had formed or any
purpose he had adopted. At the same time it is easy to
trace in the favourite pursuits of his boyhood, and in the
development of his youthful character, many of the most
chai acteristic features of the future man. He was strong
and fast in the friendships he formed amongst his fellows!
He was already a careful and curious observer of character,
anti instinctively cleaved to the noble and the gentle, the
vigorous and the pure, in whomsoever found. He was al¬
most from infancy devotedly attached to the study of history
A It N
671
and geography, as well as to ballad poetry. Already, how- Arnold,
ever, he had begun to allot separate places in his mind to
the romantic and to the real in narration ; and whilst he
relished both, he steadily refused to accept the one for the
uu’ „ i b°y had a heartier enjoyment of the myth or
the ballad; but even as a boy he had begun to look with
distrust upon much of the ancient history as, “ if not totally
false, at least scandalously exaggerated.” In the stillness
of these studies, and in the stream of schoolboy society
there can be little doubt that (accordingto “a true sayin<!”
of the great German poet) the talents and the character of
the future historian of Rome and head master of Rmfoy,
began to receive their peculiar mould.1
From Winchester he removed to Oxford in 1811, where
he became a scholar at Corpus Christi College ; in 1815 he
was elected Fellow of Oriel College; and there he con¬
tinued to reside till 1819. This interval was diligently de¬
voted to the pursuit of classical and historical studies, to
pieparing himself for ordination, and to searching inves¬
tigations, under the stimulus of continual discussion with
a ba,nd of talented and congenial associates, of some of the
profoundest questions in theology, ecclesiastical polity, and
social philosophy. The authors he most carefully studied
at this period were Thucydides and Aristotle, and for their
writings he formed an attachment which remained to the
close of his life, and exerted a powerful influence upon his
mode of thought and opinions, as well as upon his literary
occupations in subsequent years. Herodotus also came in
for a considerable share of his regard, but more, apparently,
as a book of recreation than one for work. In prosecuting his
histoiical studies he adopted the plan which he afterwards
recommended to his students in his lectures at Oxford, that
of selecting some one period of which he made himself
thoroughly master, and with reference to which he surveyed
the events and persons that came under his notice either in
the course of his more general reading, or as an observer of
what was going on around him. In theology, his mind, ac¬
customed freely and fearlessly to investigate whatever came
before it, and swayed by an almost scrupulous dread of
aught that might appear to savour of insincerity, was doomed
to long and anxious hesitation upon several points of fun¬
damental importance before arriving at a serene and settled
acceptance of the great verities of Christianity. Once satis¬
fied, however, of these, his faith remained clear and firm;
and having received his religion, not by tradition from men,
but as the result of an earnest, penetrating, and honest ex¬
amination of the evidence on which it rests, he not only
held it with a steadfast grasp, but realized it and felt it as a
living and guiding power. From this time forward his life
became supremely that of a religious man. He had not
only embraced orthodox sentiments, and seen his way to
an honest conformity with the ecclesiastical arrangements
and worship of the church to which he belonged, but he had
experienced within his own soul the renovating and trans¬
forming energy of divine truth. Christianity was no longer
a something which he had taken upon him; it was a life, a
nature within him. Long exercised with doubts and difficul¬
ties as to the person and claims of Jesus Christ, he had at
length reached to such an intense and all-subduing convic¬
tion on these points that a continual consciousness of love
and adoration, of joy and confidence towards the Redeemer,
seems to have occupied his bosom. To the name of Christ
he was prepared to “ surrender his whole soul,” and to ren¬
der before it “ obedience, reverence without measure, in¬
tense humility, most unreserved adoration.”2 It was his
joy and consolation when lost amid the mysteries which sur-
1 “Es bildet ein Talent sich in der stille;
Sich ein charakter in dem strom der Welt.”—C?oe«Ae.
2 Sermons, vol. iv. p. 210.
672 A R N
Arnold, round the being and government of the Infinite, to remem-
her that, “ in that unknown w orld in which our thoughts be¬
come instantly lost, still there is one object on which our
thoughts and imaginations may fasten, no less than our af¬
fections ; that, amidst the light, dark from excess of bril¬
liance, which surrounds the throne of God, we may discern
the gracious form of the Son of Man.”1 This vivid realization
of Christ as the centre and source of his religion, comimi-
nicated peculiar animation as well as a single-hearted sim¬
plicity to his piety. To be like Christ—to please Christ—
to have communion with Christ—to enjoy blessing from
Christ:—these became the leading ideas and the ever-pre¬
sent impulses of his religion. Hence not only had all reli¬
gious doubt and perplexity disappeared, but a new impulse
was communicated to his whole spiritual life ; his battle
with evil in all its forms became more intense; his activity
became more subject to a high sense of duty and an earnest
desire to acquit himself well as a good soldier of Jesus Christ;
and amidst the throng and bustle of this world he ever
maintained a conscious sense of the spiritual state which had
been revealed to him, and to which he felt himself con¬
tinually drawn by his love to his Redeemer. He did not
often talk about religion; he had no inclination to gossip
about his experience, or dwell upon the frames and feelings
through which he passed; he had not much of the ac¬
credited phraseology of piety even when he discoursed
on spiritual topics. But no man could observe him for any
length of time without feeling persuaded that more than
most men he was directed by religious principle and feeling
in all his conduct. The fountain of his piety was in his
heart’s core; and its streams mingled easily with all the
issues of his life. As his biographer has beautifully re¬
marked, “ his natural faculties were not unclothed but
clothed upon; they were at once coloured by, and gave a
colour to, the belief which they received.”2
He left Oxford in 1819 and settled at Laleham near
Staines, where he was occupied chiefly in superintending the
studies of seven or eight young men who were preparing
for the university. His spare time was devoted to the pro¬
secution of studies in philology and history, more particu¬
larly to the study of Thucydides, and of the new light which
had been cast upon Roman history and upon historical me¬
thod in general by the researches of Niebuhr. He was
also occasionally engaged in preaching, and it was whilst
here that he published the first volume of his sermons.
Shortly after he settled at Laleham he entered into the mar¬
riage relation with Mary youngest daughter of the Rev.
John Penrose, rector of Fledborough, Nottinghamshire.
Under the plastic influences of domestic life, and amid
the congenial occupations which divided his time at Lale¬
ham, his character was gradually maturing, his intellectual
powers were becoming more fully developed, his opinions
on social and ecclesiastical questions were acquiring consoli¬
dation and precision, and he was laying up a stock of expe¬
rience and forming plans which demanded a much wider
sphere for their operation than such a post as that which he
now occupied could present. It was not long before such
a sphere opened before him. After nine years spent at Lale¬
ham, he was induced to offer himself as a candidate for the
head-mastership of Rugby, which had become vacant; and
though he entered somewhat late upon the contest, and
though none of the electors were personally known to him,
he was nevertheless successful. He was elected in Decem¬
ber 1827; in June 1828 he received priest’s orders; in
April and November of the same year he took his degree of
B.D. and D.D.; and in August entered on his new office.
In one of the testimonials which accompanied his appli-
0 L D.
cation to the trustees of Rugby, the writer stated it as his Arnold,
conviction, that “if Mr Arnold were elected, he would change
the face of education all through the public schools of Eng¬
land.” Nobly was this somewhat hazardous pledge redeemed
by him in whose name it had been given. Arnold’s head-
mastership at Rugby constituted a new era in the history of
public education in England. By his skill, devotedness,
and high moral earnestness, even more than by his scholar¬
ship or his direct tutorial influence, he completely “ changed
the face of education” at that great institution, and set an
example which has acted upon all the educational institu¬
tions of the empire. Under his superintendence the school
became not merely a place where a certain amount of
classical or general learning was to be obtained, but a sphere
of intellectual, moral, and religious discipline, where healthy
characters were formed, and men were trained for the du¬
ties, and struggles, and responsibilities of life.
Rugby was privileged to enjoy his superintendence for
nearly fourteen years. During this period his energies were
chiefly devoted to the business of the school; but he found
time also for much literary work, as well as for an extensive
correspondence. Five volumes of sermons, an edition of
Thucydides, with English notes and dissertations, a History
of Rome in three vols. 8vo, besides numerous articles in re¬
views, journals, newspapers, and encyclopaedias, are extant
to attest the untiring activity of his mind, and his patient
diligence during this period. His interest also in public
matters was incessant, especially in such as bore upon the
social welfare and moral improvement of the masses. Ec¬
clesiastical questions occupied at all times a large share of
his regards ; he was earnest for church reform, and conti¬
nually disposed to take a despairing view of the prospects
of the hierarchy. From the outset he had watched with
intense interest the progress of those opinions and tenden¬
cies at Oxford which have of late years excited so much
public attention, and have issued in results which Arnold
was among the first to predict.
In 1841 Dr Arnold received from Lord Melbourne, then
prime minister, the offer of the chair of Modern History
at Oxford, an offer which he accepted with peculiar satis¬
faction. The situation was one which connected him once
more with the university where his own earlier studies had
been conducted, and for which he ever retained the liveliest
affection ; its duties were not onerous, and they fell in with
the course of his favourite pursuits; and it afforded him a
provision against the time when he should be compelled to
retire from the responsibilities of such an institution as Rug¬
by, and seek that lettered ease to which, amidst all the dis¬
tractions of his active life, he was continually looking forward
as the ultimatum of his earthly ambition. On the duties
of this new office he entered on 2d December 1841, by de¬
livering his inaugural lecture, amidst circumstances which
he felt to be peculiarly gratifying and flattering. Seven
other lectures were delivered during the first three weeks of
the Lent term of 1842 ; the whole have been published
since his death.
A few months after the delivery of his lectures, Arnold
was suddenly removed from his earthly duties and antici¬
pated enjoyments by an attack of angina pectoris. The
Midsummer vacation had arrived, and he was preparing to
set out with his family to Fox How, a favourite retreat,
where he had purchased some property and built a house,
in Westmoreland. After a busy day spent in various duties,
he retired to rest apparently in perfect health. Between
five and six next morning he awoke in severe pain. All at¬
tempts to arrest the fatal malady proved fruitless. He bore
with heroic fortitude and Christian resignation his sufferings,
1 Sermons, vol. iii. p. 90.
2 Life by Stanley, vol. 1. p. 31.
A R N
Arnold^ until eight o’clock, when he expired. The day on which
Arnulnh c d\ed was Sunday, the 12th of June 1842. “ What that
C ' Sunday was in Rugby,” says his biographer, “it is hard fully
to represent: the incredulity—the bewilderment—the agi¬
tating inquiries for every detail—the blank, more awful than
sorrow, that prevailed through the vacant services of that long
and dreary day the feeling as if the very place had passed
away with him who had so emphatically been in every sense
its head the sympathy which hardly dared to contemplate,
and which yet could not but fix the thoughts and looks of
a on the desolate house where the fatherless family were
gat lered round the chamber of death.” His remains were
interred on the following Friday in the chancel of Rugby
chapel, immediately under the communion-table.
We have no space left to attempt a delineation of the se¬
parate features of Arnold’s character. We can only remark
in general, that the great peculiarity and charm of his na-
tuie seemed to he in the regal supremacy of the moral and
the spiritual element over his whole being and powers. His
intellectual faculties were not such as to surpass those of
many who were his contemporaries; in scholarship he oc-
cupied a subordinate place to several who filled situations
like his; and he had not much of what is usually called tact
m us dealings either with the juvenile or the adult mind.
What gave him his power, and secured for him so deeply the
respect and veneration of his pupils and acquaintances, was
the intensely religious character of his whole life. He
seemed ever to act from a severe and lofty estimate of duty.
. ° honest, and truthful, he ever held to be the first
aim of his being. Amid the trials and the duties of life
alike, he endured, as seeing Him who is invisible.” Like
Milton, who had also been a schoolmaster, his principle
seems to have been—“ Were it the meanest under-service,
i (xod, by his secretary Conscience, enjoin it, it were sad
for me if I should draw back.” With all this, there was in-
tmise. sympathy with his fellows, the tenderest domestic
affections, the most generous friendship, the most expansive
benevolence. But to understand aright his claims upon our
respect and homage, the history of his life must be read at
arge. As lias been truly observed by one who seems to
have known him well—“ His Thucydides, his history, his
sermons, his miscellaneous writings, are all proofs of his abi¬
lity and goodness. Yet the story of his life is worth them
all. hdm. Rev., vol. Ixxxi., p. 234. His life has been
most ably written by the Rev. A. P. Stanley, M.A., in two
volumes, 8vo. Lond. 1845. (w. L. A>)
ARNOLDUS, Gothofredus, pastor and inspector of
the churches of Perleberg, and historiographer to the king
of 1 russia, was born at Annaburg, in the mountains of Mis-
nia, in 1666. He was a zealous defender of the Pietist sect,
and composed a great number of religious works, particu-
laily an Ecclesiastical History, which exposed him to the
resentment of the divines, and another giving an account of
the doctrines and manners from the first ages, in which he
frequently animadverts upon Cave’s Primitive Christianity.
He died m 1714. J
ARNSTADT, a town in the principality of Swartzburg,
Sonderhausen, on the river Gera, 14 miles south-east of
Gotha, it has a castle, four churches, a workhouse, an or¬
phan asylum, and two hospitals; with an active corn and
timber trade; and manufactures of woollen, linen, cotton,
paper, leather, &c. Pop. 6000.
ARNULPH or Ernulph, bishop of Rochester in the
reign of Henry I. He was born in France, where he lived
some time a monk in the monastery of St Lucien de Beau¬
vais. 1 he irregular lives of the monks determined him to
quit their society, and on the invitation of his former prior
Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury, he removed to Eng¬
land, and took up his abode in the monastery of Canterbury.
After the death of Lanffanc, Arnulph was made prior of the
A R P
VOL. III.
monastery of Canterbury, and afterwards abbot of Peter¬
borough. In 1115 he was consecrated bishop of Rochester,
which see he held nine years, and died in March 1124, ao-ed
8 . Arnulph wrote in Latin an account of the foundation,
endowment, charters, laws, &c., of the church of Rochester •
it is known by the title of Textus Roffcrisis, and is preserved
in the archives of the cathedral of Rochester. It has been
printed in Thorpe’s Registrum Rojfense.
ARNWAY, John, D.D., a clergyman distinguished for
his piety and exemplary charity, was descended of a good
family in Shropshire, and inherited a considerable estate.
He zealously espoused the cause of King Charles I.; and
after suffering imprisonment and the sequestration of his
estate during the civil wars, he retired, on the ruin of Charles’s
cause, to the Hague. There he published, in 1650, a tract
entitled Tablet, or Moderation of Charles /., Martyr, with
an Alarum to the Subjects of England. From the Hague
he went to Virginia, where he died in 1653.
AROER, the name of four towns mentioned in Scrip¬
ture. (1.) A town on the north side of the river Arnon,
the ruins of which were found by Burckhardt, under the
name of Araayr. (2.) One of the towns built, or probably
rebuilt, by the tribe of Gad. Its ruins are supposed to be
those of Ayra, noticed by Burckhardt. This Ayra, about
seven miles south-west from Szalt, is probably the same with
the Array-el-Emir, visited by Legh, on his way from Hesh-
bon to Szalt, and which in Berghaus’s celebrated map of
Palestine is placed nine English miles W.N.W. of Rabbah.
(3.) A city in the tribe of Judah. (4.) A city in the south
of Judah, to which David sent presents after recovering the
spoil of Ziklag. Dr Robinson supposes that he found traces
of tins town in the valley of Ararah, about 20 geographical
miles south by west from Hebron.
AROIDE/E, a natural order of plants, the species of
which are acrid, and many of them very poisonous, as the
genus Arum; but the poisonous principle is dissipated by
heat. Some of the order give out much heat when flowering,
and some at that time have an offensive smell.
ARONA, a town of the Sardinian States, province of
JNovara, near the southern extremity of Lake Maggiore.
Lat. 45. 45. 57. N. Long. 8. 33. 6. E. It is well built; and
has a strong castle, a gymnasium, several churches, a hos¬
pital, a port and dockyard on the lake, and a considerable
trade. Pop. 4000. In 1697 the people of Milan erected,
on an eminence in this vicinity, a colossal statue in honour
of San Carlo Borromeo, a man distinguished for his piety
and benevolence, who was born here in 1538, and after¬
wards became cardinal and archbishop of Milan, where he
died in 1584. The statue stands on a granite pedestal 46
feet high, and is itself 66 feet in height. In the interior of
the statue are stairs leading up to its head, which is so lar^e
that four persons can sit in it at a table.
AROO, or Arru, a group of islands in the Eastern Archi¬
pelago, lying about 80 miles south-west of Papua, between
Lat. 5. 20. and 6. 55. S.; and Long 134. 10. and 134. 45.
i' n i"knds Produce Peai'l> mother-of-pearl, tortoise-
shell, birds of paradise, edible birds’-nests, trepang, &c. The
inhabitants are a mixture of the Malay and Australasian
negro races. The largest of these islands is 70 miles long
and 20 broad. s
AROPH, a contraction olaroma philosophorum, a name
given to saffron.
Aroph Paracelsi, a name given to a kind of chemical
flowers, probably of the same nature with the Ens Veneris,
elegantly prepared by sublimation from equal quantities of
lapis haematites and sal ammoniac.
ARPINAS, or Arpino, Giuseppe Cesare, a famous
painter, born in the year 1560, at the castle of Arpinas, in
the kingdom of Naples. He lived in great intimacy with
Pope Clement VIII. who conferred upon him the honour
4 Q
674 ARE
Arpino of knighthood, and many other marks of friendship. His
li paintings of Roman history are the most esteemed of all his
works. He died at Rome in 1640.
ARPINO (the ancient Arpinum), a town of Naples, in
the province of Terra di Lavoro, pleasantly situated on an
eminence 6 miles south of Sora. It has a considerable trade,
and manufactures woollen cloth, leather, parchment, and
paper. In the vicinity is an extensive paper mill which
gives employment to 200 persons. Pop. 11,000. This was
a very celebrated city of the Volsci,and afterwards came into
the possession of the Samnites, from whom it was taken by
the Romans in b.c. 305. During the latter period of the
Roman Republic it was a flourishing municipal town ; but
it is chiefly distinguished as the birthplace of two of the
most illustrious men in Roman history, Caius Marius, and
Marcus Tullius Cicero. The latter frequently alludes to
Arpinum in his letters, and describes the inhabitants as rustic
and simple in their manners, but possessing many virtues.
His favourite villa was situated in a plain beneath the town,
on the banks of the little river Fibrenus. Remains of the
walls and of the ancient city are still to be seen.
ARQUA, a market-town of Austrian Italy, among the
Euganean hills, in the delegation of, and 12 miles south-west
from, Padua. Pop. 1000. Here Petrarch resided during the
latter years of his life, and here he died on the 19th July,
1374. “His ashes are preserved in the churchyard of the
town, in a sarcophagus of red marble, raised on four pilasters
on an elevated base, and preserved from an association with
meaner tombs.”—
“ They keep his dust in Arqua where he died;
The mountain village where his latter days
Went down the vale of years; and ’tis their pride—
An honest pride—and let it be their praise.
To offer to the passing stranger’s gaze
His mansion and his sepulchre ; both plain
And venerably simple, such as raise
A feeling more accordant with his strain
Than if a pyramid formed his monumental fane.”
“ The house in which Petrarch resided is on the edge of
a little knoll overlooking two descents, and commanding a
view, not only of the glowing gardens in the dales imme¬
diately beneath, but of the wide plains, above whose low
woods of mulberry and willow, thickened into a dark mass
by festoons of vines, tall single cypresses and the spires of
towers are seen in the distance which stretches to the mouth
of the Po and the shores of the Adriatic. The chair in
which the poet breathed his last is still shown among the
precious relics of Arqua.”—Childe Harold, canto iv. st. 31,
and note 9.
ARQUES, a small decayed town of France, department
of Seine Inferieure, on a navigable river of the same name,
3 miles south-east of Dieppe. It was once a very consider¬
able place, and its castle, now in ruins, was an important
stronghold in the middle ages. In the vicinity of this town
Henri IV., with about 6000 or 7000 men, gained a victory
over the army of the league, consisting of 30,000, com¬
manded by the Duke of Mayenne, on the 21st Sept. 1589.
The victory was severely contested, and Henri had en¬
countered many personal dangers, when the arrival of the
Count of Chatillon at the head of 500 arquebusiers decided
the fate of the day.
ARRACAN, a maritime province of Eastern India. It
was formerly an independent kingdom, but fell by conquest
to the Burmese in 1783, and was by them ceded to the
British in 1826. It is distributed into the districts of Ak-
yab, Ramree, and Sandoway; and is bounded by the Chit¬
tagong district on the north, from which it is separated by
the small river Naaf; by the Yoomadoung range of moun¬
tains on the east, dividing it from Ava and the British dis-
trict of Pegu; and on the south and west by the Bay of Ben-
A R R
gal. It lies between Lat. 16.2. and 21.33.; and Long. 92.10. A rracan.
and 94. 50. Its length from its northern extremity to Cape ^
Negrais is about 400 miles; its greatest breadth is in the
northern part, where it falls little short of 90 miles, but it
gradually diminishes towards the south, until at the extreme
point it tapers to a narrow strip not more than 15 miles
across. The coast is studded with several islands, the most
important and fertile of which are Cheduba, Ramree, and
Shapoora. The Yoomadoung Mountains, forming part of
the great chain stretching southward from Assam, attain a
considerable elevation, averaging in this part from 3000 to
4000 feet, while one portion of the range called the Blue
Mountain, situate about Lat. 22. 37. Long. 93. 11., rises
8000 feet above the level of the sea. Over these mountains
there are several passes; that called the Aeng route, which
leads from the village of that name to the Burmese capital,
being superior to any of the others. On the summit of the
ridge by this route, and immediately on the frontier line be¬
tween the British and Ava territories, the Burmese had con¬
structed the stockade of Nariengain. The fortification was
originally of little consequence, deriving its importance solely
from its position, which commanded the ascent as well from
the side of Ava as from that of Arracan; but during the war
of 1852 the Burmese had so added to the strength of the
works that the place was deemed unassailable, except by
mortars and rockets. A small force, however, under the
command of Captain Nuthall, accompanied by Captain Suth¬
erland, succeeded, on the night of the 6th January 1853, in
arriving unobserved within a short distance of the spot. After
a brief pause the men moved silently towards the stockade,
and it being ascertained that the garrison were asleep, orders
were given to charge the gate in force, and the fort regarded
as impregnable was thus captured by surprise.
The principal rivers of the province are the Myoo, Ku-
ladyne or Arracan River, Leyryo, Talak, and Ayeng. A
range of hills of no great height skirts the sea-shore; and the
adjacent valleys are covered with thick jungle, and filled with
wild animals, among which are the elephant, tiger, leopard,
bison, and wild hog; but the natural history of Arracan has
not received much attention, and the cursory notices of tra¬
vellers afford the only existing information. Owing to the
moist temperature (the periodical rains continuing from May
till October, and occasionally to December) this tract of
country is frequently flooded; and being much intersected
by rivers and inlets of the sea, communication between the
villages is generally maintained by means of boats. The soil
is fertile, but the frequent rains and exhalations under the
burning sun of the tropics are adverse to the European con¬
stitution. The staple produce is rice, of which the crops
are represented as being the richest in India, and affording,
in addition to the demand for home consumption, a large sur¬
plus for exportation. The other chief productions are sugar,
cotton, tobacco, hemp, and indigo. The fruits, which are
abundant and of superior quality, comprise pine-apples, plan¬
tains, mangoes, jacks, sweet limes, cocoa-nuts, and others re¬
quiring a tropical climate. The forests produce an abun¬
dance of excellent timber, the principal trees being oak and
teak; but owing to the difficulty of conveyance from the
hills, timber is usually imported from the district of Bas-
sein. Salt is produced in great plenty by solar evaporation,
and forms a principal article of exportation. Limestone is
procured from the adjacent islands.
The aboriginal inhabitants of Arracan are termed Mughs,
who with Burmans, Mussulmans, sundry hill-tribes, and im¬
migrants from various places, constitute the population. If,
as is generally believed, the increasing numbers of a people
indicate a wise and benevolent government, Arracan bears
testimony to the character of that under which it has been
placed. At the period of its occupation by the British the
population did not exceed 100,000. In 1831 it had increased
Arran.
ARE
Arrack to 173,000, and i.i 1839 to 248,000. It is now upwards of
321,000. The Hughs follow in their religion the Bhuddist
doctrines which are universally maintained throughout Bur-
mah. The priests are selected from all classes of men, and
one of their chief employments is the education of children.
Instruction is consequently widely diffused, and few persons,
it is said, are found in the province who are unable to read.
I he qualifications for entering into the priestly order are
good conduct and a fair measure of learning; such conduct
at least as is good, according to Bhuddish tenets, and such
learning as is esteemed among their votaries. Polygamy is
in general practice.
The natives of Arracan trace their history as far back as
a.d. /01, and give a lineal succession of 120 native princes
down to modern times. According to them their empire
had at one period far wider limits, and extended over Ava,
part of China, and a portion of Bengal. This extension of
their empire is not, however, corroborated by any known
facts in history. At different times the Moguls and Pe-
guers carried their arms into the heart of the country. The
Portuguese, during the era of their greatness in Asia, gained
a temporary establishment in Arracan. But in 1783 the
province was finally conquered by the Burmese; from which
period until its cession to the British in 1826 under the
treaty of \ andaboo, its history forms part of that of Burmah.
I he old city of Arracan, formerly the capital of the pro¬
vince, is situate on an inferior branch of the Kuladyne River.
Its remoteness from the ports and harbours of the country,
combined with the extreme unhealthiness of its locality,
have led to its gradual decay subsequently to the formation
of the comparatively recent settlement of Akyab, which
place is now the chief town of the province. Arracan is dis¬
tant north-east from Akyab fifty miles ; Lat. 20. 42. Lone-.
93.24. (E.T.)fe
ARRACK. In India every kind of spirituous liquor is
known under the general appellation of arrack; and hence
the various accounts given of the mode of making it, and
the materials used. The manufacture of arrack was for¬
merly carried on by the Portuguese at Goa, but has been
transferred for the most part from that place to Batavia.
At Goa there are different kinds ; single, double, and
treble distilled. The double distilled, which is lhat com¬
monly sent abroad, is weak compared with Batavia arrack ;
yet, on account of its peculiar and agreeable flavour, is pre¬
ferred to all the other arracks of India. This flavour is at¬
tributed to the earthen vessels used to draw the spirit;
whereas at Batavia they use copper stills.
The Pariah arrack made at Madras, and the Columbo
and Quilone arrack at other places, being fiery, hot spirits,
are little valued by the Europeans, though highly prized
among the natives.
1 he Goa arrack is obtained by a double process of dis¬
tillation from a vegetable juice called toddy, which flow's by
incision from the cocoa-nut tree. The liquor thus ob¬
tained holds but a sixth, and sometimes an eighth part of
alcohol, or pure spirit.
Batavia arrack is obtained by distillation from rice and
sugar. A fiery spirit called samshew, which is mixed w'ith
airack, is imported into Batavia from China, chiefly for the
use of the Chinese settlers.
ARRAGON. See Aiiagon.
ARRAIGNMEN1, in Law, the arraigning or setting a
thing in older, as a person is said to arraign a writ of novel
disseisin, who prepares and fits it for trial; but this term
more properly denotes the calling of a person to answer in
form of law upon an indictment, &c.
ARRAN, an island on the west coast of Scotland, near
the mouth of the river Clyde, which forms part of the county
of Bute. It is about 20 miles in length, by from 8 to 11 in
breadth, and contains a superficial area of 165 square miles,
ARE
or 105,814 acres, of which about 14,431 are cultivated.
Phis island is of an extremely rugged and mountainous sur¬
face, particularly in the northern part, in which the valleys
are deep and romantic. The principal mountain is Goatfell,
which rises, according to accurate measurement, 2945 feet
above the level of the sea, and is clothed with lichens and
mosses. A few others approach to the same elevation. There
are five small lakes and several streamlets in the island.
The quadrupeds are not numerous. A few red deer, the re¬
mains, it is said, of a numerous breed, still find shelter among the
mountains; and wild goats are still harboured in those parts. The
cattle and sheep, which were formerly small, have been improved
by the introduction of a larger breed. The birds are, eagles,
hooded crows, plovers, curlews, black cock, and other species of
grouse, which are exceedingly numerous in the mountains. Ptar¬
migans, which were formerly seen, have now disappeared. Lime¬
stone, marl, and slate, are found in different parts, and there are
also indications of coal ; while in the mountains are found marble,
jasper, agates, cairngorms, and a fine species of rock-crystal called
the Arran diamond. A considerable manufacture of sulphate of
baryta as a pigment has been carried on in Glen Sannox for se¬
veral years. The geology of the island is an epitome of that of
Scotland. The mountains of the north, especially Goatfell, con¬
sist of granite, covered on the flanks by mica slate, a red sand¬
stone conglomerate, especially on the eastern shores, and may be
traced easily around the whole island. On the eastern side car¬
boniferous lime is found at several points, chiefly at Corrie, where
several strata divided by shale, resting on a white sandstone, are
quarried. In the southern part of the island an extensive trap
formation is the chief visible rock. Several beds of anthracite
were formerly worked on the north-east coast. This coal forma¬
tion rested on the red sandstone, and was covered by white sand¬
stone. Numerous veins of most beautiful pitchstone and pitchstone
porphyry traverse the red sandstone, especially at Drimodoon, and
between Erodick and Lamlash. Shoals of herring frequent the
shores, and the herring fishery is prosecuted to a great extent, no
fewer than 200 fishing-vessels, well-manned and properly fitted out,
and belonging to the island, being employed in it. Arran has two
remarkably fine harbours, Lamlash on the east, and Loch Uanza on
the north-west side. Flax is cultivated in small quantities, and
linens and some woollens are manufactured. About two-thirds of
the island belong to the Duke of Hamilton, who takes much interest
in its improvement, and has expended a considerable sum in mak¬
ing roads, bridges, and small harbours.
Erodick Castle, beautifully situated on an eminence surrounded
by waving plantations, remained in ruins until the year 1845, when
its noble proprietor, the Duke of Hamilton, completed, with great
good taste, its reconstruction on the model of the ancient fortress.
At the time of the memorable interregnum when Edward I. was
endeavouring to crush the spirited efforts of Wallace and Eruce for
the independence of their country, it was taken and held by the
English under Sir John Hastings. It did not, however, remain
long in their possession; “for James, Lord Douglas, who accom¬
panied Eruce to his retreat in Eachrin, seems in the spring of 1306
to have tired of his abode there, and set out accordingly, in the
phrase of the times, to see what adventure God would send him.
Sir Robert Eoyd accompanied him; and his knowledge of the lo¬
calities of Arran appears to have directed his course thither. They
landed on the island privately, and appear to have laid an ambush
for Sir John Hastings, the English Governor of Erodick, and sur¬
prised a considerable supply of arms and provisions, and nearly
took the castle itself. When they were joined by Eruce, it seems
probable that they had gained Erodick Castle. At least tradition
says that from the battlements of the tower he saw the supposed
signal fire on Turnberry nook.” After the settlement of the Scot¬
tish crown by Bruce, the castle of Erodick, as well as the greater
part of Arran, was the property of the High Steward of Scotland,
who, by failure of male-heirs to Eruce, succeeded to the throne
under the title of Robert II. In 1455, it was stormed and levelled
to the ground by the Earl of Ross, who had espoused the cause of
the Earl of Douglas against his sovereign. Its next possessor was
Sir Thomas Eoyd, a court favourite, who married King James I.’s
eldest sister, and received from that monarch the earldom of Arran
as her marriage dowry. On the disgrace of the Eoyds, Sir Thomas
was divorced from his royal sjtouse, and the princess’s hand, with
her earldom of Arran, bestowed upon Lord Hamilton, in whose
family, with the exception of a few interruptions, it has remained
until this day.
Erodick Bay is a beautifully curved plain, girt with a beach of
sand, and ornamented with neat cottages and villas, flourishing
plantations, and cultivated fields, which, as they retire inwards,
675
Arran.
676 ARB.
Arran Isles are met by the wildly-contrasting valleys of Glenrosa, Glensheraig,
|| and Glencloy. In Glencloy are the remains of an ancient fort,
Arras, which tradition points out as having afforded shelter to Bruce’s
^ ^ ^ partizans, who had arrived in Arran before himself, while Brodick
Castle was in the possession of the English ; and at the head of the
glen there are also the supposed remains of a Druidical circle.
About five miles from Brodick, in the middle of a beautiful semi¬
circular bay, lies the neat little village of Lamlash. Sheltered by
the Holy Island—an irregular cone 900 feet high—this bay forms
an excellent harbour for the accommodation of ships of all sizes,
while its surrounding scenery cannot be beheld without delight by
all lovers of the picturesque.
The Holy Isle was once the site of an ancient cathedral, said to
have been founded by St Molios, a disciple of St Columba, who not
considering the discipline of Iona sufficiently rigid, retired for
greater seclusion to this lonely isle, whence he carried the light of
Christianity among the pagan inhabitants of Arran.
Behind the village of Lamlash are Glens Alaster and Meneadmar,
at the head of which may be seen the remains of an ancient sepul¬
chral cairn, measuring 200 feet in circumference. It is believed
to cover the ashes of those who fell in a battle fought upon the
spot; as on removing some of the stones, several stone coffins were
found buried underneath. At the southerly point of the bay, about
three miles from Lamlash, is King’s-cross Point, whence itobert
Bruce is said to have embarked for the coast of Garrick.
Near the basaltic promontory of Drimodoon, there are a number
of water-worn caves, one of which, called the King’s Cave, is famed
for having been the residence of the patriot Bruce on his first ar¬
rival in the island. It is 114 feet long, 44 broad, and 47J high.
Some of the other caves are equally large ; one is called the King’s
Kitchen ; another his cellar; and a third his stable. The hill above
the caves is called the King’s Hill, from its connexion with Bruce.
At the northern side of this hill, on the farm of Tormore, are the
remains of a very perfect and interesting Druidical circle, called
Suidhe choirr’ Fhionn, or Fingal’s Cauldron-seat.
Loch Ranza is about a mile in length, and, during the fishing sea¬
son, is a place of great resort, 300 boats sometimes lying at anchor in
the bay at the same time. The ruins of Loch Ranza Castle stand
upon a small peninsula near the entrance of the Loch. This castle
is not heard of until the year 1380, when it is enumerated among
the royal castles, as a hunting-seat of the Scottish sovereigns. The
roof having fallen in, it is now fast falling into decay.
Off the south-east point of Arran lies the low rocky islet of Pladda,
with a lighthouse having two fixed lights, 130 and 77 feet above
high-water, and visible 16 and 13 miles respectively, in clear wea¬
ther. Lat. 55. 25. N. Long. 5. 7. W. Pop. in 1851, 8203.
Arran Isles, a group of small islands off the coast of
Galway in Ireland, constituting the barony of Arran. They
are sometimes called South Arran, to distinguish them from
the island of Arranmore or North Arran, in the county of
Donegal. The three principal islands of the group are Ar¬
ranmore or Inishmore, Inishmain, and Inishere. On the
first is a lighthouse exhibiting a bright revolving light, 498
feet above high-water mark. Lat. 53. 7. 38. N. Long. 9.
42. 22. W. rI he bay of Killany, to the N. of the village of
that name, is the principal harbour in the group. The in¬
habitants of these islands, amounting in 1851 to 3333, are
employed in fishing and agriculture, and are much behind in
education and improvement. The area of the whole group
is 11,287 acres.
1 he Arran islands abound in antiquities and religious re¬
mains, and are said to have contained at one time no less
, than 20 churches and monastic establishments. Most of
these were in the island of Inishmore, called by the natives
the Island of the Saints. The circular fort of Dun-Angus,
built of uncemented stones on a cliff overhanging the sea, is
the most striking of these ancient remains. The holy wells,
altars, groves, &c., are still visited by numbers of enthusias¬
tic devotees.
ARRAS (the Nemetacum of the Romans), a fortified
city of France, chief town of the arrondissement of the same
name, and also of the department of Pas de Calais, and for¬
merly capital of the province of Artois. It is situated on
both sides of the Scarpe, where that river receives the
Crinchon, 32 miles north-east of Amiens, and 100 miles
N.N.E. of Paris. The town is well built, and adorned with
many handsome edifices, such as the town-house, cathedral,
A R R
citadel, arsenal, barracks, theatre, &c. Its fine old Gothic Arraswise
cathedral was utterly destroyed during the revolutionary |]
phrenzy. It is the seat of a bishop, and of a court of assize; Arreoys.
and has a royal society, a college, a diocesan seminarv, an Vs—,“
institution for the deaf and dumb, and schools of design
and belles lettres. It has also a public library of 36,000
volumes, a picture gallery, museum, and botanical garden.
Its chief manufactures are lace, woollens, hosiery, beet-root
sugar, salt, soap, and earthenware ; with a considerable
general trade in wine, oil, grain, sugar, &c. The river
Scarpe is navigable up to the town. Arras is the birth¬
place of the assassin Damiens, the two brothers Robespierre,
and Lebon. Pop. in 1846, 24,321. Lat. 50. 17. 31. N.
Long. 2. 46. 49. E.
Arras is very ancient, and was the chief town of the Atre-
bates as early as the time of Caesar. (See Atrebatii.) In
407 it was destroyed by the Vandals, and afterwards by the
Normans in 880. It gives name to a treaty concluded here
between France and Burgundy in 1435, and to another in
1482, between Maximilian of Austria and Louis XL of
France, by which Burgundy and Artois were given to
the Dauphin as a marriage portion. In 1493 it came again
into the possession of Maximilian. In 1640 the troops of
Louis XIII. took Arras; and by the peace of the Pyrenees in
1659, France was confirmed in the possession of the town.
ARRASWISE, in Heraldry, is used for the placing of
any object of a square form in such a position as to exhibit
a perspective view of its top and two of its sides.
ARRAY, in Law, the ranking or setting forth of a jury,
or inquest of men impannelled on a cause.
ARRAYERS, Arragers, or Arraitores, is used in
some ancient statutes for such officers as had charge of the
soldiers’ armour, and their proper accoutrement. In some
reigns commissioners were appointed for this purpose.
A R R E N T A TI O N, in the forest laws, implies the li¬
censing the owner of lands in a forest to inclose them with
a low hedge and a small ditch, in consideration of a yearly
rent.
ARREOYS. Among the more singular secret societies
which mankind have formed, was one in Otaheite and the
neighbouring islands for the destruction of their own species,
called Arreoy, Arehoe, or Earowie.
Whether Mendana, Quiros, and the earlier navigators of
the South Pacific Ocean, discovered this society, does not
appear: it was, at any rate, reserved for those of later date
to unfold its principles and peculiarities, though its consti¬
tution is still enveloped in mystery, the members having
been bound to the strictest secrecy.
The society of Arreoys consisted of hundreds or perhaps thou¬
sands of both sexes, who engaged to destroy their own offspring at
the moment of birth. It was chiefly composed of persons distin¬
guished by valour and merit, and hence one or more individuals of
each family of the chiefs were of the number. All the men pro¬
fessed themselves warriors, and were in general stout and well made;
the greatest trust and confidence were reposed in them; and it ra¬
ther appears that the women consisted of the higher ranks only.
There were different gradations in this community, which were re¬
cognized by the mode of tattooing: the more profusely the men
were tattooed, the higher was their rank in society ; the first were
called Ava bly areema tutowe; 2. Areema bly ; 3. Ahowhoa ,• 4. llar-
rotea ; 5. Eote ole; 6, 7- Po ; and youths training up were designed
Mo; hut the meaning of these names is not explained. By the
fundamental laws of the society, the offspring must be destroyed,
yet it is not known with certainty by whom or in what particular
manner; the murder was always perpetrated in secret, probably
by strangulation; all the attendants were excluded ; for it is said,
were they to witness it they would be adjudged guilty of participa¬
tion, and put to death. Sometimes the mother, animated by na¬
tural affection, tried to preserve her infant, and resisted the per¬
suasions of her husband and his brother Arreoys, who wished to
consign it to destruction. But in general the enormity of the
crime did not appal the females, though they are ascribed as affec¬
tionate and tender. We find a dancing girl pregnant by an Arreoy
expressing herself thus to the English navigators : “ Perhaps the
A R R
Arrest. Etooa or deity of England might be offended with the practices of
the Arreoys, but her own was not displeased with them. However,
she promised if we would come from England for her child, she might
perhaps keep it alive, provided we gave her a hatchet, a shirt, and
some red feathers.' ’ That the rules of the community were very strict,
may he inferred from an instance given by Captain Bligh. A chief,
a member of the society, married a sister of the king of Otaheite, by
whom he had eight children, and the whole were destroyed at their
birth! Nor did this enormity seem to originate from any other
source, as the parents afterwards adopted a nephew as their heir.
Probably the murderous practices of the Arreoys in the South
Sea Islands originated in some religious principle; but it is the
mission and the glory of Christianity to abolish the enormities of
heathenism. Through the patient labours of Christian missionaries
in Otaheite and other islands of the Pacific, many of the natives
have been converted to Christianity; and such has been the influ-
ence on society at large, that the revolting practices of the Arreoys,
with the monstrous and cruel rites of idolatry, have been banished
trom the islands which have been visited with the purifying light
of tje gospel.—See Ellis’s Polynesian Researches, vol. i.
ARRES I (from the French arrester, arreter, to stop or
stay)> the restraint of a man’s person, for the purpose of
compelling him to be obedient to the law, and is defined to
be the execution of the command of some court of record
or officer of justice.
At rests are either in civil or in criminal cases.
. As to an arrest in civil cases. The arrest must be by
virtue of a precept or order out of some court, and must be
eftected by corporal seizing or touching the defendant’s
body, or as directed by the writ, capias et attachias, take
and catch hold of. And if the defendant make his escape,
it is a rescous or rescue, and attachment may be had against
him, and the bailiff may then justify the breaking open of
the house in which he is, to carry him away.
Arrests on mesne process, before judgment obtained, are,
since the 1st and 2d Viet., c. 110, no longer allowable, ex-
cept under special circumstances and under the authority
of a judge’s order. Such order maybe obtained on an affi¬
davit to the satisfaction of the judge that the defendant is
about to leave the country.
A judgment creditor may arrest his debtor under a writ
of capias ad satisfaciendum, but since the 7th and 8th
Viet., c. 96, the debt must exceed L.20, exclusive of costs;
and if the debtor does not make satisfaction he must remain
in custody, until discharged under the acts for the relief of
insolvent debtors.
Ihe following persons are privileged from arrest: 1st,
1 cers of the realm ; members of parliament, not only when
the house is sitting, but for such a period before the first
meeting and after the dissolution of a parliament as may
enable them conveniently to come from and return to any
part of the kingdom, and also for 40 days after every proro¬
gation, and 40 days before the next appointed meeting.
2d, Peeresses by birth; peers of Scotland; peeresses by
marriage ; Irish peers ; members of convocation actually at¬
tending thereon (8th Henry VI., c. 1). 3d, Bishops ; am¬
bassadors, or the domestic servant of an ambassador, really
and bona fide acting in that capacity (7th Anne, c. 12) ; the
*>ueen s servants, marshal, &c. \th. Attorneys, witnesses
subpoenaed, suitors, and all other persons, while necessarily
attending the courts of justice, or going to or from the same
(pundo, morando, et redeundo). 5lh, Clergymen, perform¬
ing divine service, and not merely staying in the church
with a fraudulent design (50th Edward III., c. 5, and 1st
Richard 11., c. 16, as amended by 9th Geo. IV., c. 31).
1 lie arrest of any privileged person is irregular ab initio,
and the party may be discharged on motion. The only ex¬
ception is as to indictable crimes, such as “ treason, felony,
and breach or surety of the peace.”
There are now no longer any places where persons are
privileged from arrest, such as the Mint, Savoy, White-
friars, cVc., on the ground of their being ancient palaces.
See statutes 8th and 9th Will. HI., c. 27, § 15 : 9th Geo. L,
A R R
c. 28, § 1 ; 11th Geo. I., c. 22; as amended by 1st Geo-
IV., c. 116. J
Except in cases of treason, felony, or breach of the peace,
an arrest cannot be made on a Sunday, and if made it is
void (29th Car. II., c. 7); but it may be made in the night
as well as in the day.
II. As to an arrest in criminal cases. All persons what¬
soever are, without distinction, equally liable to this arrest
and any man may arrest without warrant or precept, and
outer doors may be broken open for that purpose.
The arrest may be made, 1st, by warrant; 2d, by an
officer without warrant; 3d, by a private person without
warrant; or, Ath, by a hue and cry.
1. Warrants are ordinarily granted by justices of the
peace on information or complaint in writing and upon oath,
and they must be indorsed when it is intended they should be
executed in another county (see 11 th and 12th Viet, c. 42).
They are also granted in cases of treason or other offence
affecting the government by the privy council, or one of the
secretaries of state, and also by the chief or other justice of
the court of Queen’s bench in cases of felony, misdemea¬
nour, or indictment found, or criminal information granted
in that court.
2. The officers who may arrest without warrant are,—
justices of the peace, for felony or breach of the peace com¬
mitted in their presence; the sheriff and the coroner in
their county for felony; constables for treason, felony, or
breach of the peace committed in their view,—and within the
metropolitan police district they have even larger powers ;
and watchmen from sunset to sunrise.
3. A private person is bound to arrest for a felony com¬
mitted in his presence, under penalty of fine and imprison¬
ment.
4. The arrest by hue and cry is where officers and private
persons are concerned in pursuing felons, and such as have
dangerously wounded another.
The remedy for a wrongful arrest is by an action for false
imprisonment. (R. M. ,M-j
In Scotland the law of arrest in criminal procedure has
a general constitutional analogy with that of England,
though the practice differs with the varying character of the
judicatories. Colloquially the word arrest is used in com-
pulsory procedure for the recovery of debt; but the techni¬
cal term applicable in that department is Caption, and the
law on the subject is generically different from that of Eng¬
land. I here never was a practice in Scottish law corre¬
sponding with the English arrest in mesne process; but by
old custom a warrant for caption could be obtained where a
creditor made oath that he had reason to believe his debtor
meditated flight from the country, and the writ so issued
is called a warrant against a person in meditationsfugee. Im¬
prisonment of old followed on ecclesiastical cursing, and by
fiction of law in later times it was not the creditor’s remedy,
but the punishment of a refractory person denounced rebel
for disobedience to the injunctions of the law requiring ful¬
filment of his obligation. The system was reformed and
stripped of its cumbrous fictions by an act of the year 1837.
Althougth the proceedings against the person could only
follow on completed process, yet, by a peculiarity of the
Scottish law, documents executed with certain formalities,
and by special statute bills and promissory-notes, can be re¬
gistered in the records of a court for execution against the
person as if they were judgments of the court. In 1835
imprisonment for debts not exceeding a hundred pounds
Scots or L.8, 6s. 8d. was abolished. (j. h. b.)
Arrest of Judgment is the assigning just reason why
judgment should not pass, notwithstanding verdict given,
either in civil or in criminal cases, and from intrinsic causes
arising on the face of the record.
Under the New Common Law Procedure Act, 15th and
677
Arrest of
Judgment.
678 A K R
Arrest- 16th Viet, c. 76, § 143, the omitted facts, however, may,
raent leave of the court, be suggested. Although these mo-
Arrian. ^ons are no^ abolished altogether, they will therefore not
- ^ , j be fatal as heretofore, but the truth of the suggested facts
omitted will be tried and judgment be given thereon;
and this judgment will have the same effect, under sec¬
tion 144, as if the suggested facts were in the original
pleadings. (r. m—m.)
ARRESTMENT, in Scottish Lmv, denotes that process
by which a creditor detains the goods or effects of his debtor
in the hands of third parties till the debt due to him shall be
paid. It is divided into two kinds,—\st, Arrestment in se¬
curity, used when proceedings are commencing, or in other
circumstances where a claim may become, but is not yet
enforceable; and 2d, Arrestment in execution, following on
the decree of a court, or on a registered document under a
clause or statutory power of registration, according to the
custom of Scotland. By the process of arrestment, the pro¬
perty covered by it is merely retained in its place—to realize
it for the satisfaction of the creditor’s claim a farther proceed¬
ing called Forthcoming is necessary. By old practice, ali¬
mentary funds, or those necessary for subsistence, were not
liable to arrestment. By a statute of 1837, the wages of
labourers and manufacturers, so far as necessary to their sub¬
sistence, are declared not to be arrestable. The question
of necessity for subsistence is decided according to the dis¬
cretion of the judge resorted to. This restriction was
enacted on account of serious doubts whether this remedy,
unknown in other parts of the empire, did not tend to foster
a system of credit among the working classes, which put
them at the mercy of petty dealers, and disturbed the busi¬
ness of their employers, in whose hands their wages were
arrested. It is still a question much debated, whether the
remedy—limited though it be by the act of 1837, and by an
act of 1845, abolishing arrestments of wages in dependence
in small-debt actions—is not liable to abuse. (j. n. u.)
ARRHiE, money given by the purchaser in evidence of
the completion of a bargain. Hence the Scottish term
Arles, which, however, is not recognized in law.
ARRIA, the heroic wife of Caccina Paetus, who, when
her husband was ordered by the Emperor Claudius to de¬
stroy himself and hesitated to do so, stabbed herself, and
presented the dagger to him with these words—“ Peete,
non dolet"—(Paetus, it does not pain me).—Plin. Ep. iii.
Dion Cass. lx.
ARRIAN (’Appiavos), a distinguished Greek historian
and philosopher, who lived in the time of the Emperors Ha¬
drian, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius. He was a
native of Nicomedia, born about the end of the first century
of our era, and was one of the most distinguished disciples
of the famous Epictetus. In a.d. 124, he lived at Athens,
where he made the acquaintance of the Emperor Hadrian,
who was so much struck with his practical wisdom as to raise
him to several high offices; and under Antoninus he obtained
even the consulship. The only other event of his life of
which we know anything is, that he was appointed governor
of Cappadocia. Arrian himself proudly disdains giving us
any information of himself; and his life, written by Dion
Cassius, is lost.
History and philosophy are greatly indebted to Arrian;
for, being a disciple of Epictetus, who himself did not write
any work, Arrian determined to be to him what Xenophon
had been to Socrates, and published his philosophical lec¬
tures in eight books, of which only the first half is extant;
but the portion which has come down to us gives us a most
exalted view of the ethical philosophy of Epictetus and the
Stoics generally. The work bears the title AtarptySat
'ETTLKTrjTov, and is contained in Schweighaiiser’s Philoso¬
phic Epictetece Monumenta, vol. iii. A second work, bv
which Arrian testified his attachment to his great master,
A R R
bears the title 'Ev^apltitov ’Ettik-tt/tov, a short manual of moral Arriaza
philosophy, compiled from the lectures of Epictetus, which II
for many centuries was regarded both by Pagans and Chris- Arrow-
tians as the best book on the subject. It has been published ^root'
in a great many editions : the best is in the collection of v~"*~
Schweighaiiser, mentioned above.
Among Arrian’s own original works, the first and foremost
is his account of the expedition of Alexander the Great in
seven books. It contains the best and most authentic ac¬
count of that conqueror’s career, being based upon the lost
works of Aristobulus and Ptolemy, the son of Lagus, both
of whom accompanied the king during the expedition. The
best editions of this work are those by J. Gronovius, Eugd.
Bat. 1704, fob; Schmieder, Lipsiae, 1798, 8vo ; and Krii-
ger, Berlin, 1839 and 1848, 2 vols. 8vo. Connected with
this is a treatise on India, in the Ionic dialect, which he wrote
separately, in order not to be obliged to interrupt the history
of Alexander. Besides these works, we have by him a work
on the chase, a periplus of the Black Sea, and a manual of
tactics ; but many other works, which are ascribed to him
by the ancients, have not come down to us ; certain descrip¬
tions of the coasts of the Sea of Azov and the Red Sea,
which are ascribed to him, are probably the productions of
a later period.
Arrian’s style is simple, lucid, and manly ; and his imita¬
tion of Xenophon is visible, not only in his style and diction,
but even in the subjects on which he wrote. His language,
though pure Attic, presents some peculiarities which are not
found in the works of his great model. (i„. s.)
ARRIAZA, Juan Bautista, a modern Spanish poet of
considerable reputation, was born in 1770, at Madrid. He
published his Primicias, an anonymous volume, in 1797. He
was secretary to the Spanish embassy at London, where he
wrote his Emilia. He then went at Paris ; returned home
in 1807 ; and became a violent partizan of the service party,
attacking the Cortes and the patriots in prose and verse in
his Ehscursos Politicos, and Poesias Patrioticas. His style
is better than his subject, and his verses display harmony and
expression. He died in 1837 at Madrid.
ARRIEGE. See Ariege.
ARRIS. See Architecture.
Arris-Fillet, or Tilting-fillet, a triangular piece of
wood used to raise the slates or lead of a roof against the
shaft of a chimney or a wall, in order to throw oft’ the rain
more readily. The term arris is also applied to a wooden
gutter in the form of a V.
ARROE, a small fruitful island in the Baltic, 10 miles
south of'Fuhnen. It is 14 miles long, averagings in breadth,
and has a population of 10,000. It belongs to Denmark.
Eat. 54. 54. N. Long. 10. 20. E.
ARROW, a missile weapon of offence, slender pointed
and sometimes barbed, to be cast or shot with a bow. See
Archery.
Amiow-Mahers were formerly called/ZefcAer.?, and, as well
as bowyers, were persons of great consequence in the com¬
monwealth.
Arrow, more properly Arree, Root, is the name given
to the farina obtained from two species of Scytaminean
plants, Maranta arundinacea, and M. indica ; the former
coming to us from the warmer regions of the New World,
the other from the East Indies. It is largely used as a food
for infants, and for persons with delicate stomachs, or sub¬
ject to diarrhoea. It is a pure starch, soluble in cold water,
and forms a viscid, clear solution with warm water. With
milk it forms an excellent pudding.
The quantity of arrowroot imported to Britain in 1852,
from British possessions, was 364 cwt. 3 qr. 18 lb.; from
foreign countries, 736 cwt. 3 qr. 4 lb. Till 1853 there was
a duty of 6d. per cwt. on the former, and 2s. 6d. on the
latter, now reduced to the uniform rate of 4^d.
Arrow-
smith
u
Arson.
A R S
ARROWSMITH, Aaron, an eminent geographer and
hydrographer, born at London in 1750. He published, in
181 (, a new General Atlas, 4to, and produced a great num-
j maps and charts. His map of the world on Merca¬
tor’s projection is much esteemed. He died in 1823.
ARSACES VI., otherwise Mithridates, a king of the
Paithians, spoken of in the First Book of Maccabees. Fie
considerably enlarged the kingdom of Parthia by his good
conduct and valour. Fhere were thirty-one kings of the
ynasty of the Arsacidse. See Vaillant, Arsacidarum im-
penum, sive regum, Parthorum historia ad Jidem numis-
matum accommodata. Paris, 1725.
ARSENAL (from the Romaunt arlhenal, a citadel),
originally denoted exclusively a magazine of naval stores and
warlike apparatus, giving probability to the etymology which
enves the word from the Latin arx navalis, a naval citadel.
Wow, however, the term is applied to a repository of warlike
stores, whether for land or sea service. The naval arsenals
are, however, still the more numerous, and will be found de-
scnbed at length under the article Dockyards.
1 he great arsenal of Britain (if we except the Tower) is
that of Woolwich, where all warlike stores and apparatus are
not only preserved, but manufactured in the immense build¬
ings devoted to the purpose. (See Woolwich.) Deptford
Chatham, Sheerness, Portsmouth, and Plymouth, are the
great naval arsenals. In France, there are military arsenals
at I ans, Strasburg, Metz, Lille, &c., and five great maritime
arsenals, the chief of which are those of Brest, Toulon, and
Rochefort; next to them L’Orient and Cherbourg. There
are also inferior arsenals at Dunkirk, Havre, Saint Servan
Nantes, Bordeaux, and Bayonne. The other principal
naval arsenals in Europe are those of Russia, at St Peters¬
burg Cronstadt, and Sebastopol; of Holland, at Anvers
Flushing, Helvoetsluys, and the Texel; of Prussia, at Dan
art
Zig ; of Hamburg; of Denmark, at Copenhagen ; of Tur¬
key, at Constantinople ; of Italy, at Genoa, Villa-franca, Li-
vorno, Spezzia, Civita Vecchia, Naples, Ancona, Venice
and Trieste ; of Spain, at Cadiz, Carthagena, and Barcelona’
and the British one at Gibraltar; of Portugal, at Lisbon ;
o Britain, at Malta and Corfu, &c. The principal naval
arsenals of the United States are at New York, Boston, and
Baltimore; of Brazil, at Rio Janeiro and Bahia; of La
1 lata, at Buenos Ayres and Monte Video; of Chili, at
Valparaiso; and of Mexico, at Vera Cruz.
ARSENIC, a metal, the salts of which are deadly poisons.
See Mineralogy, Medical Jurisprudence, and Index.
ARSENICS, a deacon of the Roman Church, of great
learning and piety. He was appointed by the pope to go to
the Emperor Theodosius, as tutor to his son Arcadius. Ar-
semus arrived at Constantinople in the year 383. The em¬
peror happening one day to go into the room where he was
instructing Arcadius, his son was seated and the preceptor
standing. At this he was exceedingly displeased, took from
his son the imperial ornaments, made Arsenius sit in his place,
and ordered Arcadius for the future to receive his lessons
standing uncovered. Arcadius, however, profited little by
his tutor s instructions, for some time after he formed a de¬
sign of despatching him. The officer to whom Arcadius had
applied for this purpose divulged the affair to Arsenius, who
retired to the deserts of Scete, where he passed many years
m °f devotion- He died at Tree, aged 95.
ARSEN OE, mother of Ptolemy L, was a concubine of Phi-
ip of Macedon, who gave her in marriage, while pregnant, to
>agus. I he name was afterwards borne by several of her
descendants, and was also given to various cities. See Egypt.
ARSON is the malicious and wilful burning of the house
or outhouse of another man, or wilfully setting fire to one’s
own house, if a neighbour’s house be also burnt.
. ^ 0 institute the offence, there must be an intent to in¬
jure or defraud some other person ; and, therefore, if a house
is fired by negligence or mischance, it does not amount to
arson, but is only a trespass.
The crime of arson attaches in the following instances
, ’ Unlawfully and maliciously setting fire to any dwellinsr-
house, any person being therein. For this crime the offender
is liable to the punishment of death. 2d, Unlawfully and
maliciously setting fire to any church or chapel, or to any
chapel for the religious worship of persons dissenting from
the united church of England and Ireland, or to any house
stable, coachhouse, outhouse, warehouse, office, shop, mill,
malthouse, hopsast, barn, or granary, or to any erection used
in carrying on any trade or manufacture, or any branch
theieof, whether in the possession of the offender or any
other person, with intent to injure or defraud any person.
1 he punishment for this offence is transportation for life, or
for not less than fifteen years, or of imprisonment not ex¬
ceeding three years (7th Will. IV., and 1st Viet., c. 89, § 2).
3g?, Unlawfully and maliciously setting fire to any hovel,
shed, or fold, not attached to any house, or to any farm¬
building, or any building or erection used in farming land,
or to any hay, straw, wood, or other vegetable produce, or to
any implements of husbandry, being in any farm-house or
farm-building, with intent to set fire to such farm-house or
farm-building, subject to the like punishment (7th and 8th
Viet., cap. 62). 4th, Unlawfully and maliciously setting fire
to any station, or other building belonging to any railway,
dock, canal, &c. tor this the punishment is transporta-
tion for life, or for not less than seven years, or impri¬
sonment, with or without hard labour, for not less than
three years (14th and 15th Viet., cap. 19, § 8). 5th, And
by the 9th and 10th Viet., cap. 25, § 7, any overt act to
attempt to set fire, with such intent that, if the offence
weic complete, the offender would be guilty of felony and
liable to transportation for life, shall be deemed felony,
with a punishment of transportation for fifteen years, or of
imprisonment for two years, although the same be not ac¬
tually set on fire. And every male offender, under the sta¬
tutes 7th and 8th Viet., cap. 62, and 9th and 10th Viet., cap.
25, if under the age of eighteen years, is also liable, at the
discretion of the court, in addition to any other sentence, to
be either publicly or privately whipped; Qth, Servants negli¬
gently or carelessly setting fire to houses or buildings, are
under the 14th Geo. III., cap. 78, § 84, liable to forfeit
-L.100, or in default, to be imprisoned for eighteen months
with hard labour.
. 1° Scotland, the offence equivalent to arson in England
is known by the more expressive name of wilful fire-raisino-.
Ihe later statutes cited above do not apply to Scotland
where the crime is punishable capitally by old consuetudi¬
nary law. The public prosecutor has the privilege, as in
other such cases, of declining to demand capital punishment,
and it is usual so to act when the burning has not taken place
under conditions likely to endanger life. (r.m—m.)
AkSURA, a term used in ancient times for the melt¬
ing of gold or silver, either to refine them or to examine
their value. Ihe method of doing this is explained in the
Black Look of the Exchequer, ascribed to Gervaise, in the
chapter De Ojficio Militis Argentarii, being in those days
of gieat use, on account of the various places and different
manners in which the king’s money w'as paid.
Arsura is also used for the loss or diminution of the
metal in the trial. In this sense a pound was said tot ardere
denarios, to lose so many pennyweights.
Arsura is likewise used for the dust and sweepings of
silversmiths, and others who work in silver melted down.
AR I and PART, in Scottish Law, the aiding or abetting
in the perpetration of a crime.
ARIA, a town of Albania in European Turkey, sand-
jak of Janina, situated on a river of the same name, and about
seven miles from the Gulf of Arta. It has several mosques,
680 A E T
Arta a number of Greek churches, a large cathedral, a ruined
II convent of the ninth century, now a caravansera; a citadel,
Artedi. some g00(j houses and shops ; and a fine old bridge over the
river, consisting of an arch eighty feet high, and several
smaller ones. It has about 8C00 inhabitants, with manufac¬
tures of coarse cottons and woollens, leather, capotes, and
embroidery ; and the general trade is considerable. It is
surrounded with gardens, orange-groves, and vineyards, and
there is much wood in its vicinity. Arta occupies the site
of the ancient Ambracia, and traces of its old walls are still
to be seen. See Ambracia.
Arta, Gulf of (the Ambracius Sinus of the ancients),
a gulf of the Ionian Sea, in Lat. 39. N. Long. 21. E., having
on the north Albania, and on the south and east Acarnania.
Its length is 25, and its greatest breadth 10 miles, with a
depth varying from 13 or 14 to 36 fathoms. Its entrance
is only 700 yards across, outside of which is a bar composed
of gravel, coarse sand, and sea-weed, with fifteen feet of
water when shallowest. The north shore is for the most part
low and swampy, and has encroached considerably on the
water: the southern shore consists of high land with bold
promontories, clothed with rich and extensive forests. It
has been long celebrated for its excellent fish, of which the
red and gray mullet are the most plentiful; and soles and
eels also abound. The famous battle of Actium, which de¬
cided the fate of Augustus and Mark Antony, was fought
near the entrance of this gulf in b.c. 31.
ART ABA, an ancient measure of capacity used by the
Persians, Medes, and Egyptians. The Persian artaba is re¬
presented by Herodotus as equal to one Attic medimnus
and three chcenices, or 102 Roman sextarii = about 12^
gallons; but, according to Suidas, Hesychius, Polysenus
{Strut, iv. 3, 32), and Epiphanius {Pond. 24), it only con¬
tained 1 Attic medimnus = 96 sextarii, or about 11^ English
gallons. The Egyptians used two measures of this name ;
the old artaba, containing 4|- Roman modii = 72 sextarii =
about 8f gallons, though Galen makes it exactly 5 modii;
and the new artaba which contained 3^ modii = 53^- sextarii
= about 6J gallons.
ARTABAZUS, the son of Pharnaces, commander of the
Parthians and Chorasmians in the famous expedition of
Xerxes. After the battle of Salamis he escorted his sovereign
to the Hellespont with 60,000 chosen men ; and after the
battle of Plataea, in which Mardonius engaged in opposition
to his wishes and advice, he made a noble retreat into Asia
with 40,000 men under his command.
ARTAXERXES, the name of several kings of Persia.
See Persia, and Esther.
ARTEDI, Peter, an eminent naturalist, was born in
Sweden in the year 1705, in the province of Angermania.
His parents were poor, but found means to give him a liberal
education, and with this view sent him to the college of
Hurnesand. Intending to embrace the ecclesiastical pro¬
fession, he went in 1724 to Upsal; but he turned his atten¬
tion to medicine from the strong bent of his mind for the
study of natural history, in which science he made rapid
progress, and soon rose to considerable eminence, particu-
larly in the department of ichthyology, the classification of
which he remodelled upon philosophical principles. This
arrangement afterwards became popular over Europe. In
1728 his celebrated countryman Linnaeus arrived in Upsal,
and a lasting friendship was formed between these two great
men. In 1732 both left Upsal; Artedi for England, and
Linnaeus for Lapland ; but before parting, they reciprocally
bequeathed to each other their manuscripts and books in
the event of death. In 1735, however, they met again at
Leyden, where Artedi was introduced to Seba, and employed
in preparing for the press the third volume of that eminent
naturalist’s Thesaurus, which chiefly related to fishes. He
intended, as soon as that work was finished, to return to his
ART
native country, and publish the fruits of his own labours: Artemi-
but as he was returning home from Seba’s house on the dorus
evening of the 27th September 1735, the night being dark, II
he fell into the canal and was drowned. According to agree- vArtemon'
ment, his manuscripts came into the hands of Linnaeus, and
his Bibliotheca Ichthyologica an d Philosoph ia Ichthyologica,
together with a life of the author, were published at Ledyen
in the year 1738.
ARTEMIDORUS, a native of Ephesus, flourished, ac¬
cording to ReifF, in the reign of Marcus Aurelius. In his
famous Treatise on the interpretation of Dreams (’Oveipo-
KpLTLKa), he calls himself the Daldian, from Dahlia or Dal-
dis, the birthplace of his mother, by which name he is gene¬
rally known, to distinguish him from Artemidorus the geo¬
grapher, also a native of Ephesus. On this work he ex¬
pended vast labour, not only possessing himself of all that
had been written on the subject, but travelling for years in
search of fortune-tellers, as well as corresponding with them
in various parts, and collecting information on old dreams,
and the events which were said to have followed them. It
consists of five books, and contains some valuable observa¬
tions on the maxims and customs of the ancients. The
first edition is that of Aldus, 1518 ; the best that of ReifF,
2 vols. 8vo, Leipzig, 1805, with the notes of Rigault and
Reiske. Artemidorus wrote also a treatise upon Auguries,
and another upon Chiromancy, which are lost.
ARTEMIS, one of the chief divinities of Olympus, and
worshipped under several forms in different parts of Greece
and Asia Minor. The Ephesian Artemis was totally dis¬
tinct from the Grecian goddess, and is supposed to have
been originally an Asiatic divinity, the personification of
the fructifying and all-nourishing powers of nature. The
Romans identified Diana with the Greek Artemis. See
Diana.
ARTEMISIA, a queen of Caria, and daughter of Lyg-
damis, took part in person in the expedition of Xerxes against
the Greeks, and distinguished herself in the sea-fight near
Salamis, 480 b.c. She is said to have loved a young man
named Dardanus, of Abydos ; and enraged at his neglect of
her, to have put out his eyes while he was asleep. The gods
punished her for this, by increasing her passion ; and having
been advised by an oracle to go to Leucas, she is said to
have taken the lover’s leap, and to have been interred at that
place. This part of her history, however, is probably fictitious.
Artemisia, the sister and wife of Mausolus, king of Caria,
immortalized herself by the honours which she paid to the
memory of her husband. She built for him, in Halicarnas¬
sus, a very magnificent tomb, called the Mausoleum, which
was one of the seven wonders of the world, and from which
the title of Mausoleum was afterwards given to all tombs
remarkable for their grandeur ; but she died of regret and
sorrow before it was finished. She appointed panegyrics to
be made in honour of him, and proposed a prize of great
value for the person who should compose the best. She
died about 350 b.c.
Artemisia, a botanical genus of the natural order of
Compositce ; of w hich the best known are A. Absinthium, or
wormwood, and A. Abrotonum, or southernwood.
ARTEMISIUM, in Ancient Geography, a promontory
on the north-east of Eubcea (called Leon and Gale Acte by
Ptolemy), memorable for the first sea engagements between
the Greeks and Xerxes.
ARTEMON, a painter of antiquity, probably posterior
to the time of Alexander the Great. Plin. xxxv. 11. There
was also, in the first century after Christ, a sculptor of this
name, who, with Pythodorus, adorned the palace of the
Caesars with statues. Plin. xxxvi. 5.
Artemon, a heretic of the second and third centuries,
the founder of the sect called Artemonites, who applied phi¬
losophy and mathematics to the interpretation of Scripture.
ART
Artesian They asserted that Christ was merely a prophet exalted by
A\ ells‘ his virtues above all others, but denied his divinity. Euseb.
Hist. Ecc. v. 28.
ARTESIAN Wells, the name applied to artificial
springs, produced by boring a small hole through strata des¬
titute of water, into lower beds in which water is percolating
in considerable quantity. On making such perforation, the
water often rises forcibly to the surface, and is conveyed to
a convenient receptacle by a pipe introduced by the perfo¬
ration into the strata alfording the water. The first place
in Europe where such artificial fountains were extensively
formed was in the French province of Artois, anciently Ar-
tesium. But there is reason to believe that the art was long
before practised by the Chinese, who are very expert in the
formation of such wells. They are extensively used in the
Milanese, in several parts of Germany, and have also been
for several years employed in the south of England, on the
coast of Lincolnshire, and more lately in the vicinity of
London. J
An artesian well was sunk at Sheerness in 1781, to the
depth of330 feet {Phil. Trans. 1784). It was carried through
a thick bed of London clay, and water, which rose nearly to
the surface, was found on reaching the subjacent sand-beds.
1 wo of better construction were carried to the same depth
through similar materials at Portsmouth docks in 1828 and
1829. I he soil of the district on the coast of Lincoln be¬
tween Lowth and the sea, rests on a thick bed of clay, which
precludes the possibility of springs; but by penetrating
through this, water was found in abundance in the chalk on
which the clay reposed; and artesian wells there now afford
a plentiful supply of this necessary element, that rises with
such force through the pipes as to have obtained the local
name of blow-wells.
.The theory of artesian wells is founded on the fact that
water derived from a higher level may percolate through
certain strata, or pass in seams between them, and be pre¬
vented from reaching the surface by the superposition of
other beds or strata impervious to water. In such circum¬
stances a perforation through the latter allows the water, by
hydrostatic pressure, to reach the surface ; and it will over¬
flow, or even gush out, with a force proportional to the dif¬
ference of level of the different parts of the water-bearing
strata, especially if the free course of the subterranean sheet
of water be interrupted by what are termed faults in the
stiata, or the occurrence of veins of stony bodies intersect¬
ing them. I bus, in the diagram of a supposed section of a
ART
681
country, let P P represent a thick bed of plastic clay, ABC
strata affording water, alternating with strata DEE, imper¬
vious to water, and let V represent a vein of trap rock tra¬
versing these strata, and producing a shift or fault; by sink¬
ing the pipes a b c into the strata ABC respectively, we
shall obtain the water derived from the more elevated por¬
tions ot these strata at such artesian fountains.
I he same principles are applicable to the sinking of com¬
mon wells. It has sometimes happened that a well has been
lost in attempts to increase its flow by a deeper excavation.
1 bus, if the bottom ot the well was a bed of clay resting on
sand, a perforation made through that clay has occasionally
lost all the water; because the stratum of clay had prevented
the water from escaping to a lower level, and conducted itArtevelde.
towards the surface. The direction of the strata, as well as
theii nature, are essential elements for the successful forma¬
tion of either common or artesian wells ; which last are of
great consequence in champaign countries, where natural
springs are less common.
Artesian wells have been also sunk for the purpose of ob¬
taining ivarm water. It is well ascertained that in the in-
teiioi of our eaith theie is a source of heat, which may be
i cached by deep artesian perforations, so as to bring warm
water to the surface. Thus Von Bruckmann of Wiirtem-
burg heated a paper manufactory at Heilbronn by water
from a deep artesian well; and by the same means pre¬
vented the freezing of the water in winter round the wheels
of mills. In the artesian well at Rochelle, at the depth of 370
feet, the water has a temperature 13° higher than that of
the atmosphere. M. Arago was the chief promoter of the
artesian well in the plain of Grenelle at Paris, which, at the
depth of upwards of 1900 feet, affords water at 92° F. In
the deepest artesian well yet made, that at Kissingen, the
temperature of the water is also very considerable.
The instrument now used in making artesian perforations
to great depths is not the old machine employed in boring
for coal, &c., a series of iron rods screwed together, and
forced down by repeated blows with a mallet. That was a
costly and tedious operation: a Chinese instrument has lately
been introduced with great effect. It consists of a heavy
bar of cast iron, 6 feet long and 4 inches in diameter, armed
at its lower end with a cutting chisel, surrounded by a cy¬
lindrical chamber, which, by means of simple valves, receives
and retains the abraded portions of the rock. The instru¬
ment is suspended by a rope passing over a wheel. As it is
wrought up and down, the torsion of the rope gives a cir¬
cular movement to the bar of iron, sufficient to vary the posi¬
tion of the chisel at each stroke of the instrument; and when
the chamber is full of the debris of the rock, it is drawn up
and discharged. This mode of working has greatly dimin¬
ished the labour and expense of such operations”; and is
applicable to many processes in mining, blasting in quarries,
and the like.
An ingenious German engineer, M. Sellow, has by a si¬
milar instrument of greater size, succeeded in ventilating
the mines at Saarbriick, by perforations 18 inches in diame¬
ter, and several hundred feet in depth.
The importance of artesian wells can scarcely be over-es¬
timated. They are capable of rendering districts now scan¬
tily supplied with or destitute of potable water, convenient
domiciles for man; and under an enlightened government
might render habitable no small portions of the arid wastes
of Africa and Arabia. In the latter, recent observations
show that there are abundant subterranean sources of water,
and possibly a series of artesian wells might diminish the
perils of the passage of the Great Sahara.—See Hericat de
rhury, Considerations sur la cause du Jaillissement des
Eaux des Puitsfores, Paris, 1829; Von Bruckmann, Ueber
Artesische Brunnen, Heilb. 1833 ; M. Arago, Notices
Scientiftques, Annuaire du Bur. des Long, pour Annes
'plus. g T )
ARTEVELDE, James Van, a brewer of Ghent, in the
fourteenth century, who, by means of his enormous wealth
and popular talents, acquired such an ascendancy over his
countrymen that he was enabled to expel the Count of
Flanders, and assume absolute power. He formed a com¬
mercial alliance with Edward III. of England, and persuaded
the English to lend him assistance in his war with France.
Ihe French, however, prevailed; and Artevelde, who now
began to dread the vengeance of the Count of Flanders, en-
1 The first artesian well in London was sunk in 1794.
several in the town of Brentford.
VOL. III.
Examples of the same may he seen at the Bishop’s palace at Fulham, and
4 U
G82
ART
ART
Arthritic deavoured to secure the interest of the English in his favour
I! by transferring the sovereignty of Flanders to the Prince of
^ Arthur.^ 'y^aies< This jie attempted to effect by force; but the people
beset his house and assassinated him. After this event,
which took place in 1345, the Prince of Wales returned to
England.
Philip Van Artevelde, son of the preceding, was raised
to the sovereignty during a revolt of the people in 1382.
He defeated the Count of Flanders, and obtained posses¬
sion of Bruges ; but, in November of the same year, he was
defeated and slain by the count, assisted by the French, in a
battle fought near Rosbecq, and his body was ignominiously
hung on a tree.
ARTHRITIC, a term applied by physicians, in a re¬
stricted sense, to painful affections of the joints arising from
gout. The word is derived from apOpov, a joint.
ARTHUR, the celebrated hero of the Britons, is said to
have been the son of Uthor Pendragon, king of Britain, by
Igerne, the wife of the Duke of Cornwall, and to have been
born in 501. His life is a continued series of wonders. It
is said that he killed 470 Saxons with his own hand in one
day ; and, after having subdued many mighty nations, and
instituted the order of the Knights of the Round Table, died
A. D. 542, of wounds which he received in battle. The most
particular detail of his story and his exploits is that given by
Geoffroy of Monmouth ; but there the probable is so blend¬
ed with the marvellous and extravagant, that not only the
truth of the whole, but even the reality of Arthur’s existence,
has been called in question. In this controversy Mr Whit¬
taker has taken much pains, in his History of Manchester,
to vindicate the existence, and discriminate between the real
and the fabulous transactions, of the British worthy. But a
severe critic might be apt to say that it requires much faith
in the author’s judgment, not to suspect that he sometimes
allows too much scope to fancy and conjecture. According
to Mr Whittaker, Arthur’s principal exploits were against the
northern Saxons, whilst he was only prince of the Silures,
and Ambrosius was the dictator or pendragon of the Britons.
“ In a series probably of five campaigns, and in a succession
certainly of eleven victories, this great commander had re¬
pelled the Saxons from the north of Flavia, dislodged them
from all Maxima, and dispossessed them of all Valentia. And
these were successes so unchequered with misfortunes, so
great in themselves, and so beneficial to the public, that
the name of Arthur claims the first rank in the list of mili¬
tary, and the better one of patriot, heroes.” The twelfth
battle of Arthur was fought in the south of England, after
he was elected to the pendragonship, against Cerdic the Saxon.
“ This,” says Mr Whittaker, “ was a most extraordinary vic¬
tory, and completes the circle of Arthur’s military glories.”
In the author’s account of this prince’s conduct in peace, he
asserts, that “ Arthur saw that an appointment was wanted,
which should at once be a more regular and more honour¬
able signature of merit—by the certainty of the honour and
the greatness of the dignity, call out all the worth of all the
worthy in the nation, and collect it round the throne of the
pendragon. Accordingly he established a military order. It
was the first that had ever been instituted in the island ; and
it has since been imitated by all the nations on the Continent.
By means of this association, Arthur raised among the pro¬
vincials a general glow of ingenuous heroism, the first spirit
of chivalry that ever appeared in Europe ; that manly and
honourable gallantry of soul, which has made him and his
worthies the subject of romantic histories over all the west
of it. By this, and this alone, could he have been what his¬
tory represents him, the Revered Father of the British
Heroes in general, even to the conclusion of the sixth cen¬
tury, and nearly the middle of the seventh. The order natu¬
rally survived its founder ; and the members of it were de¬
nominated the Warriors of Arthur, though the persons were
born half a century after his death.”—See also Sharon Tur¬
ner’s History of the Anglo-Saxons.
Arthur's Round Table, a round enclosure near Penrith,
on the banks of the streamlet Loder. It is formed by a ditch
and rampart of earth, 29 yards in diameter and is supposed
to be an ancient place for tilting.—See Pennant’s Scottish
Tour, vol. i. p 277.
Arthur's Seat, a hill in the immediate vicinity of Edin¬
burgh, said to have been so called from a tradition that King
Arthur surveyed the country from its summit, and also de¬
feated the Saxons in its neighbourhood. It rises by a steep
ascent till it terminates in a rocky point, 822 feet three inches
above high-water mark at Leith, as given by Moffat in his
Levels of Edinburgh. From its summit the traveller may
survey the centre of the kingdom, and obtain a complete view
of Edinburgh, the whole forming a landscape varied and
beautiful in a very high degree. Its rocky summit has some
curious magnetical properties.
ARTICLE, in Grammar. See Grammar.
ARTICULATA, Cuvier’s third great division of the ani¬
mal kingdom; including Crustacea, Arachnides, Millipeds
or myriapods, and Insects, all which were comprehended by
Linnaeus under Insecta.
ARTIFICER, a person who works in iron, brass, wood,
&c., such as smiths, brasiers, carpenters, &c. The Roman
artificers had their peculiar temples, where they assembled
and chose their own patron to defend their causes ; and they
were exempted from all personal services. Taruntenus Pa-
ternus reckons 32 species of artificers, and Constantine 35,
who enjoyed this privilege. The artificers were incorpor¬
ated into divers colleges or companies, each of which had
their tutelar gods, to whom they offered their worship. Seve¬
ral of these, when they quitted their profession, hung up their
tools, as votive offerings to their gods. Artificers were held a
degree below merchants and argentarii or money-changers,
and their employment more sordid. Some deny that in the
earliest ages of the Roman state artificers were ranked in the
number of citizens ; others, who assert their citizenship, al¬
low that they were held in contempt, as being unfit for war,
and so poor that they could scarcely pay any taxes ; for which
reason they were not entered among the citizens in the cen¬
sor’s books ; the design of the census being only to see what
number of persons were yearly fit to bear arms and to pay
taxes towards the support of the state. It may be added,
that much of the artificers’ business at Rome was done by
slaves and foreigners.
ARTIFICIAL Horizon, a contrivance of great utility for
enabling an observer to determine the altitude of a heavenly
body, or of a terrestrial object, above the horizon of any
place, when the sensible horizon is ill defined. The surface
of a fluid not easily disturbed by the air, such as quicksilver,
or some viscid, opaque fluid, is usually employed for this
purpose, as they will adjust themselves to a plane parallel to
the rational horizon. To prevent the influence of winds in
the open air, the surface is usually covered by a plate of
ground-glass with parallel surfaces. In fixed observations
this is not necessary ; and the mercury is contained in an
oblong trough : for locomotive observations, a cup of three
inches in diameter is the containing vessel. But as carrying
about mercury is inconvenient, some have employed polished
metallic or glass mirrors, adjusted by screws at the corners,
and a spirit-level, to horizontality ; though this is less accu¬
rate than the fluid surface. The surface of the quicksilver,
or mirror so adjusted, is a plane touching the surface of the
earth where the observation is made, and parallel to the ra¬
tional horizon ; therefore, a ray of light passing from the ob¬
ject to the surface of the instrument, forms an angle with
that surface equal to the angular elevation of that object
above the true horizon of the place, when it is corrected for
parallax and refraction. (t. s. t.)
Arthur's
Round
Table
11
Artificial
Horizon.
683
A E T I ]
Artillery. The term artillery, in modern warfare, is applied, in a
special sense, to those projectile machines which, from their
magnitude and weight, cannot be made the personal weapons
of a soldier; and, in a general sense, to the officers and men,
that is to say, to the personnel as well as to the materiel of
that branch of the army to which the care and management
of such machines have been confided. The origin of artil-
lei j', in the modern and special meaning of the term, may be
simply ascribed to the substitution of a chemical for a me¬
chanical agency in the projection of missiles of war; and the
great superiority of modern artillery depends on the power
of conferring great velocities on the bodies to be moved, by
the sudden development of gaseous bodies from materials pre¬
viously in a solid form. Notwithstanding the great improve¬
ments in modern machinery, it may be safely assumed, that
by no application of the property of elasticity in metallic,
wooden, or other springs, could a convenient machine have
been formed to propel a 32-pound shot with a velocity of 1600
feet per second, although it is highly probable that one might
have been constructed to propel very large masses with a
low velocity, or to produce great momenta, as was in fact
the case with some of the projectile machines of the an¬
cients. Gunpowder, or the chemical agent now used in pro¬
pelling warlike missiles, is a compound of nitre, charcoal,
and sulphur, three substances which, under ordinary circum¬
stances, retain the solid form, although intimately mixed to¬
gether and in contact with each other. By the application
of heat amounting to about 570° of Fahrenheit, by the elec¬
tric spark, or by the shock between the bodies, and that not
merely of iron against flint or other very hard body, but even
of copper against copper, iron against marble, lead against
iron or lead, provided the force of the shock be sufficient to
develop the required amount of heat, the chemical affini¬
ties between the elements of these solid substances are ex¬
cited ; and they are almost instantaneously transformed into
gaseous bodies in a state of great compression, and therefore
endowed with an enormous elastic force. This chemical
change is also accompanied with a great development of heat,
which further tends to expand the gases; so that, at the mo¬
ment of ignition, if considered instantaneous, the gases pro¬
duced would be capable of expanding to a bulk 2000 times
greater than the original volume of the gunpowder, or at that
moment would exercise a force capable of reducing 2000
volumes to one. Such a force, if really exerted at its maxi¬
mum of intensity, would require an enormous thickness, and
therefore weight of metal, to resist its expansive effect; but
the ignition of gunpowder, however rapid, is not instanta¬
neous, and the ball, therefore, is put into motion, and the re¬
sistance of the air overcome before the perfect development
of the gigantic power which is thus called into action.
In gunpowder, viewed theoretically, nitrate of potash, nitre,
oi saltpetre, is the reservoir of oxygen; charcoal, the ele¬
ment \\ Inch, by its combination with oxygen, should form the
gaseous body carbonic acid; and sulphur, the element which
should facilitate ignition, and, by its affinity for the metal¬
lic base of potash, potassium, assist in inducing the decomposi¬
tion of the nitre. 1 he chemical formula which represents a
compound which after ignition should yield only sulphuret of
potassium, carbonic acid, and nitrogen, is KONO5 + 3 C + S,
or, nearly, nitre 74-75, charcoal 13-34, sulphur 11-87; and
though the gaseous product might be increased in volume by
introducing sufficient carbon to produce carbonic oxide in¬
stead of carbonic acid, the gain in volume would be more
than counterbalanced by the loss of heat.
I he gunpowder of various nations approximates more or
less to this normal composition.
L E E Y.
England,... Nitre 75-00 Charcoal \o‘00 Sulphitr Artillery
France,   75-00 ... 12-50 ... 12-50 r"Iery'
Russia,   73-78 ... 13-59 ... 12-63
Austria,  76*00 ... 11-50 ... 12-50
Spain,  76-47 ... 10-78 ... 12-75
Sweden,   75-00 ... 9-00 ... 16-00
China,  75-00 ... 14-40 ... 9-60
It must not, however, be imagined that the result of igni¬
tion is exactly that which, from the theoretical formula, should
be expected, as the products of combustion are more varied,
and include, in addition to sulphuret of potassium, carbonic
acid and nitrogen, portions of carbonic oxide, sulphuretted
hydrogen, carburetted hydrogen, sulphide of carbon, sul¬
phate and carbonate of potash, cyanide of potassium, and
vapour of water; these products being the results of progres¬
sive, and therefore partial, ignition and decomposition. Ac¬
cording to Dr Ure, the gaseous products of the combustion
of gunpowder are carbonic oxide, sulphurous acid, and nitro¬
gen ; and there can be no doubt that the comparatively im¬
perfect operation of chemical affinities between the particles
of its solid constituents has a tendency to introduce more or
less of sulphurous acid into the results by the direct com¬
bustion of the sulphur. Some of the modifications in the
composition of gunpowder adopted by various countries have
most probably been directed to a correction of this evil, as
both sulphurous acid and sulphuretted hydrogen exert an
injurious action on the metal of guns, more especially on that
of bronze guns. As general rules, however, the sulphur
must not be much less than the quantity of the theoretic
formula, as, if so, the rapidity of ignition, and the amount
of heat will be diminished; nor must it be much more,
as, if so, the production of sulphurous acid will be increased,
and with it the destructive effects on the gun; and in
like manner the charcoal must not be much less, as, if so,
there will be a defect of carbon for forming either carbonic
acid or carbonic oxide; nor much more, as the gunpowder
would, in addition to other defects, be thereby made too highly
absorbent of moisture. When first made, gunpowder is in
the state of fine dust, which is called meal powder, but as it
is then liable to cake, and from the close packing together of
its grains the rapid transmission of flame would be checked,
the powder is granulated under a moderate force of compres-
sion, by which the grains acquire a greater density; and this
quality being aided by glazing, they retain more effectually
their form, and in some measure resist moisture, whilst the pas¬
sage of flame through an assemblage of such grains is compa¬
ratively easy. Nothing but experience and practice can en¬
able the manufacturer to decide the exact amount of compres¬
sion or degree of glazing, as any material excess must injure
the quality of the powder, by diminishing its combustibility.
The knowledge of an explosive force equivalent, accord¬
ing to Professor Graham, to at least 1000 atmospheres,
and the power of readily applying it to practical uses, must
very soon have led to important changes in the machines
of war; and it might therefore have been expected that
the exact epoch of its first employment would have been
easily discovered. Such, however, is not the case, and there
is still considerable uncertainty in the histories of gunpowder
and of cannon. Colonel Chesney has most ably followed
up the researches of M. Reinaud and M. Fave on the Greek
fire of the ancients, and done much to establish the correct¬
ness of their opinion, that compounds of nitre were used at
a very remote epoch, not merely for ignition, but also for ex¬
plosion and propulsion. Passing over the earlier instances
of the mention of “incendiary projectiles,’’amongst the natives
of China and Hindustan, Colonel Chesney, quoting the fol-
684 A R T I L
Artillery, lowing passage from Chased, a Hindu bard:—“ Oh! chief
of Gajne, buckle on your armour, and prepare your fire-
machines the meaning of which is explained in a following
stanza, in which the bal’d states “ that the culivers and can¬
nons made a loud report when they were fired off, and the
noise of the ball was heard at the distance of 10 coss, or
nearly 1445 yards,” concludes from it “that the fact of
cannon balls having been propelled by means of gunpowder
in India as early as a.d. 1200, the epoch of the poet, ap¬
pears to be established, although the use of artillery is not
mentioned by any European writer before the fourteenth
century.” There is no reason to believe that this was the
first, or even a very early instance of the use of such pro¬
jectiles in the East; and it must therefore be considered
highly probable that both the knowledge and the use of the
explosive properties of compounds of nitre with charcoal and
sulphur were of remote origin in a country which yields as
a natural product, even to this day, so large a quantity of this
important military mineral. Piobert, Napoleon Buonaparte,
and other writers, have collected much information on the
appearance and progress of artillery in Europe; but it is
satisfactory to quote such examples from the work1 of an
English officer of artillery, so highly distinguished as Colo¬
nel Chesney, who has shed so much lustre on his pro¬
fession by the intrepid zeal and persevering energy of his
Euphrates expedition, and his great literary and scientific
acquirements. “ The Moors, according to Conde, used ar¬
tillery against Zaragossain 1118; and in 1132 a culverin of
4 lb. calibre, named Salamonica, was made. In 1157, when
the Spaniards took Niebla, the Moors defended themselves
by machines which threw darts and stones by means of fire;
and in 1156 Abd’almumen, the Moorish king, captured Mo-
hadia, a fortified city near Bona, from the Sicilians by the
same means. In 1280 artillery was used against Cordova;
and.in 1306 or 1308 Ferdinand IV. took Gibraltar from the
Moors by means of artillery. Ibn Nason ben Bia, of Gre¬
nada, mentions that guns were adopted from the Moors, and
used in Spain in the twelfth century, and that balls of iron
were thrown by means of fire in 1331. These, and other
examples, render it almost certain that the use of gunpowder
became first known in Europe through the Moorish con¬
quests and warfare in Spain, although the true components
of gunpowder were known to Friar Bacon, and were made
generally known throughout Europe byBartholdus Schwartz
in 1320. Edward III. of England used ‘crakeys of war’
during his campaign against the Scots in 1327. In 1339 ten
cannons were prepared for the siege of Cambray by the Che¬
valier Cardaillac. Quesnoy was defended successfully in
1340 by cannon which flung large iron bolts. In 1343 the
Moorish garrison of Algesiras, besieged by Alphonsus XI.
of Castile, used long mortars, or troughs of iron which threw
among their enemies thunderbolts. In 1346, an iron gun,
with a square bore capable of projecting a cubical iron shot
of 11 lb. weight was constructed at Bruges. In 1346 Ed-:
ward III. is said to have used artillery at the battle of
Cressy; but this is very doubtful, as the application of guns
to field operations appears to be of later date, and no notice
of them at the subsequent battle of Poictiers can be traced.
In 1347 Edward did, however, use artillery in the siege of
Calais, as did the Prince of Wales in 1356 in reducing the
Castle of Romozantin. In 1378 Richard II. employed 400
cannons, which fired day and night, in his unsuccessful attack
on St Malo; but it is unnecessary to follow further the pro¬
gress of this most important arm in the attack and defence
of fortified places and positions. The French, in the latter
portion of the fifteenth century replaced the old cumbrous
bombards by brass guns with trunnions, and the heavy stone
shot by metal balls; and as the results of these changes were
LE R Y.
rapid firing and an increased impetus of shot, artillery may Artillery,
then be said to have first become really effective. Though ^ v—» >
portable guns had been occasionally made, from the earlier
half of the fourteenth century, and had been abundantly
applied in the wars of the fifteenth, they do not appear to
have been reduced to a perfect system of field artillery until
the reigns of Charles VIII. and Louis XII., and in 1500 the
latter monarch was able to move his artillery from Pisa to
Rome, a distance of about 240 miles, in five days, and pos¬
sessed light pieces which were sufficiently manageable to
be taken rapidly from one point to another during a battle.
When he recovered Genoa in 1507, he had 60 guns of large
calibre for an army of about 20,000 men, and overcame the
Venetians on the Adda in 1509 by means of his artillery.
Francis I. adopted a lighter construction for field-guns, and
had them drawn by the best description of horses.” In the
defeat of the Swiss at Marignan in 1515, “the French artil¬
lery played a new and distinguished part, not only by pro¬
tecting the centre of the army from the charges of the Swiss
phalanxes, and causing them excessive loss, but also by rapidly
taking such positions from time to time during the battle as
enabled the guns to play upon the flanks of the attacking
columns.” 1 hese extracts, which have been principally de¬
rived by Colonel Chesney from the celebrated work of the
present French emperor, who, like his illustrious uncle, was
an artillery officer, go far to prove that, though the French
have no right to claim the invention or even the material
improvement of the bastion system in fortification, which
was manifestly the work of Italian engineers, they have great
reason to claim the first establishment of an efficient field
artillery. In 1631 the great Gustavus Adolphus was in¬
debted in great part to his artillery for the victory of Leipzig;
and some of his guns were of the remarkable description
called cannons of boiled leather, which “ consisted of a thin
cylinder of beaten copper screwed into a brass breech, whose
chamber was strengthened by four bands of iron ; the tube
itself being covered with layers of mastic, over which cords
were rolled firmly round its whole length, and equalized by
a layer of plaster, a coating of leather boiled and varnished
completing the piece.” The carriage and the piece were
so light that two men were sufficient to draw and serve the
gun, which, however, could bear only a small charge. In the
battle of Lutzen, when this truly great warrior, for he was
a Christian warrior, closed in death his short but brilliant
career, the Swedish artillery was again remarkable for the
ease with which it was manoeuvred and shifted in position,
whilst the less manageable cannon of the Imperialists were
comparatively immovable. Colonel Chesney observes, in
respect to these two great and glorious battles of the Swedes,
that they prove that the artillery of Gustavus Adolphus,
although still consisting of too many calibres, was admirably
organized, embracing as it did limbers, and carrying can-
nister shot, and other kinds of ammunition, ready for action;
and that this distinguished commander was the first who
fully appreciated the importance of causing the artillery to
act in concentrated masses, Frederick the Great of Prussia
further improved upon the system by introducing pieces of
ordnance sufficiently light to take part in the most rapid
manoeuvres; and since that time it has been admitted by
most military men that guns intended to move with an army
and take part in field operations, should be divided into two
sections, namely: 1st, Guns sufficiently light to move with
cavalry, and hence forming what is called in the British ser¬
vice Horse Artillery or Cavalry Artillery; 2d, Guns of larger
calibre and greater weight than the former, to act with infan¬
try, but still not too heavy to allow of considerable rapidity
in all the changes of position which may be required on the
field of battle. These constitute what are called field batteries.
1 Observations on Fire-Arms, 1852.
Artillery
The great improvement of the field batteries of the Brit¬
ish army, and the superior horses attached to them on home
service, have led many able English artillerists to imagine
that the distinction between the field battery and the horse
or flying battery is unnecessary, and that the former may
be readily brought up in speed and efficiency, even when
acting with cavalry, to the latter; but it is probable that this
opinion has been formed more upon the results of field days
on a favourable review ground, than on the experience of
practice and movement on irregular ground such as must
always be met with in actual war; and has been adopted
without reference to the importance of securing for the field
batteries, which must frequently be required to act as ar-
tillery of position in field works, the largest calibre compat¬
ible with a reasonable facility of movement. When this sub¬
ject has been more fully considered and tested by experi¬
ments, more assimilated to the varied movements of war, it
is believed that the value of the horse artillery will be bet¬
ter appreciated, and steps taken to render it still more effec¬
tive by actual experience in war, for which the East Indian
service, ever pregnant with events of war, is always open.
I he horse artillery is indeed too valuable a branch of this
most important arm to be allowed to remain idle, or to be
looked upon as a mere appendage to military shows. In like
manner, such considerations would probably lead to the
adoption of the 12-pounder on the other branch, rather than
to any further attempts to increase the speed of field bat¬
teries, or to make them rival the horse artillery in rapidity
of movement. J
The difference between the rude guns of early times—
formed with iron bars fitted together lengthwise, and se-
cured by iron rings—and the well-proportioned iron or
bronze guns of modern times, is assuredly very great; but
there can be no doubt that artillery will yet be much more
improved and its range increased so as to secure for it that
superiority of range over the improved musket which it has
hitherto possessed over the old musket.
By the adoption of artillery, the mode of application of
propellent weapons has been changed, but not the principles.
In war there has always been two forms of offensive action,
namely, that carried on at a distance, and that conducted
foot to foot or at close quarters; and the object of the first
has always been to prepare for the second. The opera¬
tion, therefore, of any means of offence is analogous to that
of artillery. Archelaus1 arranged his order of battle against
the Roman general Syllain the following manner:—In front
he placed chariots armed with scythes, for the purpose of
making an impression on his enemy’s line; in the second, the
Macedonian phalanx for attack; in the third, the armed auxi¬
liaries as a reserve; and in a fourth the light troops, to be
able to deploy and skirmish in every direction, whilst his nu¬
merous cavalry occupied both wings or flanks of the army.
o meet this array, Sylla strengthened his position by wide
trenches, defended by forts on his flanks, so as to prevent
the enemy from outflanking and taking him in reverse with
his numerous cavalry ; and having thus restricted the attack
within the limits of his centre, he arranged his foot in three
lines, broken by intervals for the ready movement of the light
troops and of the horse, which, being only a small body,
was held back in readiness for a decisive charge at the right
moment. Sylla further ordered a portion of his troops5to
drive palisades into the ground, between which the charge
of the armed chariots could be awaited with little risk; and
then, as the chariots advanced, they were received with loud
shouts, and with showers of darts from the light troops, which
threw them into such confusion that they turned and car¬
ried alaim into the ranks of the Macedonian phalanx, which
beginning to yield, was for a moment supported by the
artillery.
685
cavalry of Archelaus, when the Roman cavalrv suddenly Artillery.
charged, and won the victory. In this battle “the armed v, '
chariots were intended to perform the office of artillery by
first breaking the Roman line before the advance of the
Macedonian phalanx; and m like manner, on the Roman
side, the darts were propelled in the manner of artillery on
the advancing troops. The comparatively small range of
darts, arrows, or the bolts of cross-bows, limited the effect of
their action so much, that though it was often very destructive
when directed on an enemy who was obliged to retain his
position, it was soon abated when an enemy was able to ad-
vance, or so reduced that its effect corresponded to that of
the fire of light infantry. The case is very different with
modern artillery, as their fire, commencing at a considerable
distance, will continue to be destructive, even on an advan¬
cing force, for a considerable time. The objects, however
both of ancient and modern artillery are the same, namely,?
to make an impression on an enemy’s line, and to disturb the
stability of its masses before the last effort is made by a
charge to overthrow it; and in like manner to break and
paralyze an advancing column, so that its shock may be
weakened or rendered comparatively harmless; and these
objects ought therefore to be kept in view in the distribution
and arrangement of artillery.
The value of any system of field artillery may be readily
estimated by reference to its efficiency for producing the
desired results which have been explained. For example
in the early period of British artillery, guns were allotted to
each regiment or battalion as battalion guns; but though this
arrangement was so far correct, as it rested on the principle
t,lat .Y,61^ body °f troops capable of independent action
s lould be accompanied in the field by artillery, it was erro¬
neous when applied to large armies, as it spread the artillery
through the line, and caused it to act either against artillery
producmg a mere war of guns, or against infantry at so
many points as to produce no decided effect at any. It is
true, indeed, that such battalion artillery might have been
separated, when necessary, from their battalions, and bri¬
gaded together; but it is manifest that the movements of an
aggregate of so many separate elements which had not been
previously trained to act together, must have been rude, un¬
certain, and very difficult of control: whilst the natural and
simple mode of rectifying an arrangement so defective would
have been the adoption of a combination of guns based upon
some element or unit which represented the least number of
guns deemed capable of acting with effect in co-operation
with infantry.
• (\C]Crln'ne dle und or e^crnent of battery combination
it should be remembered that the principles of defence by
artillery are the same, whether the guns act openly in the
held, or covertly from behind a parapet, and that the obiect
s lould be in either case to secure a cross, converging or
concentrated fire on the line or column of attack, or in front
of the point to be attacked. A flanking fire is therefore as
essential to an army in the field as it is in a fortress; in
vt nch latter case it may be justly said, that perfection de¬
pends even more on the efficiency and right arrangement of
its active defences than on the solidity and permanence of
the passive; as no walls of stone or of earth can be ex¬
pected to stop an enterprising enemy, unless supported by
a well-directed and steadily maintained fire. To obtain
such a flanking and cross fire for the smallest number of
tioops likely to act independently, one gun on each flank or
wing is the least possible number; and hence two guns may
be deemed the elementary unit of battery combination ; the
teim battery being applied primarily to a number of guns
acting together, and secondarily, to the works of defence,
or parapet, thrown up to cover them. In most of the armies
1 Strategematicon S. Julii Frontini.
686 ARTILLERY.
Artillery, of the present day this principle has been acted upon; and
the unit having been fixed (on an average) in relation to a
body of 800 men (omitting cavalry, the action of which is
propulsive or analogous to that of artillery), or of 1000 men,
including cavalry, the strength of a simple field battery has
been made some multiple of that unit; as, for example, ex¬
clusive of howitzers, in France, 4; Bavaria, 6 : Sweden,
6; Spain, 6 ; Holland, 8 and 6 ; Wurtemberg, 6; Prussia,
6; Russia, 6; Austria, 6; or, taking howitzers into con¬
sideration, in France, 6 ; Bavaria, 8; Sweden, 8 ; Holland,
8 ; Wurtemberg, 8; Prussia, 8; Russia, 8 ; Austria, 8 ; two
howitzers having been in each case apportioned to a bat¬
tery ; so that, when required to be subdivided for action
on the flanks of the infantry to which it is attached, each
half-battery may be provided with one howitzer. In the
British artillery this latter principle has not been attended
to ; and though the combined battery consists of six pieces,
5 are guns, and 1 a howitzer, not therefore admitting of exact
division of either. The duke of Wellington appears to have
been sensible of this defect in principle, as he suggested the
increase of the number to 8, that is, to 6 guns and 2 how¬
itzers, which would have assimilated the British to the
Prussian, Russian, and Austrian artillery, in respect to the
strength of its field batteries; the number of howitzers being
one-fourth of the whole, rather than one-third, as in the
French, which appears excessive.
In conforming to the necessity of so arranging artillery
as to ensure a flanking defence, either to the line of troops,
or to the position exposed to attack, it must of course be
kept in view that the effective range of field battery guns
will limit the extent of the line or position to be thus de¬
fended; and, therefore, that in long lines as many batteries
must be interposed between the flanks as will ensure to
each section of the whole line a sufficient artillery defence;
or else that there shall be a facility of bringing up rapidly the
required guns to the flanks of the actual portion of the line
exposed to attack, and at once concentrating a heavy fire upon
the ground in front of it. These considerations, as well as the
similar necessity of supporting the movements of an attack¬
ing column by the fire of artillery on the point of the line to
be attacked, and the changes which it may be found expe¬
dient to make during a battle in respect to that point, have
made it manifest that artillery, to be really useful in the field,
must not be too heavy; and, in consequence, the guns of
field batteries (properly so called) of all European nations
are now comprised between the 6 and the 12-pounder, ex¬
clusive of the still lighter ordnance for mountain service.
Marshal Marmont1 observes,—“ Field artillery is required
to follow the troops in all their movements, and to arrive at
any given point with promptitude, so as to crush an enemy.
It should therefore be light, easily transported, and so handy
as to be stopped by no impediment of ground. The 6-
pounder, in use throughout Europe, appears to me sufficient;
it was the calibre I adopted when at the head of the French
artillery ; and it was that with which the wars of the empire
were waged. A calibre of eight has now been adopted; and
though, without doubt, its superior weight has advantages,
it has the great inconvenience of increasing by one-third the
weight of ammunition and stores, and of requiring more
powerful means of transport, which in a war it is difficult to
provide.” In addition, however, to these calibres, Marmont
recommends the 12-pounder as necessary in silencing the
fire of an enemy’s field works, in arming such works, in bat¬
tering down simple walls, or in defending the passage of
rivers, and even suggests a small proportion of short 24-
pounders intended to be fired with diminished charges. Such
are the pieces which a general so experienced in war recom¬
mends for field artillery, and the objects he assigns to each
are manifestly those which must be comprised within the Artillery,
scope of a well-considered establishment. The calibres he
names are in English weights equivalent nearly to 6^, 8f,
13 lb.; so that, on an average, they correspond very closely
with those adopted in the British service; but though there
is much to say in support of this view of the subject, and
specially in favour of the lighter calibre, as possessing such
facility of movement, it is time to inquire what influence is
likely to be exercised on field artillery in action by the im¬
proved musket of the present day. In considering this ques¬
tion, it is right to remember that, whilst it is the office of ar¬
tillery to act against infantry, and to prepare the way by the
disturbing effects of its fire for the ultimate shock or bayonet
charge, so is it the office of tirailleurs or riflemen to act
against artillery, and check or even paralyze its fire. Lieu¬
tenant-Colonel the Hon. A. Gordon, in his recent work ad¬
dressed to the volunteers,2 states that “ the French have not
yet adopted any of the new systems (except for trial in a few
special corps), nor have they, from what I can learn, any in¬
tention of doing so;” and this caution, on the part of men so
fully acquainted with military science, ought to be ascribed
to the real cause, namely, a conviction, as Lieutenant-
Colonel Gordon observes, that the ordinary soldier, from the
skill of his commander in manoeuvring, and the selection of
positions, will not be exposed to an enemy’s fire, or at least
kept standing so exposed at a great distance; and that the
full advantage of muskets or rifles, which are capable of
shooting with accuracy up to a range of 800 yards, can be
only looked for when they are placed in the hands of men of
more than ordinary nerve, coolness, activity, and skill. Na¬
poleon, who above all generals understood the importance of
a right application of artillery in the field, and who in con¬
sequence employed his guns in masses so as to concentrate
upon any one point an overwhelming discharge, was also
fully sensible of the services to be derived from efficient
tirailleurs or riflemen in checking the fire of artillery, and
that more especially when the guns were assembled together
in powerful batteries. He also knew well how to use rifle¬
men occasionally as artillery, either by directing their fire
against ordinary infantry at the point to be attacked, or as a
means of protecting the movements of other troops ; as, for
example, in the campaign of 1807, when his first bridge over
the Danube was constructed under the protection of his bat¬
talions of tirailleurs, who swept the island of Lobau with their
fire.
During the campaigns of Napoleon and Wellington, the
rifleman was armed with a weapon possessing only a very
limited range and comparatively slow in loading; but had
it been otherwise, and had he possessed the modern rifle
musket, which unites rapidity and precision of fire with a
long range, can it be doubted that some of the most bril¬
liant movements even of that distinguished artillery officer
General Senarmont would have been impossible. On the
29th January 1807, the corps d’armee of Marshal Augereau
advanced on Eylau, and took up a position in rear of that
town. Senarmont at first posted the artillery of the first
division, consisting of eight 8-pounders, two 4-pounders,
and two howitzers on an elevated knoll; but finding that,
from this exposed situation, the battery became the mark
of all the enemy’s batteries, arranged as they were in a line
concave towards the French, and was soon, therefore, greatly
cut up, he determined to move forward to some flat ground in
front on a lower level, whilst the artillery of the second divi¬
sion took up their first position in order to divide the attack
of the enemy. These two batteries were in line, and swept
the space between the two armies, so that the Russian in¬
fantry and cavalry, as they successively advanced to the
charge, were mowed down by the fire of the 19 combined
Esprit des Institutions Militaires.
2 Remarks on National Defence, 1853.
ARTILLERY.
Artillery, guns. The nearest of these batteries was about 450 yards
from the Russian line, and though then tolerably secure from
all but the fire of artillery, what would have been its condi¬
tion had the Russians possessed the modern musket, and been
able to pick off every man and every horse from a distance
of 600 or even 800 yards ? Again, at the battle of Friedland,
June 1807, the French had suffered so much from the fire
of the Russian battery on the opposite bank of the Alle,
that the troops began to waver, when Senarmont collected
together 36 guns from several divisions and brought them
up with great rapidity to an eminence about 450 yards from
the enemy, and after a few discharges pushed on to another
[joint at only 230 yards from the Russians, when the rapid
and well-directed discharge of 36 guns soon silenced the
small detached batteries of the Russians, and being then
turned upon the closely-packed masses of the infantry,
spread destruction and confusion amongst them. The suc¬
cessful issue of this battle is ascribed by General Marion,
the biographer of Senarmont, to the admirable manner in
which that officer handled the artillery. “It was due,” he
says, to the admirable feat of arms of General Senarmont,
and the artillery cannot cite one more glorious. Thirty-six
pieces of artillery did what Ney and Dupont with more than
20,000 men had been unable to do, and what the three re¬
ceive divisions of Victor would probably not have done.
Looking at the steady courage with which the Russians,
when their retreat had been cut off, resisted the attacks of
the triumphant army, it may be well assumed that victory
would have been impossible to any other arm than artillery;
but Senarmont advanced his guns and obtained the most
brilliant success.” In this case the artillery acted almost
as an independent body, and bold and successful as the
manoeuvre was, it may be fairly stated that under present
circumstances the repetition of such an act of daring would
be attended with the utmost peril.
If the object were to bring into one general point of
view the importance of the artillery arm, as illustrated by
its achievements in modern wars, numerous examples might
be brought forward from the annals of the British army, both
in its European and Indian branches, as well as from the
exploits of the French and other armies; but at present
those cited will be sufficient to point out the peculiar cir¬
cumstances under which artillery have acted with over¬
whelming effect, and to suggest the controlling influence
which must henceforth be exercised over its movements
under similar circumstances. Nor is positive experience
wanting on the present state of the question, as the Prussian
needle gun was actually in use during the recent contests
of the Prussians and Danes ; and according to an eye-wit¬
ness (Lieutenant-Colonel Stevens, Royal Marine Artillery),
was the instrument by which the Danish artillery was effec¬
tually kept in check even at the distance of 800 yards. Such
considerations should impress upon the military authorities
the necessity of directing their attention to the following
points:—
Lv^, The employment of the largest calibre which is con¬
sistent with a due degree of celerity of motion.
2d, The propriety of having 6-pounder batteries for the
hoise or cavalry brigade, 9-pounder batteries for the ordi¬
nary infantry or moving brigade, and 12-pounder batteries
for position and reserve.
'id, I he attainment of perfection in the use of spherical
case as applicable to ranges beyond the effective fire of the
new rifled musket, and the more general use of this excel¬
lent projectile.
^tk, 1 he formation of howitzer batteries, so as to use the
largest possible shell which can be attained without an in-
687
ordinate increase of weight in the gun, and yet to retain a Artillery,
sufficiency of range.
HJi, To cover the artillery when possible with light en¬
trenchments, sufficiently thick to secure the men from mus¬
ketry fire, and yet such as can be rapidly opened at the
crest for the guns to fire over or through.
§th, The improvement of rockets, and the extension of
their use as auxiliaries to guns.
"Ith, The combined operation of artillery and riflemen.
8^, The still further extension of the principles of ordi¬
nary field-work defence to the use of artillery, by a system
of supporting or flanking batteries intended to scoiir the
ground in front of those batteries which require to be ad¬
vanced in order to produce a decided effect on an enemy’s
line. Such a service could only be done effectually by
spherical case, and therefore might be confided to howitzers.
, In Point general organization, it may without hesita¬
tion be assumed, that the British artillery stands in the first
rank of excellence, and yet the improvements which have
raised it to a state of such perfection are the work of the
present age. At the commencement of the war in 1793,
the various ordnance equipments, as well as the whole com¬
position of this branch of our military service, were of the
rudest kind, and on the worst organized and most defective
plan. The inefficiency of the whole system, indeed, was
palpably betrayed whenever a force was required to take
the field. The guns being dispersed among the infantry,
at the rate of two pieces to a battalion, it was impracticable
to employ them for their legitimate purpose of concentrating
a powerful fire of numerous guns on any important poinf.
They were also horsed in single team, which needlessly
both lengthened the column of march and diminished the
power of draught. The drivers were on foot with long
whips, as were also the gunners. The ammunition was
packed in large rough deal boxes; the waggons which con¬
veyed it were heavy and ill-constructed ^ and the whole
equipment was so cumbrous, that it was impossible for the
tiain to move out of a foot-pace, except for a very short dis¬
tance ; and if increased speed were attempted before the
enemy, the men came into action breathless and unable to
serve their guns.1
But before the commencement of the Peninsular war, that
active and able officer, the late Major Spearman, had entirely
re-organized this branch of the service; and it is to him
that the country owes the present beautiful system of field
artillery. The battalion guns were abolished, and the artil¬
lery was brigaded, distinct from the infantry and cavalry
with which it served, in divisions of six pieces each; so
that the fire of one or more of these powerful batteries could
be readily concentrated on any given point. A body of
military drivers was organized, while, by an ingenious con¬
trivance of the shafts, the power of using single draught in
narrow roads, or when any of the horses were disabled, was
retained. The drivers were mounted on the near horses ;
and the gunners themselves, in the proportion of eight to
each piece, were carried on the limbers and ammunition
cars. The whole of the equipment was simplified and
lightened to such a degree that the batteries could move at
a gallop ; the ammunition, packed in boxes on the limbers
and cars, was always up with the guns ; and the officers and
men, being all mounted or conveyed on the carriages, were
sure of being brought fresh into action. Finally, a system
of manoeuvres for artillery in the field was introduced, which
ga,ve order and precision to their own movements, and esta¬
blished uniformity between them and the troops of other
arms.2
Such was the general condition in which the artillery was
1 British Gunner.
2 Ibid.
688
ARTILLERY.
Field then placed, and it may be fairly stated that no pains have
Artillery, been spared by those subsequently in authority to improve
its details and increase its efficiency. Of this arm the
cavalry artillery branch is in the British service more espe¬
cially a horse artillery, as so many of its men are carried on
horseback; whereas, in the Austrian service, the men are
carried on light spring waggons. The respective merits
of these two systems require to be more fully investigated,
and no prejudice in favour of our own system, which is cer¬
tainly the more brilliant in appearance on a field-day, should
be allowed to prevent its rejection, if found on comparison
inferior. The British system involves the care of a larger
number of horses both in the field and in camp, and hence
Horse artillery.
greater trouble and anxiety to the men ; the Austrian, the Field
chance of having the locomotive power of the whole gun Artillery,
detachment crippled by the destruction or injury of a single
waggon. In respect merely to comparative speed, it is pro¬
bable that a light spring waggon would be fully able to keep
pace with the guns, and to move over any ground prac¬
ticable for them.
To secure the successful employment of an artillery force,
it is necessary that the whole body should be carefully
trained, and that the objects to be attended to should be
fully understood. General Lewis has therefore exhibited
the subjects of artillery in a very simple form,1 which, with a
slight modification, is here given :—
Personnel
Rocket
Foot
do.
do.
Field.
Garrison.
Invalid gunners.
Master gunners.
Iron
Ordnance Brags
Rocket
Materiel <
IGuns.
Howitzers.
Mortars.
Carronades.
(Field guns.
< Field howitzers.
I Mortars.
| Field.
\ Heavy.
j Travelling
j Standing {
n a \ Wood.
( Ground 1 Stone.
i „ . / Wood.
( Traversing j
(Bowder
Ammunition j Shot and shells.
I Case or cannister, spherical case, grape,
v Stores in general.
Carriages
Platforms
/ Academical for Officers
Instruction /
Elementary Tactics for
Non-Commissioned
Officers and Gunners.
Theoretical
Practical
Theoretical
Practical
FIELD ARTILLERY.
When an army is to take the field, several considerations
must be attended to in apportioning the number and calibre
of the batteries to accompany it; as, the face, features, and
general nature, mountainous or otherwise, of the country
which is to form the theatre of war,—the state of its roads,
and the resources which it can supply for the means of trans¬
port,—the force and description of troops composing the
army,—the nature of the war, whether offensive or defensive,
—and, lastly, the intended plan of operations.2
In carrying on offensive operations in a champaign coun¬
try, with good roads and facility of transport, the artillery
Mathematics.
Fortification.
History and Geography.
Plan Drawing.
Landscape Drawing.
Languages.
(Drills'—both Infantry and Artillery.
Sword Exercise.
Gun and Mortar practice.
Repository Course.
Laboratory Course.
Foundry, Proof, and Carriage De¬
partment Courses.
f A Course of Elementary Instruction
l in the Schools.
I Infantry Drill, and other exercise of Arms.
I Field Battery Exercise.
\ Gun, Mortar, Howitzer, and Rocket practice,
j Repository Course.
\ Partially Laboratory Course.
should consist of 9-pound batteries, to which 12-pounders,
and probably a few 18 or light 24 pounders should be added,
to form on occasion batteries of position. There should like¬
wise be one or more batteries of a lighter calibre, to accom¬
pany any corps of the army that may be destined by rapid
marches to intercept the enemy’s convoys or detachments.3
In mountainous or deep hilly countries, the artillery should
not be composed of heavier ordnance than the 6-pounder
battery ; but an exact topographical acquaintance with the
nature of the country is absolutely necessary, and indeed
affords the only satisfactory guide for judging of the most
appropriate calibres to be employed. When an army is to
1 Aide Memoire to the Military Sciences.
Traite EUmentaire d'Artillerie.
3 D’Antoni.
AwiiWv reVlail\ °n tlle ^efensive in a country where the roads are
v r l y only tolerable, and the probability of being obliged to under-
take long and rapid marches is not great, the artillery should
be composed of a heavier description of batteries than would
be proper to accompany an army acting offensively in the
same country. But if this defensive system be carried on
in a strong country, where the means of transport are at¬
tended with difficulty, and long and rapid marches may be¬
come indispensably necessary, the batteries must be so con¬
stituted as to adapt them to these several circumstances,
ot lerwise the artillery will retard the army in its operations,
instead of contributing to the attainment of the object in
from considerations connected solely with the combined
action of artillery and infantry, it has been deduced as a rule
that a battery should consist of some multiple number of 2
guns^ for example of 4, 6, or 8, and that howitzers should be
combined with them also in pairs, making therefore a com¬
pound battery consist either of 4 guns and 2 howitzers as in
r ranee, or 6 guns and 2 howitzers as in Russia and most
other European nations. The French battery has the great
advantage of easy subdivision, as a half-battery would con¬
sist of 2 guns and 1 howitzer, and be therefore still com¬
plete in both natures of ordnance when called upon to act
with the smallest independent force ; and, at the same time,
be in about due proportion to it. From the following histo¬
rical examples of the relative proportions of artillery acting
with various armies in different countries during the late war,
it will be seen that experience has led to about the same
proportions; and an officer, therefore, may, with the assistance
ot good topographical maps, form a tolerably accurate iudg-
ment on this important branch of military study.
1 he Austrian army, under the command of the archduke
Charles in the campaign of Aspergne, Essling, and Wagram,
consisted of about 75,000 men, to whom were attached 18
batteries of brigade, 13 of position, and 11 of horse-artillery;
eing nearly in the proportion of one piece of ordnance to
260 men.
^ The allied British and Portuguese army in the field in
bpain, May 1813, consisted of 65,000 men and 102 pieces
oi artillery, including the reserve ; being nearly in the pro¬
portion of one piece of ordnance to 622'men.
The grand French army under Napoleon for the invasion
of Russia, not including the Austrian contingent, consisted
of 400,000 infantry, 60,000 cavalry, and 1200 pieces of ar¬
tillery ; being one piece of ordnance to 383 men.
The French armies united on the Tormes in December
8.1- amounted to 80,000 men and 200 pieces of artillery,
being in the proportion of one gun to 400 men.
Napoleon in 1813 had 1400 pieces of artillery to 300 000
men, or one gun to 200 nearly. In 1815 his army consisted,
as nearly as can be ascertained, by a comparison of several
accounts of the campaign, of 130,000 infantry, 20,000 ca¬
valry, and 300 pieces of artillery ; being one piece of ord¬
nance to 500 men.
The Prussian contingent of the grand French army for the
invasion of Russia, under the command of General D’York
consisted of 20,000 men and 60 pieces of artillery ; being
nearly in the proportion of one piece of ordnance to 333
men.
Marshal Beresford, at the battle of Albuera, had 29,000
men and 32 pieces of artillery, or one gun to 900 men. His
opponent Marshal Soult, in the same action, had 23,000 men
and 40 pieces of artillery, or one gun to 575 men.
General F Fspinasse, who commanded the artillery of
• Ifo Italy’ .suPP"ses a division of an army to con-
»ist of 12 000 men, including a regiment of dragoons and
another of hussars, to which he allots three batteries of horse
ARTILLERY.
689
and three of field artillery, each consisting of six pieces of Field
ordnance. A battery of horse and another of field artillery Artillery.
are at all times to be up with the army ; two batteries, simi- v v '
larly aimed with the two in activity, are to remain with the
Pi m u • j remaining two, also appointed in like manner,
should be in depot in rear of the army. These proportions
of artillery to infantry, F Espinasse states, are precisely those
adopted with the approbation of Buonaparte in the Italian
campaigns.2
VOL. III.
1 British Gunner.
Positions and Movements of Field Artillery.
It has been pointed out that the principles on which the
application of artillery should be regulated in the field, are
the same as those which guide the engineer in the formation
of his lines of intrenchments, his forts, or his fortresses. In
fact the offensive action of artillery must be the same in its
direction and objects, whether the guns are firing over a pa¬
rapet, through an embrasure, or in the open field. The ne¬
cessary exposure in the latter case may indeed render it ex¬
pedient to rest satisfied with only a portion of the possible
effect of the guns, so far as position is concerned, in order
to gain for them greater security; but this does not inva¬
lidate the general principle.
The commanding officer of artillery, then, in order that he
may choose proper positions for his field batteries, should be
made acquainted with the effect intended to be produced
with the troops that are to be supported, and with the points
to be attacked, that he may place his artillery so as to sup¬
port, but not incommode the infantry, nor take up such situa-
dons with his guns as would be more advantageously occu¬
pied by the line ; that he may not place his batteries too
soon, nor in exposed situations ; that he may cover his fronts
and flanks by taking advantage of the ground; and that he
may not venture too far out of the protection of the army,
unless some very decided effect is to be obtained by so doing.
i f (ie*ensive position the guns of the largest calibre
should be posted on those points from which the enemy
can be discovered at the greatest distance, and from which
the whole extent of his front may be seen. In an offensive
position, the weakest points of the line, and those most dis¬
tant from the enemy, must be strengthened by the largest
cahbi es. . Those heights on which the army, in advancing,
may rest its flanks, must be occupied by guns, as also those
from which the enemy may be fired upon obliquely.
. Artillery should never be placed in such a situation that
it can be taken by any enemy’s battery obliquely, in flank
mm reverse> unless a position under these circumstances
offers every prospect of producing a most decisive effect be¬
fore the guns can be destroyed, or placed hors de combat.
Jie most elevated positions are not the best for artillery;
t le greatest effects may be produced from a height of from
30 to 40 yards at the distance of 600, and from about 16
yards high at 200 yards distant. Those positions which are
not likely to be shifted, but from whence an effect may be
produced during the whole of an action, are to be preferred,
and in such positions breastworks of two or three feet high
should be thrown up to cover the carriages.
The guns must be so placed as to produce a cross-fire
upon the enemy s position, and upon the ground over which
he must pass to the attack. It may sometimes be neces¬
sary, in order to concentrate a cross-fire on one particular
point, to subdivide the batteries, so that whilst the enemy’s
me may be attracted to different objects, that of the oppos¬
ing mice is directed to a focus, such as the debouche of the
enemy, the head of his advancing columns, or the ground
in front of the weakest point in his own line. If the enemy’s
position is to be attacked, the fire of the attacking force must
become direct in proportion as the troops advance, otherwise
2 Essai sur VArtillerie, par le General L’Espinasse.
4 S
690
ARTILLERY.
Field it will impede them ; and when the fire can no longer be
Artillery, directed with safety on the point to be attacked, the guns
must be directed on the collateral points.
The guns should be placed as much as possible under
cover. This is easily done upon heights, by keeping them
so far back as that only the muzzles may be perceived over
them. With proper attention, many situations may be
found of which advantage may be taken for this purpose,
such as banks, ditches, &c., everywhere to be met with. If
an enemy’s attack is expected, the guns must be posted so
as to cannonade him with effect when he advances within
800 paces, and particularly in situations in which his march
may be retarded by ditches, defiles, or other natural obstacles.
The position from whence the enemy is to be cannon¬
aded should be kept concealed from him till the moment
the batteries are to open. To effect this, the guns may
until that time be placed in any other situation. Should
there be any small elevations of earth in front of a defile
through which the enemy may advance and be cannonaded,
the guns must be kept under cover of them until he comes
out and begins to form. The guns may also be masked by
being covered by troops, particularly cavalry, until the ene¬
my is within the range of case-shot. The covering party
must then open right and left, and a brisk fire be kept up.
Artillery should very rarely be placed in front of a line
of infantry, or distributed by batteries in the intervals.
When the line is of great extent, it may become necessary
to place a strong battery in the centre. This should be
composed of the guns of the heaviest calibre ; and it should
be posted in the interval between the right and left wings
of the army, by which means a double object is not offered
to the enemy’s fire. In general, an army in order of battle
may be considered as a front of fortification, the infantry
forming the curtain, and the lateral batteries the bastions,
under the fire of which the troops may manoeuvre freely,
and advance with confidence to attack the enemy.
The two following examples will serve to illustrate the
preceding remarks; and it may be observed in respect to
the first, that had there not been heights in advance of the
line of the French army which permitted the batteries to be
arranged like flanks at the two ends of the line, the same
effect might have been obtained by placing the guns en
echelon along the space BE and AK of the following wood-
cut, and perpendicular to the lines BD and AC. This is
indeed the system which the approved or official evolutions
of artillery prescribe to be adopted.
Battle of Castiglione, 5th August 1796.—The following
diagram shows the disposition of the French under Buona¬
parte, and the imperialists under Wurmser, in this battle:
A B the French army, G H the imperial army, A C a bat¬
tery of 12 pieces of foot artillery, sustaining the left of the
French on the heights in advance of Castiglione; B D a
battery of 20 pieces of light artillery appuying on the right,
which extended into the plain. The line of infantry A B
being taken for the curtain, the batteries A C and B D may
be considered as representing the faces of two bastions, thus
forming a complete front, and crossing their fire before the
curtain. The troops are consequently covered from attack,
and the enemy fired upon obliquely. Wurmser having pro¬
longed his front from G to I with the intention of outflank¬
ing the French, General L’Espinasse took some of the guns Field
from C A, and placed them on the other face C K, until Artillery,
others could be drawn from the park for that purpose, thus Vs—
forming a new battery destined to follow the enemy’s move¬
ments. Another battery was likewise formed on the right,
from D to E, in case Wurmser had prolonged his left from
H to F.
Battle of Talavera, 21th and 2%th July 1809.—At the
commencement of the battle the British artillery were sta¬
tioned, by batteries of 6 guns each, with the divisions of the
army to which they were respectively attached ; a tempo¬
rary redoubt, unfinished, was thrown up at F, in which a
battery of 3-pounders was posted; on the hill at A, the
most commanding point of the position, two batteries were
posted, one of heavy 6-pounders, the other of light sixes, to
which two Spanish guns were afterwards added.
The French had a battery of 14 guns at K, the centre
of their position ; also one at each of the flanks G and H,
independently of others which were brought up during the
action. On the second day, when the columns at M ad¬
vanced, supported by artillery, to attack the British right,
which rested on the unfinished redoubt, the three batteries,
E E E were formed on the oblique line L E, and thus took
the advancing columns in flank, whilst the redoubt kept up
a direct fire in their front.
It must here be observed, that whenever an oblique line
is formed by artillery, as from L to E, it must be directed
without the extremity of the enemy’s flank, otherwise the
guns will be exposed to his enfilading fire.
On considering the more general application of artillery,
it is desirable to attend to the peculiarities in the mode of
action of the several natures of ordnance, as exhibited in the
following classified arrangement:—
^Force produced
by a sudden
development of
gaseous bodies
in a state of
high tension, by
the almost mo¬
mentary igni¬
tion of gun- J
powder.
Artillery^
Force produced'
by a gradual
development of
gaseous bodies
in a state of }
tension, by the
progressive ig¬
nition of gun¬
powder. I
/ The progres¬
sive velocity of
the missiles,
shot, musket-
balls, fragments
/ of shells, either
entirely or
mainly depend¬
ing on the ve¬
locity derived
from the pro-
\ jectile.
(Velocity of the
fragments of
the bursting
shell, depend¬
ing principally
on the bursting
powder of the
i shell itself. ,
Rockets.
Guns,
'.Carronades,
Howitzers.
j. Mortars.
ARTILLERY.
Siege An examination of this table shows that guns and how-
Artillery. itzers should be used wherever it is desirable or necessary
that the missile should possess a progressive movement, or a
penetrating power in a progressive direction, as in firing at
parapets, or in enfilading a long line of parapet; but that
mortars should be used wherever it is required to act in a
vertical direction, either for the destruction of a work which
cannot be got at by a direct fire, or to assist the enfilade
fire, when it is found, from the number of traverses, or the
position of the ground on which the work stands, that the
fire of the guns and howitzers has not been effectual.
Keeping these points in view, we proceed to the next subject.
SIEGE ARTILLERY.
. ^ !le duty the commanding officer of artillery, when
it is intended to besiege a fortress, is to prepare an estimate
of the quantity of ordnance and ammunition required for its
i eduction. 1 o enable him to make this estimate with ac¬
curacy and precision, he should be master of certain data ;
that is to say, the commander of the forces, or general
charged with the direction of the siege, should communicate
to him a plan of the fortifications and environs of the place,
accompanied by such profiles and remarks as may enable
him, in conjunction with the commanding engineer, to as-
ceitain which front or fronts are most assailable, with the
advantages and disadvantages attending each attack, as well
with respect to the works of the place as to the nature of
the soil where the trenches must be opened, and the seve¬
ral heights and hollows of the vicinity.1 He should also, if
possible, be informed as to whether the place be amply sup¬
plied with artillery, ammunition, &c.; if the garrison be
sufficiently numerous, and whether composed "of veteran
troops or raw levies ; if the governor be in high estimation
for his military talents; if the town be populous, and the
inhabitants well affected to the garrison.2 It will thus be
easy to form a tolerably accurate opinion of the means of
defence, and the resistance to be expected; for it is not to
be presumed that any government would shut up a brave
and numerous force in an ill-fortified and badly-provisioned
place, at the risk of seeing such a garrison sacrificed after
a short resistance.
But should it be impossible to procure information on
these several points beforehand, particularly as to the strength
of the garrison, the requisite proportion of ordnance and
ammunition must be regulated on the general principles of
attack. The officer intrusted to prepare the estimate must,
therefore, endeavour to ascertain, according to the funda¬
mental maxim of all besiegers, against which front or fronts
the attack can be made with the least exposure and greatest
expedition. He should examine whether the siege can be
most advantageously carried on by regular approaches; by
taking advantage of any defect in the situation which may en¬
able him to break ground close to the works to be breached ;
or by battering them from a distance. By the aid of this
investigation and the following general principles, the quan¬
tity of ordnance and ammunition required for the siege of a
place may be ascertained with reasonable accuracy.
General Principles for the Attack of Fortified Places.
1. Ihe number of batteries to be opened against the de¬
fence* must depend upon the extent of the works to be em¬
braced by the attack, i.e., there must be a battery to en¬
filade every face that can in any way annoy or retard the
besiegers in their approaches; but should this render it ne¬
cessary to extend the parallels to an inconvenient distance
from the actual direction of attack, the fire of the extreme
faces of the enemy’s works may be silenced by direct bat¬
teries.
691
Traite Elementaire d'Artilhrie.
2. The length of the epaulement of these batteries need Siege
not exceed the breadth of the terreplein of the works to be Artillei7-
enfiladed, unless circumstances should render it necessary ^ 1 v -1
to place some of the guns in a situation to take the work in
leverse. Each battery will only contain, therefore, five, or
at most eight guns, to enfilade the face of the principal work;
to which must be added two others to enfilade the branches
of the opposite covered way.
3. 1 he situation of the breaching batteries must be care¬
fully determined, as, in a regular attack, they might some¬
times interfere with the fire of the first or enfilading bat¬
teries. Should this be the case, the same artillery may be
transferred from one battery to the other. It must be re¬
membered, that though in the actual breaching batteries the
guns should fire as nearly as possible perpendicular to the
revetment to be battered down, it is by no means abso¬
lutely necessary to fire so nearly perpendicular when the
object, as in the earlier direct batteries, is merely to ruin
the earthen parapets. In this latter case, convenience may
be attended to without scruple, and even some danger oc¬
casionally avoided by adopting a more oblique fire.
4. The supply of ordnance must be sufficiently liberal to
enable the besiegers to keep up a fire constantly superior to
that of the place. This supply therefore must be deter¬
mined by the construction and extent of the fortifications
of the place; taking care that, in addition to the guns re¬
quired for enfilading batteries, there should be a preponde-
rating number to act against every portion of the fortress pos¬
sessed of the power of firing directly and effectively against
the besiegers. The number of siege guns will therefore
have a natural relation to the number adopted for defence.
5. As the ricochet firing may be interrupted while the
sappers are completing the third parallel, a supply of royal
and ccehorn mortars must be provided to harass the garrison
from the second parallel, or demi-places of arms, during its
cessation.3
Having thus ascertained the number of guns required, the
following will be their calibres, and the proportions which
the remaining ordnance should bear to them.
Guns—of the whole number required—suppose 60.
24-pounders or 49
12-pounders... 1 or 20
Howitzers—one for every four guns—in this case lo.
10-inch J or 5
8-mch | or 10
Mortars—in the proportion of one-twelfth more than the
number of guns—in this case 65.
 ^ or 10
 At or 15
JJ°yal At or 20
Coehom Ay or 20
In the above proportion of ordnance, it must be observed
that the long 12-pounder is proposed instead of the 18-pounder
formerly employed, as a gun of this description is conceived
to be sufficiently powerful for annoyance and direct fire, to
dismount the ememys artillery, as well as for firing en ri¬
cochet. Ihe diminished weight of ammunition attendant
on the employment of the smaller calibre is an important
advantage; but it is an arrangement which can only be
admitted in cases where an adequate number of 24-pounders
are provided. In all smaller equipments it would, therefore,
be better that all the guns should be of the heavy calibre.4
I he proportion of small mortars should in no case be less
than that of the heavy mortars and howitzers, and this pro¬
portion ought to be increased in all equipments of less than
thirty pieces of ordnance. Indeed, when sent at all, there
should be at least twelve of them, to insure the necessary
effect. In many cases a far greater number than is here
2 British Gunner.
3 Ibid.
Ibid.
692
AETILLERY.
Siege proposed could be advantageously used; but this must of
Artillery, course depend on the nature of the service on which they
v'~—are likely to be employed. The royal and ccehorn mortars
have, in the present instance, been taken in equal propor¬
tions, and it would be advisable to adhere to this arrange¬
ment in all the larger equipments, particularly when their
calibres correspond with those of the guns; but in small
equipments it would be more convenient to confine the ar¬
rangement to one calibre, in which case the royal mortar is
the preferable, as it possesses the power of being used at a
greater distance than the crehorn. But it must at the same
time be observed, that the latter, from its lightness and the
small weight of its ammunition, is a more desirable imple¬
ment for the more advanced parts of the attack.
The proportions per cent, of the ordnance here recom¬
mended, stand as follow:—
24-pounders 
12-pounders 
10-inch howitzers
8-inch do.
10-inch mortars .
8-inch do.
Royal 
Coehorn 
ill}*2'9
7-1 } 10’^
\ 28-6
46-4
100-0
A park of siege artillery in France consists of—
50 to 58 guns, either 24 or 16 pounders.
12 to 14 howitzers, of 8 inches.
10 to 14 mortars of heavy calibre.
6 to 8 do. of light calibre.
78 to 94 pieces :
Being, per cent.—•
Guns—heavy   64-1
Howitzers   ,  15-4
Mortars'—heavy  12-8
Do. light   7'7
100-0
}
20-5
giving a much larger proportion of guns and howitzers than
that proposed by Captain Spearman.
In Austria the park is composed, per cent., of
Guns—24 and 16 pounders   40 1
Do. 12 pounders  7/
• Howitzers  13
Mortars—heavy  11
Do. light    22
Do. stone  7
33
100
proportions somewhat nearer to Captain Spearman’s.
In Prussia the park is composed of—
Guns—24 and 18 pounders   48 1
Do. lighter calibre  10 j
Howitzers  16
Mortars—heavy  10 1
do. light   io}20
Do. stone      Q
100
proportions approaching more nearly to that of the French
army. On the whole, it may be assumed that a satisfactory
proportion might be deduced from all these, giving more guns
than in Captain Spearman’s, and more mortars than in the
French arrangement, viz.:—
Guns     50
Howitzers   15
Mortars—heavy  15
Do. light   20
100
}
35
The quantity and relative calibres of the ordnance being Siege
determined, the following will be the proportion and nature Artillery,
of ammunition :—
Gun ammunition.—Round shot,
24-pounder  1000 rounds per gun.
12-pounder  1200 rounds per gun.
Tier shot  50 rounds per gun.
Spherical case  100 rounds per gun.
Howitzer ammunition.—Shells,
10-inch  600 rounds per howitzer.
8-inch  300 rounds per howitzer.
Spherical case,
8-inch  300 rounds per howitzer.
Carcasses   10 rounds per howitzer.
Valenciennes composition,
10-inch  100 proportions per howitzer.
Mortar ammunition.—Shells,
10-inch  600 per mortar.
8-inch  600 per mortar.
Pound shot,
10-inch... 50 rounds of 100 shot each per mortar.
Carcasses,
10-inch  10 per mortar.
8-inch  10 per mortar.
Valenciennes composition,
10-inch  100 proportions per mortar.
In the above proportion of ammunition there is an increase
of 200 rounds in favour of the 12-pounders, as the facility
of working these guns will, at an easy rate, afford the means
of firing more rapidly than from 24-pounders. The pro¬
portion of one-half common shells and one-half spherical
case should always be adhered to for the 8-inch howitzers.
Arrangement of Artillery at a Siege.
The first disposition of the artillery at a siege is to the
different batteries raised near the first parallel. The object
of the besieger in the construction of these batteries is, by
a direct and enfilade fire, to dismount the artillery on the
front attacked, destroy the embrasures, and harass the gar¬
rison in the several points of defence, so that they may be
compelled to abandon them, or at least slacken their fire,
and thereby enable the besieger to carry forward his ap¬
proaches with greater expedition and less danger than he
otherwise could do.1 If these first batteries be favourably
situated, the artillery may be continued in them during the
whole of the siege, or until the besiegers arrive on the crest
of the glacis. The garrison must be perpetually harassed
along the whole front attacked, with shot and shells fired
en ricochet. The batteries for this purpose are erected on
the prolongations of the works to be enfiladed, from whence
the defenders of the prolonged faces may be fired upon with
great precision and effect.2 It, however, frequently happens,
from local and other circumstances, that the besiegers can¬
not avail themselves of the most advantagous situations for
their first batteries. There are four situations from which
the defences of a place may be destroyed, though not from
all of them with equal facility. The best positions for the first
batteries are those before described as perpendicular to the
prolongations of the faces of the works to be enfiladed. If
these positions cannot be attained, the next that present
themselves are on those sides of the prolongations which
take the faces in reverse, and under as small angles as pos¬
sible. If the ground or other circumstances will not admit
of either of these situations being occupied by enfilading
batteries, the battery to destroy the fire of the face must be
without its prolongation, so as to fire obliquely upon the
outside of it: the fourth position in point of advantage is
directly parallel to the face, or within that degree of obliquity
which will allow a sufficient penetrative force to the shot or
1 Essai Generate de Fortification.
British Gunner.
aktillery.
Garrison shells. The guns must fire en ricochet from the first two
v r 1 ery- positions, and from the last two with full charges-
' . T he second batteries are generally placed on the glacis,
within 15 or 18 feet of its crest; but if the foot of the re¬
vetment cannot be seen from this situation, they must be
placed in the covered way, within 15 feet of the counter¬
scarp.1 The object of these second batteries being to effect
practicable breaches in the works, they should be combined,
two and two together, so that while one batters in breach,
the other may play upon its defences. The breaching bat¬
teries shall commence by marking out as nearly as possible,
by their fire,, the extent of the breach intended to be made ;
first by striking out a horizontal line as near as possible to
the bottom of the revetment; and next, by aiming at two
others, perpendicular to and at the extremities of this first
line. Then, by continuing to deepen these three cuts, and
occasionally firing salvoes at the part to be brought down
the wall will in time give way in a mass. The guns must
693
l  — —-
ot the operation, afterwards somewhat higher in the same
manner as before, and so continue advancing gradually
upwards till the breach is effected; for, should they fire
too high at first, the rubbish would cover the lower part
of the wall, retard the operation, and tend to render the
breach impracticable. When the second batteries are placed
on the glacis, or in the covered way, they must be sunk to
such a depth that the terreplein of the one, or surface of the
other, may coincide with the soles of their embrasures.
1 hey are in fact but an enlargement of the sap run for the
lodgment on the glacis, or in the covered way, and should
contain at least four guns each. If the space between the
traverses will not admit of this number at the usual dis¬
tances, the guns must be closed to distances of fifteen or
twelve feet from each other.
The mortars are generally arranged at first in battery
adjoining the first gun batteries, or upon the prolongations
of the capitals of the works, in which situations they are cer->
tainly least exposed ; and upon the establishment of the half
parallels the howitzers are placed in battery, in their ex¬
qmred for the defence of a fortified place depends not only Garrison
on the particular situation of each individual fortress and Artillery.
its relations with the surrounding country ; the system ac- ' '
cording to which it is fortified, and the species of attack it
may be possible to open against it; but likewise on innu¬
merable minor circumstances, each of which may exert an
important influence on the defence. If, for example, one
oi moie of the fronts of a place be covered by an inunda-
tion, a marsh, or by any other impassable obstacle, it will
manifestly require a much smaller proportion of artillery for
its defence than if it were equally accessible on every front.
On the contrary, a maritime fortress, which is susceptible of
attack both by sea and land, will require a larger proportion
of ordnance supplies than if it were assailable from only one
of these points.2 J
It will be seen, therefore, from the above remarks and
examples, how impossible it is to lay down any general rules
upon this important subject. The only satisfactory guide
oft „by f78 as low as praible in the co^nce^
of the operation, afterwards somewhat higher in the same of armino » fordfled  .".a “ lTns,.ble tn,st
ot arming a fortified place can with security follow, is to ex¬
amine attentively all parts of the works and of the surround¬
ing country, and then to weigh every other circumstance
that can in any way influence the defence. He should con¬
sider which of its fronts are most vulnerable, and what mea¬
sures are best adapted for their security. To effect this with
accuracy and expedition, he should, after a few days passed in
reconnoitring and studying his position, devote his attention
to the preparation of a sketch and profiles of the works and
neighbouring country, as far at least as a mile in every direc-
tion, and upon a scale adapted to the features of the ground
With this map and profiles before him, he should recur to
those fundamental principles upon which every good attack
and defence are based. He should not only be thoroughly
acquainted with his own particular branch of the service in
a its details, but capable of judging to the fullest extent of
all operations in which the other troops of the garrison can
bear their part; so that every supply may be adequate to
its particular purpose, without deficiency on the one hand or
superfluity on the other. Thus two extremes, equally pre-
“““a6 f branch^ of the'covered way! jufeaUll be ; th”°f Sng^pTSnT
most “Ivaitageous situations, if, sufficient for the defence which the fortress is caLhle of
while the one bombards the work that the besieger intend*
to assault and prevents the garrison from throwing up in-
trenchments within it, or at least retards their construction,
the other directs its fire against the defences of the breach,
so that the garrison may, from the continual shower of
shells, &c., be compelled to abandon them, or, if they persist
in remaining, be exposed to great loss. The small mortars
aie arranged in the third parallel, to annoy the besieged in
the places of arms.
Mortars may also, as stated before, be advantageously
placed opposite the prolongation of a face, on the same
principle as an enfilading gun battery ; and in this case they
may be arranged one behind the other, being separated by
traverses or epaulements.
In the establishment of all these batteries, the great ob¬
ject is to make such an arrangement of them, that they may
not mask the fire of each other more than is unavoidable
and particularly that of the first or ricochet batteries. The
aggravation of this inconvenience may very well be pre-
vented till the establishment of the attack on the crest of
t le glat is, when it becomes in some degree unavoidable:
owever, even the operations of the glacis may be so ar-
l anged as not to mask the fire of the ricochet batteries, until
the bleaching batteries are in a state of great forwardness.
GARRISON ARTILLERY.
The proportion of ordnance, ammunition, and stores re-
sumcient for the defence which the fortress is capable of sus-
taming; the other, of providing such a quantity of supplies,
that, on its capitulation, which, according to the natural order
ot things, must sooner or later happen, if it be not relieved a
complete arsenal would fall into the enemy’s hands.3
These observations being held in mind, the following ge¬
neral maxims will be found of essential assistance.
General Maxims for arming Fortified Places.
1. The proportion of ordnance, ammunition, and stores
should never exceed the quantity absolutely necessary to a
brave and resolute defence.
2. Those fronts which are considered susceptible of attack
should be completely armed, and the remaining fronts armed
only in part.
5. I here should be, for each of the faces of the bastions
of such fronts as are deemed liable to attack, five or six
pieces of ordnance; for each of the flanks of these bastions
four pieces; and for the faces of the ravelin from five to
seven pieces of ordnance. When there are lunettes, four
pieces should be reckoned for each, and from two to three
for each of the places of arms of the covered way. Suppos-
ing, therefore, one front to be completely armed, the fol¬
lowing proportion of ordnance will be required
I he faces of the two bastions   from 10 to 12
two interior flanks from 6 to 8
faces of the ravelin from 5 to 7
five places of arms from 10 to 15
1 Traits d’ArtiUerie, par D’Antoni; British Gunner.
British Gunner.
3 Traits Elementaire d*Artillerie.
ARTILLERY.
694
Garrison making a total for one front of from 33 to 42 pieces of ord-
Artillery. nance.
4. In case of the place being liable to attack on two con¬
secutive fronts, the above proportion should be augmented
one half; and if on two detached fronts, it should be doubled.
The remaining fronts should each be provided with such a
proportion of their full armaments as will secure them from
insult. It will appear from the above maxims, which are
deduced from the best authorities on the subject, that a
hexagon, having only one front exposed to attack, requires
an armament of from 58 to 68 pieces of ordnance for its
defence ; and that for more extensive places, from six to
eight, or at most ten pieces of ordnance, should be added
for each additional front.1
The next point to be considered is the proportion which
the several kinds of ordnance, and their relative calibres,
should bear to each other; and here it must be remembered
that the higher rates are not the only descriptions capable
of being employed to advantage in the defence of a place.
There are many cases in which medium guns can oppose
equal resistance with the heavier calibres, and they possess
the very important advantage of affording greater facility in
manoeuvring and transporting them from one situation to
another; an operation of considerable difficulty with the
higher natures of ordnance at all times, but particularly
during a siege. They also consume less ammunition, and
enable the besieged to keep up a more determined and in¬
cessant fire.2
The following are the proportions of the several kinds
and calibres usually adhered to in ordinary cases.
Guns—in the proportion of two-thirds of the whole arma¬
ment—suppose 60.
24-pounders or 6
18-pounders -nr or 12
12-pounders T% or 18
9-pounders or 6-pounders ^ or 24
Howitzers—one for every five guns—in this case 14.
10-inch ^ or 7
8-inch i or 7
Mortars—in about the same proportion as the howitzers
—in this case 16.
10-inch 4 or 8
8-inch | or 8
The above distribution of guns, howitzers, and mortars,
applies equally to all armaments of not less than 60 pieces of
ordnance; and such an armament should therefore consist
of 40 guns, 8 howitzers, and 12 mortars. The proportions
of the several calibres of each kind, except those for the
guns, are calculated on a basis of not less than 90 pieces of
ordnance ; and in all smaller armaments it would be advis¬
able to confine the arrangement to two calibres of each
kind only.
The preceding estimate of 68 pieces of ordnance for a
hexagon must be taken as the least possible number, as it
implies a very partial arming of the fronts not included in
the scheme of attack, and a defence limited to a single front.
To bring this up to a sufficient standard on the principles of
estimate adopted, the following calculation may be given.
Faces of the centre bastion of the attack 12
Nearest faces of collateral bastions 12
Two flanks opposed to centre bastion    8
Two flanks of centre bastion  4
Adjacent faces of two adjacent ravelins  8
Remote faces of do  4
Four adjacent places of arms   12
Two remote do  8
68
Armament of remote halves of two adjacent bastions.. 10 Garrison
Armament of three other bastions at 10 pieces of ord- Artillery,
nance for each bastion  30
40
Colonel Timmermans gives 62 guns and howitzers, and 42
mortars, or 104 in all; besides some few stone mortars ; and
the Fortification Course of the Royal Military Academy 130,
namely, 65 heavy guns, 13 howitzers, 39 mortars, and 13
field guns. If then the same proportion be adopted on the
total number of 110 for a hexagon, the number of heavy
guns will be 55, of howitzers 11, of mortars 33, and of field
guns 11, which appears a very reasonable estimate for ordinary
circumstances. In carrying it into effect, the number of
field guns should, of course, be adopted which corresponds
to the ordinary arrangements of field batteries; as, for ex¬
ample, 12 ; being two batteries of the present establishment,
or 14 of that proposed.
In respect to the calibre of guns used in the defence of
fortresses, the remarks of Colonel Timmermans deserve es¬
pecial attention. He observes,
ls£, That the superiority of attack over defence is in great
measure due to the improvement of the siege artillery and
operations, without a corresponding improvement in the de¬
fence, and hence that an improvement in the artillery of a
fortress should tend to restore the equilibrium.
2d, That as the besieger is limited by the difficulty of
transport to the use of guns of moderate calibre, the be¬
sieged should adopt guns of a more powerful calibre, so as
to commence an effective contest with the besieger even at
the earliest stage of the siege.
These remarks are just, and it would seem assuredly de¬
sirable to establish a superiority of calibre in the guns of
defence whenever it is possible so to do. The present es¬
tablished table of ordnance exhibits the 8-inch shell gun
8 feet long, and weight 52 cwt; the 32-pounder 9 feet 6
inches long, and weight 56 cwt.; and the short 32-pounder
6 feet long, and weight 25 cwt.; which seem peculiarly fitted
for the armament of fortresses, and are not so greatly differ¬
ent even in weight from the 24-pounder, which weighs 50
cwt., as to render their use difficult. Mortars also should be
freely used in the collateral bastions, their fire being directed
not against the battery nearly opposite to them, but against
the battery opposite the corresponding bastion on the other
side, so as to fall as nearly as possible in the direction of
the parapet. Spherical case should also be freely used as
a most effective missile. It may be added also as an argu¬
ment in favour of heavy ordnance, that when the fortress
has fallen, the guns will not be suitable for transport in the
field.
The following will be the proportion and nature of am¬
munition for each species of ordnance.
Gun ammunition.—Round shot,
24-pounder  600 rounds per gun.
18-pounder  760 rounds per gun.
12-pounder  800 rounds per gun.
9-pounder or 6-pounder ..1000 rounds per gun.
Case shot,
24-pounder  40 rounds per gun.
18-pounder  50 rounds per gun.
12-pounder  80 rounds per gun.
9-pounder or 6-pounder ...100 rounds per gun.
Spherical case,
24-pounder  50 rounds per gun.
18-pounder  80 rounds per gun.
12-pounder.... 100 rounds per gun.
9-pounder or 6-pounder ...150 rounds per gun.
Howitzer ammunition.’—'Shells,
10-inch  400 rounds per howitzer.
8-inch      600 rounds per howitzer.
1 Manuel de VArtilleur; Traite d'ArtilUrie, par D’Antoni.
2 British Gunner.
ARTILLERY.
Garrison Case shot,
Artillery. 10-inch  100 rounds per howitzer.
8-inch  250 rounds per howitzer.
Spherical case,
8-inch  500 rounds per howitzer.
Light balls and carcasses,
8-inch 20 rounds of each per howitzer.
Mortar ammunition.—Shells,
10-inch  500 rounds per mortar.
8-inch  650 rounds per mortar.
Pound shot,
10-inch  500 rounds per mortar.
8-inch  600 rounds per mortar.
Each round of pound shot consists of 100 shot for the 10-
inch, and of 80 for the 8-inch mortar.
^ Light balls   per mortar.
Ihe ab°ve proportion of ordnance and ammunition for
the defence of a fortified place is exclusive of one or more
neid batteries, which every place should contain, according
to its extent, and which should be provided with a double
proportion of ammunition : and it is only necessary to alter
the calibre from 24 to 32, to reconcile it to the views pre-
viously expressed of the advantage of heavier ordnance.
1 his estimate and arrangement is founded upon the suppo¬
sition that the place is unprovided with casemated batteries,
the aimament for which must of course form a separate
estimate, calculated, however, upon the same principles as
the above.
695
Arrangement of the Artillery during a Siege.
The instant it is ascertained that the enemy’s troops are
in motion towards the place,—presuming that it is amply
supplied with provisions, ammunition, and stores, and that
every precaution has been taken to collect from the vicinity
what might fall into the enemy’s hands,—the barbette bat-
teiies must be established in the flanked angles of the bas¬
tions and ravelins, and a proportion of the light guns and
howitzers must be placed in the outworks and covered way.
Should the body of the place have cavaliers, the heaviest
guns should be mounted on them. The following arrano'e-
ment is usually made for the reception of the investing
corps, when it is not known from what point they may ad¬
vance to commence operations.
1 here should be three guns mounted on the barbette of
each bastion—one 24 and two 18-pounders, and three 9-
pounders on the barbette of each of the ravelins. In the
salient places of arms of the bastions, one 24-pounder how¬
itzer, and in those of the ravelins two 6-pounders. The
heavy mortars should be placed one in each bastion, and
the remainder of the ordnance in reserve behind the cur¬
tains, leady to move on whichever side it may be required.
As it is always very desirable to have as few calibres as
possible, the 9-pounders might be advantageously replaced
in all cases either by 12-pounders or by 6-pounders, accord¬
ing to the special circumstances; and the armament con-
sist in general of the 8-inch shell gun, long 32, short 32,
12 feet and 6 feet, besides the field batteries.
y this arrangement the whole of the barbette guns, and
of the guns and howitzers in the outworks and covered way,
will be m readiness to act in any direction, till it is known
on which side the enemy has determined to direct his at¬
tack, and, with the addition of the reserve, will enable the
besieged to open a fire of thirty-five pieces of ordnance on
t ie enemy, the very first night he begins to work upon the
trenches. In the first moments of the investment, however,
ic ar i er y o t le place should not endeavour, by a useless
expenditure of ammunition, to disturb the besiegers in their
operations ; it is only when they are making permanent dispo¬
sitions for their establishment that the fire of the place should
be opened upon them It is nevertheless necessary that some
guns, should be loaded with reduced charges to protect the
retreat of the advanced posts, and mislead the enemy as to
their range. This is also the moment, if the garrison be Coast
numerous, and composed of good troops, to annoy the be- Defences.
siegers by sorties on different points of the line of contra- ' , '
vallation, and to retard the works necessary for establishing
t leu communications ; care must however be taken not to
purchase this advantage by a loss of men and artillery, which
would cripple the means of defence.
The day succeeding the night on which the trenches
are opened, and the front of attack determined, a new
disposition of the artillery of the place must be made as
follows:—
The 24 and 18-pounders must be removed to the front
attacked, and the other batteries, if necessary, supplied with
12-pounders. The barbettes of the bastions on this front
must have each five guns, three 24 and two 18-pounders,
and the remaining 18-pounders arranged behind the cur¬
tains, two towards each of the extremities of the front
curtain, and two at the farthest extremity of each of the col¬
lateral curtains. The howitzers in reserve should be placed
two in each of the salient angles of the covered way of the
bastions of this front, and two in each of those of the colla¬
teral bastions, which, with those already there, must fire en
ricochet down the prolongations of the capitals. There
should also be three 6-pounders in the salient place of arms
of the ravelin of the front attacked, and three in each of
those of the two collateral ravelins ; these guns should fire
over the palisading; and, lastly, there should be five 9-
pounders on the barbette of the front ravelin. This arrange¬
ment will bring fifty-two guns and howitzers and four mor¬
tars to fire on the approaches after the first night. This,
with a few variations, will be the disposition of the artillery
of the place till the besiegers’ first batteries are ready to open.
1 he instant they begin to work upon these batteries, the
whole fire of the place must be concentrated on them, and
t ie mortars which had previously fired at low angles must
now fire with greater elevation, but at all times sparingly.
As soon as the enemy’s batteries are fairly established,
the guns en barbette must be covered by merlons, and the
embrasures occasionally masked. While this work is car¬
rying on, the situations of the guns should be changed, and
new directions given to them; as by frequently practising
this manoeuvre, the enemy will also be obliged to change his
dispositions of attack, and time will thereby be gained by the
besieged. As the enemy approaches towards the second
paralfel’ the fire of the place must be spread over all parts
o his line of operations; and with a view of contributing to
this object, royal and ccehorn mortars should be disposed in
the places of arms and branches of the covered-way. When
the approaches are carried on from the second parallel, and
the enemy is about to establish the demi-places of arms, the
fire of the place must be concentrated on the debouches from
the parallel, and multiplied with all possible activity.
In proportion as the besieger pushes forward his approaches
to the third parallel, the artillery must be withdrawn from
the covered way to the ravelins, or to the ditch, if dry, or
to any other favourable situation, and by degrees, as they
advance, to the body of the place. During this period of
the siege the embrasures must be prepared in the flanks, in
the curtam which joins them, and in those parts of the faces
of the bastions which command the ditch of the front ravelin.
All these embrasures must be ready to open, and the heavy
artillery mounted in them, the moment the enemy attempts
to form a lodgment on the glacis. We have now arrived at
the crisis of the siege, and every effort should be made to
take advantage of this favourable moment, when the enemy,
by his own works, must mask his former batteries, and be¬
fore he is able to open his new ones.
COAST DEFENCES.
In a preceding paragraph, the opinion of Colonel Tim-
ARTILLERY.
698
Exercises, mermans of the Belgian artillery has been quoted in favour
of the use of ordnance of high calibre in the defence of
fortresses, and that of Marshal Marmont might be quoted
to the same effect. “ I come now,” he observes, “ to the artil¬
lery of Paixhaus. To fulfil their object, heavy guns should
have a great range, and their missiles a great momentum.
Hitherto this momentum has been obtained by the use of
a moderate mass projected with a great velocity, on account
of the difficulty of moving heavy ordnance ; but though
this reason is unanswerable in a siege where the guns must
be moved in a limited time, and often under circumstances
of great difficulty, it does not apply to the armament of ships,
of fortresses, or of coast defences; in all of which cases such
heavy artillery must possess immense advantages.” In re¬
spect to coast defences the force of this reasoning has been
fully admitted, as the effect even of a 32-pounder shot is
small in comparison with that of an 8-inch hollow shot which
weighs 56 pounds, and makes a fearful rent in a ship’s side,
which it would be difficult to stop up or repair.
The armament, therefore, for coast batteries, forts, or
towers, includes guns of the highest calibres, viz.:—
1. 68-pounder for sweeping channels of more than ordi¬
nary length, so as to bring the ship within range as soon as
possible.
2. 10-inch shell gun, to defend a point of very great im¬
portance, where a more than usually heavy fire is required.
3. 8-inch shell gun and 32-pounder of 56 cwt. as the
general armament in the proportion of one shell gun to two
32-pounders. Both these guns can be used for setting fire
to shipping, the one by shells and the other by red-hot shot,
and therefore fulfil most of the conditions x-equired for coast-
battery guns. Lighter guns of similar calibre may be used
for very short ranges, but it should always be borne in mind
that as the efficiency of defence, since the application of steam
as a motive power in ships, rests on the destructive effects
of a few shots, and not on tlie repeated shocks of many, guns
of a lai’ge calibre ought to have almost an exclusive pre¬
ference, both from the superior precision and superior de¬
structiveness of their fire. The 24-pounder has still been
retained on the Ordnance Lists for protecting shallow beaches;
but even in this case the short 32-pounder would be prefer¬
able, and the introduction of another calibre might be avoided.
EXERCISE OF ARTILLERY.
The several exercises are divided into three classes, as
follows:—
1. Exercise of field artillery.
2. Exercise of garrison or siege artillery.
3. Exercise of the various machines employed in the
manoeuvres of garrison or siege artillery.
1. Exercise of Field Artillery.
The complement of men for the service of each gun or
howitzer is, one non-commissioned officer and eight gunners.
Numbering and Telling off the Detachments.
The several detachments being arranged right in front,
are numbered and told off by their respective non-commis¬
sioned officers in the following manner:—
The non-commissioned officer is invariably No. ], and is
responsible for the proper execution of the duties of the
other numbei's of his detachment. The right-hand man of
the rear rank is named No. 2; his front-rank man No. 3 ;
the second man from the right of the rear rank No. 4 ; and
his front-rank man No. 5 ; and so on in succession from the
right of the rear to the left of the front rank, till the num¬
bering of the whole detachment is completed.
Formation in Order of March or for Exercise.
When detachments are formed in the order of march, or for
the purpose of exercise, the even numbers are almost inva- Exercises,
x'iably on the right or off-side of the gun, and the odd num-
bers on the left or near side.
Positions of the several Numbers in Action.
No. 1 is on the left of the handspike; No. 2 outside the
right wheel, in line with the muzzle; No. 3 outside the
left wheel, and also in line with the muzzle ; No. 4 clear of
the right wheel, covering No. 2, and in line with the breech ;
No. 5 clear of the left wheel, covering No. 3, and also in line
with the breech ; No. 6 five yards in rear of and covering
the left wheel; No. 7 in rear of the limber ; No. 8 ten yards
in rear of the gun, in line with the heads of the leading
horses of the limber; and No. 9 attends the ammunition-
waggon.
Duties of the several Numbers.
No. 1 points and commands; No. 2 sponges ; No. 3 loads;
No. 4 serves the vent and primes; No. 5 fires ; No. 6 serves
No. 3 with ammunition; No. 7 supplies No.6 with ammu¬
nition, and, when firing shells, fixes the fuses ; No. 8 assists
No. 7, and occasionally relieves No. 2, or, when attached to
inch or 24-pounder howitzers, provides No. 3 with shells ;
No. 9 assists in preparing ammunition.
Limbering up, or Fetiring from Action.
This manoeuvre may be performed, according to circum¬
stances, to the front, x-ear, x'ight, or left. In limbering up to the
front, the limber drives up to the right of the gun. No. 2
instantly passes his sponge over the axletree to No. 4, who
straps on the sponge head; No. 2 and No. 3 go round to
the trail; No. 4 and No. 5 man the wheels, assisted by
No. 7 and No. 8 with heavy guns. The right wheel is
run back, the left forward, and No. I and No. 6 throw the
trail round in the opposite direction to that in which the
limber drives up. The instant the trail is round, No. 1 un¬
ships his handspike, and No. 5 straps it on; No. 2 buckles
on the rammer-head of his sponge, and the whole fall in
close to the wheels. No. 6, No. 4, and No. 2 on one side,
No. 5, No. 3, and No. 1 on the other; No. 7 attends the
limber, and No. 8 moves up to his place. On the limber
coming up square to the front, No. 1 orders, “halt, limber
up,” upon which No. 4 and No. 5 man the wheels, No. 2,
No. 3, and No. 6, lift the trail and place it on the pintail;
No. 1 then puts in the key, and the detachment mount, or
fall into the order of march. The duties are precisely the
same in limbering up to the rear, right, or left, except that
in limbering up to the right or left, the trail and limber both
go to the right or left; and in limbering up to the rear, the
limber drives up rather to the right of the trail, which is
not thrown round, and then reverses to the left.
Unlimbering or coming into Action.
This is precisely the reverse of the preceding manoeuvre.
No. 1 unkeys the pintail, No. 2 and No. 3 raise the trail, and
when it is clear No. 1 gives the word, “ Drive on upon
which the limber goes off to the left about, and the trail is
thrown to the right about, the other numbers assisting as
they arrive, the same as in limbering up, No. 6 at the trail
with heavy guns, and No. 4 and No. 5 at the wheels. As
soon as the trail is down, No. 5 unbuckles the handspike, and
No. 1 ships it; No. 2 unstraps the rammer-head and goes
to his place ; No. 4 unstraps the sponge, and passes it over
to No. 2. When the limber is sufficiently to the rear, it re¬
verses to its left, and halts ten yards in x’ear of and covering
its gun. The ammunition-waggon also reverses to its left,
goes off in fi’oni of the limber, and again reversing, to its left,
halts one horse’s length in rear of the gun-limber. No. 1 is
responsible for the correct dressing of his gun when it comes
into action ; and for this purpose, immediately after the trail
is in its proper direction he should place himself in line with
ARTILLERY.
Exercises, the axle-tree of the gun upon which the formation is made,
—and dress his own gun with it. This position will enable him
to see, not only that his gun is in its true alignement, but
also that it is square to the front.
2. Exercise of Garrison or Siege Artillery.
This second branch of the exercises relates to the manner
of working and serving guns, howitzers, carronades, and mor¬
tars, on batteries. The complement of men for the service
of garrison or battery guns is, for the 42-pounder and 32-
pounder, one non-commissioned officer and six gunners each;
for the 24-pounder, one non-commissioned officer and five
gunners ; for the 18-pounder, one non-commissioned officer
and four gunners ; and for the 12-pounder and 9-pounder,
one non-commissioned officer and three gunners each. The
• complement of men, duties, &c., are precisely the same for
howitzers and carronades as the above for guns. The 13-inch
mortar requires one non-commissioned officer and five gun¬
ners ; the 10-inch mortar one non-commissioned officer and
our gunners; the 8-inch mortar one non-commissioned offi¬
cer and three gunners; and the royal and coehorn mortars
one non-commissioned officer and two gunners each.
All calculations for the daily service of guns on batteries,
whether in garrison or at a siege, should be made in three
proportions and at three reliefs.
Numbering, Telling off the Detachments, an dFormation
for Exercise.
The same in every respect as for field artillery.
Positions and Duties of the Numbers.
No- I? directly in rear of the gun, points, commands, and
assists to run the gun up ; No. 2, on the right of and in line
with the muzzle, sponges, runs up, and elevates ; No. 3, on
the left of the muzzle, and also in line with it, loads, runs up
and elevates ; No. 4, on the right of the gun, clear of the
track, and in line with the breech, serves the vent, primes,
runs up, and traverses ; No. 5, in the same relative position
on the left of the gun, fires, runs up, and traverses ; the re¬
maining numbers on the right and left of the embrasure, with
their backs to the merlons. No. 6 serves No. 3 with am¬
munition, and runs up ; No. 7 assists to run up. The whole
of the numbers, when not immediately employed in working
the gun, should range themselves in order under cover of the
parapet.
In serving mortars, No. 1 is directly in rear of the mortar,
and points, commands, and serves the vent; No. 2, on the
right of and m line with the front of the bed, sponges, runs
up, and traverses ; No. 3, in the same relative position on the
left of the bed, loads, runs up, and traverses ; No. 4, on the
right of the mortar, covering No. 2, and in line with the vent,
runs up, elevates, supplies shells, primes, and traverses ; No.
°, ln the same relative position on the left of the mortar, runs
up, supplies shells, elevates, traverses, and fires ; No. 6, at
the magazine, serves ammunition. No. 2 puts the shells into
the 8-inch royal and coehorn mortars, and in putting them
into the 13 and 10-inch mortars is assisted by No. 3.
3. Exercise of the various Machines employed in the
Manoeuvres of Heavy Artillery.
The method of numbering, telling off, &c, is the same in
every respect for this branch of the exercises as for the two
pi eceding, except that, in the exercise of the devil-carriage,
the odd numbers are posted on the right side, and the even
numbers on the left.
Left side.
No. 3 carries at the foot of
the left cheek, works the left-
hand lever, keys and unkeys
the left-hand capsquare of the
gun-carriage, and assists to
run the carriage up or hack.
No. 5 carries at the top of
the left cheek, works the left
centre lever, and assists to run
the carriage up or back.
No. 7 carries the levers and
handspikes, assists No. 6 in
passing the fall round the
windlass, and holds on next to
him.
No. 9 carries at the top of
the pry-pole with the slings,
fid, trucks, &c., holds on the
fall behind No. 8, and coils it
up as it comes off.
No. 11 Assists in carrying
the blocks and fall, reeves and
unreeves the triple block, as¬
sists in slinging the gun, and
steadies it at the muzzle.
697
Right side. Exercises.
No. 2 carries at the foot of ✓
the right cheek, works the
right-hand lever, keys and un¬
keys the right-hand capsquare
of the gun-carriage, and as¬
sists to run the carriage up or
back.
No. 4 carries at the top of
the right cheek, works the
right centre lever, and assists
to run the carriage up or back,
No. 6 carries the windlass,
passes the fall round it, holds
on, makes it fast, and eases off
and lowers the gun.
No. 8 carries at the foot of
the pry-pole with the slings,
fid, trucks, &c., and holds on
next to No. 7.
No. 10 assists in carrying
the blocks and fall, reeves and
unreeves the double block, as¬
sists in slinging the gun, and
steadies it at the cascable.
Exercise of BelVs Gyn.
This is a light gyn calculated to raise about 30 cwt.
When greater weights are required to be raised, the Gib¬
raltar Gyn is used, which is calculated to raise a weight of
50 cwt. with perfect safety. The duties of the Gibraltar
Gyn are nearly identical with those of Bell’s Gyn, which it
has now replaced in the service. The complement of men for
working it is one non-commissioned officer and six gunners.
Left side. L&icjfat sxd/e
No 3 runs the carriage up No. 2 runs the carriage up
or back, assists No. 6 in sling- or back, assists No. 7 in sling¬
ing the gun, turns the winch,
assisted by No. 5, or makes
fast and hauls upon the rope
which is passed round the
handles of the winch.
No. 5 runs the carriage up
or back, and assists No. 3 at
the winch.
No. 7 slings and unslings the
gun at the chace, assisted by
No. 2, and steadies at the
muzzle.
ing the gun, turns the winch
assisted by No. 4, or holds on
upon the rope and makes it
fast, the same as No. 3.
_ No. 4 performs similar du¬
ties to No. 5 on his own side.
No. 6 slings and unslings
the gun at the first reinforce,
assisted by No. 3, places the
bed and quoin, and steadies the
gun at the cascable.
Exercise of the Sling-cart.
The complement of men for a sling-cart is one non-com¬
missioned officer and six gunners.
Left side.
No. 3 has charge of the left
lever, and when necessary as¬
sists to skid the gun.
No. 5 assists No. 3 at the
lever and skidding, and when
the gun is lashed assists in
raising the breech.
No. 7 assists No. 3 at the
lever, slings and unslings the
gun, and lashes it to the pry-
pole.
Right side.
No. 2 has charge of the
right lever, and when neces¬
sary assists to skid the gun.
No. 4 in like manner as¬
sists No. 2, and when the gun
is lashed assists in raising the
breech.
No. 6 assists No. 2 at the
lever, slings and unslings the
gun, and lashes it to the pry-
pole.
Exercise of the Triangle Gyn.
The complement of men for a triangle gyn is usually one
~7r^ nHcl'r md ten -n,nntl's- The following
aie the duties in working or carrying the ewn •
vol. in. 0 "
The non-commissioned officer puts in and takes out the
pauls, and commands.
Exercise of the Devil-carriage.
The complement of men for working this carriage is one
non-commissioned officer and ten gunners.
4 T
698
ARTILLERY.
Exercises. Left side.
No. 2 has charge of a drag-
rope, assists in hauling the
perch up and down, assists
No. 3 in bearing the muzzle
down, and, when the gun and
carriage are lashed on, puts up
the skid.
No. 4 steadies the gun-car¬
riage when raised on its breast
transom, and with the long
guy-rope lashes its front axle-
tree to the devil-carriage.
No. 6 slings the gun, lashes
the breech to the perch, assists
in limbering up and unlimber¬
ing, and slings the gun-car¬
riage.
No. 8 has charge of one of
the short guys, assists in un¬
limbering and limbering up,
and in hauling the breech of
the gun up to the perch; lashes
the hind axle-tree of the gun-
carriage to the devil-carriage,
and fixes the long guy-rope to
the iron eyes at the end of the
perch.
No. 10 assists in unlimber¬
ing and limbering up, and in
hauling the breech of the gun
up to the perch ; lashes with
the short guy-ropes the rear-
axle-tree of the gun-carriage
to the devil-carriage, and fixes
the short guy-ropes to the ring
under the perch.
Right side.
No. 3 has charge of a drag-
rope, assists in hauling the
perch up and down, bears the
muzzle of the gun down, and,
when the breech is raised, puts
the lever into the muzzle.
No. 5. The duties of No.
5 are in all respects the same
as those of No. 4.
No. 7. The duties of No.
7 are the same as those of No.
6, only performed on his own
side of the carriage.
No. 9 does the same as No.
8.
No. 11 does the same as
No. 10.
The several exercises which have been here explained
afford but a very faint view of the admirable course of in¬
struction which is assiduously and regularly carried on in
the Royal Repository at Woolwich, and through which every
gunner and every officer must necessarily pass. When it is
considered that artillery men are required to handle heavy
ordnance under circumstances sometimes of peculiar diffi¬
culty, and to provide for their transport sometimes up in¬
clined planes, and sometimes over broken bridges or other
obstructions, it will be readily conceived how important it
must be that they should be fully and most carefully trained
to the ready and skilful application of mechanical contri¬
vances ; and it is in this excellent establishment, now pre¬
sided over by Colonel Hardinge, that they are experimen¬
tally made acquainted with them. All the military machines
now in use, Pontons, models of various systems of tempo¬
rary bridges, including the most simple as well as the more
complex, are to be seen in the grounds or in the model-
room ; and every operation connected with them is taught
practically at the establishment. It may then be confidently
asserted, that much of the efficiency of the artillery is due
to this branch of its instruction.
• Rockets.
As this missile, though depending for its movement on
the progressive or comparatively gradual combustion of an
explosive, or rather highly inflammable compound, has been
classed by all modern artillerists rather with ordnance than
with the musket, or other more handy weapons of personal
conflict, it is necessary to make some further remarks upon
its application in war. But before doing so it is right to
explain the principle of its movement, as the improvement
of the rocket as an efficient projectile will depend greatly on
a right understanding of this principle. Mariotte and Nol-
let ascribed the movement of the rocket to the re-action of Exercises,
the gas proceeding from the combustion of the powder, ^ v —'
produced by the resistance of the air to its escape from the
vent. Desaguliers and D’Antoni reject the instrumental¬
ity of the air, and consider the movement of the rocket to
be solely due to the greater re-active force of the gases on
the head of the rocket than on its base. The first theory
appears to have been adopted in the Woolwich School of
Artillery until very recently; but the latter, which is without
doubt the true theory, is now taught by the present able
inspector, a professor of artillery, Captain Boxer, R.A.,
and is fully adequate to explain the motion of rockets, and
all similar cases of motion either in animals or in machines.
A very few words will make it quite intelligible, and show
that motion will be produced under such circumstances in
vacuo, as well as in air or water. Let the case of the roc¬
ket be first considered as closed on every side; in this in¬
stance the gas formed by combustion will accumulate in the
case, and exercise a pressure increasing with the increase
of quantity, or the degree of compression to which it is sub¬
jected; but as the pressure will be equal in all directions, the
rocket will be urged backwards with the same force that it
is urged forwards, and hence must remain at rest. Let it
be supposed, then, that the pressure on the head, and on the
base of the rocket case is each equal to {a + b) lb., and
that a hole be then made in the base which will relieve a
portion of the pressure equivalent to b lb., by allowing the
gas to escape: the pressure now, on the head, will be
{a + b) lb., and on the base a lb., so that the rocket being
impelled forwards by a force equal to {a + b) lb., and back¬
wards by a force of a lb., will be forced into motion by a
resultant force equal to b lb. This resultant force, to in¬
duce motion, must be greater than the weight of the rocket,
when the projectile is intended to be fired vertically, and
greater than a weight equivalent to friction and inertia, when
the projectile is intended to be fired horizontally.
The rocket, as an instrument of war, is associated in the
English mind with the name of Congreve, although Sir Wil¬
liam Congreve was not its inventor. The merit of that very
able officer consists in his appreciation of the value of rockets,
and in his ingenuity and skill in improving them. It is not
improbable, that the Greek fire of the ancients may have
been sometimes projected in the manner of rockets; and
it is certain that in Asia they were used with other fire¬
works on days of public festivals at very remote epochs.
M. de Montgery1 has collected the following recorded ex¬
amples of their use in war. By the Chinese in their wars with
the Tartars, at the commencement of the thirteenth century;
by the Paduans and Venetians in 1379 and 1380; by the
French in 1428, in the defence of Orleans ; and in 1449, in
the attack upon Pont-Audemer, when Dunois threw rockets
into the place and took it by assault during the confusion of
the conflagration which followed. In 1561, it was stated that
careful descriptions of flying and destructive fuses (rockets)
were found in an ancient manuscript, and that it was recom¬
mended to make their cases of sheet-iron, and to varnish
them as a security against rust. Louis Collado, the author
of a Manuel d’Artillerie, states, in 1586, that rockets were
used to light up the vicinity of besieged places, and to throw-
cavalry into confusion; and recommends that a petard should
be added to them, in order to render them more dangerous,
and that they should be projected by means of a long tube,
in order to increase their range. Towards the end of the
seventeenth century, and during the eighteenth, rockets ap¬
pear to have fallen into disuse as weapons of war in Eu¬
rope, although some experiments were made by Ruggieri,
both on fire-rockets and on grenade rockets. In Asia they
continued to be used, and at the siege of Seringapatam, were
1 Journal de Sciences Militaires, 1825-26.
ARTILLERY.
Artillery, projected against the English troops with considerable effect.
They were made of sheet iron, and provided with a stick or
tail of bamboo. The idea of using rockets in war first oc¬
curred to Sir W. Congreve in 1804 ; but as he states the
fact, that in India they had been already thus used, and that
General Desaguliers had some years before made experi¬
ments upon them, it is manifest he did not claim the title
of inventor, but merely claimed the merit of making them
of large size, and bestowing upon them a sufficiently ex¬
tended range, as he certainly did when he constructed one
of 32 lb. weight, having an average range of 3000 yards.
In 1808, they were first used by the English fleet against
Boulogne ; in 1807, against Copenhagen, under the superin¬
tendence of Congreve; in 1809, in the Walcheren expedi¬
tion ; and subsequently, with brilliant success at Leipzig,
where the rocket troop, under the gallant Captain Bogue,
who fell gloriously in the battle, distinguished itself. M.
de Montgery remarks justly, that the rockets now called
Congreve rockets, though at present looked upon as one of
the most recent inventions in artillery, are, on the contrary,
one of the most ancient. But at the same time he does full
justice to Sir W. Congreve ; for, as he observes, “ Some per¬
sons in England and in France have disputed with that ac¬
tive and ingenious officer the invention of war rockets; but
as they had been previously employed in Europe, and were
still employed in Asia, he could only reasonably claim the
merit of having revived their use and perfected their con¬
struction, and that he most undoubtedly did.”
Of the importance of war rockets, Sir W. Congreve had
the very highest opinion. He preferred their employment
with infantry as ground rockets, and pointed out the fearful
effects of a shower of 1000 such rockets, ploughing up the
ground as they ricocheted along, and never rising for the first
400 yards above the height of a man. He pointed out their
peculiar applicability to mountain warfare, and the ease with
which they might be used by cavalry and in boats. He con¬
sidered that they were superior to ordinary artillery, and
even to shrapnel shells; both from the ease with which they
could be transported and managed, and from the greater
quantity of missiles which they could discharge in a given
time. And, finally, he proposed to use them, not merely
in defence, but also in the battery of attack for breaching,
stating, that from his experiments, he was disposed to be¬
lieve that rockets weighing from half a ton to a ton might
be made and projected, and that such masses inclosed in
cast-iron cases would, by their weight, penetrate into the
revetement of a fortress, and by their subsequent explosion
effectually destroy it.
\\ ithout however concurring in all the expectations of Sir
W. Congreve, or undervaluing the objections which have
been urged against rockets, many of which may certainly
be removed by improved construction, it may be fairly urged
that the time has arrived when more attention ought to be
paid to the construction and improvement of this valuable
description of artillery, which may assuredly be used in posi¬
tions and under circumstances where no other could be ap¬
plied.
for the projection of case shot and of all missiles which
should possess a penetrative power as well as an explosive
force, the rocket possesses an advantage in long distances
over the howitzer shell, as its velocity and penetrative force
then exceeds those of a shell. M. de Montgery gives the
following table exhibiting the velocities and penetrative
power of a howitzer shell, 6 inches in diameter, weighing
23 lb., and projected at an angle of 40°, with a velocity of
950 feet pei second, as compared with a rocket 3^- inches
in diameter, and weighing with its stick 42 lb. in French
measure.
Distances
from the
point of
discharge.
Toises.
0
100
200
300
400
500
600
700
800
900
1000
1100
1200
1300
1400
1500
Calculated Velocities
Of the Of the
Shell. Rocket.
Feet.
950
850
760
680
608
544
486
435
389
357
338
364
385
414
451
510
Feet.
0
158
224
274
316
354
387
418
447
474
500
530
565
605
650
700
Weight of |
the Rocket.
I Penetrations in Earth
hy calculation.
Of the
Shell.
Pounds.
42
37
34
32
30
28
27
26
25
24
23
23
23
23
23
23
Feet.
7-0
5-5
4-4
3-5
2-8
2-3
1-8
1-4
1-2
1-0
0-9
1-0
IT
1- 3
1-6
2- 0
Of the
Rocket.
Feet.
0-0
0-9
1- 7
2- 4
3- 0
3- 8
4- 0
4- 8
5- 2
5-4
5- 7
6- 4
7- 3
8- 4
9- 7
11-0
699
Artillery.
This Table, founded on calculation alone, can be only con¬
sidered, in the present state of knowledge on the subject, of
approximative value. It appears from it, that at 700 toises,
or about 1400 yards, the velocities of the two projectiles are
nearly the same, whilst the penetrative power of the rocket
is more than three times greater than that of the shell, so
that the rocket might be employed with great advantage in
enfilading from great distances. When the distance is small
the advantage is on the side of the shell, but at 800 yards
the velocity and penetrative power are still quite sufficient
to render heavy rockets most effective projectiles for any
purpose; and with the knowledge that musketry will hence¬
forth be effective at 600 yards, it is desirable that projec¬
tiles capable of fulfilling the functions of both musket and
cannon should be brought into action at about that distance.
In Denmark, under the directions of the late Captain Schu¬
macher, brother of the celebrated astronomer, numerous
and careful experiments were made with rockets, and it ap¬
pears that shells, grenades, and case shot were successfully
projected in connection with these projectiles, and were
deemed so effective that rockets became a part of the recog¬
nised armament of the gun boats, and were combined with
guns and howitzers in the field artillery used for the defence
of the coast of Zealand. It was from information given by
Captain Schumacher to Captain Brulard that rockets were for
a short time introduced into the French artillery, but they do
not seem to have subsequently made much progress in that
country. In Austria the manufacture of rockets has been
carried to the highest perfection; and it has been considered
so important that the government has formed a large esta¬
blishment near Vienna, Raketendorff, for the express purpose
both of making and trying rockets, four companies of arti¬
ficers organized for this particular duty being regularly
trained and exercised within a vast inclosure attached to the
establishment, the greatest secrecy being observed, and the
public rigorously excluded from the premises.
The experiments of Captain Brulard were made by order
of Marshal Davoust, who would have doubtless introduced
this projectile into the French artillery, had not the course of
military events been changed by the downfall of Napoleon.
Marmont, another high military authority, has also given
the following opinions in favour of rockets.1
“ Every day the office of artillery in war is becoming
more important, not merely on account of the augmentation
of the number of guns, but also from their increased mobility,
which enables them to enter into almost every military com¬
bination. There is, however, a limit to this mobility, and
1 L: Esprit des Institutions Militaires.
700
Artillery, the difficulty and expense of moving guns under some cir-
cumstances must operate materially to check their use in
inordinate n umbers. The maximum ought not, indeed, to be
placed higher than 4 pieces of ordnance for 1000 men ; but
rockets form an artillery the possible development of which
is so unlimited that they may well form a principal and dis¬
tinct arm of the service. In fact, when it is remembered
that the rocket generates within itself the propelling force,
and requires no propellent machine, that it offers no tangi¬
ble object to an enemy’s fire, that it can be fired in any po¬
sition, and under any circumstances, requiring neither plat¬
forms nor other preparation, and that it may be so multiplied
as to coyer the front of a single regiment with a shower of
shot equivalent to the fire of 100 guns, it may be assumed that
nothing could resist its destructive action, and that it would
be ruinous to expose to its force troops drawn up in paral¬
lel lines on the field ot battle. To adapt the infantry to the
use of this missile, it should be divided into two sections, one
provided with rockets and the other intended to act as a
covering party, so that the infantry would become a kind of
infantry-artillery. This new artillery would become more
especially useful in all situations unfavourable to the use of
guns, such as mountainous ground, the tops of buildings and
churches, producing the effect of a powerful battery without
trouble, and in an instant; and it is by its fire and extended
use that an overpowering effect can alone be expected, as
one or two rockets fired here and there would frighten
more than hurt.
“ In such considerations as these it is usual that every¬
thing should move on in a routine system, and modifications
or improvements be so slowly arrived at that it may be long
before the real power and value of Congreve rockets will be
duly appreciated ; but should an able general, endowed with
foresight (for example a master-general of the ordnance),
take up the subject in all its bearings, and quietly organize
such a rocket establishment as will enable the arm to be ap¬
plied in its fullest development on the field of battle, he will
ensure for his countrymen success in succeeding conflicts,
which must continue to be unequal until his enemy has
adopted the same means of offence.
I repeat that rockets are destined to effect a revolution in
the art of war, and that success and glory will crown the
efforts of him who has the genius first to comprehend and
apply the advantages to be expected from them.”
These observations of so able an officer deserve considera¬
tion, and the more so as the brilliant service of the rocket
tioop, under the gallant Captain Bogue, appears to have been
the primary cause of that marked attention which has been
subsequently paid to this arm by foreign governments. M.
Montgery, after pointingout the various objects which might
be embraced in the use of rockets—and in doing so, he falls
little, if at all, short of the expectations of Sir W. Congreve
—combats the prejudices of his countrymen in the fol¬
lowing terms : “ It is no longer a question as to the adop¬
tion of an arm of doubtful utility, as rockets have now been
so much improved by the hands of foreigners, that they have
acquired incontestibly an advantage over guns, carronades,
howitzers, mortars, and ordinary projectiles, and it would be
an extreme of fatuity not to make use of them. Grreat obsta¬
cles, however, are likely to be thrown in the way of their ge¬
neral introduction into our armies and fleets, as the soldiers
and sailors likely to be consulted on such a subject are high
in rank and grown old in a course of service where such pro¬
jectiles were nearly unknown, and can scarcely be expected to
abandon their prejudices against untried novelties, or to re¬
commend their use.” Let another result be hoped for the
British army, and as Sir W. Congreve revived the use of
the rocket in Europe, so let some other British artillery
ARTILLERY.
officer—and there are many of them possessed of scientific Artillery,
knowledge sufficient to undertake the task—undertake the ^
further improvement of so important a projectile, and place
it in its proper rank in British artillery.
An examination of the following table of iron ordnance,
will show, that a great advance has been made in one mate¬
rial element of improvement, namely, simplification; as the
number of calibres has been diminished by the abandonment
of the 56, 42, and 9 pounder iron guns. Including the 10-
inch and 8-inch guns, the number of calibres has been thus
reduced to 8, and the wants of the marine service met, by
adopting a variation in length and width to suit the capa¬
bilities of vessels, rather than a variety of calibre. Many,
however, of the pieces which still appear on the list may be
considered experimental, and will be hereafter replaced by
others so adjusted as to meet all contingencies, and yet con¬
siderably reduce the number. As a general principle, the
rule already laid down should be adhered to, namely, that
for long ranges, where great precision of fire is the main
object, a long and heavy gun is necessary; and for short
ranges, where rapidity of fire becomes indispensable, a short
and lighter gun; and, consequently, that the same calibre
should be represented in both long and short guns.
A simplification of a different kind has been proposed by
Colonel Timmermans, in the artillery of defence, the objectof
which is to do away with the distinction of gun and howitzer,
by the intioduction of a gun-howitzer, the calibre being re¬
gulated in reference to the size of the shells. He thus pro¬
poses for the armament of a fortress six pieces, namely:—
Mortars of 29 centimetres, or 11| in. calibre, and weighing0^ 64
Light do. of 29 do. or 11J in. ... ... 4 402
Howitzers of 20 ... or 7^ in. ... 58 104
Short do. of 20
in.
or 7t9tt in.
23 64
Gun-howitzers of 13£ centimetres, or 5^, being the calibre of an
18-pounder; and weighing 22 cwt. 66 lb., or about the same as
an iron 18-pounder of 7 feet in length.
Mortar of 13f centimetres, or 5^, and weighing 0 cwt. 77 lb.; this
latter piece being about the calibre of the British cbhorn',’with
the weight of a royal, or 4§ calibre mortar.
These are all bronze pieces, and would reduce the calibres
to three, namely, 11 fL, 7x9o, 51^5 but the system requires the
test of experiment; and as it does not include the guns of at¬
tack, nor even those guns which would secure the long range
necessary for early coast defence, it can only be looked upon
as suggestive. In like manner, the Emperor of the French
has proposed a gun-howitzer for the field,and General Lewis2
makes a suggestion in the same direction, when he remarks
on one of the inconveniences of the howitzer construction,—
“ Difficulties,” he says, “ occur in siege batteries when the
how itzer is used, in consequence of the muzzle not entering
into the throat of the embrasure; the cheeks are then blown
away, and the men exposed after a few rounds are fired.
Two expedients might be adopted to remedy this inconve¬
nience ; either to provide for mounting the 8-inch howitzer
on garrison carriages, or to lengthen the piece to 8 calibres,
corresponding with the 68-pounder carronade; but this last
plan would involve difficulties in building a travelling car¬
riage of sufficient strength.”
4 he lightness, also, of Colonel Limmermans’guns would
produce a very powerful action on the carriages, and lead
to an excessive recoil, when fired with tolerable charges;
but this evil he proposes to diminish, by using a less rapidly
igniting powder; and it may be observed that it does not
enter into his scheme to fire with charges exceeding from
£th to i th, or to attain initial velocities beyond 1300 feet for
the solid shot of his 7X9X gun-howitzer, or 1381 feet for his
5To gun-howitzer; the principle he advocates being great
momentum rather than great velocity.
1 Histoire des Fusees de Guerre, 1841.
2 Aide Memoire.
Table of Iron Ordnance.—1858.
ARTILLERY.
701
Artillery.
Artillery.
702
ARTILLERY.
Artillery. The improvement of the projectiles used is the next ob-
''■’■"■v-ject of importance. I he use of solid shot cannot be dis¬
pensed with, even when the action of artillery is directed
against infantry, as the moral effect of its ravages is very
great upon the soldier. Many modes, therefore, of increasing
the precision of fire with such projectiles have been pro¬
posed, such as rifling the guns, covering the balls with lead
or combining that metal with the iron in some other way
so as to facilitate the rifling process, oval balls, &c.; and ex¬
periments are still in progress for the same purpose. But
allowing every possible weight to the effects of solid shot,
the shrapnel shell appears to be the most important and de¬
structive projectile which has hitherto been invented for the
purposes of war, as it combines the action of small shot with
the extensive range of a cannon-ball or shell; and in the
larger calibres, the moral effect of the cannon-ball might be
secured in combination with its wide-spread action, by such
a modification of the shell as would allow the use of large
iron balls as in common case. At present, the effect of such
projectiles may be understood from a consideration of the
number of balls projected in each shell; thus—68-pounder,
and 8-inch gun or howitzer, 377; 32-pounder, 204; 24-
pounder, 128; 18-pounder, 90; 12-pounder, 63; 6-pounder,
27. One difficulty, however, attends the use of the shrapnel
hitherto constructed; namely, the frequent ignition of the
bursting powder, from the heat generated by friction be¬
tween the balls ; and the necessity, therefore, of using a di¬
minished charge, with a corresponding loss in the extent of
range. This evil it has been attempted to remedy by plac¬
ing the powder in the centre of the balls; but the result of
this arrangement is, that the balls receive an impulse from
the bursting powder which may deflect them from their
course, or even stop their further progress by neutralizing
their remaining velocity. The most natural mode would
appear to be a separation of the powder from the balls; a
{dan which was suggested about four years ago by Captain
Boxer, R.A.,but not then adopted by the artillery committee,
who considered that a reduced charge was the simplest mode
of lessening the chance of premature explosion, and did not,
at that time, appear to think a great range so essential as it
manifestly is. On the continent this plan has also been pro¬
posed ; and the indefatigable inventor of it in this country
has, by perseverance and skill, at length produced a shrapnel
shell which may be fired with any amount of charge, and will
be effective at any range. By its construction this shell will
admit of the use of at least 1-lb. iron balls, and, as it may
be fired even from mortars, the vertical fire of Carnot will no
longer be an illusion, but will realize in its destructive effects
the expectations of that author.
A shell, it will be observed, depends, as to the time of
bursting, on the length of the fuse attached to it. The fuse
is a short wooden pipe, somewhat like the wooden tap of a
beer-barrel, being cylindrical within and slightly conical
without; it is filled with a peculiar composition, and being
driven or fixed into the fuse-hole of the shell, the priming
ignites when the gun is fired, and on the composition burning
through, the flame is communicated to the bursting powder
within the shell, which then explodes. The time of bursting,
therefore, depending on the length of fuse to be burnt, used
to be regulated either by cutting the fuse to the required
length in the field, or by boring out a portion of the com¬
position; but these very rude systems will now be replaced
by the simple but excellent fuse called Boxer’s fuse, being
another invention of that able and scientific officer. The
beauty and simplicity of Captain Boxer’s improvement of
the fuse will be readily understood from the annexed wood-
cuts, the first of which represents the common shrapnel fuse,
in which the time of burning has to be regulated by boring
out a portion of the composition from the bottom of the fuse,
and thus reducing the quantity to be burnt, and therefore the
time of burning ; the second, Boxer’s fuse, in which a com- Artillery,
munication is made between the burning fuse composition
and the bursting powder through the auxiliary tube c, by
boring through the intervening side of the fuse (which is
very easily done) at the proper opening/, corresponding to
the required range, and marked on the external covering of
the fuse. In this latter arrangement there can be no
mistake, no chance of boring too much or too little, and no
necessity of wasting time in guessing the quantity.
COMMON SHRAPNEL FUSE.
r
(a) Fuse composition which
has to be bored out from
the bottom for any par¬
ticular range.
boxer’s shrapnel fuse.
(a) Fuse composition.
(b) Small hole drilled through priming
and composition, to insure the pro¬
per ignition of the fuse.
(c) Channel filled with fine grain-pow¬
der to communicate the fire from
the fuse to the bursting powder.
(d) Side-hole containing quick-match.
(/>/>/) Side-holes to be continued into
the composition in the field for any
particular range.
Combining the improvement of the shrapnel shell and the
improvement of the fuse, it may be reasonably expected
that bursting in the gun or just beyond the muzzle, burst¬
ing at uncertain distances, and blind shells or shells burst¬
ing not at all, will cease to be the ordinary accidents of ar¬
tillery practice.
On referring to the table of brass or bronze ordnance, it
will be observed that the number of pieces is still consider¬
able, being at least 12, and indeed sometimes reckoned as
13, whilst the number of calibres is 9, or may be reduced to
7 by classing together those of which the difference is small,
and which may therefore be considered applicable for the
propulsion of the same projectiles, with different degrees of
windage. Such an arrangement renders it necessary to
class together guns and howitzers of different calibre in the
same battery, a system which, though now unavoidable,
must be considered defective; the 24-pounder howitzer be¬
ing classed with the 9-pounder in the field batteries, the 12-
pounder howitzer with the 6-pounder in the horse or cavalry
batteries, and the 32-pounder howitzer with the 12-pounder
in batteries of position, so that the ammunition, case-shot, &c.,
of one cannot be used with the other. The present Em¬
peror of the French has, indeed, in reference to these defects,
proposed the adoption of a 12-pounder howitzer-gun as the
single calibre to be used in the field; the weight being 11
cwt. 18 lb., or 2 cwt. 38 lb. less than the weight of the British
9-pounder. I his howitzer-gun, mounted on the carriage of
a French 8-pounder, corresponding nearly to a 9-pounder
English, would, on account of its lightness, require to be fired
Artillery.^ with a charge of one-fourth instead of one-third. The sim-
phfication thus effected would indeed be very important; but
those who are well acquainted with the destructive effects
on the carriage of firing from light guns, will at least require
very careful preliminary experiments. As yet, in the British
service, such experiments have not been considered fa-
ARTILLEItY.
703
vourable to the use of guns of diminished weight; but it Artillery,
may be possible that a howitzer-gun in weight between the i >
J-pounder and 12-pounder, and of the calibre of the 12-
pounder, would be found efficient, with a reduced charge, for
any service or range required in the field, or in movements
of combined infantry and artillery.
Table of Brass or Bronze Ordnance.—1853.
Nature of
ordnance.
Calibre, or
weight of shot.
Service
designed
for.
Gun
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Howitzer
Do.
Do.
Do.
Mortar, royal
Do., cbhorn
12-pr. (medium)
9-pr.
6-pr. (light)
3-pr.
3-pr.
1-pr. (mountain)
32-pr.
24-pr.
12-pr.
42-inch
5^-inch
4f-inch
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Land
Length.
In feet
and
inches.
1 10£
In
cali¬
bres.
3
0J
17
17
16-3
16-4
12-3
29-8
10
10
10
4-9
2-6
2-6
Cali¬
bre, in
inches.
4-62
4- 2
3- 7
2-9
2-9
2-01
6-3
5- 72
4- 58
4-52
5-62
4-52
Length
of
bore
ft.
6 2-5
5 7-7
4 9-5
3 10
2 10
4 10
5 1-2
4 7-1
3 9-1
1 4-1
0 11-9
0 10-1
Wght.
in cwt.
Charge
in lb.
18
134
o
3
2|
m
m
6*
2i
lb. oz,
4
3
1 8
0 12
0 10
0 6
3
2J
If
0 8
0 7
0 5
Natuke and Weight op
Pkojectiles.
Solid
shot.
lb.
12
9
6
3
3
1
Com¬
mon
shell
filled.
lb. oz.
Com¬
mon
case.
lb. oz.
16 14
13 24
9 0
Spheri
cal
lb. oz.
10 13i
8 H
5 7i
14 10J19 8 21 4
7 5J11 9 10 134
7 5i ..
14 10£
7 5|
lb. oz.
8 13
Cakkiages.
ammu
nition,
stores.
16 94
8 13
8 13
16 9|j
8 13 I
cwt. lb.
44 17
38 65
28 23
26 71
12 95
39 39
29 17
13 11
Bed
alone.
1 10
0 89
Wag
gon
limber,
ammu
nition,
stores.
cwt. lb,
36 37
34 45
33 92
30 53
6 52
35 48
31 69
7 26
Spare
wheel
car¬
riage,
limber
stores.
cwt. lb.
30 43
29 71
26 82
24 85
Total
weight
con¬
veyed
on the
field.
In a preceding paragraph, the necessity of securing artil-
lery from the effects of the fire at long ranges of the improved
musket, by causing the guns to co-operate with riflemen, or
with troops armed with this musket, has been strongly urged;
and whilst in the press, the system of manoeuvring artillery
and infantry together, making the infantry the adjunct of the
artillery, and not as heretofore the artillery the adjunct of
the infantry, has been tried on a large scale at Vincennes ;
batteries having been thus formed in combined squares
with the infantry, so that the latter could at once support
the artillery and be supported by it. Such an experiment
is an argument for securing an amount of speed or facility
of movement equal to the most rapid movements of infantry,
but not for going beyond that speed at the sacrifice of
weight of metal; and it is equally an argument for obtain-
ingalarge calibre for the efficient use of spherical case. These
conditions would probably be satisfied by a gun intermediate
between the 9 and 12 pounder; as, for example, an 11-
pounder, the calibre of which would be 4-5, therefore but little
less than the calibre of a 12-pounder or a 10-pounder, the
calibre of which would be about 4-35. Before closing these
remarks, it may be well to reiterate the principles which have
been already laid down as a guide in every attempt to im-
prove field artillery; namely, 1st, that in the field or infantry
batteries, the highest calibre consistent with a moderate de-
grcc of mobility ; and, 2d, that in horse or cavalry artillery,
Y*3 FI Y*6!*' sl,ee^ consistent with a reasonable calibre—
should be the objects sought for. All attempts to confound
t icse principles together, will only lead to imperfect designs
and ultimate failures in the field of actual service. It has,
foi example, been again proposed to replace the 6-pounder
as a gun for the horse artillery by the 9-pounder; but the
propriety of such an arrangement is at least very doubtful,
as may be judged from the following considerations The
weight of the 6-pounder with its limber, ammunition, and
stores, is 28 cwt. 23 lb., and that of the 9-pounder, 38 cwt.
6o b., being 10 cwt. 42 lb. more than the 6-pounder; or, as
the weight of the two men carried on the limber will be com-
mon to both, the aggregate weights may be stated at 31 cwt.
23 lb. and 41 cwt. 65 lb.; the 9-pounder, therefore, exceed¬
ing the 6-pounder by about one-third of the whole weight of
cwt. lb.
128 97
116 13
94 85
84 97
21 63
13 51
87 31
67 30
22 93
With¬
out
ammu¬
nition.
2 94
1 89
the former. At first sight it may be supposed that the addi¬
tion of two horses (the number becoming six) will more than
counterbalance this increase of weight, the power being in
fact augmented by one-half instead of one-third ; and un¬
questionably, on moderately level ground such as the com¬
mon at Woolwich it would do so ; but results of this kind are
delusive when applied to other circumstances. Over rough
ground the shocks to the carriage would be greatly increased
by tbe additional weight, and in bad roads would so add to
the strain on the horses that speed would often be imprac¬
ticable. In passing over, also, such ground as must be fre¬
quently embraced by military operations, the traction will
often fall entirely on the four rear horses, and sometimes even
on the last two ; and in such cases what must be the result
of the increase of weight! Nor is this all, as the more the
number of horses is increased, the more must the chances of
being crippled by the loss of one or more horses be increased
also ; and it would, therefore, be better, were it possible to
do so, to diminish the number of horses actually attached to
the gun, and to keep more in reserve. In the ammunition
waggons, also, that of the 9-pounder exceeds by about 5 cwt.
that of the 6-pounder; and finally, it may be observed
that though an increase in the number of horses may under
some circumstances keep up the required speed with a
heavier gun ; as a general rule, it will be found that the
same analogy exists between the heavy and light gun as
between the heavy and light coach, and that additional
weight will therefore be moved either with a less velocity,
or at the expense of frequent injury and destruction of both
carriages and horses.
It is hoped that the perusal of this essay, though ad-
dressed rather to the general reader than to the more trained
aitilleiist, will leave an impression on the mind of the great
national importance of the arm of the service to which it
relates, and of the necessity, as so strongly urged by one of
its able members, Lieut. Jervis, in his work on Tactics,
of establishing the training of its officers and men on a
sound scientific basis. In all nations this has been felt,
and schools of artillery and engineering have been esta¬
blished for the purpose of such training; a task confided
in this country to the Royal Military Academy at Wool-
704
A R T I L L P] R Y.
Artillery
Artillery
Park.
wich. On such a subject it might be supposed there could
be little difference of opinion ; but such is not the case, as
some officers form a high estimate of the necessary quali¬
fications of an artillery officer, looking not merely to the
ordinary details of a parade or of a field-day, but to the
knowledge which must be often called for in the many com¬
binations and applications of so powerful an instrument of
war; whilst others lower the standard of qualification, and
because they have got through much rough work with
honour, and yet with little science, maintain that the ar¬
tillery officer may be made perfect without much theoretical
knowledge. The true medium is between these extremes ;
for whilst the officer should not become too speculative,
but be accustomed at every step of his theoretical educa¬
tion to refer his science to its practical application, he should
never be allowed to think that ignorance of the science of
his profession can be tolerated in the officer of such a corps.
Let it also be remembered, that the great establishments of
the arsenal, such as that of the inspector of artillery, of the
royal carriage manufacture, and of the royal laboratory, are
presided over by artillery officers, and yet are in their very
essence eminently theoretical. The construction of a gun
or of a carriage, and the manufacture of a rocket, of a fuse,
or of a tube, are closely connected with theoretical ques¬
tions of much delicacy ; and it would be a mockery to ex¬
pect that the departments under which they are conducted
should keep pace with the progress of an age so distin¬
guished for mechanical invention, unless presided over by
men who add to their practical experience sound theoretical
knowledge. Experiments may, indeed, be proposed and
performed, alterations may be suggested and made, but
few and far between will be the real improvements ef¬
fected ; and the British artillerist will be contented to fol¬
low where he ought to lead in the advancement of his Artillery
profession. There is an academy, there are most able mas- H
ters, there is every possible appliance of instruction, and at Artillery
every half-yearly examination some few at least talented Park-
and well-instructed officers are poured into the regiment of
artillery; but can it be said that any one of them who has
distinguished himself for mathematical, mechanical, or che¬
mical acquirements can speculate on becoming inspector or
assistant-inspector of artillery, director of the laboratory, or
fire-master ? Here is the great mistake ! ambition, as a na¬
tural stimulus to excel in those studies which have been
partially mastered at the academy, and the hope of presid¬
ing over departments dependent upon them, are not applied;
and too often a cold chill comes over the mind, and the
pursuit of knowledge is abandoned as leading to no certain
future distinction. Reverse this arrangement, and whilst a
due amount of honour and reward is freely granted to the
old and distinguished soldier, let none be appointed to scien¬
tific establishments who are not themselves scientific ; and
it will soon be found that the academy at Woolwich is fully
able to raise up men who will do honour to their coun¬
try, not only as brave and skilful gunners, but as sound
theoretical artillerists. How long, indeed, would the ser¬
vice have struggled against the defects of the old fuse and
the imperfections of the old shrapnel, had not an able
scientific officer applied his mind and talents to the study
of artillery in all its branches, and thus acquired the power
of pointing out the mode of remedying them ; and is it chi¬
merical to anticipate far greater inventions, when the minds
of many such officers shall have been directed to the same
studies, and been encouraged to pursue them, to the ulti¬
mate benefit and perfection of their professional science ?
(j. M. s.) (j. E. p.)
Artillery was formerly applied in a collective sense
to all kinds of offensive weapons; but this use of the word
is now generally restricted to poetry.—See 1 Samuel xx. 40.
Artillery Park. This term, introduced into military
science, has been derived from the French verb parquer, to
separate from others, and keep together in an inclosure. The
great number and variety of carriages, horses, and stores of all
kinds which must be connected with the equipment of artil¬
lery, render it necessary that they should be kept together,
and not confusedly mixed up either with the troops or with
the stores of other arms of the service ; and this expressive
term, therefore, at once states a fact, and explains the reason
of it. Following up the analogy with a park for cattle or for
deer, the artillery park has been sometimes inclosed with a
rope-fence ; and when in a dangerous position, not entirely
free from the chance of surprise or of attack from cavalry, by
a row of waggons united together by their drag-chains, or
indeed by any other description of protective fence. In a
large army the greater proportion of the ammunition and
stores, the pontoon establishment, and even the artillery of
reserve, may be best brought together in one large depot or
park, called the grand park, which should be located in the
vicinity of proper roads, and so placed as to be protected on
all sides from attack; its natural position is therefore either
between the main body of the army and the reserve, or in
the reserve itself. From this locality the artillery of reserve,
or the pontoons, can be despatched to the division or divisions
selected for any forward movement. If the army be of such
magnitude as to include several aggregates of divisions, or
corps d’armee, the grand park will be located in the rear, so
as to minister to the wants of all; and a park of reserve will
be formed with each. This park will be located with the
reserve of the corps it accompanies, and should comprise a
considerable body of reserve artillery, in addition to reserves
of every description from the artillery of each separate divi¬
sion. A complete veterinary establishment and a pontoon
train should be connected with it, and an ample establish¬
ment of artificers. In the grand park, and in parks of re¬
serve, should the army continue stationary for any length of
time, every care should be taken to secure the horses from
the weather, and a proper infirmary established to receive
sick horses from the divisions, or from the corps in advance.
In respect to the divisions of the army, each should be
accompanied by two complete field batteries, and at least
half a horse battery, provided the division be constituted of
10 battalions of 800 men each, and is supported in its inde¬
pendent movement by a due proportion of cavalry. If not
acting independently, the division of infantry will have the
two batteries, and the division of cavalry at least one bat¬
tery. But in addition to the batteries acting in the field
with the infantry, there ought to be artillery of reserve with
each division. The French system was to divide their ar¬
tillery into three sections, viz., the guns of the advanced
guard, composed of 4-pounders (4^ English) ; the guns of
the field of battle, composed of 8-pounders (8f English); and
guns of reserve, 12-pounders (13 pounders English); and as
in the English service the light 6-pounder of the horse artil¬
lery may be considered a representative of the French 4, it
maybe supposed that the hoi’se artillery, supported by cavalry,
will move with the advance, and that the 12-pounder will act
with the reserve. On this supposition, if two 12-pounders
were added to each field battery, making the total number
eight, as suggested under the article Artillery, a field bat¬
tery would consist of four 9-pounders, two 24-pounder how¬
itzers, and two 12-pounders, of which the two 12-pounders
ought to be in the divisional park of reserve. This park,
placed sufficiently in rear of the division not to be incom¬
moded by the enemy’s fire, will contain not only the two re¬
serve 12-pounders of each battery, or four 12-pounders in
all, but also the spare ammunition waggons, spare carriages
ART
.Artillery and wheels, &c., the forge-cart of each battery, spare horses,
i ark an(j tjie p0ntoon tra;n if the division be expected to move
Arts f°rward independently. In the artillery parks of reserve of
. , i each denomination the spare ammunition for the infantry
should also be lodged ; and, for the regulation of all the pro¬
ceedings connected with the care and issue of stich various
stores and ammunition, the park is presided over by a regu¬
lar staff, and should be provided with storekeepers, artificers,
and labourers, in each separate department.
It will be observed, that the pontoon train is here supposed
to be attached to the artillery as it is in the French army; in
the British service it is attached to the engineer department,
but the propriety of this latter arrangement is at least doubt¬
ful, for although every engineer officer, and every sapper
and miner, should be well trained in the construction of pon¬
toon, as well as of all other temporary or service bridges, it
is manifest that the transport and care of the pontoons may
be best confided to the artillery. In fact, it is very desirable
that the pontoons should be put upon a proper footing as to
horses and conductors; and that the horses and men con¬
nected with them should have been trained to guns, so that
on an emergency both men and horses might take their
places with the guns, and thus postpone as long as possible
any diminution in the efficiency of that most important arm
of the service. I he pontoon horses could at any time be
replaced by ordinary draught horses, but not so the artillery
horses in the field. I he engineer officer and the sapper and
miner might still direct and assist in the construction of
bridges, but the gunners and drivers attached to the pon¬
toons should be men fully acquainted with all the details of
every operation connected with it, from practical experience
gained in the repository course.
The field-park or encampment is the last to be considered,
and this should conform to the following general principles
of encamping:—
1. The different regiments or corps are encamped in the
same order as they are intended to fight, whether in the
centre or the flanks, the first or second line.
2. The front of the encampment of each regiment or corps
should occupy the space which it will require in battle; or,
in other words, the line of tents of all the regiments or corps
should cover the line of battle, so that on any necessity or
alarm, whether by night or day, the troops, when forming
in front of their tents, may find themselves in their proper
places in the line of battle.
Now, as the relative positions in the field of battle of the
troops of different arms must depend on the distinctive pe¬
culiarities of the ground to be occupied, the sites of the
parks of artillery can only be determined after a careful
examination or reconnaissance of that ground ; but as a rule
to be rigidly observed, it should be stated that artillery should
never depend for its protection against surprise on its own
men, and therefore should not be placed on the extreme
flank. In ordinary ground, the battery or batteries attached
ART
705
Arts.
to a division, with one ammunition waggon to each gun (the Artillery
remaining waggons being sent to the park of reserve), should Train
take up their position in rear of the division, each being op¬
posite the interval between two brigades, so that the guns
may be moved to the front at a moment’s warning.
Several systems of parking have been adopted—1^,
Parking to the rear or behind the guns : thus, guns at full
distance, as in action, in front row; ammunition-waggons
in second ; horses picketed in the third; tents, one to each
subdivision, in the fourth ; tents of subaltern officers in the
fifth; and captain’s tent in the rear. 2d, Parking to the
flanks : guns at half distance in front; horses for the guns
picketed in the second row; waggons in the third, and
horses for them in the fourth row,—the subdivision and
other tents being placed on the flanks in files from front to
rear. 3c?, Parking to the front and flank, as sometimes prac¬
tised in the French army, when the tents of the gunners are
pitched in front of the guns, so that the men form a guard to
the guns, and the tents of the drivers on the flanks. Again,
the horses have sometimes been picketed on the flanks ; but,
generally speaking, all other systems may be considered mo¬
difications of the above. In the park of reserve the same
rules should be followed, though occasional modification, as
to a greater or lesser frontage, may be allowed, provided a
due regularity in the classification of stores be preserved.
Between the brigades, or halves of brigades, an interval
of about 110 or 120 yards should be preserved, as the proper
per-centage for a six-gun battery ; and, if possible, the
battery should be covered on its flank by at least half a
brigade. (j. E. p.)
Artillery Train, a certain number of pieces of ordnance
mounted on carriages, with all their furniture fit for marching.
ARTIST, in a general sense, a person skilled in some art.
Mr Harris defines an artist to be “ a person possessing an
habitual power of becoming the cause of some effect, ac¬
cording to a system of various and well-approved precepts.”
It is generally applied to an individual who practises the
liberal arts as a profession.
ARTOCARPLE, a sub-order, established by Robert
Brown, under the UrticetE. It contains the bread-fruit
tree, Artocarpus incisa. See Botany.
ARTOIS, the name of an old province of France, of
which Arras was the capital. With part of Picardy it now
forms the department of Pas de Calais.
ARTOTYRITES (from d'pros, bread, and -n>pd?, cheese),
a Christian sect in the primitive church, who celebrated
the eucharist with bread and cheese, on the ground that the
first oblations of men were not only of the fruits of the earth,
but of their flocks. The Artotyrites admitted women to the
priesthood and episcopacy; and Epiphanius tells us it was a
common thing to see seven girls at once enter into their
church, robed in white and holding a torch in their hand,
where they wept and bewailed the wretchedness of human
nature and the miseries of this life.
ARTS.
Art is defined by Lord Bacon as a proper disposal of
the things of nature by human thought and experience,
so as to answer the several purposes of mankind; in
which sense art stands opposed to nature.
Art is principally used for a system of rules serving to
facilitate the performance of certain actions; in which
sense it stands opposed to science, or a system of specula¬
tive principles.
Arts are commonly divided into useful or mechanic,
fine or liberal. I he former are those wherein the hand
and body are more concerned than the mind; of which
VOL. III.
kind are most of those which furnish us with the neces¬
saries of life, and are popularly known by the name of
trades. I he latter are such as depend more on the labour
of the mind than of the hand; they are the produce of
imagination and taste, and their end is pleasure.
USEFUL ARTS.
Some useful arts must be nearly coeval with the human
race ; for food, clothing, and habitation, even in their ori¬
ginal simplicity, require some art. Many other arts are
of such antiquity as to place the inventors beyond the
4 u
706 A R
Useful reach of tradition. Several have gradually crept into the
Arts, world without an inventor. The busy mind, however, ac-
customed to a beginning in things, cannot rest till it finds
or imagines a beginning to every art. The most probable
conjectures of this nature the reader may see in the his¬
torical introductions to the different articles. Lord Karnes,
in his Sketches of the History of Man, has given some curi¬
ous illustrations of the progress of the arts.
In all countries where the people are barbarous and
illiterate, the progress of arts is extremely slow. It is
vouched by an old French poem, that the virtues of the
loadstone were known in France before the year 1180.
The mariner’s compass was exhibited at Venice anno
1260, by Paulus Venetus, as his own invention. John
Goya of Amalfi was the first who, many years afterwards,
used it in navigation, and also passed for being the in¬
ventor. Though it was used in China for navigation long
before it was known in Europe, yet to this day it is not
so perfect as in Europe. Instead of suspending it in order
to make it act freely, it is placed upon a bed of sand, in
which position every motion of the ship disturbs its opera¬
tion. Handmills, termed were early used for grind¬
ing corn ; and when corn came to be raised in greater quan¬
tity, horse-mills succeeded. Water-mills for grinding
corn are described by Vitruvius. Wind-mills were known
in Greece and in Arabia as early as the 7th century,
and yet no mention is made of them in Italy till the 14th.
That they were not known in England till the reign of
Henry VIII. appears from a household book of an earl of
Northumberland, contemporary with that king, stating an
allowance for three mill-horses, “ two to draw in the mill,
and one to carry stuff to and from the mill.” Water¬
mills for corn must in England have been of a later date.
The ancients had mirror-glasses, and employed glass to
imitate crystal vases and goblets ; yet they never thought
of using it in windows. In the 13th century the Vene¬
tians were the only people who had the art of making
crystal glass for mirrors. A clock that strikes the hours
was unknown in Europe till the end of the 12th century;
and hence the custom of employing men to proclaim the
hours during night. Galileo was the first who conceived
an idea that a pendulum might be used for measuring
time; and Huygens was the first who put the idea in
execution, by making a pendulum clock. Hooke, in the
year 1660, invented a spiral spring for a watch, though a
watch was far from being a new invention. Paper was
made no earlier than the 14th century; and the inven¬
tion of printing was a century later. Silk manufactures
were long established in Greece before silk-worms were
introduced there. The manufacturers were provided with
raw silk from Persia; but that commerce being frequent¬
ly interrupted by war, two monks, in the reign of Justi¬
nian, brought eggs of the silk-worm from Hindostan, and
taught their countrymen the method of managing them.
The art of reading made a very slow progress: to en¬
courage that art in England, the capital punishment for
murder was remitted if the criminal could but read,
which in law language is termed benefit of clergy. One
would imagine that the arts must have made a very rapid
progress when so greatly favoured: but there is a signal
proof of the contrary; for so small an edition of the Bible
as 600 copies, translated into English in the reign of
Henry VIII., was not wholly sold off in three years.
The discoveries of the Portuguese on the west coast of
Africa is a remarkable instance of the slow progress of
arts. In the beginning of the 15th century they were
totally ignorant of that coast beyond Cape Non, 28 de¬
grees north latitude. In 1410 the celebrated Prince
Henry of Portugal fitted out a fleet for discoveries, which
proceeded along the coast to Cape Bajadore, in 28 degrees,
T S.
but had not courage to double it. In 1418 Tristan Vaz Useful
discovered the island Porto Santo; and the year after the Arts-
island Madeira was discovered. In 1439 a Portuguese
captain doubled Cape Bajadore; and the next year the
Portuguese reached Cape Blanco, lat. 20 degrees. In
1446 Nuna Tristan doubled Cape de Verde, lat. 14. 40.
In 1448 Don Gonzallo Vallo took possession of the Azores.
In 1449 the islands of Cape de Verde were discovered for
Don Henry. In 1471 Pedro d’Escovar discovered the
island St Thomas and Prince’s Island. In 1484 Diego
Cam discovered the kingdom of Congo. In 1486 Bartho¬
lomew Diaz, employed by John II. of Portugal, doubled
the Cape of Good Hope, which he called Cabo Tormen-
toso, from the tempestuous weather he found in the pas¬
sage.
The progress of art seldom fails to be rapid when a
people happen to be roused out of a torpid state by some
fortunate change of circumstances. Prosperity, contrast¬
ed with former abasement, gives to the mind a spring,
which is vigorously exerted in every new pursuit. The
Athenians made but a mean figure under the tyranny of
Pisistratus, but upon regaining freedom and independ¬
ence they were converted into heroes. Miletus, a Greek
city of Ionia, being destroyed bjr the king of Persia, and
the inhabitants made slaves, the Athenians, deeply affect¬
ed with the misery of their brethren, boldly attacked the
king in his own dominions, and burnt the city of Sardis.
In less than ten years after, they gained a signal victory
at Marathon ; and, under Themistocles, made head against
that prodigious army with which Xerxes threatened utter
ruin to Greece. Such prosperity produced its usual
effects : arts flourished with arms, and Athens became the
chief theatre for sciences, as well as for fine arts. The
reign of Augustus Caesar, which put an end to the rancour
of civil war, and restored peace to Rome, with the com¬
forts of society, proved an auspicious era for literature,
and produced a cloud of Latin historians, poets, and phi¬
losophers, to whom the moderns are indebted for their
taste and talents. One who makes a figure rouses emu¬
lation in all: one catches fire from another, and the na¬
tional spirit is everywhere triumphant; classical works are
composed, and useful discoveries made in every art and
science. With regard to Rome, it is true that the Roman
government under Augustus was in effect despotic; but
despotism in that single instance made no obstruction to
literature, it having been the policy of that reign to hide
power as much as possible. A similar revolution happened
in Tuscany about three centuries ago. That country hav¬
ing been divided into a number of small republics, the peo¬
ple, excited by mutual hatred between small nations in
close neighbourhood, became ferocious and bloody, flam¬
ing with revenge for the slightest offence. These republics
being united under the great duke of Tuscany, enjoyed the
sweets of peace in a mild government. That comfortable
revolution, which made the deeper impression by a retro¬
spect of recent calamities, roused the national spirit, and .
produced ardent application to arts and literature. The
restoration of the royal family in England, which put an
end to a cruel and envenomed civil war, promoted im¬
provements of every kind ; arts and industry made a rapid
progress among the people, though left to themselves by
a weak and fluctuating administration. Had the nation,
upon that favourable turn of fortune, been blessed with a
succession of able and virtuous princes, to what a height
might not arts and sciences have been carried!
Another cause of activity and animation is the being
engaged in some important action of doubtful issue,—a
struggle for liberty, the resisting a potent invader, or the
like. Greece, divided into small states frequently at war
with each other, advanced literature and the fine arts to
A R T S.
Useful
Arts.
unrivalled perfection. The Corsicans, while engaged in
a perilous war for defence of their liberties, exerted a vigo¬
rous national spirit; they founded a university for arts and
sciences, a public library, and a public bank. After a long
stupor during the dark ages of Christianity, arts and litera¬
ture revived among the turbulent states of Italy. The
Royal Society in London, and the Academy of Sciences
in Paris, were both of them instituted after civil wars
that had animated the people and roused their activity.
In a country thinly peopled, where even necessary arts
want hands, it is common to see one person exercising
more arts than one. In every populous country, even
simple arts are split into parts, and each part has an
artist appropriated to it. In the large towns of ancient
Egypt a physician was confined to a single disease. In
mechanic arts that method is excellent. As a hand con¬
fined to a single operation becomes both expert and ex¬
peditious, a mechanic art is perfected by having its dif¬
ferent operations distributed among the greatest number
of hands: many hands are employed in making a watch,
and a still greater number in manufacturing a web of
woollen cloth. Various arts or operations carried on by
the same man invigorate his mind, because they exercise
different faculties; and as he cannot be equally expert in
every art or operation, he is frequently reduced to supply
want of skill by thought and invention. Constant appli¬
cation, on the contrary, to a single operation, confines the
mind to a single object, and excludes all thought and in¬
vention. In such a train of life the operator becomes dull
and stupid, like a beast of burden. TLhe difference is vi¬
sible in the manners of the people. In a country where,
from want of hands, several occupations must be carried
on by the same person, the people are knowing and con-
veisable: in a populous country, where manufactures
flourish, they are ignorant and unsociable. The same
effect is equally visible in countries where an art or ma¬
nufacture is confined to a certain class of men. It is vi¬
sible in Hindostan, where the people are divided into
castes, which never mix even by marriage, and where every
man follows his father’s trade. The Dutch lint-boors are
a similar instance: the same family carries on the trade
from generation to generation, and are accordingly igno¬
rant and brutish even beyond other Dutch peasants.
Useful arts pave the way to fine arts. Men upon whom
the former had bestowed every convenience, turned their
thoughts to the latter. Beauty was studied in objects of
sight; and men of taste attached themselves to the fine
arts, which multiplied their enjoyments and improved
their benevolence. Sculpture and painting made an early
figure in Greece, which afforded plenty of beautiful ori¬
ginals to be copied in these imitative arts. Statuary, a
more simple imitation than painting, was sooner brought
to perfection, dhe statue of Jupiter by Phidias, and of
Juno by Polycletes, though the admiration of all the
world, were executed long before the art of light and
shade was known. Apollodorus, and Zeuxis his disciple,
who flourished in the 95th olympiad, were the first who
figured in that art. Another cause concurred to advance
statuary before painting in Greece, viz. a great demand
for statues of their gods. Architecture, as a fine art,
made a slower progress. Proportions, upon which its
e egance chiefly depends, cannot be accurately ascer¬
tained, but by an infinity of trials in great buildings. A
model cannot be relied on; for a large and a small build-
ing, even of the same form, require different proportions.
FINE ARTS.
Ihe term Fine Arts may be viewed as embracing all
those arts in which the powers of imitation or invention
707
are exerted, chiefly with a view to the production of plea- Fine Arts,
suie by the immediate impression which they make on
the mind. But the phrase has of late, we think, been re¬
stricted to a narrower and more technical signification ;
namely, to painting, sculpture, engraving, and architec¬
ture, which appeal to the eye as the medium of pleasure;
and, by way of eminence, to the two first of these arts. In
the following observations we shall adopt this limited
sense of the term ; and shall endeavour to develope the
principles upon which the great masters have proceeded,
and also to inquire, in a more particular manner, into the
state and prospects of these arts in this country.
The great works of art at present extant, and which
may be regarded as models of perfection in their several
kinds, are the remains of classic art, consisting chiefly of
sculpture—the pictures of the celebrated Italian masters
—those of the old German and the Dutch and Flemish
schools—to which we may add the comic productions of
our own countryman Hogarth. These all stand unrival¬
led in the history of art; and they owe their pre-emi¬
nence and perfection to one and the same principle,—t/ie
immediate imitation of nature. This principle predomina¬
ted equally in the classical forms of the antique and in
the grotesque figures of Hogarth : the perfection of art in
each arose from the truth and identity of the imitation
with the reality ; the difference was in the subjects—there
was none in the mode of imitation. Yet the advocates
for the ideal system of art would persuade their disciples,
that the difference between Hogarth and the antique does
not consist in the different forms of nature which they
imitated, but in this, that the one is like and the other
unlike nature. This is an error the most detrimental
perhaps of all others, both to the theory and practice of
art. As, however, the prejudice is very strong and gene¬
ral, and supported by the highest authority, it will be ne¬
cessary to go somewhat elaborately into the question in
order to produce an impression on the other side.
What has given rise to the common notion of the ideal,
as something quite distinct from actual nature, is proba¬
bly the perfection of the Greek statues. Not seeing
among ourselves any thing to correspond in beauty and
grandeur, either with the features or form of the limbs in
these exquisite remains of antiquity, it was an obvious,
but a superficial conclusion, that they must have been
created from the idea existing in the artist’s mind, and
could not have been copied from any thing existing in
nature. The contrary, however, is the fact. The ge¬
neral form, both of the face and figure, which we observe
in the old statues, is not an ideal abstraction, is not a
fanciful invention of the sculptor, but is as completely lo¬
cal and national (though it happens to be more beautiful)
as the figures on a Chinese screen, or a copperplate en¬
graving of a negro chieftain in a book of travels. It will
not be denied that there is a difference of physiognomy
as well as of complexion in different races of men. The
Greek form appears to have been naturally beautiful, and
they had, besides, every advantage of climate, of dress, of
exercise, and modes of life to improve it. The artist had
also eveiy facility afforded him in the study and know¬
ledge of the human form; and their religious and public
institutions gave him every encouragement in the prose¬
cution of this art. All these causes contributed to the
perfection of these noble productions; but we should be
inclined principally to attribute the superior symmetry of
form common to the Greek statues, in the first place, to
the superior symmetry of the models in nature; and in
the second, to the more constant opportunities for study¬
ing them. If we allow, also, for the superior genius of
the people, we shall not be wrong; but this superiority
consisted in their peculiar susceptibility to the impres-
708 A R
Fine Arts, sions of what is beautiful and grand in nature. It may be
thought an objection to what has just been said, that the
antique figures of animals, &c., are as fine, and proceed
on the same principles, as their statues of gods or men.
But all that follows from this seems to be, that their art
had been perfected in the study of the human form, the
test and proof of power and skill; and was then transfer¬
red easily to the general imitation of all other objects, ac¬
cording to their true characters, proportions, and appear¬
ances. As a confirmation of these remarks, the antique
portraits of individuals were often superior even to the
personifications of their gods. We think that no unpre¬
judiced spectator of real taste can hesitate for a moment
in preferring the head of the Antinous, for example, to
that of the Apollo. And in general it may be laid down
as a rule, that the most perfect of the antiques are the
most simple,—those which affect the least action, or vio¬
lence of passion,—which repose the most on natural
beauty of form, and a certain expression of sweetness and
dignity, that is, which remain most nearly in that state in
which they could be copied from nature without straining
the limbs or features of the individual, or racking the
invention of the artist. This tendency of Greek art to
repose has indeed been reproached with insipidity by
those who had not a true feeling of beauty and sentiment.
We, however, prefer these models of habitual grace or in¬
ternal grandeur to the violent distortions of suffering in
the Laocoon, or even to the supercilious air of the Apollo.
The Niobe, more than any other antique head, combines
truth and beauty with deep passion. But here the pas¬
sion is fixed, intense, habitual;—it is not a sudden or vio¬
lent gesticulation, but a settled mould of features; the
grief it expresses is such as might almost turn the human
countenance itself into marble !
In general, then, we would be understood to maintain,
that the beauty and grandeur so much admired in the
Greek statues wrere not a voluntary fiction of the brain of
the artist, but existed substantially in the forms from
which they were copied, and by which the artist was sur¬
rounded. A striking authority in support of these obser¬
vations, which has in some measure been lately discover¬
ed, is to be found in the Elgin marbles, taken from the
Acropolis at Athens, and now universally admitted to be
the work of Phidias. The process of fastidious refinement
and indefinite abstraction is certainly not visible there.
The figures have all the ease, the simplicity, and variety,
of individual nature. Even the details of the subordinate
parts, the loose hanging folds in the skin, the veins under
the belly or on the sides of the horses, more or less swell¬
ed as the animal is more or less in action, are given with
scrupulous exactness. This is true nature and true art.
In a word, these invaluable remains of antiquity are pre¬
cisely like casts taken from life. The ideal is not the
preference of that which exists only in the mind to that
which exists in nature ; but the preference of that which
is fine in nature to that which is less so. There is no¬
thing fine in art but what is taken almost immediately,
and, as it were, in the mass, from what is finer in nature.
Where there have been the finest models in nature, there
have been the finest works of art.
As the Greek statues were copied from Greek forms,
so Raphael’s expressions were taken from Italian faces;
and we have heard it remarked, that the women in the
streets at Rome seem to have walked out of his pictures
in the Vatican.
Sir Joshua Reynolds constantly refers to Raphael as
the highest example in modern times (at least with one
exception) of the grand or ideal style ; and yet he makes
the essence of that style to consist in the embodying of an
abstract or general idea, formed in the mind of the artist
T S.
by rejecting the peculiarities of individuals, and retaining Fine Arts,
only what is common to the species. Nothing can be
more inconsistent than the style of Raphael with this de¬
finition. In his Cartoons, and in his groupes in the Vati¬
can, there is hardly a. face or figure which is any thing
more than fine individual nature finely disposed and copied.
The painter Barry, who could not be suspected of preju¬
dice on this side of the question, speaks thus of them :
“ In Raphael’s pictures (at the Vatican) of the Dispute
of the Sacrament, and the School of Athens, one sees all
the heads to be entirely copied from particular characters
in nature, nearly proper for the persons and situations
which he adapts them to; and he seems to me only to
add and take away what may answer his purpose in little
parts, features, &c.; conceiving, while he had the head
before him, ideal characters and expressions, which he
adapts these features and peculiarities of face to. This
attention to the particulars which distinguish all the dif¬
ferent faces, persons, and characters, the one from the
other, gives his pictures quite the verity and unaffected
dignity of nature, which stamp the distinguishing differ¬
ences betwixt one man’s face and body and another’s.”
If any thing is wanting to the conclusiveness of this tes¬
timony, it is only to look at the pictures themselves; par¬
ticularly the Miracle of the Conversion, and the Assembly
of Saints, which are little else than a collection of divine
portraits, in natural and expressive attitudes, full of the
loftiest thought and feeling, and as varied as they are fine.
It is this reliance on the power of nature which has pro¬
duced those masterpieces by the prince of painters, in
which expression is all in all;—where one spirit—that of
truth—pervades every part, brings down heaven to earth,
mingles cardinals and popes with angels and apostles,—
and yet blends and harmonizes the whole by the true
touches and intense feeling of what is beautiful and grand
in nature. It is no wonder that Sir Joshua, when he first
saw Raphael’s pictures in the Vatican, was at a loss to
discover any great excellence in them, if he was looking
out for his theory of the ideal,—of neutral character and
middle forms.
There is more an appearance of abstract grandeur of
form in Michael Angelo. He has followed up, has en¬
forced, and expanded, as it were, a preconceived idea, till
he sometimes seems to tread on the verge of caricature.
His forms, however, are not middle, but extreme forms,
massy, gigantic, supernatural. They convey the idea of
the greatest size and strength in the figure, and in all the
parts of the figure. Every muscle is swollen and turgid.
This tendency to exaggeration would have been avoided
if Michael Angelo had recurred more constantly to nature,
and had proceeded less on a scientific knowledge of the
structure of the human body; for science gives only the
positive form of the different parts, which the imagination
may afterwards magnify as it pleases; but it is nature alone
which combines them with perfect truth and delicacy, in
all the varieties of motion and expression. It is fortunate
that we can refer, in illustration of our doctrine, to the
fragment of the Theseus in the British Museum, which
shows the possibility of uniting the grand and natural
style in the highest degree. The form of the limbs, as
affected by pressure or action, and the general sway of the
body, are preserved with the most consummate mastery.
We should prefer this statue as a model for forming the
style of the student to the Apollo, which strikes us as
having something of a theatrical appearance; or to the
Hercules, in which there is an ostentatious and over-la¬
boured display of anatomy. This last figure is so overload¬
ed with sinews, that it has been suggested as a doubt,
whether, if life could be put into it, it w ould be able to
move. Grandeur of conception, truth of nature, and pu-
ARTS,
Works of
the Gre¬
cian and
I talian
artists.
r‘ty of taste, seem to have been at their height when the
masterpieces which adorned the Temple of Minerva at
Athens, of which we have only these imperfect fragments,
were produced. Compared with these, the later Greek
statues display a more elaborate workmanship, more of the
artifices of style. The several parts are more uniformly
balanced, made more to tally like modern periods; each
muscle is more equally brought out, and more highly
finished as a part, but not with the same subordination of
each part to the whole. If some of these wonderful pro¬
ductions have a fault, it is the want of that entire and
naked simplicity which pervades the whole of the Elgin
marbles.
Having spoken here of the Greek statues, and of the
works of Raphael and Michael Angelo, as far as relates to
the imitation of nature, we shall attempt to point out, to
the best of our ability, and as concisely as possible, what
we conceive to be their general and characteristic excel¬
lences. 1 he ancients excelled in beauty of form; Michael
Angelo in grandeur of conception ; Raphael in expression.
In Raphael s faces, particularly his women, the expression
is very superior to the form; in the ancient statues the
form is the principal thing. The interest which the lat¬
ter excite is in a manner external; it depends on a cer¬
tain grace and lightness of appearance, joined with exqui¬
site symmetry and refined susceptibility to voluptuous
emotions; but there is in general a want of pathos. In
their looks we do not read the workings of the heart; by
their beauty they seem raised above the sufferings of hu¬
manity ; by their beauty they are deified. The pathos
which they exhibit is rather that of present and physical
distress, than of deep internal sentiment. What has been
remarked of Lionardo da Vinci, is also true of Raphael,
that there is an angelic sweetness and tenderness in his
faces, in which human frailty and passion are purified by
the sanctity of religion. The ancient statues are finer ob¬
jects for the eye to contemplate; they represent a more
perfect race of physical beings, but we have little sympa¬
thy with them. In Raphael, all our natural sensibilities
are heightened and refined by the sentiments of faith and
hope, pointing mysteriously to the interests of another
world. I he same intensity of passion appears also to dis¬
tinguish Raphael from Michael Angelo. Michael Angelo’s
forms are grander, but they are not so informed with ex¬
pression. Raphael’s, however ordinary in themselves, are
full of expression, “ even to o’erflowingevery nerve and
muscle is impregnated with feeling,—bursting with mean¬
ing. In Michael Angelo, on the contrary, the powers of
body and mind appear superior to any events that can
happen to them ; the capacity of thought and feeling is
never full, never strained or tasked to the extremity of
what it will bear. All is in a lofty repose and solitary
grandeur, which no human interest can shake or disturb.
It has been said that Michael Angelo painted man, and
Raphael men ; that the one was an epic, the other a dra¬
matic painter. But the distinction we have stated is, per¬
haps, truer and more intelligible, viz., that the one aimed
at greater dignity of form, and the other gave greater force
and refinement of expression. Michael Angelo, in fact,
formed his ideas on classic art, in favour of which an en¬
thusiastic feeling had arisen in his time, many of the finest
specimens of the works of the ancients having been then first
brought to light;his style, therefore, is based very much on
sculpture, and is characterized by grandeur and severity—
nevertheless his works possess much that is picturesque.
I he whole figure of his Jeremiah droops and hangs down
like a majestic tree surcharged with showers. His drawing
of the human form has the characteristic freedom and bold¬
ness of Titian’s landscapes.
After Michael Angelo and Raphael, there is no doubt
709
that Lionardo da Vinci and Coreggio are the two pain-Fine Arts,
ters, in modern times, who have carried historical expres-
sion to the highest ideal perfection; and yet it is equal¬
ly certain that their heads are carefully copied from faces
and expressions in nature. Lionardo excelled principal¬
ly in his women and children. We find, in his female
heads, a peculiar charm of expression; a character of na¬
tural sweetness and tender playfulness, mixed up with the
pride of conscious intellect and the graceful reserve of
personal dignity. He blends purity with voluptuousness ;
and the expression of his women is equally characteristic
of “ the mistress or the saint.” His pictures are worked
up to the height of the idea he had conceived, with an
elaborate felicity; but this idea was evidently first sug¬
gested, and afterwards religiously compared with nature.
This was his excellence. His fault is, that his style of
execution is too mathematical; that is, his pencil does
not follow the graceful variety of the details of objects,
but substitutes certain refined gradations, both of form
and colour, producing equal changes in equal distances,
with a mechanical uniformity. Lionardo was a man of
profound learning as well as genius, and perhaps trans¬
ferred too much of the formality of science to his favou¬
rite art.
The masterpieces of Coreggio have the same identity
with nature, the same stamp of truth. He has indeed
given to his pictures the utmost softness and refinement
of outline and expression ; but this idea, at which he con¬
stantly aimed, is filled up with all the details and varieties
which such heads would have in nature. So far from any
thing like a naked abstract idea, or middle form, the in¬
dividuality of his faces has something peculiar in it, even
approaching the grotesque. He has endeavoured to im¬
press habitually on the countenance those undulating out¬
lines which rapture or tenderness leave there, and has
chosen for this purpose those forms and proportions which
most obviously assisted his design.
As to the colouring of Coreggio, it is nature itself. Not
only is the general tone perfectly true, but every speck
and particle is varied in colour, in relief, in texture, with
a care, a felicity, and an effect, which is almost magical.
His light and shade are equally admirable. No one else,
perhaps, ever gave the same harmony and roundness to his
compositions. So true are his shadows,—equally free from
coldness, opacity, or false glare;—so clear, so’broken, so
airy, and yet so deep, that if you hold your hand so as to
cast a shadow on any part of the flesh which is in the
light, this part, so shaded, will present exactly the same
appearance which the painter has given to the shadowed
part of the picture. Coreggio, indeed, possessed a greater
variety of excellences in the different departments of his
art than any other painter ; and yet it is remarkable, that
the impression which his pictures leave upon the mind of
the common spectator is monotonous and comparatively
feeble. His style is in some degree mannered and con¬
fined. l or instance, he is without the force, passion, and
grandeur of Raphael, who, however, possessed his softness
of expression, but of expression only; and in colour, in
light and shade, and some other qualities, was perhaps not
equal to Coreggio. We may, perhaps, solve this apparent
contradiction by saying, that he applied the power of his
mind to a greater variety of objects than others ; but that this
power wTas still of the same character; consisting in a cer¬
tain exquisite sense of the harmonious, the soft and grace¬
ful in form, colour, and sentiment, but with a deficiency of
strength, and a tendency to effeminacy in all these.
It was at one time the fashion after Raphael and Co-
reggio to mention Guido, whose female faces are exceed-
ingly beautiful and ideal, but altogether commonplace and
vapid compared with those of Raphael or Coreggio ; and
710 A R
Hne Arts, for no other reason but that the general idea they con-
vey is not enriched and strengthened by an intense con¬
templation of nature. For the same reason, we can con¬
ceive nothing more unlike the antique than the figures
of Nicholas Poussin, except as to the preservation of
the. costume; and it is perhaps chiefly owing to the
habit of studying his art at second-hand, or by means of
scientific rules, that the great merits of that able painter,
whose understanding and genius are unquestionable, are
confined to his choice of subjects for his pictures, and his
manner of telling the story. His landscapes, which he
probably took from nature, are superior as paintings to his
historical pieces. The faces of Poussin want natural ex¬
pression, as his figures want grace ; but the back-grounds
of his historical compositions can scarcely be surpassed.
In his Plague of Athens, the very buildings seem stiff with
horror. His giants, seated on the top of their fabled
mountains, and playing on their Pan pipes, are as familiar
and natural as if they were the ordinary inhabitants of the
scene. The finest of his landscapes is his picture of the
Deluge. The sun is just seen, wan and drooping in his
course. The sky is bowed down with a weight of waters,
and heaven and earth seem mingling together.
Titian is at the head of the Venetian school. He is the
first of all colourists. In delicacy and purity Coreggio is
equal to him, but his colouring has not the same warmth
and gusto in it, Titian’s flesh-colour partakes of the
glowing nature of the climate, and of the luxuriousness
of the manners of his country. He represents objects not
through a merely lucid medium, but as if tinged with a
golden light. Yet it is wonderful in how low a tone of
local colouring his pictures are painted,—how rigidly his
means are husbanded. His most gorgeous effects are pro¬
duced, not less by keeping down than by heightening his
colours; the fineness of his gradations adds to their va¬
riety and force; and, with him, truth is the same thing as
splendour. Every thing is done by the severity of his
eye, by the patience of his touch. He is enabled to keep
pace with nature by never hurrying on before her; and
as he forms the broadest masses out of innumerable vary¬
ing parts and minute strokes of the pencil, so he unites
and harmonizes the strongest contrasts by the most im¬
perceptible transitions. Every distinction is relieved and
broken by some other intermediate distinction, like half¬
notes in music; and yet all this accumulation of endless
variety is so managed as only to produce the majestic
simplicity of nature, so that to a common eye there is
nothing extraordinary in his pictures, any more than in
nature itself. It is, we believe, owing to what has been
here stated, that Titian is, of all painters, at once the
easiest and the most difficult to copy. He is the most
difficult to copy perfectly, for the artifice of his colouring
and execution is hid in its apparent simplicity; and yet
the knowledge of nature, and the arrangement of the
forms and masses in his pictures, are so masterly, that any
copy made from them, even the rudest outline or sketch,
can hardly fail to have a look of high art. Because he
was the greatest colourist in the world, this, which was
his most prominent, has, for shortness, been considered
as his only excellence ; and he has been said to have been
ignorant of drawing. What he was, generally speaking,
deficient in, was invention or composition, though even
this appears to have been more from habit than want of
power; but his drawing of actual forms, where they were
not to be put into momentary action, or adapted to a par¬
ticular expression, was as fine as possible. His drawing
of the forms of inanimate objects is unrivalled. His trees
have a marked character and physiognomy of their own,
and exhibit an appearance of strength or flexibility, soli¬
dity or lightness, as if they were endued with conscious
T &
power and purposes. Character was another excellence Fine Arts,
which Titian possessed in the highest degree. It
scarcely speaking too highly of his portraits to say, that
they have as much expression, that is, convey as fine
an idea of intellect and feeling, as the historical heads
of Raphael. The chief difference appears to be, that
the expression in Raphael is more imaginary and con¬
templative, and in Titian more personal and constitu¬
tional. The heads of the one seem thinking more of
some event or subject, those of the other to be thinking
more of themselves. In the portraits of Titian, as might
be expected, the Italian character always predominates;
there is a look of piercing sagacity, of commanding intel¬
lect, of acute sensibility, which it would be in vain to
seek for in any other portraits. The daring spirit and
irritable passions of the age and country are distinctly
stamped upon their countenances, and can be as little
mistaken as the costume which they wear. The portraits
of Raphael, though full of profound thought and feeling,
have more of common humanity about them. Titian’s
portraits are the most historical that ever were painted;
and they are so for this reason, that they have most con¬
sistency of form and expression. His portraits of Hippo-
lito de’ Medici, and of a young Neapolitan nobleman,
lately in the gallery of the Louvre, are a striking contrast
in this respect. All the lines of the face in the one, the
eye-brows, the nose, the corners of the mouth, the con¬
tour of the face, present the same sharp angles, the same
acute, edgy? contracted, violent expression. The other
portrait has the finest expansion of feature and outline,
and conveys the most exquisite idea possible of mild,
thoughtful sentiment. The consistency of the expression
constitutes as great a charm in Titian’s portraits as the
harmony of the colouring. The similarity sometimes ob¬
jected to his heads is partly national, and partly arises
from the class of persons whom he painted. He painted
only Italians ; and in his time it rarely happened that any
but persons of the highest rank, senators or cardinals, sat
for their pictures. The similarity of costume of the dress,
the beard, &c. also adds to the similarity of their appear¬
ance. It adds at the same time to their picturesque ef¬
fect ; and the alteration in this respect is one circum¬
stance among others that has been injurious, not to say
fatal, to modern art. This observation is not confined to
portrait; for the hired dresses with which our historical
painters clothe their figures sit no more easily on the
imagination of the artist, than they do gracefully on the
lay-figures over which they are thrown.
Giorgione, Paul Veronese, and Tintoret, are the re¬
maining great names of the Venetian school. Their ex¬
cellence consisted in bold, masterly and striking imitation
of nature. Giorgione takes the first place among them;
for he was the fellow-pupil and rival of Titian, where¬
as the others were only his disciples. His works, be¬
sides, are highly valued for their grandeur and dignity and
for their poetical treatment, generally involving some deep
allegorical meaning. The Caraccis, Domenichino, Guido,
Guercino, and Albani, who established, after the decline of
Italian art, what is generally styled the Bolognese school,
formed themselves on the principle of combining the excel¬
lences of the Roman and Venetian painters; they flour¬
ished for a time, but at last degenerated into absolute insig¬
nificance, in proportion as they departed from nature, or the
great masters who had copied her, to mould their works on
academic rules, and the phantoms of abstract perfection.
Rubens is the prince of the Flemish painters. Of all Flemish
the great painters, he is perhaps the most artificial,—the and Dutch
one who painted most from his own imagination,—and, Painters-
what was almost the inevitable consequence, the most of
a mannerist. He had neither the Greek forms to study
ARTS.
i A_rts; ^rom) nor the Roman expression, nor the high character,
picturesque costume, and sun-burnt hues which the Ve¬
netian painters had immediately before them. He took,
however, what circumstances presented to him,—a fresher
and more blooming tone of complexion, arising from
moister air and a colder climate. To this he added the
congenial splendour of reflected lights and shadows cast
from rich drapery; and he made what amends he could
for the want of expression, by the richness of his compo¬
sitions, and the fantastic variety of his allegorical groups.
Roth his colouring and his drawing were, however, ideal
exaggerations. But both had particular qualities of the
highest value. He has given to his flesh greater transpa¬
rency and freshness than any other painter; and this ex¬
cellence he had from nature. One of the finest instances
will be found in \\v& Peasant Family going to Market, in
which the figures have all the bloom of health upon their
countenances ; and the very air of the surrounding land¬
scape strikes sharp and wholesome on the sense. Rubens
had another excellence; he has given all that relates to
the expression of motion in his allegorical figures, in his
children, his animals, even in his trees, to a degree which
no one else has equalled, or indeed approached. His
drawing is often deficient in proportion, in knowledge,
and in elegance, but it is always picturesque. The draw¬
ing of N. Poussin, on the contrary, which has been much
cried up, is merely learned and anatomical: he has a
knowledge of the structure and measurements of the hu¬
man body, but very little feeling of the grand, or beauti¬
ful, or striking in form. All Rubens’ forms have ease,
freedom, and excessive elasticity. In the grotesque style
of history,—as in the groups of satyrs, nymphs, baccha¬
nals, and animals, where striking contrasts of form are
combined with every kind of rapid and irregular move¬
ment,—he has not a rival. Witness his Silenus at Blen¬
heim, where the lines seem drunk and staggering; and
his procession of Cupids riding on animals at Whitehall,
with that adventurous leader of the infantine crew, who,
with a spear, is urging a lion, on which he is mounted,
over the edge of the world; for beyond we only see a
precipice of clouds and sky. Rubens’ power of express¬
ing motion perhaps arose from the facility of his pencil,
and his habitually trusting a good deal to memory and
imagination in his compositions; for this quality can be
given in no other way. It is to be regretted that he so
seldom painted portraits, as those he executed (and in the
gallery at Munich there are some fine specimens) possess
very high qualities. His landscapes are often delightful,
being generally truthful representations of Flemish scenery.
It remains to speak of Vandyck and Rembrandt, the one
the disciple of Rubens, the other the entire founder of his
own school. It is not possible for two painters to be more op¬
posite. The characteristic merits of the former are very hap¬
pily summed up in a single line of a poetical critic, where
he speaks ot “ The soft precision of the clear Vandyck.”
I he general object of this analysis of the works of the
great masters has been to show that their pre-eminence
has constantly depended, not on the creation of a fantas¬
tic, abstract excellence, existing nowhere but in their own
minds, but in their selecting and embodying some one
view of nature, which came immediately under their ha¬
bitual observation, and which their particular genius led
them to study and imitate with success. This is certainly
the case with Vandyck. His portraits, mostly of English
w omen, in the collection in the Louvre, have a cool re-
fieshing air about them, a look of simplicity and modesty
even in the very tone, which forms a fine contrast to the
voluptuous glow and mellow golden lustre of Titian’s Ita¬
lian women. There is a quality of flesh-colour in Van¬
dyck which is to be found in no other painter, and which
711
exactly conveys the idea of the soft, smooth, sliding, con- Fine Arts,
tinuous, delicately varied surface of the skin. The ob-
jects in his pictures have the least possible difference of
light and shade, and are presented to the eye without
passing through any indirect medium. It is this extreme
purity and silvery clearness of tone, together with the fa¬
cility and precision of his particular forms, and a certain
air of fashionable elegance, characteristic of the age in
which he flourished, that places Vandyck in the first rank
of portrait painters.
Rembrandt is peculiarly distinguished by the extreme ori¬
ginality of his style. He may be said to have created a me¬
dium of his own, through which he saw all objects. He was
the grossest and the least vulgar, that is to say, the least
common-place in his grossness, of all men. He was the
most downright, the least fastidious of the imitators of
nature. He took any object, he cared not what, how
mean soever in form, colour, and expression; and from the
light and shade which he threw upon it, it came out gor¬
geous from his hands. As Vandyck made use of the
smallest contrasts of light and shade, and painted as if in
the open air, Rembrandt used the most violent and abrupt
contrasts in this respect, and painted his objects as if in
a dungeon. His pictures may be said to be “ bright with
excessive darkness.” His vision had acquired a lynx-eyed
sharpness from the artificial obscurity to which he had ac¬
customed himself. “ Mystery and silence hung upon his
pencil.” Yet he could pass rapidly from one extreme to
another, and dip his colours with equal success in the
gloom of night or in the blaze of the noon-day sun. In
surrounding different objects with a medium of imagina¬
tion, solemn or dazzling, he was a true poet; in all the
rest he was a mere painter, but a painter of no common
stamp. The powers of his hand were equal to those of
his eye; and indeed he could not have attempted the
subjects he did, without an execution as masterly as his
knowledge was profound. His colours are sometimes
dropped in lumps on the canvass; at other times they
are laid on as smooth as glass; and he not unfrequently
painted with the handle of his brush. He had an eye for
all objects as far as he had seen them. His history and
landscapes are equally fine in their way. His landscapes
we could look at for ever, though there is nothing in them.
But “ they are of the earth, earthy.” It seems as if he
had dug them out of nature. Every thing is so true, so
real, so full of all the feelings and associations which the
eye can suggest to the other senses, that we immediately
take as strong an affection to them as if they were our
home—the very place where we were brought up. No
length of time could add to the intensity of the impres¬
sion they convey. Rembrandt is the least classical and
the most romantic of all painters. His Jacob's Ladder is
more like a dream than any other picture that ever was
painted. The figure of Jacob himself is thrown in one
corner of the picture like a bundle of clothes, while the
angels hover above the darkness in the shape of airy
wings.
It would be needless to prove that the generality of
the Dutch painters copied from actual objects. They
have become almost a bye-word for carrying this prin¬
ciple into its abuse, by copying every thing they saw, and
having no choice or preference of one thing to another,
unless that they preferred that which was most obvious
and common. We forgive them. They perhaps did bet¬
ter in faithfully and skilfully imitating what they had
seen, than in imagining what they had not seen. Their
pictures at least show that there is nothing in nature,
however mean or trivial, that has not its beauty, and some
interest belonging to it, if truly represented. We prefer
Vangoyen’s views on the borders of a canal, the yellow-
712
ARTS.
Fine Arts, tufted bank and passing sail, or Ruysdael’s woods and
sparkling water-falls, to the most classical or epic compo¬
sitions which they could have invented out of nothing;
and we think that Teniers’ boors, old women, and chil¬
dren, are very superior to the little carved ivory Venuses
in the pictures of Vanderneer; just as we think Hogarth’s
Marriage a la Mode is better than his Sigisrnunda, or, as
Wilkie’s Card-Players is better than his Alfred. We
should not assuredly prefer a Dutch Fair by Teniers to a
Cartoon by Raphael; but we suspect wre should prefer a
Dutch Fair by Teniers to a Cartoon by the same master;
or we should prefer truth and nature in the simplest dress,
to affectation and inanity in the most pompous disguise.
Whatever is genuine in art must proceed from the im¬
pulse of nature and individual genius.
French In the French school there are but two names of high
and Spa- and established reputation, N. Poussin and Claude Lor-
nish paint- rajne> Of the former we have already spoken ; of the lat¬
ter we shall give our opinion when we come to speak of
our own Wilson. We ought not to pass over the names
of Murillo and Velasquez, those admirable Spanish paint¬
ers. It is difficult to characterize their peculiar excel¬
lences as distinct from those of the Italian and Dutch
schools. They may be said to hold a middle rank be¬
tween the painters of mind and body. They express not
so much thought and sentiment, nor yet the mere exte¬
rior, as the life and spirit of the man. Murillo is proba¬
bly at the head of that class of painters who have treated
subjects of common life. After making the colours on
the canvass feel and think, the next best thing is to make
them breathe and live. But there is in Murillo’s pictures
of this kind a look of real life, a cordial flow of native ani¬
mal spirits, which we find nowhere else. We might here
refer particularly to his picture of the Two Spanish Beg¬
gar Boys, in the collection at Dulwich College, which can¬
not easily be forgotten by those who have ever seen it.
Progress of We come now to treat of the progress of art in Britain,
art in Bri- We shall speak first of Hogarth, both as he is the
first name in the order of time that we have to boast of,
and as he is the greatest comic painter of any age or
country. His pictures are not imitations of still life, or
mere transcripts of incidental scenes or customs; but
powerful moral satires, exposing vice and folly in their
most ludicrous points of view, and, with a profound insight
into the weak sides of character and manners, in all their
tendencies, combinations, and contrasts. There is not a
single picture of his, containing a representation of merely
natural or domestic scenery. His object is not so much
“ to hold the mirror up to nature,” as " to show vice her
own feature, scorn her own image.” Folly is there seen
at the height—the moon is at the full—it is the very er¬
ror of the time. There is a perpetual collision of eccen¬
tricities, a tilt and tournament of absurdities, pampered
into all sorts of affectation, airy, extravagant, and osten¬
tatious ! Yet he is as little a caricaturist as he is a painter
of still life. Criticism has not done him justice, though
public opinion has. His works have received a sanction
which it would be vain to dispute, in the universal delight
and admiration with which they have been regarded, from
their first appearance to the present moment. If the
quantity of amusement, or of matter for reflection, which
they have afforded, is that by which we are to judge of
precedence among the intellectual benefactors of mankind,
there are perhaps few persons who can put in a stronger
claim to our gratitude than Hogarth. The wonderful
knowledge which he possessed of human life and manners
is only to be surpassed (if it can be) by the powers of in¬
vention with which he has arranged his materials, and by
the mastery of execution with which he has embodied Fine Arts,
and made tangible tbe very thoughts and passing move-
ments of the mind. Some persons object to the style of
Hogarth’s pictures, or the class to which they belong.
First, Hogarth belongs to no class, or, if he belongs to
any, it is to tbe same class as Fielding, Smollett, Van¬
brugh, and Moliere. Besides, the merit of his pictures
does not depend on the nature of his subjects, but on the
knowledge displayed of them, on the number of ideas, on
the fund of observation and amusement contained in them.
Make what deductions you please for the vulgarity of the
subjects—yet in the research, the profundity, the abso¬
lute truth and precision of the delineation of character,—
in the invention of incident, in wit and humour, in life and
motion, in everlasting variety and originality,—they never
have been, and probably never will be, surpassed. They
stimulate the faculties, as well as amuse them. “ Other
pictures we see, Flogarth’s we read I”1
There is one error which has been frequently enter¬
tained on this subject, and which we wish to correct,
namely, that Hogarth’s genius was confined to the imita¬
tion of the coarse humours and broad farce of the lowest
life. But he excelled quite as much in exhibiting the
vices, the folly, and frivolity of the fashionable manners
of his time. His fine ladies do not yield the palm of ri¬
dicule to his waiting-maids, and his lords and his porters
are on a very respectable footing of equality. He is quite
at home, either in St Giles’s or St James’s. There is no
want, for example, in his Marriage d la Mode, or his
Taste in High Life, of affectation verging into idiotcy, or
of languid sensibility that might
Die of a rose in aromatic pain.
Many of Hogarth’s characters would form admirable il¬
lustrations of Pope’s Satires, who was contemporary with
him. In short, Hogarth was a painter of real, not of low
life. He was, as we have said, a satirist, and consequently
his pencil did not dwell on the grand and beautiful, but it
glanced with equal success at the absurdities and pecu¬
liarities of high or low life, “ of the great vulgar and the
small.”
To this it must be added, that he was as great a master
of passion as of humour. He succeeded in low tragedy
as much as in low or genteel comedy, and had an absolute
power in moving the affections and rending the hearts of
the spectators, by depicting the effects of the most dread¬
ful calamities of human life on common minds and com¬
mon countenances. Of this the Rake's Progress, particu¬
larly the bedlam scene, and many others, are unanswer¬
able proofs. Hogarth’s merits as a mere artist are not
confined to his prints. In general, indeed, this is the case.
But when he chose to take pains, he could add the deli¬
cacies of execution and colouring in the highest degree
to those of character and composition ; as is evident in his
series of pictures, all equally well painted, of the Marriage
d la Mode.
We shall next speak of Wilson, whose pictures may be
divided into three classes,—his Italian landscapes, or imi¬
tations of the manner of Claude,—his copies of English
scenery,—and his historical compositions. The first of
these are, in our opinion, by much the best; and we ap¬
peal, in support of this opinion, to the Apollo and the Sea¬
sons, and to the Phaeton. The figures are of course out
of the question (these being as uncouth and slovenly as
Claude’s ax-e insipid and finical); but the landscape in
both pictures is delightful. In looking at them we breathe
the air which the scene inspires, and feel the genius of
the place present to us.
1 See an admirable essay on the genius of Hogarth, by Charles Lamb, in a periodical work called The Reflector.
ARTS.
Fine Arts
In general, Wilson’s views of English scenery want al-
most everything that ought to recommend them. The sub¬
jects he has chosen are not well fitted for the landscape
painter, and there is nothing in the execution to redeem
them. Ill-shaped mountains, or great heaps of earth,-—
trees that grow against them without character or elegance—
motionless waterfalls,—a want of relief, of transparency and
distance, without the imposing grandeur of real magnitude
(which it is scarcely within the province of art to give), are
the chief features and defects of this class of his pictures.
His historical landscapes, his Niohe, Celadon, and Amelia,
&c., do not, in our estimation, display either true taste or
fine imagination, but are affected and violent exaggerations
of clumsy common nature. They are made up mechani¬
cally of the same stock of materials,—an overhanging rock,
bare shattered trees, black rolling clouds, and forked light-
ning. The figures in the most celebrated of these are not,
like the children of Niobe, punished by the gods, but like
a group of rustics crouching from a hail-storm. We agree
vvith Sir Joshua Reynolds, that Wilson’s mind was not, like
N. Poussin’s, sufficiently imbued with the knowledge of an-
tiquity to transport the imagination 3000 years back, to give
natural objects a sympathy with preternatural events, and
to inform rocks, and trees, and mountains, with the presence
of a God. To sum up his general character, we may ob¬
serve, that, besides his excellence in aerial perspective, Wil¬
son had great truth, harmony, and depth of local colouring.
He had a fine feeling of the proportions and conduct of light
and shade, and also an eye for graceful form, as far as re¬
gards the bold and varying outlines of indefinite objects, as
may be seen in his foregrounds, &c., where the artist is not
tied down to an imitation of characteristic and articulate
forms. In his figures, trees, cattle, and in everything hav¬
ing a determinate and regular form, his pencil was not only
deficient in accuracy of outline, but even in perspective and
actual relief. His trees, in particular, frequently seem pasted
on the canvas, like botanical specimens. In fine, we can¬
not subscribe to the opinion of those who assert that Wil¬
son was superior to Claude as a man of genius ; nor can we
discern any other grounds for this opinion than what would
lead to the general conclusion,—that the more slovenly the
performance the finer the picture, and that that which is
imperfect is superior to that which is perfect. It might be
said, on the same principle, that the coarsest sign-painting
is better than the reflection of a landscape in a mirror; and
the objection that is sometimes made to the mere imitation
of nature cannot be made to the landscapes of Claude, for
in them the graces themselves have, with their own hands,
assisted in selecting and disposing every object. Is the
general effect in his pictures injured by the details ? Is the
truth inconsistent with the beauty of the imitation ? Does
the perpetual profusion of objects and scenery, all perfect
in themselves, interfere with the simple grandeur and com¬
prehensive magnificence of the whole ? Does the preci¬
sion with which a plant is marked in the foreground take
away from the air-drawn distinctions of the blue glimmer¬
ing horizon ? Is there any want of that endless airy space,
where the eye wanders at liberty under the open sky, ex¬
plores distant objects, and returns back as from a delightful
journey ? There is no comparison between Claude and Wil¬
son. Sir Joshua Reynolds used to say that there would be
another Raphael before there would be another Claude.
His landscapes have all that is exquisite and refined in art
and nature. Everything is moulded into grace and har¬
mony ; and, at the touch of his pencil, shepherds with their
flocks, temples and groves, and winding glades and scattered
713
hamlets, rise up in never-ending succession, under the azure Fine Arts,
sky and the resplendent sun, while
Universal Pan
Knit with the graces, and the hours in dance.
Leads on the eternal spring. 
Michael Angelo has left, in one of his sonnets, a fine
apostrophe to the earliest poet of Italy:
Fain would I, to be what our Dante was,
Forego the happiest fortunes of mankind.
What landscape painter does not feel this of Claude.1
We have heard an anecdote connected with the reputa¬
tion of Gainsborough’s pictures, which rests on pretty good
authority. Sir Joshua Reynolds, at one of the academy
dinners, speaking of Gainsborough, said to a friend, “ He
is undoubtedly the best English landscape painter.” “No,”
said Wilson, who overheard the conversation; “ he is not
the best landscape painter, but he is the best portrait painter
in England.” They were both wrong; but the story is
creditable to the versatility of Gainsborough’s talents.
Those of his portraits which we have seen are not in the
first rank. They are, in a good measure, imitations of Van-
dyck, and have more an air of gentility than of nature. His
landscapes are of two classes or periods, his early and his
later pictures. The former are minute imitations of nature,
or of painters who imitated nature, such as Ruysdael, &c.,
some of which have great truth and clearness. His later
pictures are flimsy caricatures of Rubens, who himself car¬
ried inattention to the details to the utmost limit that it
would bear. Many of Gainsborough’s later landscapes may
be compared to bad water-colour drawings, washed in by
mechanical movements of the hand, without any communi¬
cation with the eye. The truth seems to be, that Gains¬
borough found there was something wanting in his early
manner, that is, something beyond the literal imitation of
the details of natural objects; and he appears to have con¬
cluded rather hastily, that the way to arrive at that some¬
thing more was to discard truth and nature altogether. His
fame rests principally, at present, on his fancy pieces, cot¬
tage children, shepherd boys, &c. These have often great
truth, great sweetness, and the subjects are often chosen
with great felicity. We too often find, however, even in
his happiest efforts, a consciousness in the turn of the limbs,
and a pensive languor in the expression, which is not taken
from nature. We think the gloss of art is never so ill be¬
stowed as on such subjects, the essence of which is simpli¬
city. It is, perhaps, the general fault of Gainsborough, that
he presents us with an ideal common life, of which we have
had a surfeit in poetry and romance. His subjects are soft¬
ened and sentimentalized too much ; it is not simple unaf¬
fected nature that we see, but nature sitting for her picture.
Our artist, we suspect, led the way to that masquerade
style, which piques itself on giving the air of an Adonis to
the driver of a hay cart, and models the features of a milk¬
maid on the principles of the antique. His Woodman's
Head is admirable. Nor can too much praise be given to
his Shepherd Boy in a Storm, in which the unconscious
simplicity of the boy’s expression, looking up with his hands
folded and with timid wonder,—the noisy chattering of a
magpie perched above,—and the rustling of the coming
storm in the branches of the trees,—produce a most de¬
lightful and romantic impression on the mind.
Gainsborough was to be considered, perhaps, rather as
a man of delicate taste, and of an elegant and feeling mind,
than as a man of genius ; as a lover of the art rather than
an artist. He devoted himself to it with a view to amuse
and soothe his mind, with the ease of a gentleman, not with
1.^la,ude left sketches of all the pictures he had painted, in a book which he denominated Liber Veritatis. By reference to this he
avoided repetitions of his subjects; and it has served in aftertimes to ascertain the originality of his reputed productions. On the back
eST\ rawinf?s 16 wrote the names of the individuals by whom the pictures were purchased. That volume is now in the possession
of the Duke of Devonshire.
VOL. III.
m a r
Fine Arts, the severity of a professional student. He wished to make
^ his pictures, like himself, amiable ; but a too constant desire
to please almost unavoidably leads to affectation and effemi¬
nacy. He wranted that vigour of intellect which perceives
the beauty of truth; and thought that painting was to be
gained, like other mistresses, by flattery and smiles. It was
an error which we are disposed to forgive in one around
whose memory, both as an artist and a man, many fond re¬
collections, many vain regrets, must always linger.1
The authority of Sir Joshua Reynolds, both from his ex¬
ample and instructions, has had, and still continues to have,
a considerable influence on the state of art in this country.
That influence has been, on the whole, unquestionably be¬
neficial in itself, as well as highly creditable to the rare ta¬
lents and elegant mind of Sir Joshua; for it has raised the
art of painting from the lowest state of degradation,—of dry,
meagre, lifeless inanity,—to something at least respectable,
and bearing an affinity to the rough strength and bold spirit
of the national character. Whether the same implicit de¬
ference to his authority, which has helped to advance the art
thus far, may not, among other causes, limit and retard its
future progress,—whether there are not certain original er¬
rors, both in his principles and practice, which, the farther
they are proceeded in, the farther they will lead us from the
truth,—whether there is not a systematic bias from the right
line, by w hich alone we can arrive at the goal of the highest
perfection,—are questions well worth considering.
We shall begin with Sir Joshua’s merits as an artist.
There is one error which we wish to correct at setting out,
because we think it important. There is not a greater or
more unaccountable mistake than the supposition that Sir
Joshua Reynolds owed his success or excellence in his pro¬
fession to his having been the first who introduced into this
country more general principles of the art, and who raised
portrait to the dignity of history, from the low drudgery of
copying the peculiarities, meannesses, and details of indi¬
vidual nature, which was all that had been attempted by his
immediate predecessors. This is so far from being true,
that the very reverse is the fact. If Sir Joshua did not give
these details and peculiarities so much as might be wished,
those who went before him did not give them at all. Those
pretended general principles of the art, which, it is said,
“ alone give value and dignity to it,” had been pushed to
their extremest absurdity before his time 5 and it was in
getting rid of the mechanical systematic monotony and
middle forms, by the help of which Lely, Kneller, Hudson,
the French painters, and others, carried on their manufac¬
tories of history and face painting, and in returning (as far
as he did return) to the truth and force of individual nature,
that the secret both of his fame and fortune lay. The pe¬
dantic servile race of artists whom Reynolds superseded had
carried the abstract principle of improving on nature to such
a degree of refinement that they left it out altogether, and
confounded all the varieties and irregularities of form, fea¬
ture, character, expression, or attitude, in the same artificial
mould of fancied grace and fashionable insipidity. The por¬
traits of Kneller, for example, seem all to have been turned
in a machine ; the eye-brows are arched as if by a compass,
the mouth curled, and the chin dimpled; the head turned
on one side, and the hands placed in the same affected po¬
sition. The portraits of this mannerist, therefore, are as
like one another as the dresses which were then in fashion,
and have the same “dignity and value” as the full-bottomed
wigs which graced their originals. The superiority of Rey¬
nolds consisted in his being varied and natural, instead of
being artificial and uniform. The spirit, grace, or dignity,
which he added to his portraits, he borrowed from nature,
and not from the ambiguous quackery of rules. His feel-
T S.
ing of truth and nature was too strong to permit him to Fine Arts,
adopt the unmeaning style of Kneller and Hudson ; but his
logical acuteness was not such as to enable him to detect
the verbal fallacies and speculative absurdities which he had
learned from Richardson and Coypel; and from some de¬
fects in his own practice, he was led to confound negligence
with grandeur. But of this hereafter.
Sir Joshua Reynolds owed his vast superiority over his
contemporaries to incessant practice and habitual attention
to nature, to quick organic sensibility, to considerable power
of observation, and still greater taste in perceiving and
availing himself of those excellencies of others which lay
wfithin his own walk of art. We can by no means look upon
Sir Joshua as having a claim to the first rank of genius. Fie
would hardly have been a great painter if other greater
painters had not lived before him. He would not have given
a first impulse to the art; nor did he advance any part of
it beyond the point where he found it. He did not present
any new view of nature, nor is he to be placed in the same
class with those who did. Even in colour, his pallet was
spread for him by the old masters ; and his eye imbibed its
full perception of depth and harmony of tonefrom the Dutch
and Venetian schools rather than from nature. His early
pictures are poor and flimsy. He indeed learned to see
the finer qualities of nature through the works of art, which
he, perhaps, might never have discovered in nature itself.
Fie became rich by the accumulation of borrowed wealth ;
and his genius was the offspring of taste. He combined
and applied the materials of others to his own purpose with
admirable success ; he was an industrious compiler or skilful
translator, not an original inventor, in art. The art would
remain, in all its essential elements, just where it is if Sir
Joshua had never lived. Fie has supplied the industry of
future plagiarists with no new materials. But it has been
well observed, that the value of every work of art, as well
as the genius of the artist, depends not more on the degree
of excellence than on the degree of originality displayed in
it. Sir Joshua, however, was perhaps the most original imi¬
tator that ever appeared in the world; and the reason of
this, in a great measure, was, that he was compelled to com¬
bine what he saw in art with what he saw in nature, which
was constantly before him. The portrait painter is, in this
respect, much less liable than the historical painter to de¬
viate into the extremes of manner and affectation; for he
cannot discard nature altogether under the excuse that she
only puts him out. He must meet her face to face ; and if
he is not incorrigible, he will see something there that cannot
fail to be of service to him. Another circumstance which
must have been favourable to Sir Joshua was, that though
not the originator in point of time, he was the first English¬
man who transplanted the higher excellencies of his profes¬
sion into his own country, and had the merit, if not of an
inventor, of a reformer of the art. His mode of painting
had the graces of novelty in the age and country in which
he lived ; and he had, therefore, all the stimulus to exertion
which arose from the enthusiastic applause of his contem¬
poraries, and from a desire to expand and refine the taste
of the public.
To an eye for colour, and for effects of light and shade,
Sir Joshua united a strong perception of individual charac¬
ter—a lively feeling of the quaint and grotesque in expres¬
sion, and great mastery of execution. He had compara¬
tively little knowledge of drawing, either as it regarded pro¬
portion or form. The beauty of some of his female faces
and figures arises almost entirely from their softness and
fleshiness. His pencil wanted firmness and precision. The
expression, even of his best portraits, seldom implies either
lofty or impassioned intellect or delicate sensibility. He
1 The idea of the necessity of improving upon nature, and giving what was called a flattering likeness, was universal in this country
seventy years ago, so that Gainsborough is not to he so much blamed for tampering with his subjects.
A K T S.
line Arts., a]so wanted grace, if grace requires simplicity. The mere
negation of stiffness and formality is not grace ; for loose¬
ness and distortion are not grace. His favourite attitudes
are not easy and natural, but the affectation of ease and na¬
ture. They are violent deviations from a right line. Many
of the figures in his fancy pieces are placed in postures in
which they could not remain for an instant without extreme
difficulty and awkwardness. We might instance the Girl
Drawing with a Pencil, and some others. His portraits
are his best pictures. He had a selection of fine subjects,
and the great advantage, as far as practice went, in painting
a number of persons of every rank and description. Some
of the finest and most interesting are those of Dr Johnson,
Goldsmith (which is, however, too much a mere sketch),
Baretti, Dr Burney, John Hunter, and the inimitable por¬
trait of Bishop Newton. The elegant simplicity of charac¬
ter, expression, and drawing, preserved throughout the last
picture, even to the attitude and mode of handling, discover
the true genius of a painter. We also remember to have
seen a print of 1 homas Warton, than which nothing could
be more characteristic or more natural. These were all
Reynolds’ intimate acquaintances, and it could not be said
of them that they were men of “ no mark or likelihood.”
I heir traits had probably sunk deep into the artist’s mind;
he painted them as pure studies from nature, copying the
real image existing before him, with all its known charac¬
teristic peculiarities ; and, with as much wisdom as good-na¬
ture, sacrificing the graces on the altar of friendship. They
are downright portraits and nothing more, and they are va¬
luable in proportion. In his portraits of women, Sir Joshua
had to contend with, and often to modify—and this, pro¬
bably, was one of the reasons of his generalizing so much—
the barbarous costume of his time, yet he has done so with
such success, and imparted so much grace and elegance to
to his portraits of ladies, that an accomplished writer (Lady
Eastlake) has lately attempted to prove by reference to his
portraits that the costume of Sir Joshua’s day is preferable
to that of any other period.
The arch simplicity of expression, and the grotesque cha¬
racter which he has given to the heads of his children, though
striking and beautifid, are borrowed from Correggio, and
are rather overdone. His Puck is the most masterly of all
these; and the colouring, execution, and character are alike
exquisite. The single figure of the Infant Hercules is also
admirable. Many of those to which his friends have sug¬
gested historical titles are mere common portraits or casual
studies. Thus, the Infant Samuel is an innocent little child
saying its prayers at the bed’s feet: it has nothing to do
with the story of the Hebrew prophet. The same objection
will apply to many of his fancy pieces and historical com¬
positions. Ihere is often no connection between the pic¬
ture and the subject but the name. Even his celebrated
I phigenia, beautiful as she is, and prodigal of her charms,
does not answer to the idea of the story. In drawing the
naked figure, Sir Joshua’s want of truth and firmness of out¬
line became more apparent; and his mode of laying on his
colours, which in the face and extremities was relieved and
broken by the abrupt inequalities of surface and variety of
tints in each part, produced a degree of heaviness and opa¬
city in the larger masses of flesh-colour, which can, indeed,
only be avoided by extreme delicacy or extreme lightness
of execution.
Shall vye speak the truth at once ? In our opinion, Sir
Joshua did not possess either that high imagination, or those
strong feelings, without which no painter can become a poet
in his ait. His larger historical compositions have been gene-
lally allow ed to be most liable to objection in a critical point
of viewr.. W e shall not attempt to judge them by scientific
01 technical rules, but make one or twxi observations on the
character and feeling displayed in them. The highest sub¬
ject which Sii Joshua has attempted was the Count Ugolino,
and it was, as might be expected from the circumstances, a
total failure., He had, it seems, painted a study of an old
beggar-man s head ; and some person, who must have known
as little of painting as of poetry, persuaded the unsuspecting
artist that it was the exact expression of Dante’s Count
Ugolino, one of the most grand, terrific, and appalling charac¬
ters in modern fiction. Reynolds, who knew nothing of
the matter but what he was told, took his good fortune for
granted, and only extended his canvass to admit the rest of
the figures. The attitude and expression of Count Ugolino
himself are what the artist intended them to be, till they were
pampered into something else by the officious vanity of friends
—those of a common mendicant at the corner of a street, wait¬
ing patiently for some charitable donation. The imagination
of the painter took refuge in a parish workhouse, instead of
ascending the steps of the Tower of Famine. The hero of
Dante is alofty, high-minded, and unprincipled Italian noble¬
man, who had betrayed his country to the enemy, and who,
as a punishment for this crime, is shut up with his four sons
in the dungeon of the citadel, where he shortly finds the
doors barred against him, and food withheld. He in vain
watches with eager feverish eye the opening of the door at
the accustomed hour, and his looks turn to stone ; his child¬
ren one by one drop down dead at his feet; he is seized with
blindness, and, in the agony of his despair, he gropes on his
knees after them,
 Calling each by name
For three days after they were dead.
Even in the other world he is represented with the same
fierce, dauntless, unrelenting character, “ gnawing the skull
of his adversary, his fell repast.” The subject of the Lao-
coon is scarcely equal to that described by Dante. The
horror there is physical and momentary ; in the other, the
imagination fills up the long, obscure, dreary void of despair,
and joins its unutterable pangs to the loud cries of nature.
\\ hat is there in the picture to convey the ghastly horrors of
the scene, or the mighty energy of soul with which they are
borne ? His picture of Macbeth is full of wild and grotesque
images ; and the apparatus of the witches contains a very
elaborate and well-arranged inventory of dreadful objects.
His Cardinal Beaufort is a fine display of rich mellow colour¬
ing ; and there is something gentlemanly and Shakspearian
in the king and the attendant nobleman. At the same time
we think the expression of the cardinal himself is too much
one of physical horror, a canine gnashing of the teeth, like
a man strangled. This is not the best style of history. Mrs
Siddons as the Tragic Muse is neither the tragic muse nor
Mrs Siddons ; and we have still stronger objections to Gar¬
rick betiveen Tragedy and Comedy.
In his historical works in particular there is a striking simi¬
larity between Sir Joshua Reynolds’ theory and his practice ;
and as each of these has been appealed to in support of the
other, it is necessary that we should examine both. Sir Jo¬
shua s practice was generally confined to the illustration of
that part of his theory which relates to the more immediate
imitation of nature ; and it is to what he says on this subject
that we shall chiefly direct our observations at present.
He lays it down as a general and invariable rule, that “ the
great style in art, and the most perfect imitation of na¬
il re, consists in avoiding the details and peculiarities of par¬
ticular objects! 1 his sweeping principle he applies almost
indiscriminately to portrait, history, and landscape ; and he
appears to have been led to the conclusion itself, from sup¬
posing the imitation of particulars to be inconsistent with
general rule and effect. It appears to us that the highest
perfection of the art depends, not on separating, but on unit-
ing general truth and effect with individual distinctness and
accuracy.
hrst, It is said that the great style in painting, as it re¬
lates to the immediate imitation of external nature, consists
in avoiding the details of particular objects. It consists
16
A R
Arts, neither in giving nor avoiding them, but in something quite
different from both. Any one may avoid the details. So far
there is no difference between the Cartoons and a common
sign painting. Greatness consists in giving the larger masses
and proportions with truth ;—this does not prevent giving
the smaller ones too. The utmost grandeur of outline, and
the broadest masses of light and shade, are perfectly com¬
patible with the utmost minuteness and delicacy of detail, as
may be seen in nature. It is not, indeed, common to see
both qualities combined in the imitations of nature, any more
than the combination of other excellences ; nor are we here
saying to which the principal attention of the artist should be
directed ; but we deny that, considered in themselves, the
absence of the one quality is necessary or sufficient to the
production of the other.
If, for example, the form of the eye-brow is correctly given,
it will be perfectly indifferent to the truth or grandeur of the
design, whether it consists of one broad mark, or is composed
of a number of hair-lin6s arranged in the same order. So,
if the lights and shades are disposed in fine and large masses,
the breadth of the picture, as it is called, cannot possibly be
affected by the filling up of those masses with the details, that
is, with the subordinate distinctions which appear in nature.
The anatomical details in Michael Angelo, the ever-varying
outline of Raphael, the perfect execution of the Greek sta¬
tues, do not destroy their symmetry or dignity of form ; and
in the finest specimens of the composition of colour we may
observe the largest masses combined with the greatest va¬
riety in the parts of which those masses are composed.
The gross style consists in giving no details, the finical in
giving nothing else. Nature contains both large and small
parts, both masses and details ; and the same may be said of
the most perfect works of art. The union of both kinds of
excellence, of strength with delicacy, as far as the limits of
human capacity and the shortness of human life would per¬
mit, is that which has established the reputation of the most
successful imitators of nature. Farther, their most finished
works are their best. The predominance, indeed, of either
excellence in the best masters has varied according to their
opinion of the relative value of these qualities,—the labour
they had the time or the patience to bestow on their works,
—the skill of the artist,—or the nature and extent of his sub¬
ject. But if the rule here objected to, that the careful imita¬
tion of the parts injures the effect of the whole, be once ad¬
mitted, slovenliness would become another name for genius,
and the most unfinished performance be the best. That such
has been the confused impression left on the mind by the
perusal of Sir Joshua Reynolds’ Discourses, is evident from
the practice as well as conversation of many (even eminent)
artists. The late Mr Opie proceeded entirely on this prin¬
ciple. He left many admirable studies of portraits, particu¬
larly in what relates to the disposition and effect of light and
shade ; but he never finished any of the parts, thinking them
beneath the attention of a great artist. He went over the
whole head the second day as he had done the first, and there¬
fore made no progress. The picture at last, having neither
the lightness of a sketch nor the accuracy of a finished work,
looked coarse, laboured, and heavy. Titian is an excellent
example of high finishing united with breadth. In him the
details are engrafted on the most profound knowledge of effect,
and attention to the character of what he represented. His
pictures have the exact look of nature, the very tone and tex¬
ture of flesh. The variety of his tints is blended into the
greatest simplicity. There is a proper degree both of solid¬
ity and transparency. All the parts hang together ; every
stroke tells, and adds to the effect of the rest. Sir Joshua
seems to deny that Titian finished much, and says that he
produced, by two or three strokes of his pencil, effects which
the most laborious copyist would in vain attempt to equal.
It is true, he availed himself in some degree of what is called
execution, to facilitate his imitation of the details and pecu-
T S.
liarities of nature ; but it was to facilitate, not to supersede Fine
it. There can be nothing more distinct than execution and
daubing. Titian, however, made a very moderate, though
a very admirable, use of this power; and those who copy his
pictures will find that the simplicity is in the results, not in
the details. To conclude our observations on this head, we
will only add, that while the artist thinks there is anything
to be done, either to the whole or to the parts of his pic¬
ture, which can give it still more the look of nature, if he is
willing to proceed, we would not advise him to desist. This
rule is the more necessary to the young student, for he will
be apt to relax in his attention as he grows older.
Secondly, With regard to the imitation of expression, we
can hardly agree with Sir Joshua, that “ the perfection of
portrait painting consists in giving the general idea or cha¬
racter without the individual peculiarities.” No doubt, if
we were to choose between the general character and the
peculiarities of feature, we ought to prefer the former. But
they are so far from being incompatible with, that they are
not without some difficulty distinguishable from, each other.
There is a general look of the face, a predominant expres¬
sion arising from the correspondence and connection of the
different parts, which it is of the first and last importance to
give, and without which no elaboration of detached parts,
or marking of the peculiarities of single features, is worth
anything; but which, at the same time, is not destroyed,
but assisted, by the careful finishing, and still more by giving
the exact outline, of each part.
Till within these few years it was on this point that the
modern French and English schools differed, and, in our
opinion, were both wrong. The English seemed generally
to suppose, that if they only left out the subordinate parts,
they were sure of the general result. The French, on the
contrary, as erroneously imagined that, by attending succes¬
sively to each separate part, they would infallibly arrive at a
correct whole ; not considering that, besides the parts, there
is their relation to each other, and the general expression
stamped upon them by the character of the individual, which
to be seen must be felt; for it is demonstrable, that all cha¬
racter and expression, to be adequately represented, must
be perceived by the mind, and not by the eye only. The
French painters gave only lines and precise differences,
the English only general masses and strong effects. But
sounder ideas and a more correct practice now prevail in
both countries.
Much has been said of historical portrait; and we have
no objection to this phrase, if properly understood. The
giving historical truth to a portrait means, then, the repre¬
senting the individual under one consistent, probable, and
striking view; or showing the different features, muscles,
&c., in one action, and modified by one principle. A por¬
trait thus painted may be said to be historical; that is, it
carries internal evidence of truth and propriety with it; and
the number of individual peculiarities, as long as they are
true to nature, cannot lessen, but must add to, the strength
of the general impression.
It might be shown, if there were room in this place, that
Sir Joshua has constructed his theory of the ideal in art
upon the same mistaken principle of the negation or ab¬
straction of particular nature. The ideal is not a negative,
but a positive thing. The leaving out the details or pecu¬
liarities of an individual face does not make it one jot more
ideal. To paint history, is to paint nature as answering to
a general, predominant, or preconceived idea in the mind,
of strength, beauty, action, passion, thought, &c.: but the
way to do this is not to leave out the details, but to incor¬
porate the general idea with the details; that is, to show
the same expression actuating and modifying every move¬
ment of the muscles, and the same character preserved con¬
sistently through every part of the body. Grandeur does
not consist in omitting the parts, but in connecting all the
A E T S.
Arts. parts into a whole, and in giving their combined and varied
action : abstract truth or ideal perfection does not consist in
rejecting the peculiarities of form, but in rejecting all those
which are not consistent with the character intended to be
given, and in following up the same general idea of softness,
voluptuousness, strength, activity, or any combination of
these, through every ramification of the frame. But these
modifications of form or expression can only be learnt from
nature, and therefore the perfection of art must always be
sought in nature. The ideal properly applies as much to the
idea of ugliness, weakness, folly, meanness, vice, as of beauty,
strength, wisdom, magnanimity, or virtue. The antique
heads of fauns and satyrs, of Pan or Silenus, are quite as
ideal as those of the Apollo or Bacchus; and Hogarth ad¬
hered to an idea of humour in his faces, as Raphael did to
an idea of sentiment. But Raphael found the character of
sentiment in nature as much as Plogarth did that of humour,
otherwise neither of them would have given one or the other
with such perfect truth, purity, force, and keeping. Sir
Joshua Reynolds ideal, as consisting in a mere negation of
individuality, bears just the same relation to real beauty or
grandeur as caricature does to true comic character*
. Writers on art have long been in the habit of complain¬
ing that the English are hitherto without any painter of seri¬
ous historical subjects, who can be placed in the first rank
of genius; that although many of the pictures of modern
artists have shown a capacity for correct and happy delinea¬
tion of actual objects and domestic incidents, only inferior to
the masterpieces of the Dutch School—and in landscape
1 urner and others have depicted the effects of air and of
powerful relief in objects in a way which was never sur¬
passed ; yet in the highest walk of art—in giving the move¬
ments of the finer or loftier passions of the mind, this coun¬
try has not produced a single painter who has made even a
faint approach to the excellence of the great Italian paint¬
ers and the pictures of Barry, Northcote, West, Fuseli,
and Haydon have been instanced in proof of this assertion.
But such complaints are most unjustly made: for how
should works be expected of a class and quality for which
there is neither demand, encouragement, sympathy, nor ap¬
preciation ? Though it be undoubtedly true that the province
of art as well as of literature is to lead and instruct the pub¬
lic mind, yet it is not less certain that both are acted on by,
and reflect the feelings, tastes, and habits of, the people ;
and though for a long time various causes combined to
check the progress of art in Britain, since the establishment
of the English school its artists have not only energetically
kept pace with, but often greatly aided in advancing, the
spirit of the age.
When we consider the deplorable state of art when the
English school was founded, we cannot admire too much the
energy of the movement, and the success with which it
was crowned. 1 he eighteenth century was the period in
history when art was most debased. All of art that re*
mained to the world was the mannered and tawdry school
of Louis XI V., then almost in a state of imbecility; and
about the middle of the century when the English school
was founded, there was no corresponding movement else¬
where, and bad taste had to be opposed in every direction.
Ihe modern French school dates from the end of last cen-
tury, and at first it was anything but successful. A poli¬
tical bias inclined art to the same walk that literature had
taken, namely, the classic, which emanated from the ancient
republican states ; and as sculpture is the chief expositor of
that kind of art, paintingwas made entirely sculpturesque, and
its powers and capabilities were confined within limits and
forced m a direction at variance with its proper functions.
Wlthm the last thirty years, however, the French school has
made great advances, and is now in a flourishing condition.
1 he modern school of Germany was not founded till the
eginning of this century. It arose under most favourable
circumstances; for peace had been established in Europe,
and the nations required repose after a long and ruinous
war, which, however, had dispersed the treasures of art in
the various royal galleries, shown the public the value and im¬
portance attached to such works, and made their study more
generally available. All these movements have combined
to improve and elevate taste generally, and in this country in
particular, abounding as it does in wealth and energy, they
have been eagerly taken advantage of; so that the British
school is rapidly attaining the high position that will fit it in
every way to respond to the requirements of the greatest and
wealthiest nation in the world.
It is now above a hundred years since Hogarth painted
his March to Finchley. At that period art had fallen low in¬
deed the glorious schools of Italy and Germany had long
passed away, as also had what is styled the revival in Bo^
logna, an attempt that has in general been estimated too
favourably, as it did more to injure art than to revive it 
the lights of the Spanish, the Flemish, and the Dutch
schools were extinguished, and all that remained was the
baneful example of the French school of Louis XIV., and
even it was in decadence. In Germany, French art as well
as French literature alone prevailed, and in England a na¬
tional school was scarcely hoped for. When Hogarth pro¬
duced those wonderful works which so powerfully embody
English character, he adopted, to a certain extent, in tech¬
nical treatment, the style of Watteau, the painter, however,
of whom France has most reason to boast as a genuine na¬
tional artist. Thornhill was executing huge sprawling al¬
legories in emulation of De la Fosse and other French
painters, portrait painting was chiefly in the hands of fo¬
reigners, and landscape painting was almost unknown. Thus
we find art everywhere paralyzed at the time when Ho¬
garth and Reynolds arose to revive it—the productions of
the former exceeding in humour every previous effort in art,
the portraits of the latter ranking with those of Velasquez’
Vandyck, and Rembrandt, while the works of their contem¬
poraries, Wilson, Gainsborough, Bacon, &c., are deservedly
held in high esteem. T here is one striking peculiarity in
# English school it has not like others commenced
timidly, risen to a certain point, and then fallen. No greater
works have been produced in the English school than those
of its founders Hogarth and Reynolds, in their peculiar
walks. It has not, however, declined since the days of
Reynolds ; on the contrary, it has risen much higher. The
explanation seems to be this, that the English school was
the last that arose in Europe, having been instituted only
in the middle of the eighteenth century, and the general re¬
vival of art over the greater part of Europe took place before
there was any perceptible decadence in Britain. Though that
revival therefore affected in the most striking manner the
schools of France and Germany, where art was either in utter
decay or had long passed away, and was therefore loudly
called for and eagerly welcomed, the movement in England
is to be viewed less in the light of a revival, than merely as
aiding in bringing forth a rich harvest of increased motives
and facilities of improvement, for the further sustenance and
gradual development and increase of a healthy and vigorous
system.. Thus, for example, though we have not had a por¬
trait painter superior to Reynolds, yet, admirable though
that great painter s works are, increased knowledge has
produced an appreciation of art that demands, and doubt-
ess will soon call forth, a higher and purer style, uniting to
the force of Reynolds more careful drawing, greater indi¬
viduality of expression, and higher finish. And though Ho¬
garth has never been excelled for broad humour, still the
Distraining for Rent—Reading the Will—The Penny
Wedding, and The Chelsea Pensioners of Wilkie, are higher
works than any of Hogarth’s, as they combine a greater
number of the qualities essential to a complete work of art,
and the expression is brought out with greater delicacy and
ARTS.
718
Fine Arts, more artistic skill. Also, the painters of history and genre
subjects of the present time go far beyond those who prac¬
tised in the early period of the school. What works of that
day would stand in comparison with those of Etty ? In
landscape the superiority is even more striking. Turner
far surpassed Wilson and Gainsborough,—and Bonnington,
Calcott, Collins, P. Nasmyth, Muller, and many others (we
avoid names of living artists, and refer only to those lately de¬
ceased), may be successfully opposed to them ; while our
school of water-colour painters, which is of purely English
origin, is looked up to and imitated all over Europe.
Besides the revival of art on the continent, a new influ¬
ence has been brought to bear on British art, by the intro¬
duction of an element till lately unknown in this country,
namely, government patronage. It was often made a sub¬
ject of complaint, that while the governments of France and
Germany gave liberal encouragement to the arts, the govern¬
ment of our country was noted for neglecting them. But the
decoration of the new houses of parliament was at length
taken advantage of as affording a fitting opportunity for em¬
ploying native artists on national works ; and about ten
years ago competitions were instituted, and prizes offered,
both in money and commissions for pictures. The amount
of talent called forth in this way far exceeded expectation ;
and accordingly, several important commissions were awarded
for pictures in fresco and in oil, though chiefly in the former
style, as a species of painting not hitherto practised in Eng¬
land, and from its being thought best adapted for combin¬
ing with architectural decoration. Several sculptors, too,
—and the English school reckons at present many eminent
names in that high walk of art—were employed by govern¬
ment. These commissions, so far as executed, satisfactorily
demonstrate the high capabilities of the artists employed ;
but it is doubtful whether a demand for large works, espe¬
cially when executed on walls, will become general in this
country. There seem many reasons against it : the domes¬
tic habits of the people lead them to seek for enjoyment in
their private dwellings, and there to collect around them what
they prize most; works of large dimensions, therefore, can
seldom be accommodated. Besides, largeness of style is in no
degree dependent on dimensions of canvas ; in a mercantile
community too, large sums are seldom laid out without a
calculation that it may be necessary at some future time to
convert into money the property on which the expenditure
was made, and moderately-sized pictures are generally pre¬
ferred as an investment; and, indeed, extensive mansions
adorned with fresco paintings are not now considered, as they
were in former times, the means of adding importance to
and handing down a family to posterity. Even in Ger¬
many, although art was there first fostered by government
patronage, artists are turning their attention to private sales
as the most lasting source from which art is to be supported.
The King of Bavaria built churches principally with the
view of encouraging fresco painting, but these have now be¬
come so numerous that there is scarcely a pretext for erect¬
ing one more; and his palaces, rebuilt or extended for the
same purpose, are larger than he can occupy. In France
a like feeling is gradually arising, and it has lately been
strengthened by the following occurrence. The exiled
Duchess of Orleans, in spring of the present year (1853),
brought to public sale the gallery of modern French paint¬
ings which had been formed by the late duke, and a larger
sum was realized than had been expended on the collection.
In place of purchasing or commissioning easel pictures, had
the duke employed the different artists to execute frescoes
in some of his chateaux, they would never have formed a
resource for his family in adversity, nor in any way benefited
himself or others, as they would probably have been obli¬
terated to make way for compositions illustrative of the deeds
of the new dynasty.
Government has also taken up strenuously a plan which, it is
strongly hoped, will improve the taste of the people, that, Fine Arts,
namely, of art tuition in design, particularly with reference
to manufactures. With this view a number of schools have
been instituted in London, in Edinburgh, and in the princi¬
pal cities of the kingdom. These have been in operation for
several years, most of them having been founded at the same
time that government proposed competitions at Westmin¬
ster Hall with the view of encouraging the fine arts. This
latter plan seems, however, to have been discontinued, at
least it is being but feebly carried out, while the schools of
design are receiving the particular attention of government.
On this legislative procedure, public opinion is much divided,
many holding that, in place of forming schools where an in¬
ferior kind of art is taught, government should encourage
only the highest, as that would involve improvement in all
the inferior branches ; others again—and among these many
of the principal manufacturers—think that such schools now
attempt too much, the plan having lately been tried, of com¬
municating a practical knowledge of the particular trade or
manufacture for which the designs are made. They hold
that the education imparted should be limited to drawing and
modelling, it being left to the employers and the master-de¬
signers in their establishments, to instruct the pupils in the
kind of design that can be practically applied to the particu¬
lar trade they engage in; as the attempt by these schools
to turn out practical designers perfected in their profession
is hopeless; and the little practical knowledge they can learn
at the schools, serving only to puzzle them, must be all un¬
learned in the manufactory. There can be no doubt, how¬
ever, that every step taken in disseminating education should
be hailed with satisfaction,—that drawing, the medium by
which knowledge is directly communicated to the mind
through the eye, should be made a part of education as well
as letters, and that galleries of art should be acquired by the
nation, and be made available to the people in the same way
as public libraries are. For it is in vain to educate men to
execute fine designs, unless the people who are to purchase
those designs are also sufficiently educated to be able to ap¬
preciate them.
Much has been written on the subject of artists forming
themselves into societies or academies, and it has been
alleged that all such institutions are injurious to art. This is
surely very unreasonable. Artists are equally entitled to
form societies for their mutual benefit and for advancing
their profession generally, as members of the legal or medi¬
cal profession. And if such combinations were injurious to
art, it is reasonable to suppose that the artists themselves
would be the first to make the discovery, seeing that what¬
ever is detrimental to art must be hurtfid to them; and it
is surely natural that they should take a deep interest in art-
education, and desire that a flourishing school of artists
should succeed them, to maintain worthily and to perpetuate
that profession to which all their energies have been de¬
voted. The occasional outcry made against government
assistance to academies is no good indication of a love of art.
The support of that kind that this country has hitherto af¬
forded to academies of art is of the most limited descrip¬
tion, and immeasurably disproportionate to the sums ex¬
pended in the endowment in universities of chairs in the
various branches of literature and science, besides the
numerous annual grants to learned bodies.
Art in France is perhaps, at present, in a more healthy
state than it has been in any former period; for though en¬
titled to claim, on the ground of birth, many eminent artists
who flourished in past ages, the only really national French
school was that of Louis Quatorze, which sprung up in an
age when the standard of taste was extremely low. This
school, when almost exhausted, was swept away at the Re¬
volution ; and the hard and exaggerated imitations of classic
art then substituted, have not only been now much modi¬
fied, but many of the artists of the French school have en-
A R T S.
Fine Arts, tered on several other walks of art, in which they have dis-
played great talent. We shall enumerate some of the chief
French artists of the present day, and note generally their
distinguishing styles.
Horace Vernet is celebrated for his pictures of the various
battles in which the French have been engaged. These are
mostly executed on a large scale, and are remarkable for
truth and power. He has also painted a variety of subjects
from sacred history, treated in a very original manner, by
assuming that the Arabian costume has undergone little
change since the time of the patriarchs, whom accordingly
he has dressed like Arabs ; and by introducing in his back¬
grounds truthful delineations of Eastern scenery. The no¬
velty of this style, and the forcible manner in which Vernet
has carried it out, has made it popular in France. Many able
artists have adopted it, and it is as much the characteristic
of the French school now, as the classic was at the com¬
mencement of this century.
The classic school founded by David, but much modified
and improved, is at present represented by Ingres, and his
works are highly estimated in France.
Delaroche holds, perhaps, as high a position as any French
artist; his subjects are historical, and range from the me¬
dieval period to modern times ; his works are characterized
by good drawing, carefully studied expression, and correct
costume and accessories. He is one of the chief artists of
what is styled the romantic, in contradistinction to the
classic school, of which, as before stated, Ingres is now
the leader.
Airy Scheffer also belongs to the romantic school, his
subjects are almost entirely medieval, and his style partakes
of German feeling to a greater extent than that of any other
French artist.
Delacroix belongs to a department of the romantic school
in which the attempt to introduce into it something of the
rich colouring of the Venetian school has been made with
much success. This fascinating style of art was introduced
into France by the English artist Bonnington.
The genre subjects of Meissonier, which are of small
dimensions and exquisitely finished, are highly valued.
Did our space permit, we could, in addition, enumerate
many men of high ability, whose works, while they never
fail to prove that our neighbours possess great readiness and
facility in drawing, often display an amount of talent and
originality highly creditable to French art.
The modern school of Germany deservedly holds a high
rank, and in purity and elevation of style is superior to that
of France. It is not older than the present century; and
though in former ages there was a celebrated German school,
of which there are many admirable examples extant, and it
might be supposed that tliere would beanationalbias in favour
of this ancient school, still it can scarcely be called a re¬
vival of German art, as the founders of the modern school
seem to have modelled their style not so much on old German
as on early Italian art. They probably wished to adopt the
purest model, and imagining that Italian art best afforded
this, they resolved to be guided chiefly by its light. Many
of the most distinguished German artists have sprung from
the school of Dusseldorf. In this city there was at one time
a celebrated gallery of pictures consisting chiefly of the chef
(Toeuvres of Rubens; but it so happened that one consequence
of the various state partitions in Napoleon’s time, was the
transference of the Dusseldorf gallery to Munich the capital
of Bavaria. But this spoliation, which at the time was looked
upon by the Dusseldorfers as a heavy blow to their city,
was the most fortunate thing for it that could have happened.
German patriotism and talent more than made up for the
loss, and the modern school that was founded in place of the
Rubens gallery has produced a band of artists whose talents
719
have made Dusseldorf celebrated all over Europe. German pine Arts,
art owes much to state patronage; all the most eminent ^
artists have been employed on important works by the kings
of Bavaria, Prussia, and Saxony, and other German princes.
Though the German artists adopted Italian art as the basis
of their style, yet different artists chose the art of different
epochs as their examples. Overbeck, whose pencil is chiefly
devoted to religious subjects, studied the works of Fra An¬
gelico, a painter who flourished about a century before
Raphael, and whose style is distinguished by deep feeling
and simplicity; while Cornelius, whose range is more ex¬
tensive, embracing both classical and religious subjects, has
been influenced by the works of M. Angelo, and the art of
the cinquecento period. Kaulbach is more German in feel¬
ing : his Battle of the Huns and the Taking of Jerusalem
are grand compositions. The frescoes executed by Bende-
man at Dresden; by Cornelius, Schnor, and Hess at Munich ;
by Viet at Frankfort; by Stienle at Cologne; and at Dus¬
seldorf, Elberfeld, Rheinstein, &c., by Sattegast, Miiche,
Deger, and others; and the easel pictures of Schadow,
Muller, Rethel, Hildebrandt, Sohn, Lessing, Kohler, Riedel,
one of the best colourists of the German school, Achen-
bach, Calame, and Schermer, landscape painters, and many
others, have raised modern German art to a very high posi¬
tion, higher, indeed, in the opinion of many, than that of any
other country at present.
Of course this pre-eminence is not generally admitted
either by the artists of France or England. Many, how¬
ever, of the most celebrated French artists (Airy Scheffer,
for example) have evidently profited by studying German
art; and there can be no doubt that good examples of art
are more generally diffused among the people in Germany
than in England or France. Even in their story and song
books, although for the sake of cheapness the illustrations
are roughly executed on wood, and printed on coarse paper,
the drawing and composition evince the highest artistic
feeling. In this country, again, we have cheap publications
for the people, excelling those of every other nation in the
literary department, and, in so far as paper, printing, and the
mechanical skill of the wood-cutting are involved, far supe¬
rior to the German publications. But the designs have not
their purity of drawing and artistic feeling; and the dashing
cleverness of execution in the English woodcuts, is rather
to be blamed than praised, as indicative of a rashness and
presumption requiring to be checked and kept in proper
bounds by judgment formed on cultivated taste. The posi¬
tion of engraving, too, affords a fair criterion of the state of
taste, and that is admitted to be higher in Germany at pre¬
sent than anywhere else. Line engraving, which alone can
express the true feeling of good art, has some able professors
in France, but in this country the aid of machinery, by which
manual labour is saved, and a straining at effect, and w hat
by engravers is called colour, has lowered the art, and line
has been almost superseded by the inferior styles of mezzo-
tinto and stipple engraving.
But let us refrain from farther comparisons ; those we have
indicated being made solely with the view of still farther
exciting honourable emulation; and this, there can be no
doubt, has been lately aroused by the great facilities of
intercourse among nations, and the national exhibitions.
The purity of design of the German school, and the variety
and dexterity displayed in that of France, are qualities
now generally admitted by the artists of this country, and
anxiously noted with feelings of respect, and not slightingly
as in former times; while the Germans and French, by their
efforts, prove daily that they admire, and are anxious to in¬
fuse into their works, the brilliant colouring and truth to
nature which have long been characteristics of the British
school. (w. H Z—T.) (w.B. J.)
720 A R U
Arts Arts, Degrees in. See Universities.
I! ARUNDEL, a borough and market town in the county
Arunde- 0f Sussex, 57 miles from London. It is situated on the
Marbles declivity of a hill, on the north bank of the river Arun,
v ^ ^ ^ ' t which is navigable for vessels of 200 tons, and consists of
two principal streets, containing several houses of a superior
class. Adjoining to it is the magnificent castle of the dukes
of Norfolk. The municipal government is vested in a mayor,
four aldermen, and twelve councillors. It returns one mem¬
ber to parliament. Its chief trade is in corn and timber.
Pop. in 1851, 2748.
Arundel, Thomas, archbishop of Canterbury, born in
1353, was the second son of Robert, Earl of Arundel and
Warren. At 22 years of age he was raised to the bishopric
of Ely, to the church and palace of which he was a great
benefactor. In 1386 he was appointed lord chancellor of
England ; two years after he was translated to the see of
York, and in 1396 was advanced to the primacy of Canter¬
bury, when he resigned the chancellorship. T his was the
first instance of the translation of an archbishop of York to
the see of Canterbury. Scarcely was he fixed in this see,
when he had a contest with the university of Oxford about
the right of visitation. The affair was referred to the king,
Richard II., who determined it in favour of the archbishop.
At his visitation in London, he revived an old constitution,
by which the inhabitants of the respective parishes were
obliged to pay to their rector one halfpenny in the pound
out of the rent of their houses. In 1398, in the parliament
held at London, the Commons, with the king’s leave, im¬
peached the archbishop, together with his brother Richard
Earl of Arundel, and the Duke of Gloucester, of high trea¬
son. He was sentenced to be banished, and within forty
days to depart the kingdom on pain of death. He retired,
first to France, and then to the Court of Rome, where Pope
Boniface IX. gave him a kind reception, and nominated him
to the Scottish archbishopric of St Andrews. He was en¬
gaged in the plot to depose Richard, and place the Duke of
Lancaster on the throne ; and returning to England along
with him, he was restored to his see on Henry’s accession.
Two years after, the Commons moved that the revenues of
the church might be applied to the public service; but
Arundel opposed the measure with such vigour that it was
thrown aside. In the year 1408 his zeal for the suppression of
heresy was directed against the followers of Wickliffe. The
most eminent victim of his persecution was Sir John Old-
castle, Lord Cobham. He also procured a synodical consti¬
tution, which prohibited the translation of the Scriptures into
the vulgar tongue. This prelate died at Canterbury on the
20th February 1413, of an inflammation in his throat, with
which he was seized, as affirmed by the Lollards, while pro¬
nouncing sentence upon Lord Cobham.
ARUNDELIAN or Oxford Marbles. These inte¬
resting relics of antiquity, which include the famous Parian
Chronicle, derive their name from Thomas Earl of Arun¬
del, or from his grandson the Hon. Henry Howard, (after¬
wards Duke of Norfolk) who presented the collection to the
University of Oxford in the year 1667. They were pur¬
chased for the first proprietor in 1624 by Mr William Petty,
an able antiquary employed by the Earl of Arundel to col¬
lect marbles, books, statues, and other curiosities in Italy,
Greece, and Asia Minor. On their arrival in London in
the year 1627 they were placed in the gardens of Arundel
House, the site of which is now occupied by Arundel, Nor¬
folk, Surrey, and Howard Streets in the Strand.
The Parian Chronicle, or Marmor Chronicon, was,
when found, a large oblong slab of Parian marble, on which
was engraved in capital letters a chronological compendium
of the principal events of Greece during a series of 1318
years, beginning with the reign of Cecrops, b.c. 1582, and
ending with the archonship of Diognetus, b.c. 264. This
ARY
marble originally measured three feet seven inches and two
feet eleven inches on the two sides respectively, its breadth
being two feet seven inches ; but the chronicle of the last
90 years is lost, so that the part now remaining ends at the
archonship of Diotimus, 354 years before the birth of Christ;
and in this fragment the inscription is at present so much
corroded and effaced that the sense must in some measure
be supplied by conjecture.
Immediately on their arrival they excited the greatest
curiosity, and were examined by some of the most eminent
literary men of the period; among others by Sir Robert
Cotton, Selden, Patrick Young, and Richard James. Sel-
den, along with Patrick Young, or, as he styled himself in
Latin, Patricias Junius, and Richard James, immediately
commenced their operations by cleaning and examining the
marble containing the Smyrnean and Magnesian league, and
afterwards proceeded to the Marmor Chronicon. The follow¬
ing year Selden published a small volume in quarto, includ¬
ing about 39 inscriptions copied from the marbles.
In the turbulent reign of Charles I., and the subsequent
usurpation, Arundel House was often deserted by the illus¬
trious owners ; and, in their absence, some of the marbles
were defaced and broken, and others either stolen or used
for the ordinary purposes of architecture. The chronolo¬
gical marble, in particular, was unfortunately broken and
defaced. The upper part, containing 31 epochas, is said to
have been worked up in repairing a chimney-piece or hearth
in Arundel House.
Selden’s work becoming very scarce, a new edition of the
inscriptions, by Prideaux, was printed at Oxford in 1676.
In 1732 Maittaire obliged the public with a more compre¬
hensive view of the marbles than either of his predecessors.
Lastly, Dr Chandler published, in 1763, anew and improved
copy of the marbles; in which he corrected the mistakes of
the former editors, and in some of the inscriptions, parti¬
cularly that of the Parian chronicle, supplied the lacuna1 by
many ingenious conjectures.
The Arundelian marbles, though generally regarded as
genuine relics of antiquity, were, however, discovered in
some instances to differ somewhat from the most authentic
historical accounts. Sir Isaac Newton and several other
eminent philosophers paid little or no regard to them; and
their absolute authenticity has been severely questioned in
an express dissertation upon the subject by the Rev. J. Ro¬
bertson, published in 1788, entitled The Parian Chronicle.
In this dissertation much ingenuity as well as learning is
displayed, and the arguments are doubtless possessed of
considerable force and plausibility; but Mr Robertson’s dis¬
sertation has been ably answered, and the authenticity of
the Parian chronicle vindicated, by several writers ; parti¬
cularly the late Professor Porson, in an examination of Mr
Robertson’s Dissertation, in the Monthly Review for Janu¬
ary 1789. See also Hewlett’s Vindication, and the Archee-
ologia, vol. ix.
ARUSPICES, or Haruspices, in Roman Antiquity, an
order of priests who pretended to foretell future events by in¬
specting the entrails of victims killed in sacrifice ; and who
were consulted on occasion of portents and prodigies. The
aruspices were chosen from the best families ; yet although
their employment was of the same nature as that of the au¬
gurs, and they were much honoured, they never acquired
the same political importance, being regarded rather as mere
interpreters of the will of the gods, than as possessing any
religious authority. Their college, as well as those of the
other religious orders, had its particular registers and records.
ARVA, a county of northern Hungary, containing above
101,000 inhabitants. Its surface = 797 square miles, with
extensive forests, 5 market-towns, and 92 villages.
ARVALES Fratres, in Roman Antiquity, a college of
twelve priests, instituted by Romulus, and chosen out of
Aruspices
li
Arvales
Fratres.
Arve
II
As.
A S
the most noble families, he himself being one of that body.
They assisted in the sacrifices of the Ambarvalia, offered
^ to Ceres and Bacchus in May for the prosperity of the fruits
of the earth, when they wore on their heads crowns made of
ears of corn. I he origin of this institution was said to have
been as follows. Acca Laurentia, Romulus’s nurse, was
accustomed once a year to make a solemn sacrifice for a
blessing on the fields, her twelve sons always assisting her
in the solemnity. On the death of one of them, Romulus
offered himself to supply his place, and gave this small so¬
ciety the name of Arvales Fratres. This order was in great
repute at Rome: they held the dignity for life, and never
lost it on account of imprisonment, banishment, or any
other accident. See Ambaryalia.
ARVE, a well-known river which rises in the Col de
almc, one of the Savoyan Alps, and passing through the
valley of Chamouni, falls into the Rhone near Geneva, after
a course of about 50 miles.
ARVIL Supper, a feast or entertainment made at fune¬
rals m the north part of England. Arvil bread is the bread
delivered to the poor at funeral solemnities.
ARVfRAGUS, a British king in the time of the Em¬
peror Domitian. He gained a complete victory over Clau¬
dius ; but being soon after besieged in the city of Winches¬
ter, he made a treaty with the Romans, and married the
emperor’s daughter Genuissa. This monarch lived to a
good old age: he confirmed the ancient laws, enacted new
ones, and liberally rewarded persons of merit.
ARA, in all ancient cities, was a fortified eminence or rock
either within or close by the city itself. The arx at Rome
was a part of the Capitoline Hill, the other part containing
the Capitoline temple. In Greek towns the arx was called
d/cpa or aKpoTToAts, and in several of them it bore a distinct
name; whence at Thebes it was called the Cadmea, at
Argos Larissa, at Corinth Acrocorinthus, and at Athens,
sometimes Cecropia, or simply r\ ttoAi?. The modern name
citadel does not correspond with the term arx in every re¬
spect, the latter being always situated on an eminence, (l. s.)
Arx also denotes a consecrated place on the Palatine
Mount, where the augurs publicly performed their office.
Some suppose the arx to have been the augural temple, but
varro expressly distinguishes between the two.
Arx was particularly used for a public place in Rome, set
apart for the operations of the augurs ; and is the same as
what is otherwise called auguraculum and auguratorium,
and in the camp augurale. Out of this arx it was that the
fecmleS', or heralds, gathered the herbs used in the ceremony
of making leagues and treaties.
ARZEW (the ancient Arsenaria), a seaport town of
Algiers, province of Oran, on a bay of the same name.
• wi1^" ^T' ^a*:" r^^ie m°dern town
is ill-built and inconsiderable, but has many fine Roman re¬
mains, and vast cisterns of the ancient city. About 5 miles
distant there are numerous salt-pits.
ARZILLA, a small fortified town of Marocco, province
ot bez, with about 1000 inhabitants. The battery mounts
about 20 guns.
ASA
721
AS, in Antiquity, a weight, consisting of 12 ounces, being
the same with libra, or the Roman pound. The word is de¬
rived from the Greek ats, which, in the Doric dialect, is used
tor as, one, q. d. an entire thing: or, according to others,
from ccs, because made of brass.
was a^°, ^le narae °f a Roman coin, which was of
different weight and material in different ages of the com¬
monwealth. Under Numa Pompilius, according to Euse-
bms, the Roman money was either of wood, leather, or
h n 1’ hllhe 1 u^us Hostilius it was of brass, and
called as libra, hbella, or panda, because actually weighing
a pound or 12 ounces. The first Punic war, 420 years later,
laving exhausted the treasury, the as was reduced to two
yol. in.
ounces. In the second Punic war, it was again reduced to Asahel
half its vyeight, viz., to one ounce. And lastly, by the Papi- II
nan law it was still further reduced to the diminutive weight ^saPh-
of half an ounce; and it is generally thought that it continued
the same during the commonwealth, and even to the reign
of Vespasian. The as, therefore, was of four different
weights in the commonwealth. Its original stamp was that
of a sheep, ox, or sow ; but from the time of the emperors
it had on one side a Janus with two faces, and on the re¬
verse the rostrum or prow of a ship.
As also denoted any integer or whole ; whence the Eng¬
lish word ace. Thus as signified the whole inheritance ;
whence harres ex asse, the heir to the whole estate.
ASAHEL (i. e. God's creature) son of David’s sister
Zeruiah, and brother of Joab and Abishai. He was noted
for his swiftness of foot; and after the battle at Gibeon he
pursued and overtook Abner, who, with great reluctance,
and to preserve his own life, slew him with a backthrust of
his spear, b.c. 1055.
ASAPH (e. e., assembler ; Sept. ’Aixd^), a Levite, son of
Barachias, eminent as a musician, and appointed by David
to preside over the sacred choral services which he organ¬
ized. Ihe “sons of Asaph” are afterwards mentioned as
choristers of the temple, and this office appears to have been
made hereditary in his family (1 Chron. xxv. 1, 2). The
titles of twelve of the Psalms (Ixxiii. to Ixxxiii.) bear his
name.
Asaph, St, a small episcopal city of North Wales
county of Flint, 20 miles west of Chester, and 208 north¬
west of London. It is agreeably situated on an eminence
near the northern extremity of the fertile vale of Clwyd
between the rivers Elwy and Clwyd, not far from their con¬
fluence. The city is small, consisting principally of a single
stieet. It has a cathedral, a church, four chapels, a free
grammar-school, Bishop Barrow’s almshouse for eight
widows, a bank, and a bridge of five arches over the Elwv
bince the passing of the Reform Act, it is a contributory
borough to Flint. Pop. of borough in 1851, 2041.
The see is very ancient, having been established in the
middle of the sixth century by Kentigern, otherwise called
8t Mungo, bishop of Glasgow. Driven from the north by
persecution, he sought refuge here, and was protected by
Cadwallon, who aided him in building a church and founding
a college or monastery in this place. Being recalled to
his original charge, he nominated as his successor a pious
scholar named Asa or Asaph, from whom both the church
and town received their designation. Whether Kentigern
assumed the title of bishop while here is not known, but
there is evidence that Asaph certainly did, and that on his
death in 596, he was interred in his own cathedral. The
Voqo1 a’ Which WaS °f Wood’ was consumed by fire in
1282. A more substantial building was soon afterwards
erected by Bishop Anian ; and this was nearly destroyed
during the wars of Owen Glyndwr. It was partially rebuilt
y ishop Redman about 1480, but the choir remained un¬
finished till about 1770, when it was completed by the dean
and chapter. In the parliamentary wars the edifice was
converted into a barrack, and sustained great injury.
The present cathedral is a neat plain cruciform structure,
with a square tower 93 feet high rising from the intersec-
^10An x- e nave and transepts. Its length from east to west
is 1 / J feet, its breadth at the transept 108 feet, and at the
nave and side aisles 68 feet. The east end is lighted by a
large window, an imitation of one at Tintern Abbey, filled
with modern stained glass; and several other stained win¬
dows have been added at different times. Among its monu¬
ments are an altar-tomb supporting a recumbent figure in
episcopal robes, in memory of Bishop Dafydd ap Owen,
who died in 1502 ; a full-length figure, in white marble, of
Dean Shipley; an altar-tomb recording the decease of
4 Y
722 A S C
Asar- Bishop Luxmore in 1830; and a mural tablet in memory
Addon of the poetess Felicia Hemans, who, during a great portion
II of her life, resided in the vicinity.
Ascalon. The episcopal palace is a large modern structure a little
to the west of the cathedral, overlooking the Elwy. The
parochial church, dedicated to St Asaph and St Kentigern,
is situated at the foot of the hill of which the cathedral oc¬
cupies the summit. The rivers in the neighbourhood abound
with fish, and are much resorted to by anglers. There are
also some remarkable caverns and other places of interest
in the vicinity.
Among the prelates of this diocese may be especially
named Bishop William Morgan, an eminent linguist, and
the principal translator of the Welsh Bible, printed in 1588;
Dr Isaac Barrow, uncle and preceptor of the great mathe¬
matician of the same name ; Dr William Beveridge, an
eminent orientalist and critic, as well as a devout, zealous,
and useful theologian ; and Dr Samuel Horsley, celebrated
as a scholar, mathematician, and theologian.
ASAR-ADD ON, or Esar-Haddon. See Assyria.
ASAROTUM (from a, privative, and cratpo), I sweep), an
ancient kind of mosaic pavement composed of coloured peb¬
bles. The most celebrated was that at Pergamus, executed
by Sosus, which exhibited the appearance of an unswept floor
after a banquet, whence the chamber was called dcrapwros
oikos. The central part represented several doves sitting
on the edge of a cantharus, and the image of one in the act
of drinking was reflected in the water. An imperfect copy
of this central group was found at Tivoli in 1737, and
another, in better preservation, was discovered at Naples in
1833.—’See Plin. xxxvi. 25.
ASBESTOS. See Amianthus, and Mineralogy.
ASCALON, or Askelon (now called Askulan), a chief
city of one of the five states of the Philistines, situated on
the coast of the Mediterranean between Gaza and Ashdod,
12 geographical miles north of the former, 10 south by
west of the latter, and 37 W.S.W. from Jerusalem. As-
caion was assigned to the tribe of Judah, but was never for
any length of time in the possession of the Israelites. It
afterwards fell successively into the hands of the Greeks,
the Romans, and the Arabs. At the period of the first
crusade it, as well as Jerusalem, was in the possession of
the Khalifs of Egypt. The crusaders having advanced to
Jerusalem, a very formidable Egyptian army, composed of
Arabs, Turks, and Africans, hastened to defend it. When
this army arrived after the capture of the holy city, it halted
in a plain near Ascalon, while the Egyptian fleet took up its
position along the shore. On receiving intelligence of this,
Godfrey of Bouillon, and Tancred, issued out of Jerusalem
with all their available forces to attack the enemy. The
Christian army was very inferior in numbers to that of the
Egyptians, but their former success and the conviction that
God was on their side rendered them invincible. The
battle was fought on the 15th of August 1099, and the
slaughter of the Egyptians is said to have amounted to a
fourth part of their whole forces, which consisted of 400,000
men. In the account of this battle given by Tasso in his
Jerusalem Delivered, the poet has freely used his license.
This signal victory was not followed up as would have been
expected by an attack upon Ascalon, so that that city re¬
mained in the possession of the Egyptians till 1157, when
it was taken by Baldwin III. king of Jerusalem, after a siege
of five months. When Saladin had defeated and almost
annihilated the Christian army in the plains of Tiberias, in
1187, Ascalon offered but a feeble resistance to his vic¬
torious army, surrendering after a siege of four days. Sala¬
din repaired and strengthened its fortifications ; but alarmed
at the capture of Saint Jean d’Acre by the Crusaders under
Richard Cceur de Lion in 1191, he caused Ascalon to be
dismantle'1. From this time Ascalon lost much of its im-
A S C
portance, and at length in 1270 its fortifications were totally Ascanius
destroyed by the Sultan Bibars, who filled up its port with AscJsion
stones to prevent its again falling into the hands of the ^
Christians. This sealed the ruin of Ascalon, of which little
now remains but the walls and fragments of granite pillars.
The situation is described as strong ; the thick walls, flanked
with towers, were built on the top of a ridge of rock that en¬
circles the town, and terminates at each end in the sea, and
the ground within sinks in the manner of an amphitheatre.
ASCANIUS, the son of JEneas and Creusa, succeeded
his father in the kingdom of the Latins, and defeated Me-
zentius, king of the Tuscans, who had refused to conclude
a peace with him. He migrated to Alba Longa, and here
he was succeeded by his son Silvius. Some writers relate
that Ascanius was also called Ilus or lulus, whence the
origin of the gens Julia at Rome, who regarded Ascanius
or lulus as their ancestor. Horace elegantly alludes to this
in addressing Augustus :—
Micat inter omnes
Julium sidus, velut inter ignes
Luna minores. Carm. 1. i. 12.
ASCENDANT, in Astrology, denotes the horoscope, or
the degree of the ecliptic which rises upon the horizon at
the time of the birth of any one. This is supposed to have
an influence on the person’s life and fortune, by giving him
a bent and propensity to one thing more than another. In
the celestial theme this is also called the first house, the
angle of the East, or Oriental angle, and the significator
of life. Such a planet ruled in his ascendant, Jupiter was in
his ascendant, &c. Hence the word is also used in a moral
sense for a certain superiority which one man has over
another from some unknown cause.
ASCENSION, a solitary island in the Atlantic Ocean,
Lat. 7. 55. 56. S., and Long. 14. 23. 50. W.; about 7£
miles in length, and 6 in breadth, and within the immediate
influence of the south-east trade-wind. The whole cha¬
racter of the island is volcanic, and its surface is broken into
mountains, hills, and ravines. Towards the south-east, the
Green Mountain, the highest in the island, rises 2870 feet
above the level of the sea, while the plains or table-lands
surrounding it vary in height from 1200 to 2000 feet. On
the north side they sweep gradually down towards the shore;
but, on the south, they terminate in bold and lofty preci¬
pices. Steep and rugged ravines intersect the plains, open¬
ing into small bays or coves on the shore, fenced with
masses of compact and cellular lava ; and all over the island
are found the usual products of volcanic action. The chief
productions of the island now are green vegetables. Ascen¬
sion was formerly noted for the abundance of turtle and
turtle eggs found on its shores. The coasts abound with a
variety of fish of excellent quality. The native wild animals
are guinea-fowl, goats, cats, rats, and land-crabs; but the
goats have been almost exterminated to make way for sheep
and cattle. The air is clear and elastic, and the climate re¬
markably salubrious. The island was discovered by the
Portuguese on Ascension day 1501; but remained unin¬
habited till after the arrival of Napoleon at St Helena, when
it was taken possession of by the British Government, and
it now forms a permanent station. The garrison, with their
retainers, reside in George Town, on the north-west coast,
which is abundantly supplied with fresh water from a mag¬
nificent cistern capable of containing 1700 tons of water,
supplied by means of iron pipes from springs in the Green
Mountain, six miles distant. Population about 400, includ¬
ing the garrison. Ascension is found useful as a station and
rendezvous for the vessels employed on the coasts of Africa
and Brazil. A crevice in one of the rocks was long known
as the sailor’s post-office, because letters were deposited
there to be taken up by the next ship passing in a contrary
direction.
A S C
Ascension Ascension Day, a festival of the Christian church held
^ ten days before Whitsuntide, in memory of our Saviour’s
Ascham. ascensi°n into heaven.
.. ^ i Ascension, right and oblique. See Astronomy.
ASCE TERIUM (from aaKrjTqs, one who exercises), in
ecclesiastical writers, is frequently used for a monastery, or
place set apart for the exercise of virtue and religion. Ori¬
ginally it signified a place where the athletae or gladiators
performed their exercises. Plato, Gorg. 42.
ASCETIC (from ao-Kew, I exercise), an appellation given
to such persons as, in the primitive times, devoted them¬
selves to the exercises of piety and virtue in a retired life,
and particularly to prayer, abstinence, and mortification.
Afterwards this title was bestowed upon the monks, espe¬
cially upon such of them as lived in solitude.
ASCHAFFENBURG, a city of Bavaria, in the circle of
Lower Franconia and Aschaffenburg. It is pleasantly situ¬
ated on the right bank of the Maine, here crossed by a stone
bridge, 2d miles E.S.E. of Frankfort. It is surrounded by
"alls on every side, but that towards the river is indifferently
built, and the streets are mostly narrow and crooked. On
a commanding eminence stands the palace of Johannisburg,
a large square edifice with a tower at each angle, and mag¬
nificent gardens attached. It was founded by the elector of
Mentz in 1606, and is at present the ordinary summer resi¬
dence of the king of Bavaria. Aschaffenburg has seven
churches, one of which is an old Gothic building with the
tombs of its princes; a public library of 22,000 volumes;
a picture-gallery, gymnasium, lyceum, and an ecclesiastical
seminary. Its manufactures are woollens, soap, leather, and
coloured paper; and it has a considerable trade in timber,
wine, and tobacco. Lat. 49. 58. 28. N. Long. 9. 8. 50. E.
Pop. 10,000.
The principality of Aschaffenburg, which derived its name
fiom this city, comprehended an area of 336 geographical
square miles. It originally formed part of the electorate of
Mentz, and in 1803 was made over to the archchancellor,
Archbishop Charles of Dalberg. In 1806 it was annexed
to the grand duchy of Frankfort; and in 1814 was transferred
to Bavaria in virtue of a treaty concluded on 19th June be¬
tween that power and Austria. Conjointly with Lower Fran¬
conia it now forms a circle of the kingdom of Bavaria.
ASCHAM, Roger, a very distinguished scholar and
writer, was born at Kirby Wiske, a village in Yorkshire,
near Northallerton, about the year 1515. John Ascham,
his father, was house-steward in the family of Scroop, and
by his wife Margaret was connected with several respectable
families. A short time before his death, Sir Anthony Wing¬
field having conceived a predilection for his third son Roger,
took him into his family, and extended his bounty so far as
to give him the advantage of a private education along with
his own sons. Under a domestic tutor he made a rapid pro¬
gress in classical learning, and early discovered a great par¬
tiality for reading. The superiority of genius and docility of
temper which he constantly displayed induced his patron to
send him to St John’s College, Cambridge, in the year 1530.
1 he revival of Grecian and Roman literature at the period
Ascham entered upon his studies was peculiarly favourable
to the natural bent of his inclination. A desire of excelling
uniformly influenced his conduct, and, adopting the maxim
Qui docet discit, he began to teach boys the rudiments of
the Gieek language as soon as he was acquainted with the
elementary parts himself. His plan was approved by Pem-
bei, and under the direction of this valued friend he soon
became acquainted with the best Greek and Latin authors.
But he took particular delight in reading Cicero and Caesar,
and upon them formed the elegance of his Latin style, which
pi oved so honourable and so advantageous in the after part
of his life.
Ascham took his degree of bachelor of arts in his 18th
A S C 723
year, and was chosen fellow of the college about a month Ascham.
afterwards. The favourable disposition, however, which he
manifested towards the reformed religion was no small ob¬
stacle in the way of his preferment. He was admitted mas¬
ter of arts in the year 1537, and about this period he began
to act in the capacity of a tutor.
His reputation for Greek learning soon brought him many
pupils; several of whom afterwards rose to considerable emi¬
nence. Of these one of the most distinguished was William
Grindall, who obtained the station of master of languages to
the Lady Elizabeth, upon the recommendation of Sir John
Cheke. The reason why Ascham himself was not appointed
to that honourable office is not known; but his partiality
for the university seems, from a hint in one of his letters, to
have been the cause. At that period there was no particu¬
lar chair appropriated to the Greek language, but Ascham
was appointed by the university to read lectures upon that
language in the schools. A dispute arose in the university
at that time about the pronunciation of the Greek language,
in which Ascham first opposed the method observed by Sir
John Cheke and Sir Thomas Smith; but, upon more mature
deliberation, he adopted that method, which has ever since
been practised in the English schools. Both on account of
the beauty of his handwriting, and the purity and elegance
of his Latin, he was employed to write the public letters of
the university.
By the advice of his friend Pember, he turned his at¬
tention to the study of instrumental music, and thereby en¬
livened his leisure hours, and prepared his mind for renewed
exertion. In his study he also amused himself with embel¬
lishing the pages of his manuscripts with beautiful draughts,
and in the field he joined in the diversion of the bow and
arrow. The learned Ascham did not deem his labour im¬
properly bestowed in writing a book entitled Toxophilus, in
an age when the proper use of the bow was of more import¬
ance than for mere amusement. This work was written in
a more natural, easy, and truly English diction than had
hitherto been in use; and it also abounds with many beau¬
tiful allusions and curious fragments of English history.
Ascham candidly acknowledges, that being anxious to make
the tour of Italy, which was then the great republic of let¬
ters, and particularly of Grecian literature, he wished, by
dedicating his book to the king, to obtain a pension to
enable him to make that tour. It reflects some credit on
Henry VIII. that in the year 1544 he settled upon him an
annual pension of L.10, which Dr Johnson estimates at the
value of L.100. Upon the death of Henry this pension was
renewed by Edward VI., to whom he was afterwards ap¬
pointed Latin secretary. In the same year, also, Ascham
obtained the appointment of orator to the university; an
office which he retained with great reputation during the
period he was connected with the university.
For some years he received an annual gratuity from Lee,
archbishop of York, but to what amount is not recorded;
and, in 1548, upon the death of his pupil Grindall, precep¬
tor to the Lady Elizabeth, his pupils and writings had ac¬
quired him such celebrity, that he was appointed to direct
the studies of that princess. He successfully acquitted him¬
self in that honourable charge; but two years after, from
some unknown cause of dissatisfaction, he returned to the
university, having taken an abrupt leave of the princess.
This part of his conduct did not greatly affect his favour
with royalty; for in the same year he was recalled to court,
and appointed secretary to Sir Richard Morisine, ambassa¬
dor to the Emperor Charles V. On his way to London he
paid a visit to Lady Jane Grey, whom he found in her
chamber reading Plato’s Phcedo, in Greek, “ and that,” says
he, “ with as much delight as some gentlemen would read
a merry tale in Boccace ;” while the duke and duchess, and
the rest of the household, were hunting in the park.
724 A S C
Aschersle- In the character of secretary to Sir Richard, besides aid-
ben ing him in the management of his public affairs, he also
A II.. conducted his private studies. During the morning’s of four
v j days in the week he read with him a portion of Herodotus
or Demosthenes, and in the evenings some pages of Sopho¬
cles or Euripides: on the other mornings he wrote the
letters of public business, and on the evenings he either
wrote his own private letters or continued his diary and re¬
marks. While Ascham was on his travels, he made a short
excursion to Italy; but was much disgusted with the man¬
ners of the people, especially of the Venetians. After his
return from that tour, he favoured the world with a curious
tract, entitled A Report and Discourse of the Affairs and
State of Germany, &c.
Upon the death of Edward VI. Morisine was recalled,
and Ascham returned to the university. But the fortune of
Ascham soon took a favourable turn, through the interest of
Bishop Gardiner, who, although he knew him to be a Pro¬
testant, obtained for him the office of Latin secretary to the
queen, with a salary of L.20 a year, and permission to retain
his university emoluments. The prudence of Ascham en¬
abled him to act a respectable part, both under the intole¬
rant reign of Mary, and also in the most perilous situations
during the reign of Elizabeth; and the readiness and ele¬
gance of his Latin style rendered him a useful member at
court. He is reported to have written, during the course of
three days, 47 letters to persons in the highest ranks of life.
When the crown passed to Elizabeth, it made little altera¬
tion in the condition of Ascham, who still retained his sta¬
tion. He spent several hours every day in reading the
learned languages with the queen. Her proficiency was
equal to his pains ; and it might have been expected that his
services would have received some reward more ample than
L.20 per annum, together with the prebend of Westwang.
The allegation that the queen kept him poor because he was
extravagant and addicted to cock-fighting, is hardly satis¬
factory.
In consequence of a conversation which took place in the
apartment of secretary Cecil, upon the subject of education,
Sir Richard Sackville, who was present, requested Ascham
to write a book on the general subject of education. This
work is entitled The Schoolmaster, and contains many ex¬
cellent instructions to the teachers of youth. It was pub¬
lished by his widow after his death. By too close applica¬
tion to composing a poem, which he intended to present to
the queen on the New-year’s day of 1569, he was seized with
an illness which proved fatal. He died on the 23d of De¬
cember 1568. His death was universally lamented, and the
queen expressed her regret by saying, that “ she would ra¬
ther have lost L.10,000 than her tutor Ascham.” His
epistles, which are valuable both on account of their style
and historical information, were published after his death,
and dedicated to the queen: the best edition is that of
Elstob, published at Oxford in 1703. His English works
were published in 4to, with a life by Dr Johnson, in 1767.
This edition has been reprinted in 8vo.
ASCHERSLEBEN, a circle in the government of Mag¬
deburg and province of Saxony, in Prussia, formed out of
a part of the principality of Halberstadt and the abbey of
Quedlinburg. It contains 198 square miles, or 126,720
acres. Pop. in 1849, 49,816. The Bode and the Eine are
the chief rivers; and on their banks the land is highly fer¬
tile, producing corn, flax, and rape-seed. Quedlinburg is
the chief city of the circle,
Aschersleben, a city in the circle of the same name,
containing 1214 houses and 12,139 inhabitants. It has an
extensive trade in friezes, flannels, and other woollen goods,
and in linen, leather, tobacco, and rape-oil.
ASCII (a, priv. and oklo), an appellation given to those
inhabitants of the earth who at certain seasons of the year
A S C
have no shadow: such are all the inhabitants of the torrid Ascit®
zone when the sun is vertical to them. II
ASCIT/E (from Jo-kos, a bay or bottle), a sect of the
Montanists, who appeared in the second century. They v '
were so called because they introduced a kind of Baccha- v
nals into their assemblies, who danced round a skin or bag
blown up, saying they were those new bottles filled with
new wine whereof our Saviour makes mention, Matth.
ix. 17.
ASCITES (from dovcds), an old name for peritoneal
dropsy.
ASCLEPEIA, a festival of TEsculapius (’ActkA^ttios), the
god of physic, observed particularly at Epidaurus every five
years, where it was attended with a contest between the
poets and musicians, whence it was likewise called 'lepds
’Aywv, the sacred contention. It was celebrated on the
eighth day of the month Elaphebolion (March).
ASCLEPIAD, in Ancient Poetry, a verse composed of
four feet, the first a spondee, the second a choriambus, and
the last two dactyls; or of four feet and a caesura, the first
a spondee, the second a dactyl and caesura, then two dactyls;
as, Mcecenas atavis edite regibus.
ASCLEPIADiE, the descendants of Asclepius, or JEs-
culapius, by his sons Machaon and Podalirius, who were
physicians in the Greek army, and ruled over Tricca,
Ithome, and CEchalia. Combining the functions of priest,
prophet, and physician, they spread themselves, along with
the worship of the god, over Greece and Asia Minor. They
may be regarded as the founders of scientific medicine.
They resided in the temples of the god, and there wrought
cures of the sick by various remedies, by charms, incanta¬
tions, and also by means which are supposed to have refer¬
ence to magnetism. The Sermones Sacri of the orator Aris¬
tides contain some curious accounts of these mysterious cures.
This order undoubtedly had its origin in Egypt, whence the
coluber AEsculapii, or sacred serpent, was brought by the
Phoenicians to Epidaurus the chief seat of the god. Strangers,
as Galen reports, were eventually initiated into the mysteries
of this order. The priests were bound by a solemn oath
not to divulge the secrets of their knowledge. Hippo¬
crates, who was himself of the fraternity, has preserved the
form of adjuration used on such occasions. The worship of
/Esculapius was introduced at Rome in b.c. 293, for the
purpose of averting a pestilence.
The name Asclepiades was borne by a great number of
physicians, of whom the most famous was a native of Prusa
in Bithynia, who was the founder of the methodical school,
and practised at Rome about b.c. 50.
ASCLEPIODORUS, a famous Athenian painter co¬
temporary with Apelles. See Index.
ASCOLI (the Asculum Picenum of the Romans), an
ancient episcopal city of Italy, States of the Church, and
capital of a delegation of the same name. It is situated on
the right bank of the river Tronto, at the junction of that
river with the Castellano, 53 miles south of Ancona. It is
a handsome and well-built town, with a cathedral and nu¬
merous churches, many of which are ornamented with valu¬
able paintings by native artists. It has also a Jesuit’s college,
governor’s residence, many private palaces, and a modern
palazzo containing a museum, library, and theatre. It is
surrounded by old walls and towers, and contains a citadel.
Its harbour is defended by two forts, and is frequented by
coasting vessels. Pop. 13,000.
ASCOLIA, a festival celebrated by the Athenian hus¬
bandmen in honour of Dionysius (Bacchus).
ASCOLIASMUS, an amusement with which the Athe¬
nians diverted themselves during the Anthesteria and other
festivals of Bacchus, to whom they sacrificed a he-goat, because
that creature is destructive to vines; and after inflating its
skin and smearing it with oil, they attempted to dance upon
A S H
Asconius
I!
Ashantee,
ASH
istory
' the
shantee
apire.
it, thereby occasioning much merriment among the specta¬
tors. Virgil alludes to this custom :
inter pocula Iceti,
Mollibus in pratis unctos saliere per utres. Georg, ii. 384.
ASCONIUS, Q. Peditanus, a Roman of the time of
Vespasian, who wrote a good commentary on the orations
of Cicero, a fragment of which was recovered by Poggio
Bracciolini, when he attended the Council of Constance in
1416; but the MS. has again disappeared. Other fragments
have been recovered by Mai. The best edition of Asconius
is that of Orelli, Zurich, 1833.
ASCRIPTICII, in Homan Antiquity. See Accensi.
ASCRIP n III, or Adscriptitii, a kind of serfs, so an¬
nexed to the lands that they may be transferred and sold
with them. Adscriptitii is sometimes also used in speaking
of aliens or foreigners newly admitted to the freedom of a
city or country.
ASDRUBAL, the name of several Carthaginian gene¬
rals. See Carthage.
ASELLIO, Gasparo, a physician of Cremona, born in
1581, who was afterwards professor of anatomy at Pavia.
He is best known by his important discovery of the Lacteal
Vessels. His treatise on this subject was posthumous ; being
published in 1627, a year after his death.
ASH. See Planting.
ASH-WEDNESDAY, the first day of Lent, supposed
to have been so called from a custom in the church of sprink¬
ling ashes on the heads of penitents then admitted to pen¬
ance. Ihe primitive church did not commence Lent until
the following Sunday: the present commencement was in¬
stituted by Pope Felix III., a.d. 487.
ASHANTEE, a country in Western Africa, in the in-
teiioi of the Gold Coast, i he Ashantee empire, including
the numerous districts at that time entirely reduced under
its control and jurisdiction, was considered bv M. Dupuis
as extending from Eat. 5. 0. to 9. 0. N., and from Long. 0.
to 4. 0. W., comprising a space of about 50,000 square miles,
inhabited by 3,000,000 of people. The original Ashantee,
however, is not supposed to include more than a third of this
large territory.
I radition represents the Ashantees as deriving their ori¬
gin from numerous bands of emigrants, who, two or three
centuries ago, were driven before the Moslem tribes migrat¬
ing southward from the countries on the Niger and Senegal.
The Ashantees having occupied and cleared a region before
covered with almost impenetrable forests, defended them¬
selves with a valour which became part of their national
character, and which raised them from a band of fugitives
to the rank of a powerful and conquering nation. They
even subdued and reduced into vassalage several of the
Moslem tribes by whom they had been formerly supplanted.
Early in the eighteenth century the Ashantees first came
under the notice of Europeans, through the successful wars
in which they engaged with the kingdoms bordering on the
maritime territory. Sai Tooto may be considered as the
leal founder of the Ashantee power. He either built or
greatly extended and embellished Coomassie, the capital;
he subdued the neighbouring state of Denkera, and the Ma¬
hometan countries of Gaman and Banna, the latter of which
las been called the right arm of Ashantee; and extended
the empire by conquests both on the east and west. His
successor made further acquisitions of territorv towards the
coast.
In 1800 the throne was mounted by Sai Tooto Qua-
nnna, who soon showed himself animated by a peculiar spirit
of enterpi ise and ambition. He appears early to have formed
a desire of opening a communication with white nations,
and of improving his country by the introduction of their arts
and knowledge. Occupied, however, by wars and insurrec¬
tions, he could not for some time turn his views in that di-
725
rection. About 1808, however, a dispute arose among the Ashantee.
chiefs of Assin, which in spite of the king’s efforts at concilia-
tion ended in an open rupture. I he insurgent forces were
defeated with great slaughter, and the chiefs compelled to seek
refuge among the Fantees, the ruling people on the coast.
The king’s overtures of accommodation being again slighted,
he determined to make the rebels and their protectors feel the
weight of his vengeance. The allies found themselves wholly
unable to resist the torrent of invasion ; the country was laid
waste with fire and sword, and they were driven with dreadful
slaughter towards the coast. At length the fugitives reached
the town of Anamaboe, where there was then a British fort.
The governor exhorted the Anamaboes to endeavour to make
pacific arrangements with this powerful enemy, and offered his
mediation; but the citizens, falsely confident in their own
strength, resolved to abide the contest. The result was the
complete destruction of the town, with great slaughter among
the inhabitants. The attempts of the Ashantees, however, to
storm the English fort were unsuccessful, though the skill of
their fire reduced the garrison, originally amounting to 24, to
the number of 8 men fit for service. A truce was concluded,
and the king having refused to make any terms except with
the chief governor of Cape Coast, Colonel Torranne, who
filled that office, at once repaired to Anamaboe. He was re¬
ceived by the Ashantee monarch with great pomp, and the
result of their interview was a treaty by which the whole ter¬
ritory of Fantee, including Cape Coast itself, the capital, was
ceded by right of conquest to the Ashantee empire. The
governor took a still more questionable mode of securing the
favour of this great potentate, delivering up to his mercy the
two chiefs with whom the war had originated. The one
effected his escape; the other was put to death with cruel
ignominy.
. The British government, actuated by very enlightened Negotia-
views, felt a wish to cultivate the alliance of this monarch, tions and
and to open a direct communication with him. They thuswar with
hoped not only to secure his friendship and commerce with t!ie Eng'
his territories, but to obtain extensive information respect-
ing the interior of Africa. In 1817, Messrs James, Bow-
dich, and Hutchison, departed on a mission to Coomassie.
On their arrival they were received with dignified politeness,
and invited to a public audience in the market-place. After
one or two harmonious interviews, the king introduced the
subject of certain sums which the British were bound to pay
to the native governments, for permission to hold fortified
factories. These sums the Fantees, as the ruling people
on the coast, had been accustomed to receive ; but the king,
as having conquered the whole Fantee territory, claimed
them now as due to himself. Mr James, who had come un¬
provided with any instructions to meet this apparently legi¬
timate claim, simply replied that he would refer for instruc¬
tions to the government at Cape Coast Castle. The king,
who conceived that they came, as he said, “to make peace
and settle all palavers, on finding them wholly unprepared
to enter on what he viewed as the main object of discussion,
broke out into an uncontrollable rage; called them cheats
and liars; then started from his seat, bit his beard, exclaim-
ing, that had a negro brought such a message he would have
cut off his head. On seeing matters come to this extremity,
the two junior members of the mission, Messrs Bowdich and
Hutchison, conceiving that Mr James, by blind and obsti¬
nate adherence to rule, was endangering the English interests,
and perhaps even the safety of the mission, took the nego¬
tiation into their own hands. They conducted it in a man¬
ner altogether satisfactory to the king: a treaty was con¬
cluded, by which all his demands were satisfied ; and, after
a residence of several months, they returned to Cape Coast.
The government at home, though they demurred some¬
what to the very irregular course pursued by Mr Bowdich
and his companion, saw the wisdom of cultivating an inter-
726
A S H A N T E E.
Ashantee. course with this powerful African court. They determined
to station at his court a fixed resident, and nominated to
that station M. Dupuis, who had long filled with credit the
important post of British consul at Mogadore. The new
consul arrived at Cape Coast in January 1819. By that
time a complete and unfortunate change had taken place in
the views of the British local government. They had been
gained entirely over to the interest of the Fantees or coast
natives, who were constantly on the spot, and possessed
eloquence, talents, and address. An insurrection had arisen
in the interior of the Ashantee monarchy, respecting which
the most exaggerated rumours were spread and listened to
with blind credulity. Insulting messages were sent to the
king, who was also informed that the natives of Cape Coast
were setting his authority at open defiance, and were form¬
ing a wall to defend the town. Under the views which he
had formed, the governor, on various pretences, prevented
M. Dupuis for some time from proceeding on his mission ;
but on the arrival of more than one ambassador from the
king, demanding reparation for the wrong committed against
him, it was thought prudent that he should proceed to the
court of Ashantee.
M. Dupuis set out on the 9th February 1820, and on the
28th arrived at Coomassie. He seems to have proceeded
very judiciously, and in a manner at once firm and cour¬
teous; and after several confidential meetings with the king,
a treaty was drawn up, which adjusted satisfactorily all the
differences between the two parties. The king dismissed M.
Dupuis with many marks of esteem and kindness, sending
along with him two natives of distinction, to proceed as ambas¬
sadors to England, with a present of two beautiful leopards.
On his return to Cape Coast, he was deeply disappointed
to find that the governor altogether disowned the treaty,
representing it as having betrayed British interests, and as
having wrantonly transferred to Ashantee the sovereignty of
the Gold Coast. At the same time the Fantee party per¬
suaded Sir George Collier to refuse transporting to Britain
the ambassadors sent by the king of Ashantee; conduct
which could not but be in the highest degree offensive to
that monarch.
M. Dupuis returned to England to represent the parti¬
culars to the government; but an entire change meantime
took place in the administration of the British affairs in Africa.
The African Company were induced to resign the command
hitherto held by them over the forts, which were taken en¬
tirely into the hands of the crown. The first step adopted
in consequence, was to invest Sir Charles McCarthy with
the general government of all this range of coast. The new
governor arrived early in 1822 ; but though he had commu¬
nicated with M. Dupuis, who earnestly endeavoured to im¬
press him with his own ideas of African politics, Sir Charles
soon implicitly adopted the principles and policy c-f the
Fantee natives. He placed the town in a posture of defence,
and formed alliances with all the neighbouring tribes, who
ranged themselves under his standard. The dreaded con¬
queror of the Gold Coast appears to have died during the
summer of 1823, and it was hoped that the hostile attitude
exhibited by the English would overawe his successor. He,
however, was already busied in warlike preparations. At
length a negro serjeant in the English service was seized in
the great square of Anamaboe, on pretext of some injurious
expressions respecting the king; and after being detained
for six weeks, seemingly in expectation of some negotia¬
tion being opened for his release, was beheaded at Donqua.
The king now declared open war, summoning all his vassal
princes, and calling upon them “to arm against Britain, even
to the fishes of the sea.” Yet at this very time he made
overtures through the Dutch government at Elmina, who
had always prudently cultivated his alliance ; but these were
deemed unworthy of answer.
Recent
events.
It behoved now the English to meet in the field the for- Ashantee
midable enemy whom they had provoked, and taken no pains
to appease. In their first encounter, a reconnoitering party
under Captain Laing defeated a body of the enemy; but the
rash confidence thereby engendered soon after received a
dreadful blow by the utter rout of the British force of 1000
men, near the boundary stream of the Prah, by a native
army of about 10,000 men. The ill-fated commander, Sir
Charles McCarthy, is supposed to have perished in the dis¬
astrous attempt to retreat. Only fifty men, including two
officers, Major Ricketts and Lieutenant Erskine, returned to
the castle. All the rest, among whom were the chief civil
functionaries, paid the penalty of their rash counsels.
The Ashantee army now marched upon Cape Coast, lay¬
ing waste the country with fire and sword. At that place,
however, the detachments of Major Chisholm and Captain
Laing had united with the wrecks of the main corps, and pre¬
pared for defence with the characteristic vigour and courage
of English troops. The king, flushed with victory, made
repeated and desperate assaults, but at last sustained a signal
defeat, on the 7th August 1826. He was then obliged to
purchase peace at the price of 6000 ounces of gold, and to
send his son as a hostage to Cape Coast Castle. Since this
event, the Ashantee power on the coast has become extinct,
and its limits are now many miles distant from the sea.
By the treaty concluded at the end of the war, the river
Prah was fixed as the boundary of the Ashantee kingdom,
and all the tribes to the south of it were placed under the
British protection. Till within a comparatively recent date,
this treaty was duly respected by the kings of Ashantee.
Towards the end of 1852, however, decided symptoms were
evinced of a disposition on the part of the Ashantee monarch
to interfere with the states which this treaty had absolved
from his jurisdiction. Two Assin chiefs, Chibbu and Gabri,
who had in the time of the war revolted from Ashantee and
joined the Fantee alliance, were discovered to be intriguing
with the king of Ashantee, who had paid them 400 ounces
of gold as the price of their meditated treason. Accord¬
ing to the plan concerted, the king was to make a visit
to Donqua for the purpose of making “custom” for the
late chief of Denkera (who had formerly been a vassal of
Ashantee), the pretext for an armed aggression of the Assin
territory. With this view he had crossed the Prah with a
force of about 7000 men. These warlike movements na¬
turally excited much uneasiness at Cape Coast Castle, and
for a period of some months no effort was spared by the
British authorities to bring matters to a pacific settlement,
while an armed force was at the same time held in readi¬
ness to meet the aggressors. It is satisfactory to know by
the last despatch of Governor Hill to the Colonial Secretary
(dated April 26. 1853), that the negotiations had proved so
far successful, that the Ashantees had retraced their steps
across the Prah, giving considerable hopes that war is for
the present averted. The two chiefs, who had been found
guilty of treason, had before this been publicly beheaded
on the 18th April 1853, after a regular trial by the allied
chiefs and the captains of Assin.
Ashantee proper, comprising about 14,000 square miles, Present
and a million of inhabitants, presents a dense and almost s*ate ot
impenetrable forest, the routes through which consist merely & antee'
of narrow winding tracts, in which, though it is possible for
a man to ride, or a palanquin to be carried, no waggon of
any description could pass. The interior country round the
towns, however, is cultivated with diligence, the fields being
kept very clean, and yielding in abundance grain, yams,
vegetables, and fruits. The territory yields also a consider¬
able quantity of gold; and that precious metal is brought in
still greater abundance from the regions farther to the north,
particularly Gaman, where it occurs not merely in the usual
form of gold dust, but in pretty large fragments, mingled in
ASH
Ashbourne pits with rock and gravel. It is even said that, but for a
Ashburton sul)ers^t*ous *dea> which induces the natives to leave the
v urton. ]argeSf- (]ep0sits untouched, the produce might be much
more ample. The Ashantees are skilful in several manu¬
factures, particularly in the great African fabric of cotton,
which they weave with a loom of simple and rude con¬
struction. Their pottery and works in gold are also skilful,
though surpassed by those produced in the more southern
countries.
I he government of Ashantee forms a mixture of mo¬
narchy and military aristocracy; the lower orders being
held in the most complete thraldom, and liable either to be
put to death or sold into slavery at the will of the chiefs.
I he king carries on all the ordinary administration of the
state; but in questions relating to peace or war he is bound
to consult the council of the caboceers or captains, which M.
Dupuis calls a senate. Each of these caboceers keeps a
little court, where he gives audience, and makes a profuse
display of barbaric pomp. Polygamy is indulged in to an
enormous extent. I he king has a regular allowance of
3333 wives; but in Africa these princesses are employed
variously, as guards, messengers, and even in the humblest
services. The crown, as often happens in barbarous coun-
tiies, descends to the king’s brother, or sister’s son, not to
his own offspring.
The Ashantee monarchs, though so extremely ambitious,
appear to pay considerable regard to the faith of treaties,
seeking always a plausible ground of war; and, even when
justly provoked, not usually commencing it without previous
overtures of negotiation. The barbarous and capricious go¬
vernments, however, by which they are surrounded, jealous
of the Ashantee power, without duly measuring their own
strength, afford frequent cause of justifiable invasion.
The darkest feature in the Ashantee character is visible
in the dreadful system of human sacrifice. It is founded on
a wild idea of filial and relative piety, which makes the chiefs
fancy it their duty to water with blood the graves of their
ancestors, whose rank in the future world will, they imagine,
be measured by the number of attendants thus sent along
with them. There are two fixed annual periods called the
great Adai and little Adai, at each of which human vic¬
tims are immolated to a monstrous extent. Still more dread¬
ful is the custom celebrated after the death of the king, or
any member of the royal house. When Mr Bowdich was
at Coomassie, the monarch, in honour of his mother, had
sacrificed no less than 3000 victims. These are chiefly
prisoners of war or condemned criminals. British influence,
however, seems to have diminished this shocking practice.
ASHBOURNE, a market-town in the hundred of Wirks-
worth, and county of Derby, near the river Dove. It con¬
tains a large church of the thirteenth century. The manu¬
factures are cotton, lace, iron, &c. A good corn-market is
held here every Saturday. Pop. in 1851, 2418. Distance
from London 139 miles. ^
ASHBURTON, a borough and market-town of Eng¬
land, in the hundred of Teignbridge and county of Devon,
192 miles W.S.W. of London, and 18 S.S.W. of Exeter.
It stands in a valley surrounded on every side by hills, at a
short distance from the river Dart, and consists principally
of one long street on the high road between London and
ymouth. The church of St Andrew is a handsome Gothic
structure, built in the form of a cross, with a tower ninety
feet high. Ashburton has a bank, three chapels, a free
gi ammar-school, with an exhibition and two scholarships at
Exeter college, Oxford, and numerous charities. It is the
seat of one of the stannary courts ; and previous to the Re¬
form Act, it returned two members to parliament, but now
only one. Population in 1851, 3432, principally employed
in the manufacture of serge, or in the tin and copper-mines
and slate-quarries in the vicinity. This was the birthplace
ASH
727
!\1C ce^)rate<^ lawyer Dunning, who was created Baron Ashby-de-
Ashburton, and of William Gifford, the original editor of the la-Zouch
Quarterly Review. |j
ASHB Y-de-la-Zouch, a market-town of England, Ashmole-
county of Leicester, and hundred of West Goscote, 17 miles
north-west of Leicester. The town consists principally of
one long street, and contains two churches, four chapels, a
bank, savings-bank, theatre, and gas-works, and has a gram¬
mar-school, with ten exhibitions of L.10 each per annum in
Emanuel College, Cambridge, besides several charity schools.
The Ivanhoe baths, erected in 1826, are much frequented
for their saline waters, which, as containing bromine, are
found useful in scrofulous disorders.
The church of St Helen is a fine old building, containing
the tombs of the Huntingdon family, and a “ finger pillory.”
In the vicinity are the extensive remains of Ashby Castle,
built by Sir William Hastings in 1480, and in which Mary
Queen of Scots was confined. Population in 1851, 3762,
principally engaged in the manufacture of stockings, hats,
firebricks, or in the coal and iron mines of the vicinity.
Bishop Hall was a native of this place.
ASHDOD. See Azotus.
ASHES, the fixed residue of combustible substances
after they have been burnt.
Ashes were used in many ancient religious ceremonies.
St Jerome relates that the Jews in his time rolled them¬
selves in ashes as a sign of mourning. To repent in sack¬
cloth and ashes is a frequent expression in Scripture for
mourning and being afflicted for our sins. A heifer being
sacrificed upon the great day of expiation, its ashes were
distributed among the people, who made from them a sort
of lustral water, which they sprinkled on such persons as had
defiled themselves by touching a dead body or being pre¬
sent at a funeral (Numb. xix. 17).
The ancient Persians punished some great criminals by
throwing them headlong down a tower filled with ashes to
a particular height (2 Macc. xiii. 5, 6).
ASHFORD, a market-town of England, county of Kent,
and hundred of Chart, 12 miles south-west of Canterbury,
and 53 from London. It is pleasantly situated on a gentle
eminence near the junction of the upper branches of the river
Stour, and is a chief station of the South-Eastern Railway.
Many of its houses are well built and handsome, and its prin¬
cipal street is nearly half a mile in length, and well paved
and lighted. It has a fine old Gothic church, with a lofty
well-proportioned tower, and many handsome monuments;
four chapels, two banks, a savings-bank, market-house, as¬
sembly-rooms, a four-arch bridge over the Stour, and a free
grammar-school founded by Sir Norton Knatchbull in the
time of Charles I. Pop. in 1851, 4092.
ASHI, commonly called Asser, the author of the Baby¬
lonian Talmud, was born at Babylon in 353. He is said to
have given very early proofs of his acquirements. The Tal¬
mud is the expositions of the Mishna, delivered by him to
his pupils in the Jewish College. He died in 426.
ASHLAR, a term used among builders for common or
free stone roughly squared in the quarry. This term is
likewise applied to difSPerent kinds of surfaces produced by
tooling; hence we have axed, tooled, grooved, chiselled, and
rusticated ashlar.
ASHMOLE, Elias, an English antiquary of the seven¬
teenth century, was the son of a saddler in Lichfield, and
was born on the 23d of May 1617. He went to London
at the age of 16, and resided in the family of his uncle,
James Paget, Esq., one of the barons of the exchequer, and
then turned his attention to the law and various branches of
literature. In the year 1638 he married, and commenced
the business of attorney in London. When the civil war
began, being then a widower, he entered into the king’s
service in the ordnance department. When residing in the
ASH
city of Oxford in that capacity, he entered Brazen Nose
College, and began the study of natural philosophy, mathe¬
matics, and astronomy. Naturally inclined to grave and
scientific trifles, he wandered into the wilds of astrological
imposture, which was not a little encouraged by several
eminent men of that age. From the same cause he entered
keenly into the secrets of masonry, and made considerable
additions to the history of that fraternity. From Oxford he
removed to Worcester, where he was appointed commis¬
sioner of the excise; and soon after he became a captain in
Lord Ashley’s regiment, and comptroller of the ordnance.
When Worcester was surrendered to the parliament in
1646, Ashmole retired to London, where he became ac¬
quainted with the famous astrologers, Moore, Lilly, and
Booker. Having removed to Berkshire in the year follow¬
ing, he added the knowledge of botany to his other acquire¬
ments. There he became acquainted with Lady Mainwaring,
a well-jointured widow, whom he married in 1649; and al¬
though her estate was sequestrated on account of his loyalty,
yet through the interest of Lilly and others he again re¬
covered it, and afterwards settled in London, where his house
became the resort of all the curious literati. A taste for
chemistry, or rather alchemy, was produced by his conver¬
sation with William Blackhouse ; and Ashmole, under a
feigned name, published a work upon that subject. The
next effort of his industry was a collection of the manuscripts
of English alchemy, which he published under the title of
Theatrum Chymicum Britannicum, in 4to.
Flis active industry was next directed to the study of an¬
tiquity and the investigation of records. Along with Sir
W. Dugdale, he traced about this period a Roman road to
Lichfield. Abandoning all other pursuits, he began to make
preparations for his History of the Order of. the Garter.
Upon a visit to Oxford, he gave a full description of the
coins bequeathed to that university by Laud; and about
this time John Tradescant, the famous gardener of Lam¬
beth, presented him with the collection of curiosities which
both he and his father had procured.
On the Restoration, Ashmole came into high favour with
the king, who made him Windsor herald, and employed him
to give a description of the royal medals. The offices of
commissioner and comptroller of excise were conferred upon
him; and being called to the bar in the Middle Temple, he
was afterwards admitted a fellow of the Royal Society. 1 he
university of Oxford conferred upon him the degree of doc¬
tor of physic; and several other employments and emolu¬
ments flowed in upon him. About this time his second wife
died, and he married the daughter of his friend Sir W. Dug¬
dale. In May 1662 he addressed his great work to the king,
entitled The Institution, Laics, and Ceremonies of the most
noble Order of the Garter; folio, London, 1672. In favour
of his brother-in-law Mr Dugdale, he resigned his office of
herald of Windsor; and when offered the office of garter
king-at-arms, he declined it in favour of Sir W. Dugdale.
About this time a fire broke out in one of the chambers of
the temple adjacent to his, and consumed a library which he
had been collecting during the course of 33 years, together
with 9000 coins and many valuable antiquities; but his
manuscripts and gold medals were fortunately saved. In
1683 he sent his manuscripts and curiosities to the Uni¬
versity of Oxford, which laid the foundation of the Musceum
Ashmoleanum, still in Oxford. On the death of Sir W.
Dugdale, he refused a second time the office which that
gentleman had enjoyed. He died at the age of 76, and was
interred in the church of Great Lambeth.
ASHOVER, a town and parish in Derbyshire, contain¬
ing 3482 inhabitants.
ASH RAFF, or Ushraff, a decayed town of Persia, in
the province of Mazunderan, about 8 miles from the western
extremity of the bay, and 52 miles west of the city of Astra-
A S H
bad. It was formerly a very extensive city, and the favourite Ashtaroth
residence of Shah Abbas, the greatest of the Persian mo- Aghl[on
narchs, who erected here a magnificent palace, now in usnder’;
ruins. It is said to have formerly contained 300 baths ; Lyne
but now it has not above 500 houses, which are thinly scat-
tered through an extensive jungle. Eat. 36. 41. N. Long.
53. 32. E.
ASHTAROTH, and Ashtaroth-Carnaim, a town of
Bashan (Deut. i. 4 ; Josh. ix. 10). It is now usually iden¬
tified with Mezareib, which was built about 350 years ago by
the Sultan Selim, and consists of a castle and store-houses
to supply provisions to the pilgrims on their way to Mecca.
On an elevated spot at the extremity of a promontory ad¬
vancing into the neighbouring lake, stands a sort of chapel,
around which are many ruins of ancient buildings.—Buck¬
ingham’s Arab Tribes.
ASHTORETH, Ashtaroth, or Astarte, in Anti¬
quity, a goddess of the Sidonians, and also of the Philistines,
whose worship was introduced among the Israelites during
the period of the Judges (Judg. ii. 13 ; 1 Sam. vii. 4), and
celebrated by Solomon himself, in compliment to one of his
wives. In the reign of Ahab, Jezebel caused her worship
to be performed with much pomp and ceremony; she had
400 priests ; the women were employed in weaving hang¬
ings or tabernacles for her; and Jeremiah observes, that
“ the children gathered the wood, the fathers kindled the
fire, and the women kneaded the dough, to make cakes for
the queen of heaven.” The best etymology of the word,
and that approved by Gesenius, deduces it from the Per¬
sian sitdrah, star, with a prosthetic guttural. Ashtaroth is
the plural form, which, perhaps, denoted a plurality of images
(like the Greek 'Ep/xai), or it was used as the pluralis ex-
cellentia among the Hebrews in words denoting “ lord.”
Most modern scholars assume that Asherah was another
name for Ashtoreth, whose worship has been identified with
that of the Greek Aphrodite, which was introduced into
Cyprus from the East.
ASH TON-under-Lyne, a parliamentary borough in
the county of Lancaster, hundred of Salford, and diocese
of Manchester, on the northern bank of the river Tame, 6|
miles east of Manchester, and 197 north-west by north of
London. The town is well built, containing many taste¬
ful villas and handsome public edifices. It has three large
churches ; eleven dissenting chapels ; a spacious town-hall;
a good market-house; three banks; a savings-bank; a
theatre; a mechanics’ institute; with many week-day and
Sunday schools. To supply in some respects the want of dis¬
pensaries and infirmaries, the working classes unite in pay¬
ing a few pence weekly to a common fund, from which
medicines are purchased, and the services of experienced
medical men secured for their families. At a short distance
to the north of the town are the infantry and cavalry bar¬
racks, erected in 1843 at a cost of L.42,500 ; and the union
workhouse, erected in 1851 at An expenditure of L.12,000.
Since the introduction of the cotton trade in 1769, this place
has rapidly risen into importance. It enjoys many facilities
for manufacturing industry, from coal being very plentiful in
the neighbourhood, from three important railway lines pass¬
ing through it, and from its being united by canals with
Manchester, Huddersfield, and Derbyshire. In 1821 it had
a population of only 9222, which in 1851 had increased to
29,798, chiefly engaged in spinning cotton yarn and weaving
calico pieces by machinery in the numerous large factories.
This town is of great antiquity, and still exercises many of
its ancient feudal customs and manorial privileges. It is
divided into four wards, governed by a mayor, eight aider-
men, and twenty-four councillors; and since the Reform
Act returns one member to the Flouse of Commons. Mar¬
ket-days Tuesday and Saturday, and fairs on the 23d March,
29th April, 25th July, and 21st November.
729
ASIA.
Asia.
Name.
Limits.
This division of the globe is distinguished by its vast ex-
tent; by the striking character of its interior geography ;
above all by the stupendous revolutions of which it has been
the scene ; and, lastly, by the high antiquity of its civiliza¬
tion, of which we can still faintly trace the precious re¬
mains. Stretching from the southern hemisphere into the
northern regions of perpetual winter, it comprises within its
bounds the opposite extremes of heat and cold ; all the va¬
rieties consequently of the animal and vegetable tribes ;
and that still more interesting variety which the irresistible
law of climate impresses on the human species. The sur¬
face of Asia, towering to its height far above the regions of
perpetual snow, presents, when superficially examined, a
confused mass of lofty mountains, diverging into an endless
variety of inferior ridges, apparently without plan or sys¬
tem. But a more attentive survey discloses, amid the bold
irregularities of nature, the same order and unity of design
in the structure of this great continent, as in all the other
works of creation.
Asia was the earliest abode of the human race ; and,
when all the other parts of the world were either uninha¬
bited or sunk in barbarism, it was the seat of great empires
and of flourishing and splendid cities, of commerce, of lite¬
rature, and of all the arts of civilized life. But its early pros¬
perity was blighted by the ruthless devastations of war;
its populous cities were utterly destroyed, so that the spot
on which many of them stood is now only marked by masses
of ruins; their arts and literature have perished ; and in
such fragments of their writing as still survive, the meaning
is buried under the almost impenetrable veil of an ancient
and unknown character. In touching on the various topics
which are comprehended under the designation of Asia, it
must be remembered that in the following article we are to
confine our attention to such general views of its geography,
history, institutions, policy, and manners, as will not super¬
sede a more particular description of its various states under
their respective designations.
Ihe name of Asia was at first applied by Homer and
others of the ancient poets and historians to a small district
of Lydia, occupied by a tribe called Asiones, who inhabited
a city of the name of Asia. 1 he Greeks, gradually enlarg¬
ing their discoveries in those eastern countries, still re¬
tained the original name, until it embraced the whole of
Asia Minor and the countries to the east; and it was at
last applied to all the vast regions which subsequent disco¬
veries have brought to light.
The limits of Asia are in some cases marked out by na¬
ture, and admit of no dispute ; in other parts they are not
very clearly defined, and have been differently settled by
geographers, according to their own notions of propriety or
distinctness.
Ihe continent of Asia extends over 77 degrees of lati¬
tude, or one-fifth of the periphery of the globe, and in the
latitude of the Dardanelles, over 128 degrees of longitude,
or very nearly one-third of the circumference of the globe
under that circle. Its northernmost extremity is Cape
Cielinskin, which projects into the Arctic Ocean in about
r^. Lat. 78 , in Long. 100° E. In the S. it extends to N.
Lat. L 15. at Cape Bulus or Buro, or the Si end of the
peninsula of Malacca ; but if we include the Indian islands,
Asia extends as far as S. Lat. 11°, or the parallel of Rottie,
a small island to the S.W. of Timor. Its continental ex-
tiemity in the W. is Cape Baba, in Asia Minor, opposite
the island of Mytilene, in E. Long. 26. 4.; and its eastern-
most point is Cape Wostotchny, or the “East Cape,” also
called Cape Swernoi Tchukotsky, that is “the North Cape
of the fchuktches” (who call it Po-orten), and which must
VOL. III.
not be confounded with Cape Tchukotsky Noss, the latter
lying more to the S. The continent of Asia is bounded in
the N. by the Arctic Ocean, in the E. by Behring’s Strait
which separates it from America, and by the Sea of Kam-
tschatka, the Seaof Okhotsk, the Seaof Japan, the Yellow Sea
and lastly, the Tong Hal, or East Sea. But the Japanese
and several other groups of smaller islands, being appurten-
ances of the continent, it is evident that the North Pacific
Ocean is the real eastern boundary of Asia. The southern
limits are the Chinese Sea, the Strait of Malacca, the Gulf
of Bengal, the Arabic Sea, the Gulf of Oman, and the Gulf
of Aden, the latter four being limbs of the Indian Ocean.
The great Indian islands, the Philippines, Borneo, Sumatra*
Java, Celebes, the Spice and Sunda islands, and all those
smaller ones which, dotting the Sea of Banda, extend as far
as the shores of New Guinea, are now generally reckoned
to Asia, with which, indeed, they are so intimately con¬
nected by ethnological, religious, commercial, and political
ties, that we are bound to consider them as appurtenances
of that great continent. Asia consequently extends in the
S.E. to the very threshold of Australia, or Oceania, but there
are no natural limits separating them into two distinct por¬
tions of the globe. In physical geography, all or most of
those islands form one vast volcanic group with the other
islands along the east coast of Asia, the peninsula of Kam-
tschatka included. The limits of Asia in the W. are, the Red
Sea, which separates it from Africa, the Mediterranean, the
Dardanelles, the Sea of Marmora, the Bosphorus, and the
Black Sea, on the side of Southern Europe; and the Ural
and the Caucasus on the side of Eastern Europe. Between
the. Ural and the Caucasus there is a gap without natural
limits, the great steppes of Western Asia advancing here
into Eastern Europe ; whence some geographers, in their
eagerness to find natural limits where there are none, have
substituted divers inconsiderable inequalities of the ground
to serve as lines of demarcation between two large portions
of the globe. But the Caucasus is a natural barrier, and if
the plains to the N. of that great chain bear an Asiatic cha¬
racter, and are inhabited by Asiatic people, which cannot
be denied, it is equally true that the steppe in its progress
fi om E. to W. gradually assumes a European character, inas-
much as from a salt steppe, such as in Turkistan, it changes
into a grass steppe, such as in the S. of Russia; and so
far as regards the Asiatic character of the people, the influ¬
ence of Europe through Russia is so great, that that differ¬
ence also has all the appearance of being on the wane. The
river Jaik or Ural, between the Ural Mountains and the
Caspian, affords a convenient line of demarcation on that
side ; not that it is a natural limit between two continent^
or that the steppe on its right bank differs from that on its
left; but because that river has been turned by the Russian
government into a visible, fortified, and garrisoned line be-
tv\ een various nations living under European influence in
the W., and uncontrolled Asiatic barbarians in the E.
Phis view of the subject will be our excuse, if we refrain
from saying much about the Obtchey Sirt, a ridge of low
sand-hills between the southern foot of the Ural and the
\\ olga, marking the northern edge of the steppe, which
some geographers have called a natural boundary, to fill up
the gap on that side. It is worth noticing, that in the poli¬
tical division of Russia, no distinction is made between Eu¬
rope and Asia, some of its governments, as for instance that
of Perm, extending over both sides of the Ural Mountains.
Asia contains a larger area than any of the other divisions Extent,
of the globe, viz., including its islands, 12,960,000 square
geographical miles ; the area of America being 10,600,000,
that of Africa 8,550,000, and that of Europe 2,560,000.
4 z
Asia.
730
A S
Asia. The islands of Asia are :—in the Arctic Ocean, Nova
Zembla, consisting of two large islands, and New Siberia,
Islands. consisting of three islands of considerable extent discovered
in the course of this century. Along the E. coast:—the
volcanic group of the Kuriles ; the Japanese islands, of
which Nipon is the principal; the Lu-ku group to the S.
of Japan ; the large islands of Formosa and Hainan on the
coast of China. Saghalia, opposite the coast of Mantchuria,
was long believed to be an island, but is a peninsula ex¬
tending over 8 degrees of latitude, and connected with the
continent by a low, narrow, and sandy isthmus, a little to
the S. of the mouth of the River Amur. In the S.E. and
S.:—the Philippines, among which Luzon and Magindanao
are the largest, and half a dozen others have areas sur¬
passing or approaching those of Cyprus and Candia ; the
great islands of Borneo, Sumatra, java, and Celebes ; the
Moluccas or Spice Islands, among which Gilolo, Ceram,
Buro, and Amboyna, between Celebes and New Guinea;
Nias, Batu, the two Pora, &c., on the W. coast, and Battam,
Linga, Banka, and Billiton, on the E. coast ot Sumatra;
and, finallv, the Sunda and Banda islands, a vast latitudinal
archipelago, extending from the E. point of Java towards
Australia and New Guinea, and composed of myriads of
islands, among which the principal are in a direction from
W. to E.; Madura, Bali, Lambok, Sumbava, Sandelbosh or
Tshindana, Flores, Timor (250 miles long), Timor Laut,
and Aru, which form a bridge as it were between Asia and
Australia. In the Indian Ocean the Nicobar and Anda¬
man Archipelagos, between the N.W. point of Sumatra and
the mouths of the Irawaddy ; the large island of Ceylon ;
and, on both sides of the 70th meridian E., stretching due
N. from S. Lat. 8° nearly as far as the latitude of Goa, the
archipelagos of the Tshagos, Maldives, and Lakkadives,
all three composed of myriads of mostly very small islands
of coral formation. In the Persian Gulf:—Ormuzd, Kishm,
and Bahrein. In the Red Sea:—Perim, Arish (erroneously
called Harnish), Farsan, and Dhalak. In the Mediterranean:
—Cyprus, Rhodes, Chios, &c.
Physical The surface of this vast continent is exceedingly varied.
aspect. In some places it towers in stupendous mountains, forming
four great chains, with subordinate branches, of different
names. It often exhibits vast plateaux or elevated table¬
lands, of prodigious extent; in other points it stretches in
plains little elevated above the level of the ocean; while in
certain points it presents enormous hollows or depressions
that are lower than the surface of the Black Sea. Humboldt
computes the superficies of all Asia at 1,346,000 geogra¬
phical square leagues. Of this a large proportion is moun¬
tainous, or raised in elevated plains. The same eminent
authority estimates these as follows :—
The mountainous parts of Arabia, Beluchistan, or
the plateau of Kelat, Kandahar, with the moun¬
tain ridges of India 
The mountainous parts of China  
The plateau of Gobi or Sha-mo 
The plateau of Tibet and Ladak, between the Hi¬
malaya and Kuen-lun Mountains 
The plateau of Persia 
The Taurus of Asia, Minor, Ararat, and the Hindu
Kho   
Of which that of Ararat alone is 
The Caucasus, from Baku to Anapa 
The Oural and Altai groups  
Sq. leagues.
240,000
, 54,400
, 42,000
41,000
. 27,000
81,300
3,500
2,700
3,400
I A.
The northern portion of Asia consists of a series of plains Asia,
divided by mountains of small elevation, forming the com- V—^
paratively low land of Siberia, intersected by several large
rivers, and occupied often by extensive swamps. This re¬
gion is estimated at about 400,000 square leagues. The
central part of Asia, still imperfectly known to Europe, was
till lately conceived to be one vast table-land, of irregular
form, buttressed on every side by lofty mountains ; but it
now appears, on the contrary, to be traversed by long moun¬
tain chains.
Asia presents to the eye such a compactness of conforma¬
tion, and its outlines are at the same time so diversified by
deep indentures of the sea, forming gulfs and peninsulas of
every shape and dimension, that neither Africa can be called
more compact, nor North America more diversified. Every
prominent feature of this vast continent is on a gigantic scale;
and the aggregate of its mountains and rivers, its low plains
and its elevated plateaux, surpasses those of the other divi¬
sions, not only in magnitude, but also by its contrasting va¬
riety.1 Its mere steppe rivers approach the size of the Don
and the Dniepr ; and the second of its salt lakes, the Aral, is
still larger, by 6400 square geographical miles, than Lake Su¬
perior, the largest sheet of water in America; while the com¬
bined superficies of all the American lakes would not suffice
to cover the area of the Caspian. Its Indian Archipelago forms
a world by itself, with which the West Indian Islands can
be compared neither for extent nor importance ; its moun¬
tains rise higher into the regions of eternal snow than the
far-famed Chimborazo ; it has its deserts of burning sand,
and of frozen swamps, alike destructive to the human race.
Nowhere is there such an exuberance of animal and vege¬
table life, not only spread over the whole continent, but also
displaying itself within the narrowest limits, as the travel¬
ler rapidly descends from the crest of the Himalaya into the
plain of Bengal. The same variety, the same contrasts,
appear in its history. Asia, the cradle of mankind, the mo¬
ther of religion, the nurse of civilization, where arts and
letters were cultivated in the remotest times, contains within
her inaccessible mountain forests numerous descendants ot
her primitive inhabitants, who still continue that brutish life
which their forefathers led when the first vine was planted,
the first hieroglyphic character carved in the rock.
Nature has divided Asia into six portions, of which each Divisions,
is so vast and so distinct from the other as almost to pre¬
sent a world by itself. These are Central, Western, Northern,
Southern, Eastern, and Oceanic Asia. We place Central
Asia at the head, because it is not only the nucleus of the
whole continent, comparable to a huge citadel situated in
the centre of a fortress, of which the other divisions are the
bastions and ramparts, the peninsulas and islands the out¬
works ; but also because the nations by which it is inhabited
have exercised, from the remotest times, a most powerful
influence on those of the other divisions, so that most of
the great revolutions by which Asia has from time to time
been convulsed since the very dawn of history, and which
affected even Europe in such a degree as to change the
whole ethnographical and political aspect of that continent
also, can be traced back to commotions among the forefa¬
thers of those barbarous tribes of shepherds, who still wander
in the cold and dreary steppes over which the Bogdo Ula
towers in awful, majestic solitude.
Central Asia, the greatest and highest table-land on the Central
globe, extends between the Himalaya in the S., which se- Asia.
1 According to Berghaus, there are 10 rivers in America, and 12 in Asia, the basin of each of which contains upwards of 10,500 Ger¬
man, or 168,000 geographical square miles. The united area of the former, the first of which is the Amazon, and the last the Bio Negro,
is 324,500 German, or 5,192,000 geographical square miles; of which the basin of the Amazon occupies not less than 2,018,400. That
of the latter the Obi standing at the head with 924,800 geographical square miles, and the Tarim being the last, is 363,738 German,
or 5 820 000’ geographical square miles; giving a difference of 628,000 geographical square miles in favour of Asia. The total length
of the lO* American rivers, windings included, is 76,640 geographical miles; that of the Asiatic, 98,448 geographical miles : difference
in favour of the latter, 21,808 geographical miles. Yet the system of the Marahon in the former stands unequalled by any in the world.
ASIA.
Asia, parates it from India, and the chain of the Altai', with its
eastern continuation, the Daurian Mountains, in the N.,
towards Siberia. Its western boundary is the Bolor Dagh,
a lofty range beginning at the Hindu Koh in E. Long.
72°, by which it is separated from Turkistan, and which
.tretches due N. as far as the steppes of the Khirgises, in
about N. Lat. 46°. In the E. it is bordered by China and
Mantchuria. From the junction of the Hindu Koh and the
Bolor Dagh, a snowy range extends E. in the 3oth parallel,
as far as the Alps of Shensi, in China; its western portion,
towards the Bolor Dagh, is called Thsun-ling; its eastern,
Kwan-lun or Kuen-lun,—both names meaning Blue or
Onion Mountains. From the Kuen-lun the Sive-shan and
Amie Gangar Ula branch off N.E., towards the Lake Kuku-
nur. Another high range shoots from the central portion
of the Bolor Dagh, N.E. and E., far into the interior. It is
called Tengri Dagh by the Turks in those parts, Thian-shan
by the Chinese—both of which names signify Celestial Moun¬
tains ; and Mus Dagh, or Ice Mountains, by the Mongols.
Separated from the Thian-shan by an intervening portion of
the desert of Gobi, extends the snowy range of Gadshar or
In-shan along the northern frontiers of China. The high¬
est peak of the Thian-shan is the celebrated Bogdo Ula, or
Holy Mountain, one of the loftiest mountains in Asia, at
the western foot of which lies the volcano of Petshan.
Divisions The four chains of the Himalaya, the Kuen-lun, the
of Central Thian-shan, and the Altai, are, in the whole, parallel to each
Asta. other, and divide the table-land of Central Asia into three
plateaux of decreasing elevation and different dimensions,
namely, Tibet, High Tartary, and Mongolia.
First ter- The highest terrace is Tibet, between the Himalaya
race, or ancl the Kuen-lun, and the Bolor and China ; between N.
Tlbet- Lat. 28° in the extreme S., 36° in the N., and 39° in the
extreme N.E.; and between E. Long. 68° and 98° from W.
to E. Ladakh in the extreme W., Kham in the E., and
Tangut in the N.E., are appurtenances of Tibet. The
level of Tibet is not equal, its surface showing numerous
and extensive depressions, with steppe rivers flowing into
salt lakes without outlets ; the valleys of the Indus, the
Dzangbo and the Yang-tse-kiang (in Kham), especially that
of the Dzangbo, are also much below the general level. The
highest plateaux are around the culminating point of the
Himalaya, the Hindu Koh, the Bolor Dagh, and the Kuen-
lun, on the borders of Turkistan ; and Ritter thinks that the
plateaux around Lake Kuku-nur are quite as high. Their
elevation is not accurately known, but they are both higher
than the plateaux stretching from the sources of the Sutledj
E. towards the sacred mount Kailasa, which rise 16,800 feet
above the sea, increasing in height further E. The average
height of the other Himalaya plateaux is about the same.
Mount Purkyul or Tashgong, on which Lieut. Gerard reached,
in 1818, an altitude of 18,210 feet, is 21,300 feet high ; but
the highest known peaks of the Himalaya do not lie on Ti¬
betan territory. According to all appearance the peaks
which rise above the high table-land on the borders of
1 urkistan, and those around Lake Kuku-nur, probably equal
in elevation the highest peaks of the Himalaya. In Kham,
also, which is intersected by numerous valleys encompassed
by precipitous Alpine rocks, there are mountains of stupen¬
dous height, and mountain passes lying 18,000 feet above
the sea, over which, however, the Chinese more than once
penetrated into Tibet with armies of 100,000 men. The
climate of 1 ibet is very severe, the winters being almost in¬
supportable, but the summer season in the lower valley of the
Dzangbo is genial, the country producing grapes, peaches,
and other choice fruit, in abundance. Tibet contains the
sources of the Indus, the Dzangbo, the Yang-tse-kiang, and
the Hoang-ho, the latter two being in Tangut. The largest
lakes, which are all surrounded by vast and excellent pas-
tuies, are Kuku-nur in langut, and Tengri-nur in Tibet
731
Proper. Our scanty knowledge of Tibet has lately received Asia,
a valuable addition in the journal of the Rev. Mr Puch, a
French missionary, who proceeded from Peking, through
Mongolia and Tangut, to L’Hassa, the capital of Tibet,
which he left for China by the road through Kham. An
English translation of his MS. journal was recently pub¬
lished under the auspices of Lord Palmerston.
The slope of this terrace, which comprises Chinese Tur- Second
kistan, the western portion of the desert Gobi, and the south- terrace, or
ern portion of the Chinese government Kan-fu, is from theIllgh Tar*
high plateaux of the Bolor Dagh E., towards the desert a1^’
Gobi. Its highest tracts lie in the Bolor Dagh, the Thian-
shan, especially around the Bogdo Ula, the Tsung-ling and
Kuen-lun, and in the far E., in Kan-fu, along the snowy
Tangut range, the slope of which towards the Gobi seems
to be very rapid. There the province of Kan-fu penetrates
edgewise into Mongolia, extending N. and W. towards the
Altai Proper. The central and eastern portions of High
Tartary are occupied by the southern Gobi, which lies much
below the general level of the terrace. The elevation of
this terrace is considerably lower than that of Tibet, as ap¬
pears from the genial climate of Chinese Turkistan, which
is said to produce grapes, pomegranates, peaches, and other
choice fruit of southern climes. The river Ta-rim, swelled
by numerous affluents descending from the Bolor, the
Tsung-ling and the Kuen-lun, traverses the whole of
Chinese Turkistan from W. to E., and empties itself into the
steppe lake Lob, on the borders of the Gobi, after a course
of about 1000 geographical miles. It is also called Ergho-
gol, and Yar-kiang Daria, which, however, is but the name
of a large southern affluent washing the walls of Yar-kiang.
The natives and the Chinese contend that the Ta-rim was
once connected with the Hoang-ho, of which it formed the
upper course, but that the connection was interrupted in
consequence of the level of the Gobi having been raised by
volcanic power. Besides the Lob, there are the large steppe
lakes Babakul and Bosta, at the foot of the Thian-shan.
Of the desert Gobi more will be said under the next head,
and Kan-fu, although cultivated in many parts, partakes on
the whole of the desolate character of the other highlands
and plateaux in this region. The climate of Chinese Tur¬
kistan is exceedingly dry, rains being rare phenomena,
whence all cultivated fields are watered by artificial irriga¬
tion. The winters are very severe. The original inhabi¬
tants of the extensive tracts watered by the Ta-rim were
Tadjiks, a nation akin to the Persians, and who are also,
but erroneously, called Bokharians, because they are very
numerous in Bokhara. The Tadjiks were conquered by the
Turkish tribe of the Usbeks, who established several small
principalities, gave their name to the country (Turkistan),
and ruled over it till they were subjugated by the Chinese in
1757. Thence the European name of Chinese Turkistan.
The Chinese themselves call it Thian-shan-nan-lu (the pro¬
vince along the southern foot of the Celestial Mountains),
and it is a portion of their “ Si-yu,” or “ West Country.”
There are also many Mongolish tribes in the country.
The most elevated plateaux of Monglia, which are over- Third ter-
topped by some of the loftiest peaks in Asia, lie in the S., race, or
in the In-shan, on the borders of China, and the Thian-Mong°fia*
shan, on the borders of Chinese Turkistan. They slope gra¬
dually down towards the Altai, and the desert of Gobi, which
occupies the central parts of Mongolia. The level of the
terrace, consequently, varies very much, but measurements
have only been made in Songaria, along the Altai, and along
the great caravan road which leads from Peking to Kiakhta,
on the frontiers of Siberia. On ascending the plateau from
Peking, the traveller is almost suddenly transported from a
southern clime to a cold, dreary table-land, resembling Si¬
beria much more than China. The point where the road
crosses the great Chinese wall, lies about 5100 feet above
732 A S
Asia, the sea, and marks the beginning of the desert of Gobi; the
level of Zaghan-bal-ghassu, further N., is 4200 feet; near
Zakil-dakhan begins a sandy desert dotted with salt lakes,
which lies much below the plateaux to the S. and N. of this
tract, and seems to be the dried-up bed of an inland sea.
It extends as far as Durma, where the soil changes from
sand to a hard salt clay, producing saline plants, and strewn
over with large fragments of rock, mostly porphyry and
jasper, while in other places the steppe is literally covered
with chalcedonies and agates. This tract is about 2400
feet above the sea, and the dreariest of the whole Gobi.
The level rises in the direction of the Bussu-tchilon, or Belt
Mountain, a steep, high wall of syenite rock, extending E.
and W., and standing on a basis 3480 feet high. On the
northern side of that conspicuous ridge, the plateau rises
again to 4600 feet, at Djirgalanta, whence it slopes down
to 4000 feet, at Erga or Urga, a large town at the foot of
the lofty, wood-clad Khan Ula, and the capital of the Khal-
khas Mongols. Erga lies at the northern foot of the Guntui
range, which marks the beginning of the Gobi, but not that
of Mongolia, on the side of Siberia.
Desert of Gobi is a Mongolian name signifying a country without
Gobi. trees and water, the same as the Chinese Shamo, and no
less appropriate than the well-known terms Sahara and Ah-
kaf. It extends 1600 geographical miles from S.W. to N.E.,
with a width varying between 250 and 500 geograpical
miles, and occupies the central portions of both the second
and third terrace of Central Asia. The Gobi is one of the
most desolate tracts on the face of the globe. The utter
absence of fresh w'ater, the deceiving salt lakes glittering
in the midst of inhospitable solitudes, the whirling clouds of
dust and the myriads of gnats which pursue the weary tra¬
veller in the summer, combined with the intense cold, the
icy blast of hurricanes, and the all-burying snow storms of
the winters, are phenomena no less redoubtable than all the
horrors of the Sahara. But the Gobi also has its oases of
luxuriant pastures around most of its salt lakes and along
the steppe rivers, where the wandering Mongols pitch their
tents of felt, and rear large herds of cattle, sheep, camels,
and horses. The part occupied by the Chinese province of
Khan-fu seems to be the least desolate ; it is watered by two
considerable steppe rivers, the Thola and the Bulon-ghir,and
contains many settled inhabitants as well as some towns of
importance. Our scanty knowledge of southern Mongolia
has lately received most valuable additions through the
journal of Mr Puch.
Mongolia. From the Guntui Mountains, in the territory of the Khal-
Felix. khas Mongols, the Khing-khan, a high range, runs E. to¬
wards Mantchuria, and another, under various names, to¬
wards the Altai in the W. This extensive mountain sys¬
tem is composed of the Khangai, the Guntui, and the Tang-
nu chains, and forms a curve connected in the W. and E.
with the curve of the great Altai system ; and between the
two curves lies an immense longitudinal tract, divided by
northern branches of the Guntui and Tangnu into three
basins. In the eastern basin are the head waters of the
Amur; in the central one, those of the Selenga, which,
after having crossed lake Baikal, assumes the appellations
of Angara and Upper Tunguska, under which name it joins
the Yenissei, of which it is the principal affluent; the west¬
ern basin, finally, is watered by the upper course of the
Yenissei, which rises here. But, although this great tract
contains the sources of three of the greatest rivers of Asia,
its elevation, except towards Erga, is much lower than that
of High Mongolia, and not much above that of Southern
Siberia, towards which it slopes down very gradually. Kiakhta,
the frontier town of Siberia, lies 2100 feet above the sea.
The political frontiers of Russian and Chinese Asia have
been fixedacross the tract without any consideration of natural
boundaries, so that the northern portion belongs to Siberia,
I A.
and the southern to Mongolia. It is inhabited by various Asia.
Mongolian tribes. This circumstance, together with the
abundance of water, the luxuriant pastures, the wooded moun¬
tains, and the comparatively genial climate, have given this
tract the title of Mongolia Felix, a name not inappropriate,
considering the contrast it offers to the adjacent Gobi. West¬
ern Mongolia, also, which is watered by the great steppe
river Ujabagan, which flows into Lake Ike Aral, is, com¬
paratively speaking, a good country.
The westernmost part of Mongolia, or the plateau of Songaria.
Songaria, lies between the Altai and the Thian-shan, along
the western slopes of a high chain connecting those great
ranges in a direction from N. to S. In its highlands there
are peaks covered with eternal snow, and in the N. lies the
Bielukha, the highest peak of the Altai, to which Mr Gebler,
who visited the country in 1833, assigns an elevation of
11,723 feet. In Songaria are the sources of the Bukhtar-
ma and Erisis, which are the main feeders of the great Si¬
berian river Irtish. It contains several large salt lakes, as
the Kizilbash, the Alakta-gol, the Issi-gol, and the Dsaisang;
and it slopes rapidly down towards the great Balkash, the ele¬
vation of which is under 1800 feet. Songaria is a thriving
Chinese province, with a motley commercial, agricultural, and
nomadic population of Mongols, Turks, Tadjiks, and Chinese,
most of the latter being exiled or transported criminals.
Western Asia contains Turan or Turkistan in the N.; Western
Iran or Persia, Afghanistan, and Beluchistan, in the E. ^sia-
and S.; the Caucasus, the Armenian table-land, and Asia
Minor, in the W.; and Arabia w ith Syria in the extreme
W. and S.W. Its natural limits are,—in the N., none, al¬
though the lowr western spars of the Altai are sometimes
called so; in the E., the link between the Altai and the
Thian-shan (true Altai of Humboldt), and the Bolor Dagh
towards Mongolia and Chinese Turkistan, and the Indus
towards India. The western and southern limits coincide
with those of Asia. Western Asia extends 3000 geogra¬
phical miles from S.W. (Babelmandeb), to N.E. (Altai),
and 2100 geographical miles from W. (Dardanelles), to E.
(Bolor Dagh).
Turan or Turkistan comprehends the original seats of the Tumi or
Turkish race, that is, the Osmanlis, the Turkomans, the so- Turkistan.
called Tartars (or, better, Tatars) in European and Asiatic
Russia, the Khirgises, the Usbeks, the Kara Kalpaks, the
Bashkirs, and many other tribes, many of which have left
their original homes to settle in distant countries.
This vast tract measures 1300 geographical miles from Steppe of
W. to E., and about 500 from N. to S. It is partly a salt th® Khir-
steppe, partly a grass steppe, the latter characteristic {ire- Sises-
vailing on the side of Siberia, into which it gradually merges.
Low offshoots of the Altai fill its northern parts. It contains
a great number of salt lakes and steppe rivers. Among the
former, the Balkash, on the borders of Songaria, has an area
of 4800 square geographical miles, and is one of the largest
in Asia; the Alaktu-gol, the northern Tenghiz, and the
Tchurch-edshin, are considerable. The Ishim and Tobol
Rivers, and other affluents of the Irtish, w ater the north ; the
steppe rivers Karaturgai, Naru, and Sarisin, the centre;
and the Tchui, which issues from Lake Issi-gol, and empties
itself into Lake Kaban Kulak, after a course of 700 miles,
separates the steppe of the Khirgises from the slopes of the
northern Bolor Dagh. Of the Caspian and the Aral, more
will be said under the head “ Turkistan.” The Khirgises,
a Turkish tribe, call themselves Kazaks or Cossacks, and are
divided into three Hordes (a corruption of “ ordu,” tribe);
namely, the Great Horde in the E., under the nominal
supremacy of China and the Khan of Khokan, and the Little
and Middle Hordes over which Russia has obtained a pro¬
tectorate, which is more and more assuming the character
of sovereignty. The fortified line of the River Ural is still
the principal boundary of the Russian empire towards the
ASIA.
Asia.
Turkistan
Proper.
steppe of the Khirgises, but forts garrisoned by Russian
Cossacks have of late been erected along the lower course
of the Sihun, and the materials of three schooners having
been conveyed on waggons from Orenberg to Lake Aral
in 1847-48, that inland sea is now navigated by Russian
vessels manned by Russian sailors.
1 he surface of Turkistan Proper shows a greater diffe¬
rence of level than any other known country, the highest
peaks of the Bolor and Hindu Koh, together with the table¬
lands over which they rise, vying with those of the Andes
and Himalaya; while the level of the Caspian lies 83. 67.
below that of the Black Sea, and a large tract around it is
also below the level of the ocean. The area of the Caspian
contains 118,000 square geographical miles, and is as large
as that of the Baltic. Lake Aral wTas carefully surveyed in
18‘H-4:8 by a Russian naval expedition under Captain Buta-
kow, assisted by Captain Maksheyef, but the astronomical
observations were made by Mr Lemm in 1846. The lake
extends between the parallels of 43. 42. 41., and 46. 44. 42.
N. Lat., and 58. 18. 47. and 61. 46. 44. E. Long.
I he Aral, a large gulf called the Little Aral included,
covers an area of 1 t ,600 square geographical miles, or only
one-half of that which it was until lately believed to have.
It contains many islands, but only a few good harbours, and
receives no rivers besides the Sihun and the Djihun; the
supposition that the Djan Daria reaches the lake having not
yet been substantiated. Its water is salt, though less so"than
that of the ocean, and near the mouths of the rivers so little
brackish, as to be drinkable ; its average depth is between
10 and lo fathoms, its greatest, 37 fathoms ; it is exposed
to sudden and violent squalls, and abounds with fish, but
there are no seals, of which there are such great numbers
in the Caspian. Connected with the Aral in the S.W., is
the large swamp Aibuyir or Laudan, which extends S. as
far as 42. 30.1
1 he plains of 1 urkistan rise very gently towards the
Bolor and Hindu Koh, the whole western slopes of which
are a high, Alpine country, well wooded, and abundantly
watered by the feeders and affluents of the Djihun and
Sihun. The sources of the Sihun, or Sir Daria, lie near the
culminating point of the Bolor and Thian-shan, on the
high table-land inhabited by the Karakalpaks, or Black
Caps, a tribe of I urkish nomads who call themselves Bu-
ruts, and differ very little from the Khirgises. After a
course of 1200 geographical miles, or perhaps less, and
changing from W. to N., and again V/., the Sihun flows
into the Aral through several channels, none of which is
deeper than three feet. The Djihun comes from the high
plateau of Pamir (16,800 feet), where its sources were
discovered by Lieutenant Wood; its course lies W. and
N.W., and it forms a large delta at its mouth. Its total
length is about 1400 geographical miles. The deepest of
its embouchures has about 3 feet water. There can be
little doubt that the Djihun, the ancient Oxus, once emptied
itself into the Caspian, a fact which was known bv Jenkinson
in 1558 ; Abulghazi, Sultan of Khozwarem, mentions it in
his History; and a Russian survey all but confirmed it
about thirty years ago. The ancient bed is still distinguish-
a.ble, and in many parts filled with water. The climate of
Turkistan, which lies between the isotherms of the rainless
regions, is exceedingly dry, whence all cultivation ceases
where there is no running water, or such as is obtained
from the numerous canals of irrigation. But wherever fresh
water is found, the land is well cultivated, and yields an
abundance of grain and fruit of most excellent quality:
tie giapes, melons, peaches, oranges, and other exquisite
fruits are renowned in Asia. The waterless districts are
eitliei salt steppes or sandy deserts, especially near the Cas¬
33
Agia.
pian, ana between the Aral and its two tributaries. A
great proportion of the settled population of Turkistan are
Tadjiks.
1 he country contains the independent Khanats of Khiwa,
Bokhara, Kunduz, and Khokand; the two latter of which
occupy nearly the whole tract of the western slopes of the
Bolor Mountains, the high plateaux of the centre along the
whole of the range being inhabited by tribes of Karakal¬
paks and other Khirgises, who are but little dependent on
the neighbouring princes.
A western continuation of the Hindu Koh, the range of Iran, or
Khorassan, and the Damani Koh, separates Iran from Turan, Persia,
and decreases in height as it approaches the south-eastern with Af-
corner of the Caspian. There the lofty chain of the Albors Shanistan
or Elburz rises suddenly, and trending W., connects the^^®1*1'
system of the Himalaya with the Caucasus and the Taurus. 0 US
The highest peak of the Hindu Koh, in this part, is the
Kohi Baba, N.E. of Kabid, which rises 16,900 feet above
the sea; in the Elburz, the volcanic peak of Demawend is
13,870 feet high. The northern part of Afghanistan is very
mountainous ; and the table-land of Kabul is about 6000
feet high. To the W. of it, there is a great salt desert, in
the midst of which are the fertile oases of Herat and Kan¬
dahar. On the plateau of Afghanistan are the sources of
the steppe rivers Murghab, which flows N. into the plain of
Turkistan; Heri Rud, which waters Herat and Meshed;
and Hilmend, the most considerable of the three, which
empties itself into Lake Hamun, on the borders of Persia.
Beluchistan is a plateau, the interior of which is but im¬
perfectly known. The slope of the plateau of Afghanistan
towards the plain of the Indus is very abrupt, the mountain
chains having in many localities the aspect of steep rock
walls. Persia is a plateau from 3500 to 4000 feet above
the sea, and nearly on all sides encompassed by lofty and
rugged chains, through which narrow mountain passes lead
into the interior. But it is open towards Western Turkistan
and Central Afghanistan. Between Abushehr (Bushire) on
the Persian Gulf, and Shirauz, there are no less than seven
terraces. A large portion of the interior of Persia is occu¬
pied by a great salt desert, diversified in some places by
highly fertile oases. On the whole, the interior of Persia is a
miserable country, resembling the central parts of Arabia, and
lying like them within the isotherms of the rainless region.
But Mazanderan, the narrow district between the Elburz and
Caspian, has a moist climate, in which trees and plants of
every description grow most luxuriantly. In the west, also,
the slopes of the Kurdistan Alps, and the Pushli Koh to¬
wards the Tigris, and the extremity of the Persian Gulf in
Khuzistan, are well watered and highly productive. The
latter chain is a portion of Mons Zagros of the ancients.
The peak of Rowandiz, to the S. of Lake Urumiyeh is of
enormous height. But the highest portion of Persia is the
province of Azerbijan, which, however, belongs to the pla¬
teau of Armenia. See Persia.
I he Armenian plateau occupies a large tract between Ar_
the Anti-Taurus and the Caspian, and the plains of Meso- menian
potamia and the Caucasus. It is of great elevation ; the plateau,
plain of Erzrum being 6114 feet above the sea, which is
about the average height of the whole plateau. Above
this basis, a great number of peaks are covered with eternal
snow, among which the Ararat is the highest (17,266 feet)
I he climate is very dry, but much less so than that of Iran
and I uran; and there being an abundance of running
water, cultivation is carried on with success on plains which
otherwise would be barren. Deep valleys encompassed by
steep rocks furrow the table-land in every direction; there
the settled population accumulates, the nomadic tribes,
chiefly Kurds, preferring the uplands. On the Armenian
l Rltter 8 KeVlew of Maksheyef’s description of Lake Aral, in Monthly Bulletin of the Geographical Society in Berlin, May 1852.
734
ASIA.
Asja. plateau are the sources of the Tigris and the Euphrates,
which flow into the Persian Gulf through a common chan¬
nel ; the Aras or Araxes, and the Kurtwa tributaries of the
Caspian ; and the Tchoruk and the Kizil Irmak, which
empty themselves into the Black Sea. Among the lakes,
two belong to the largest in Asia, namely, Urumiyeh (about
300 miles in circumference) or Azerbijan, and Lake Van
(about 190 miles in circumference) on the Turkish territory.
Mr Layard supposes the latter to be the real source of the
Tigris, issuing from it through a subterranean channel.
From the table-land of Armenia, the Elburz branches off
E. towards the far Hindu Koh ; the Kurdistan Alps branch
off S.; and the Taurus and Anti-Taurus W. In the
extreme N., along the Black Sea, an intricate system of
irregular chains connects it with the mountains in the N. of
Asia Minor, and, in an opposite direction, with the Caucasus,
from which the plain of the Kur separates it further E.
The lofty chain of the Caucasus, which divides Asia from
Europe, extends 600 geographical miles, between the Black
Sea and the Caspian, in a direction from N.W. to S.E.
The average height of its crest is 8000 feet; but upwards
of a hundred peaks rise to a considerable elevation above it:
the highest are the E. and W. summits of Elburz, respec¬
tively 18,513 and 18,449 feet, and Karbek 16,844 feet.
The Caucasus is celebrated for the sublime wildness of its
scenery. Among its wooded mountains rise the Kuban,
the Kuma, and the Terek, in the N., the former joining the
Black Sea, and the two latter the Caspian ; and several of
the head waters of the Kur, which flows into the Caspian
in the S. It shelters hardy tribes of mountaineers, who have
long maintained their independence. See Caucasus.
Syria and Syria is a link between Asia Minor and Arabia, its lofty
Arabia. mountains being connected in the N. with the Taurus, and
in the S. with Mount Sinai, and the coast range of Northern
Hedjaz. The principal southern portion of the Syrian moun¬
tains is the Libanon, which the valley of the Orontes, the
Ccele-Syria of the ancients, divides into Libanus and Anti-
Libanus. The highest peak is the Djebel Sheikh, or Great
Hermon, the southernmost buttress of the Anti-Libanus,
which rises abruptly over the plateau of Northern Palestine,
and attains an elevation of at least 13,500 feet, and very
probably 14,000 feet. Its summit is covered with eternal
snow, whence the Arabs call it also Djebel-el-Teldj, or
Snow Peak. See Syria.
Arabia is a table-land, except in the extreme N., where
it slopes down to a low sandy desert. The elevation of the
central plateaux varies between 3000 and 5000 feet, but
those in the S., in Hadhramaut, are 8000 feet above the
sea. The whole N. and centre of Arabia are within the
isotherms of the rainless regions, but the southern portions
are refreshed by tropical rains; the volume of which is, how¬
ever, far from being the same everywhere, much depending
upon local causes. See Arabia.
Northern Siberia was originally the name of a Turko-Mongolian
Asia, or Si- Khanat, comprehending a large tract between the Ural and
bena. an(j exten(iing SOuth over a portion of the steppe
of the Khirgises. It was one of the fragments of the huge
empire of Zinghis Khan, and took its name from the capital
Sibir, of which some remnants are still visible near Tobolsk.
The Kossack Yermak conquered Sibir in 1581, for his mas¬
ter, Ivan IV., surnamed the Terrible, Czar of Muscovy; and
the Russian dominion having gradually extended itself over
the whole of North Asia, the name of Siberia became the ge¬
neral designation of that vast region, as being the most pro¬
minent among the several territorial divisions of that part of
Asia. The S. of Siberia is a mountainous country oc¬
cupied by the Altai' system, except a tract towards the steppe
of the Khirgises. Its greater western portion between the
Altai, the Ural, the Polar Sea, and the River Lena, is an
immense plain of but little elevation above the sea; but
Eastern Siberia, between the Lena and the seas of Okhotsk Asia,
and Kamtschatka, is a mountainous country, except along the
shores of the Polar Sea. The name Altai is now generally,
but improperly, given to the whole of the great mountain
system on the borders of Central and Eastern Asia; but
originally it only designated its westernmost portion around
the sources of the Irtish, Obi, and Yenissei. The highest
peak of that Altai is the Bielukha in Songaria, which is
covered with eternal snow, and 11,700 feet high, according
to Gebler, or 12,790 according to Tchihatchaf. In both
the Turkish and Mongolian languages, Altai Dagh or Tau
Gold Mountain; and the abundance of that precious
metal fully justifies the name. The chain of Ergik Targak
runs E. towards the Baikal, and as far as that lake the sys¬
tem is called Western Altai. The Baikal has salt, or ra¬
ther brackish water, covers an area of 10,000 geographical
square miles, and is surrounded on all sides by spurs of the
Altai.
The chain, improperly called Eastern Altai, is composed
of several chains, which are known by the collective name
of the Daurian Mountains. The principal chain, which
stretches far E. between Siberia and Mantchuria, is distin¬
guished by its rounded summits, whence the Russians call it
Yablonoi-Khrebet, or Apple Mountains. It is also called
Stannowoi-Khrebet, or Stony Mountains : its Mantchu name
is Khing-khan-tagurik. In the centre of the Daurian Moun¬
tains are the rich gold mines of Nertchinsk, a town situated
on the Shilka, or northern branch of the Amur. Further
E. along the sea of Okhotsk, are the Aldanian Mountains,
with Mount Kapitan, 3780 feet high; and the extreme N.E.
of Asia is traversed in every direction by the mountains of
the Tchuktches, through which the Anadir meanders to¬
wards the entrance of Behring’s Strait. These chains, to¬
gether with their numerous northern spurs, are covered
with magnificent forests, which, in the Aldanian Moun¬
tains, in N. Lat. 60°, reach an elevation of 2100 feet. Both
the western and eastern chains are rich in various metals,
and the gold mines yield precedence only to those in Cali¬
fornia and Australia. The great peninsula of Kamtschatka
is a volcanic country, traversed from N. to S. by a lofty
range, the southern portion of which is distinguished by a
countless number of extinct volcanoes, situated along its
western slopes. The northernmost, in N. Lat. 54. 40., is the
Shiwelutch, and the highest the Kliutchef^ 14,790 Parisian
feet high, as measured by Erman. In the interior, especially
in the Baidar Hills, are plateaux 1800 feet above the sea.
and covered with lava. The southern tracts of Siberia, those
which belong to Mongolia Felix, as well as the valleys of the
Altai, and the plains along its northerh foot, are a fertile
country; and although the winters are very severe, the sum¬
mers are hot, and the soil yields abundant crops. But the
steppes in the centre, and still more those in the north, have
a very different character.
The Ural extends from the shores of the Arctic Ocean, in Ural.
N. Lat. 70°, to the middle course of the river Ural in N. Lat.
51°. The mountains in the island of Nova Zembla (among
which Mount Glassowsky attains an elevation of about 2500
feet), are a northern continuation of the Ural; with which,
in the extreme south, are connected the plateau of Uptchei
Syrt, between the Volga and the Don; the low ridge of
Mugodjar, which terminates in the steep plateau of Usturt,
between the Caspian and the Aral, and other low hills in
the steppe of the Khirgises. The main and central portion
of the Ural consists of a principal western chain, from which
many spurs branch off towards Russia; and two parallel
chains on the Asiatic side, the easternmost and lowest of
which is the Irmel, which rises abruptly over the steppes
of Siberia. The highest summits are a little to the E. of,
and detached from, the main chain, near Bogoslowsk, in Lat.
60°; they attain an elevation of from 8000 to 9000 feet, and
A S
Asia, among them the Daneshken Kamen is considered to be the
highest. The highest summits in the S. are the Yurma, the
Toganai, and the Iremel, none of which rises more than 4000
feet above the sea. The Pawdinski Kamen was formerly be¬
lieved to be the highest mountain in the Ural, but its recent
measurements have shown that it is not higher than the
Taganai, viz., 3500 feet. Generally speaking, however, the
average height of the crest of the whole Ural is not con¬
siderable. Near Katherinenburg, where the grand road
from Europe to Asia leads over it, it is only 1600 feet; the
highest point of the road between Miyask and Slatousk is
not above 1800 feet; and the town of Katherinenburg lies
only 900 feet above the sea. The northernmost portion is
called the Obdor Ural; south of it the Poyos, theWerscho-
urian, the Katherinenburg, and the Bashuirian-Ural. The
Ural is rich in minerals, especially in the district around Ka¬
therinenburg, and its gold and platinum mines are the richest
in the Old World.
Level of It has already been observed, that the basin of Mongolia
Siberia. Felix is a plateau much less elevated than High Mongolia,
and that it slopes gradually down towards the low steppes of
Siberia, a fact which could not escape the notice of those
who had an opportunity of observing the gentle current of
the great Siberian rivers. Kiakhta, on the steppe of the
Selinga, on the frontiers of China, lies 2100 Parisian feet
above the Polar Sea; the elevation of Lake Baikal, into which
the Selinga flows, is 900 feet lower, or 1200 feet; that of
the Irtish, near Tobolsk, about 500 miles from the Obi Gulf,
is 110 feet; that of the Obi at Barnaul, in the midst of the
northern spurs of the Altai, is only 360 feet. But Siberia,
around and east of the Baikal is more elevated, and the low
steppes begin in a much higher latitude. They increase
in desolation towards the N., and between the 70th parallel
and the Arctic Ocean they present the aspect of an im¬
mense frozen swamp, the surface of which, thawing up in
the summer, covers itself with moss. These dreary plains
or Tundra, were first and graphically described by the Rus¬
sian Admiral Wrangell.
Southern This division comprehends Hindustan, Burmah, Siam,
■Asia. Laos, and Cambodia, and though not in extent the largest,
it is in many respects the most important portion of Asia.
Hindustan. It is not easy to give the extent of Hindustan with pre¬
cision, from the extension given to the appellation by geo¬
graphers ; but if we carry a straight line from Cape Como¬
rin, its southern point, to the northern boundary of Cash-
mere, its extreme length may be stated at 27° of latitude, or
about 1890 English miles. Its form is an irregular triangle,
the greatest breadth of which, in Lat. 24° N. from the mouth
of the Indus, to the mountains of Cassay in Burmah, extends
from Long. 69° to 92° E., a distance of about 1250 English
miles. This area has an exceedingly varied surface, and con¬
tains a very mingled population. The northern and western
portions are diversified by mountain ranges, often exceed¬
ingly steep and rugged; especially in the northern provinces,
where they may be considered as spurs of the vast Hima¬
laya chain ; and also in the less lofty range which skirts the
western coasts of the Indian peninsula, distinguished by the
name of Western Ghauts, which in some points attain an ele¬
vation of from 4000 to 5000 feet. The mountains of the
eastern side are far less elevated. A great portion presents
extensive valleys, or vast plains, watered by noble rivers;
but in a few places there are wide deserts, as on the eastern
side of the Indus; and where water is deficient, as on por¬
tions of the eastern coast, there are sandy wastes. But in the
plains traversed by the Ganges and its numerous affluents,
by the Bramahputra, the Ganga, the Nerbudda, and the
Kristna, the soil is of surprising fertility, and often pre¬
sents scenes of varied beauty. Where nature has denied
the usual means of irrigation, art has often supplied the de¬
ficiency by artificial canals, and an enormous population finds
I A. 735
the means of subsistence. These riches are not without al- Asia,
loy. Wherever water stagnates, especially in the midst of's—
thick jungle, that locality becomes the chosen abodes of
malignant fever and of spasmodic cholera; scourges that an¬
nually carry off multitudes in every part of India. The moun¬
tain streams for ages have afforded golden sands ; eclipsed
however in latter times by the riches of the Ourals, of Cali¬
fornia, and Australia. The central part of Hindustan affords
diamonds; and for ages the only locality of that gem was
believed to be Golconda.
The population of Hindustan consists of various races.
The original inhabitants are said to be still represented by
some mountain tribes, that may be yet distinguished from
the Hindus, the Malayans, and the Cingalese; and the less
swarthy Mahometan population are descendants of Ara¬
bian, Persian, and Tartar immigrations. See Hindustan.
The country now known under the name of Burmah com-Burmah.
prehends the kingdoms of Ava and Pegu. Its northern
boundary is the mountains of Assam; its western, British
India and the Gulf of Bengal; the southern, the Malayan
peninsula; and the eastern is Siam. Its extent is not well
defined; but it appears to stretch from the 9th to 26th degree
of N. Lat., or a length of about 1080 English miles, with
a varying breadth from 600 to 240 English miles. The
northern portions are mountainous, and afford gold, silver,
sapphires and rubies; but the principal part is a vast plain,
watered by the noble Irawaddy and its affluents. The lower
portions, about Rangoon and Pegu, are low and swampy. The
whole is the seat of a warlike people, that have twice braved
the armies of British India with more than Eastern courage.
See Burmah and Ava.
Malaya or Malacca is a narrow peninsula extending into Malaya,
the Indian Ocean, with a length of about 700 English, miles,
and a mean breadth of 150; and it has numerous fine har¬
bours. On the coasts are some European settlements, one
of which, Singapore, belongs to Great Britain. The interior
is a longitudinal mountain chain, from which various arms
descend on either hand. The interior is imperfectly known
to Europeans. The native Malays are an enterprizing,
restless, vindictive race, much given to navigation and to
piracy. In former times, they appear to have spread them¬
selves over a considerable portion of the Pacific. See Ma¬
lacca.
Of the interior of Siam, Laos, and Cambodia, we know Siam, Laos,
little. They occupy two extensive river-valleys between Cambodia.
Burmah and the mountains that join the western boundary
of Cochin-China. Both rivers are navigable for a consider¬
able distance, especially that of Siam, which bears the name
of Maygue, and appears to arise in the mountains of Tibet,
and falls into the Gulf of Siam. The river district, includ¬
ing Cambodia and Laos, is divided from Siam by a wide
group of mountains running N. and S. It owes its fertility
to the Maykung, a large river, also arising in Tibet, and run-
ing parallel to the Maygue. Both rivers are subject to pe¬
riodic inundations, that give great fertility to the regions
through which they pass. Laos is represented by Kaempfer
as a powerful state, protected from foreign enemies by deep
forests and rugged mountains. It lies N. of Cambodia, with
which it is conterminous. The valleys are fertile ; the moun¬
tains produce gold and sapphires. Cambodia is chiefly known
as producing the drug we term gamboge, which is probably
the juice of a Hebradendron.
Eastern Asia comprehends Cochin-China, Tunkin,and the^astern
Chinese empire. Asia.
Cochin-China or Southern China is a narrow mountainous Cochin,
tract, bounded on the E. by the ocean, on the W. byTunkin-
deserts and mountains, that separate it from Cambodia and
Laos, and on the N. is divided by a small river from Tun-
kin, which it has lately partially conquered. It has many
good harbours along its extensive coasts, of which Turon is
736
ASIA.
Asia.
China.
Oceanic
Asia.
Climate.
the best known. Staunton represents the country as fertile
and well cultivated, the people as industrious and civilized.
They, as well as the Tunkinese, are of Chinese descent. Their
coasts abound with the edible birds’nests, formed by a species
of swallow. See Cochin-China and Tunkin.
The vast empire of China presents an area computed at
1,297,999 square miles, according to Staunton, and a popu¬
lation of 333,000,000, being the most densely peopled region
of the earth. Its enormous surface is much varied, pro¬
ducing the vegetable riches of every climate. Chinese
Tartary is very mountainous; and chains of granite moun¬
tains traverse China in various directions; but the great
chains generally run from W. to E., and send the principal
rivers in that direction through fertile plains of enormous
extent. The principal of these rivers are the Amur, in the
north; the Hoan-ho, and Kian-ku in the central districts,
both having a course of more than 2000 miles ; and the
Hon-kiang, and Pe-kian in the S. It is needless to state
here what is discussed fully under China.
Oceanic Asia embraces all the Asiatic Isles properly so
called; and some would also include under this head the
distant New Zealand, and vast continent of Australia. We
limit this division to Ceylon, the Andaman Isles, the Su¬
matran chain, including Java, &c., Borneo, Celebes, the
Moluccas or Spice Islands, the Manillas or Philippines, For¬
mosa, Lu-ku, Japan, Jesso, and Tchoma. For a particular
account of this division, we refer to the different heads just
enumerated.
Asia, extending from the equator to the Arctic Sea, ne¬
cessarily possesses great variety of climate. But though
here, as in every other country, the climate is regulated by
the distance from the equator, this general law is modified
by accidental causes, which it is curious to trace. In the
wide extent of Asia great peculiarities of temperature occur,
which cannot be very clearly explained. To such inquiries
some uncertainty will always attach, and anomalies may ap¬
pear of which we can offer no solution. Facts are our only
sure guides ; and to these, therefore, in the following obser¬
vations, we shall endeavour to adhere.
The height of the land above the level of the sea is as
sure a cause of cold as distance from the equator; and
countries are not only cold in proportion to their height, but
a mass of cold air is accumulated above them, which, being
dispersed, is carried towards the equator, and extends the
dominion of cold into the regions of heat. Land and water,
also, are the causes either of heat or cold, according to their
situation. The great mass of the ocean is little affected by
the changes of the seasons ; and it consequently preserves
the medium temperature of the whole year. Hence the
vicinity of the ocean cools the temperature of the equinoc¬
tial regions; and in higher latitudes it moderates the ex¬
tremes both of heat and cold, being in winter of a higher
temperature, and in summer of a lower temperature, than
the superincumbent air. The surface of the earth, again,
imbibes heat or cold much more readily than the ocean ;
and it is only at considerable depths that it is found to give
the medium temperature of the year. The vicinity of land,
therefore, in the polar countries, is the cause of cold, while
in the southern regions of the equator it is an equally power¬
ful cause of heat. Thus Africa, which extends so far to the
S., and which contains a greater proportion of land within
the tropics than any other division of the globe, is a vast Asia,
store-house of heat, from which it is dispersed far and wide, v/—
and even reaches the shores of Europe in hot and parching
winds ; while, on the other hand, the breadth and extent of
the American continent towards the N. sufficiently accounts
for the coldness of its climate—the N.W. winds which sweep
across its frozen wastes extending their inroads into the
regions of heat as far sometimes as Mexico or Vera Cruz.1
The influence of the ocean in moderating the severity of the
winter is exemplified in the climate of Great Britain, where
no such intense cold ever prevails as in corresponding lati¬
tudes on the continent of Europe, and more especially on
that of Asia. The climate of a country is also affected by the
direction of the winds ; and hence the eastern shores of
America, owing to the trade-winds, which blow from the E.,
and are cooled in their passage across the Atlantic, have not
the same sultry heats as the opposite shores of Africa, where
the same winds are heated to an intense degree in their pas¬
sage over the burning deserts of the interior. The northern
frontiers of Asia, and its prodigious elevation towards the
centre, necessarily consign the greatest portion of it to the
dominion of cold. Among the central mountains perpetual
winter reigns; and from these snowy deserts the influence
of cold is widely extended over the high plains of the inte¬
rior. In Tibet, which is about the same latitude as Northern
Africa or Arabia, namely, between the 30th and 35th de¬
grees, there is a continuous and severe winter of three months,
which is of such uniform severity that at its commencement
the inhabitants kill their meat, and it is kept perfectly fresh
for three months.2 To the W., along the whole range of ele¬
vated country that extends into Persia and to the Caspian Sea,
the climate is modified by the elevation of the ground. In
the countries of Balk and Bokhara, which lie on the northern
declivity of the great ridge of the Hindu Koh Mountains,
in the same latitude as the S. of Europe, namely, the 39th
and 40th degrees, and all along the banks of the Oxus, the
climate is remarkably severe. For three months the winter
is intensely cold, the wrind being dry and piercing, and the
snow lying deep on the ground. The rivers are all frozen
over, and the Oxus during all that period is passable for cara¬
vans.3 The summer, again, is equally hot. Persia, in like
manner, being nearly in the same latitude as Arabia, the
hottest part of the earth, and having an excessively hot sum¬
mer, has in the northern and central parts the severe winter
of a northern climate, with drifting snow, which lies deep on
the ground for three months ; and this is owing entirely to
its elevation, which is estimated by Fraser to be 4000 feet
above the Caspian Sea.4 The lower valleys and exterior
plains of Asia, which lie to the south of the Himalaya Moun¬
tains, including Arabia, the southern and flat parts of Per¬
sia, Hindustan, and India beyond the Ganges, constitute the
tropical and warm regions of this continent, of which the
climate, though it agrees in general with their position on
the globe, still varies from local causes. Hindustan, forex-
ample, and India beyond the Ganges, though they approach
nearer to the equator, are not nearly so hot as Arabia or the
adjacent countries. The course of the seasons is also more
constant; and it is here that wre meet with those remarkable
winds, the monsoons, which blow six months in opposite di¬
rections, from the S.W. and N.E., with some slight varia¬
tions, and which extend their influence over all the countries
1 See WumholAt's Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain. He mentions that at Vera Cruz the centigrade thermometer some¬
times falls, owing to those northern blasts, to 6 or to 32 degrees of Fahrenheit; and that even at Mexico they sometimes, though rarely,
bring down the thermometer to the freezing point.
2 Turner’s Embassy to Thibet, p. 217, 301, 356.
3 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, Appendix, p. 95.
4 Kinneir’s Geographical Memoir of the Persian Empire, p. 122. It is mentioned in the Journal of a Mr Campbell, quoted by Sir
J. Malcolm, that while he was at Tabreez a heavy fall of snow occurred in May; and in December and January the thermometer at
night was never above zero. (Sir J. Malcolm’s History of Persia, vol. ii. p. 509.)
A S
Asia. which lie between the mouth of the Indus and the Chinese
Sea. The monsoons follow the course of the sun, and this
fact points to the cause of the phenomenon. Heat and cold
being the great agents which, by rarefying or condensing the
air, disturb its equilibrium, and set the winds in motion, land,
when it is heated by the solar rays, acts on the superincum¬
bent air, and causes it to ascend, when it is immediately re¬
placed by an irruption of cold air from the sea. Hence the
regular sea-breeze which prevails in all the tropical islands
during the day, and the opposite current from the land dur¬
ing the night; and this alternation of the sea and the land
breezes, occasioned within 24 hours by the varying tempera¬
ture of an island, is just an example of the effect that must
be produced by a heated continent and by the change of the
seasons. As the sun advances into the northern tropic, the
land of Asia, Europe, and almost the whole of Africa, is
heated by his influence ; by which the air being rarefied, and
rising aloft, a current of colder air rushes in from the sea.
Accordingly it is found, that with the approach of summer,
the plains of Hindustan, Burmah, and China, heated by the
intense rays of a vertical sun, powerfully attract the cold air,
which flows with a steady stream from the Southern Ocean,
exactly in the tract of the heated continent, namely, from
the S.W. to the N.E. When the sun passes into the southern
hemisphere, the monsoon alters its course. Winter now
reigns in the mountainous and northern parts of Asia, and
the heat in the lower regions is not so great. The land, in
place of heating, cools the air, which flows into the warm
regions of the S. from the N.E. in the direction of the con¬
tinent, as it formerly flowed towards the N. from the S.E.
The S.W. monsoon sets in about the beginning of June in
all the islands of the Indian Ocean, and traverses the south¬
ern plains, until it is turned towards the W. by the central
mountains, and finally arrested in its progress. It is ushered
in with the most tremendous thunder and lightning, with
tempests of wind and floods of rain. This is the commence¬
ment of the periodical rains through all the tropical regions
of Asia, which are at their height in July, and gradually
abate about the end of September, departing amid thunders
and tempests, as they came. Before the setting in of the
monsoons there is a clear sky, with a hot parching wind,
succeeded by sultry calms, under which all nature seems to
droop. The rains effect a sudden and total change in the
aspect of the country: the rivers are swollen, the air is pure
and refreshing, the sky varied with clouds, and the earth
covered with the most luxuriant verdure.1 Such is the cli¬
mate of Southern Asia, from China to the southern coast of
Africa. But the peninsula of Arabia is not subject to the
influence of the monsoons ; and in place of the tropical rains,
it has generally, in the mountainous parts, the winter and
the spring rains.2 The climate during summer is hotter than
in any other part of the world, the thermometer frequently
rising to 110°, and even, it is said, to 120°, in the coolest and
shadiest parts, while dead calms prevail often without inter¬
ruption for 50 or 60 days, and are succeeded, as the tempe¬
rature begins to vary and the winds to resume their activity,
by violent and hot blasts from the desert. The vicinity of
Arabia to the African continent, by which it is sheltered
from the cool breezes of the sea, while it receives the sultry
air from its burning plains, is unquestionably the cause of its
extraordinary heat; and it will be remarked that those vio¬
lent heats extend eastward from Arabia exactly in the direc¬
tion in which they are received into the lower valley of the
Euphrates and the Tigris, where at Baghdad they raise the
thermometer to 120° in the shade. It has been already
mentioned that the progress of the monsoons to the N. is
I A. 737
arrested by the central mountains; and the elevated tract Asia,
of country, therefore, which lies to the N. of this barrier, -r-—^
namely, the kingdom of Kokaun, over which are spread the
headwaters of the Oxus, Balk, the ancient Bactriana, Bok¬
hara, and the countries W. of the Indus, as far as the Hel¬
lespont, depend on the spring and the winter rains which
they receive from the W.3
Western Asia has been long celebrated for the mildness
and serenity of its climate, which is hot and dry, though it
is tempered by the cool breezes from the mountain tracts
by which it is intersected. In the northern parts, along the
coasts of the Black Sea, the country is liable to excessive
rains; while the southern shores of the Mediterranean are
exposed to the sultry simoom blasts from the African or
Arabian deserts.
Northern Asia, of which the Altai chain is the boundary,
is the proper region of cold ; and the severity of the climate
is said to be aggravated by the vast expanse of the continent
in the frozen latitudes of the N. In the interior of Asia the
milder element of the ocean can have no influence on the
rigour of perpetual winter ; and from the Arctic Ocean to
the Altai Mountains the north wind sweeps without interrup¬
tion along the Siberian plains, and occasions an intensity of
cold which is not experienced in the corresponding latitudes
of Europe. It is remarked by Malte-Brun, that the cold in¬
creases as we proceed eastward, to such a degree, that on
the coasts of Mantchuria, in the same latitude as France, the
winter commences in September. This intensity of cold he
ascribes to several causes : 1st, To vast mountains covered
with glaciers, which rise between Corea and the countries
on the river Amur ; 2dly, to the still greater mass of moun¬
tains which separates the Amur from the Lena; 2>dly, to
the thick and cold fogs which constantly overhang those
frozen countries, and intercept the rays of the sun; and,
4tthly, to the absolute want of inhabitants, and consequently
of cultivation. This, however, is only true with regard to
the extreme N.E. of Asia ; but in the whole, such causes
tend to the increase of cold. They are, however, counter¬
balanced by the influence of the Eastern and Arctic Oceans;
and the average cold is consequently greater towards the
centre of the continent than along its northern shores. The
average cold of the winter in Nova Zembla, between N.
Lat. 70. 30. and 73. 30., is — 35° 30' Celsius ; its minimum
was — 39° 30'; but at Statust, in N. Lat. 55., near the Ural,
it is as low as 44p, while the minimum was 46.° The great¬
est cold ever observed in Asia was at Nishner Kolymsk on
the Kolyma, in N. Lat. 68. 32., namely — 50° 20' on the 8th
January 1821.
Asia, from its vast extent and unequal surface, not only Vegetable
comprehends within its bounds the vegetable produce ofProduc'
the whole earth, from the low creeping lichen which flou- tl0ns‘
rishes on the borders of perpetual snow, to all the splendid
varieties of tropical vegetation ; but it presents these varie¬
ties within a very short compass. It would be inconsistent
with the plan of the present article to describe in detail the
animal and vegetable kingdoms of Asia. It may be there¬
fore generally stated, that the great staples of agriculture,
the alimentary plants on which man depends for his subsis¬
tence, are, in the tropical countries of Asia, rice, of which
there are 27 varieties ; maize, millet, and many varieties of
a coarser grain called dourra; as well as other species of
legumes not known in Europe. The cultivation of these
nutritious grains is confined to the plains of Hindustan and
the hot countries to the east. Ilice or maize may be some¬
times seen in Persia, or in the hot plains of Lower Syria ;
but agriculture in these countries generally depends on the
1 Elphinstone’s Account of Cabul, chap. v. 2 Niebuhr, vol. ii. sect. 29.
3 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Ehorassan, Appendix, p. 95.
5 A
vol. in.
grain of a colder climate. Persia is accordingly famed for
the most excellent wheat, which is the chief food, and for
barley and millet. Oats are more rarely attempted in that
climate. Throughout Syria and Asia Minor, as well as Arabia,
wheat, rye, barley, beans, and other grains, are chiefly sown;
and in Bokhara, and generally in all the countries that lie
between the Oxus and the Caspian Sea, these and other
grains, with a variety of leguminous plants, constitute the
chief aliment of the inhabitants.1 Between the 50th and
55th degrees, these grains may with care be raised all over
Asia; but beyond this they cannot so well resist the se¬
verity of the climate. This is therefore the proper region
of barley and oats, the cultivation of which may be extended
to the 60th degree. Beyond this the powers of vegetation
begin to fail; and the forests present dwarf trees with
lichens, and some species of eatable wild berries, among
which is the Empetrum nigrum. In ascending the Asiatic
wild mountains, the same varieties of vegetable produce are
observed as in receding from the equator, until, at the line of
perpetual congelation, all traces of vegetation disappear. But
the decrease of heat in proportion to the altitude varies in
different situations, according as it is affected by local and
accidental causes; and though the most accurate calcula¬
tions have been made on the subject by Leslie, Humboldt,
and others, they are modified by local causes. Thus the
limits of perpetual congelation have been fixed by Hum¬
boldt at 15,700 feet under the equator, and 15,000 in the
latitude of 20 degrees ; yet Captain Webb, in his journeys
among the Himalaya Mountains, observed, on the banks of
the Sutledj river, which must have been at least in the
30th degree of N. Lat., the finest pastures, and crops of a
species of barley from which the natives make their bread,
at a height of 15,000 feet, the supposed line of perpetual
frost. And at a pass among these mountains, in 30 degrees
of N. Lat., plants were found that ripened their seed at the
enormous height of 17,000 feet. In Lat. 30. 25. the same
travellers saw fields at the height of 11,790 feet, not only
without snow, but covered with extensive crops of buck¬
wheat and Tartaric barley. The decrease of heat in pro¬
portion to the altitude attained appears to be affected in
those climates by the transport of the warm moist air of the
S.W. monsoons from the Indian Ocean. We cannot fix
either the lower or the higher limit at which wheat and other
European grains could be brought to maturity among the
Asiatic mountains. It is evident that the decrease of heat
as we rise above the level of the sea is modified by local
causes, in the same manner as when we recede from the
equator ; and hence the same vegetable produce is not uni¬
formly found at the same height, any more than within the
same latitudes. It is possible that in the interior mass of
the mountains the cold may be greater than among the ex¬
terior ridges, and that the European grain, and the other
congenial produce of a cold climate, may not on this account
ripen at so high an elevation. It is mentioned by Turner,
that he saw wheat in Tibet in a green state, which he was as¬
sured would never ripen owing to the severity of the climate.
Of the other plants which minister to the comfort of man,
and afford valuable articles of commerce, Asia possesses great
variety. The tea plant, which is exported so largely to
Europe, is indigenous to China, to which it is a source of
prodigious wealth. It has more lately been found also in
Assam, where it has been successfully cultivated by the
British. Arabia is the native country of coffee, where it
still arrives at its greatest perfection. The sugar-cane is
cultivated in Hindustan, though not with the same energy
and skill as in the West Indies; and also in some of the
hottest parts of Asia Minor. Tobacco is very generally
produced in Southern and Western Asia ; and opium, the
great intoxicating drug of the East, is an important article of
cultivation in Hindustan. It is chiefly produced in Bengal,
Bahar, and Malwah ; and upwards of 4,000,000 pounds of
opium were annually sent to China, before it was prohibited
by the Chinese government. The vine grows to great per¬
fection among the rocky heights of Palestine, and in the
mountains of Syria, where wine of a good quality is made,
and also in Arabia and Persia. Industry and skill are alone
necessary to improve the advantages of nature, and to ren¬
der this precious produce a valuable article of commerce.
The cotton shrub, which yields so useful an article of cloth¬
ing, has from time immemorial been cultivated in India,
growing in Arabia, Persia, and throughout Asia Minor;
and the mulberry which, by feeding the silkworm, affords
so splendid an article of dress, is grown with success in
Syria, Mesopotamia, and Armenia. Flax and hemp are
common throughout both Southern and Western Asia, and
they would grow also in Northern Asia if the inhabitants
knew how to profit by the advantages of the country. In¬
digo is another important article, which is cultivated in
India and in some parts of Syria, as well as in Arabia.
The Asiatic islands have been long celebrated for various
aromatic plants; and the juice which exudes from the
trunks of the smaller trees is of the richest fragrance.
Among the species of laurels which abound in the southern
parts of India and Ceylon we find those which produce
mace, cassia, and camphor; and, lastly, the cinnamon tree,
formerly supposed to be a native of Arabia ; also the clove
and the nutmeg trees. The balm of Mecca is the finest of
all the tribe, and diffuses an exquisite perfume. Arabia has
been long celebrated for frankincense and myrrh. Asia
furnishes also many plants used in medicine, as well as in
dyeing, such as the castor-oil plant, the senna, the aloe, and
others, which extend all over the southern parts and through
Asia Minor.
In Southern Asia the forests abound with the most valu¬
able trees, with the most durable woods, and with every
variety of ornamental and dye-woods. The teak tree, which
grows in the woods of India, surpasses all others in dura¬
bility. There are many trees which minister to the wants
and appetites of man. The sago palm yields from its stem
and roots the well-known farinaceous substance which bears
its name. The toddy palm yields a rich juice which, when
fermented, becomes a strong spirituous liquor. The fan palm,
which grows in some parts of India, is remarkable for the
breadth of its leaves, one of which is sufficient to cover a
dozen of men, and two or three to roof a cottage. The
bread-fruit tree, which grows in India, yields a farinaceous
fruit resembling bread prepared from grain. All the com¬
mon fruit trees of Europe are also found in the hilly parts
of India. Asia Minor and the banks of the Euphrates abound
in the myrtle, the laurel, the turpentine, mastic, tamarind,
cypress, sycamore, and other trees. The oriental plants are
numerous in Persia; and in the Syrian mountains the oak
and the cedar, celebrated in ancient times, grow to a great
height. In the northern countries of Asia the trees most
prevalent are the oak, the ash, and the elm; and still far¬
ther N. there is the dwarf birch and the mountain wil¬
low ; also the pines and the firs, which rear their tall heads,
and spread over the scenery their permanent hue of dark
green. The strong and glutinous liquid which exudes from
these northern trees is converted into tar, pitch, and tur¬
pentine, and becomes a valuable article of commerce, use¬
ful for many purposes.
All the most delicious fruits are raised in the tropical
countries of Asia. Those most celebrated in India are the
guava, the jambo, the mango, and the pine-apple: many
others might be raised if garden-cultivation were carried to
1 Fraser’s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, Appendix, p. 96.
Asia, the same perfection as in Europe. Syria, Palestine, the banks find that those countries which are widely separated and
s—of the Euphrates, and Persia, are famous for the variety of which present no practicable communication for animals
their fruits, and produce abundantly pomegranates, oranges, have each its own peculiar and distinct class. America has
lemons, almonds, peaches, figs, quinces, olives, walnuts, and an entirely different race of animals from Africa or Asia •
melons of all sorts. In the neighbourhood of Damascus while the animals that are found in the islands or conti-
all the fruits of Europe arrive at maturity; and near the nent of Australasia resemble those of no other quarter
Caspian Sea there are whole forests of chestnut trees. The of the world. The zoology of Asia and Africa from their
date tree, the fruit of which is in many parts the chief sub- vicinity, and from the comparatively easy communication
sistence of the inhabitants, grows in Persia, Mesopotamia, between them, does not present such diversities ; yet it is
Arabia, Syria, and Palestine. In the higher parts of these remarkable, that while the lion is common over all Africa
countries other fruits are to be found, namely, the apple, the tiger has never yet been seen; while in Asia it is nearly
the pear, the cherry. In Northern Asia, horticulture is little the reverse, the tiger, and not the lion, being the more corn-
practised ; .and, excepting wild berries, few other fruits are mon of the two. There can be no reason, we should ima-
to be seen in its desert and inhospitable plains. Flowers of gine, why the tiger should be confined to Asia, while there
all sorts, in the most splendid profusion and variety, and of are other countries equally suited to his habits, except that,
the richest fragrance, adorn the country in Southern and being indigenous in the regions of Eastern Asia, he has
Western Asia, and give it the appearance of a flower-gar- never been able to cross the barrier of mountains and
den. On such a subject, however, which presents so wide deserts by which these regions are separated from Persia
a field of inquiry, we cannot enter into details, which would on the west. Beyond the western banks of the Indus the
hardly prove satisfactory to the general reader, and still less country is mountainous and impassable, and the climate
to the man of science. . extremely cold ; the ridges from the Himalaya Mountains
Animals. I he desolate tracts of thick jungle and dense forest which extending southward nearly to the sea, and the country be-
abound in Asia afford extensive cover for wild animals, yond being merely a narrow strip of hot and sandy desert,
which are accordingly found in great numbers, and com- Beyond this, farther to the W., extensive deserts are found
prise all the known genera of the globe. The lion is found destitute of water and of all traces of vegetation, which
in Persia, Mesopotamia, on the banks of the Tigris and Eu- would as effectually oppose the passage of wild beasts as
phrates, and was formerly known in Asia Minor, but has now the trackless ocean which divides Africa and America, and
either entirely disappeared, or is rarely seen. It was at one leaves to each its own class of indigenous animals. The
time supposed that this formidable animal did not haunt the other wild animals of Southern Asia are leopards, hyenas,
forests and jungles of India. But lions have been seen in jackals, tiger-cats, wild boars, antelopes, elks, red and other
great numbers in the N. of India, in Guzerat, and in the deer, foxes, hares, mangooses, ferrets, porcupines, &c. All
province of Delhi, to the N. of that place.1 The tiger is a these are to be found in the southern plains of Asia. The
native of Asia, to which continent he exclusively belongs, hyenas, wolves, jackals, and bears, abound in some of the
having never migrated into the other regions of the globe, hilly tracts, and in the mountains of Beluchistan and the
He is spread over all parts of Southern Asia, from the other countries to the west of the Indus. The first three
islands of the Indian Ocean, where he exists in amazing make dreadful havock among the flocks. The same ani-
power and ferocity, to the great ridge of the Himalaya mals are found in Persia, Mesopotamia, in Asia Minor, and
Mountains. His progress northward is checked by the in- in Palestine : and it is said that the lion is occasionally seen
creasing cold; yet is he found in some of the higher re- on the banks of the Jordan. The ounce is a formidable
gions, where ice is seen during the winter. It is certain, animal in these countries and in Syria, and is sometimes
however, that he is a native of a hot climate ; and it is pro- mistaken for the tiger. The striped hyena is often to be
liable, therefore, that when he feels the approach of winter, met in the Persian forests.4 The wild doo- is common in
he retires from the cold of the high country into the warmer Northern India, in Beluchistan, and in all the mountain-
and lower valleys of the south. Tigers are seldom seen in ous countries to the E. of Persia. It is a large and power-
the countries westward of the Indus, though they may oc- ful animal, and extremely ferocious. They hunt in packs
casionally stray from their native haunts along the W. of of 20 or 30, and frequently seize a bullock, which they kill
that river into the mountain tracts of Beluchistan.3 The in a few minutes.5 The bones and remains of timers, sup-
tiger is not found in Persia, Arabia, or in any part of Africa, posed to have been destroyed by the combined&attack of
though it is quite certain that the country is quite congenial these animals, are also sometimes found in the woods of
to his constitution and habits, and that if he could once Northern India.6 The wild ass is a native of Persia, and is
reach it he would quickly propagate his race through its remarkably wild, and fleet in its movements. It 'is also
deep forests. Yet the lion reigns supreme in the woods of common in the northern mountains of India, and in the
Africa, while the tiger is the lord of the Asiatic jungles. It countries to the west of the Indus. The hemionus or wild
would be curious, if we had full materials for such a specula- horse is found about the Sea of Aral. The wild sheep and
tion, to trace the distinct regions of the globe which are occu- the wild goat are common among the mountains,
pied by the various animal and vegetable tribes. Plants, we Of the domestic animals, the elephant claims the pre¬
know, are transported from the countries in which they are eminence, being unequalled by any other animal for the pur-
mdigenous, and flourish in another soil and climate equally poses of draught. This animal is confined to the southern
congenial; and, in like manner, the animals of one country countries of India, where the climate is hot, being seldom
have been transported with equal success to other countries, seen in the mountainous tracts towards the N. The camel
where they have multiplied. The wild and ferocious ani- is used for domestic purposes over a far wider extent of
mals it is the object of man to destroy rather than to in- country than the elephant. This animal is of two species,
crease ; and they would therefore receive no aid from him the one with two humps, and the common camel with only
in their migrations from one region to another. Hence we one hump. The latter is the camel of Arabia, Syria, Persia,
3 Elphinstone’s^ccoun* of Cabul, p. 141. 2 Bishop Heber.
+• Cnn °- ln£ei s "uiable account of the countries of lieluchistan and Sinde, chap. vii. which is replete with interesting informa-
icn. e journey o t ns officer and of Captain Christie, from India to Persia, through these wild tracts, inhabited by hordes of rob-
bers, amy be considered a most perilous and honourable achievement.
Kinneir, Memoir of the lersian Emi>ire: p. 42. 5 Pottinger’s History of Beluchistan, chap. vii. 6 Bishop Heber.
India, and Northern Africa. A lighter variety of this species
is the dromedary, used only for riding, and differs from the
camel of burden as the racer does from the draught-horse.
The two-humped camel is the Bactrian species, and is so rare,
even in Western Asia and India, that Captain Lynch states,
that in a caravan of 5000 camels, there were not above eight
or ten of this Bactrian species. In Mongolia, however, they
are very numerous. The dromedary is chiefly used for travel¬
ling, and its valuable quality is swiftness, by which, joined to
its capacity of enduring hardship, it is qualified to travel at
an incredible rate for many successive days. In all the low
countries, especially in the dry and sandy tracts, such^ as
Arabia, Syria, &c., the common camel is employed. 1 he
two-humped camel is a native of the high countries in the
neighbourhood of the Oxus and the Jaxartes, where it is
still chiefly used. So large a portion of Asia is occupied by
vast plains and wastes of sand, that its interior intercourse
must be maintained by land journeys. But without the aid
of the camel, it would be impossible to traverse extensive
deserts destitute both of food and water ; and in those arid
countries such an animal, which has been truly called the
ship of the desert, is the most valuable gift which Provi¬
dence could bestow.
The other domestic animals of Southern and Western
Asia are horses, mules, asses, buffaloes, black cattle, sheep,
goats, &c. Arabia may be considered the native country
of the horse, in which he arrives at the highest perfection,
and combines all the most estimable qualities of symmetry
form, fineness of skin, fire, docility of temper, fleetness, and
hardiness. It is chiefly from the Arabian breed that the
horses in other parts of the world have been improved. In
Persia the horses are neither so graceful nor so swift as those
of Arabia, being high, with long legs, spare carcases, and
large heads; but they are highly prized by the inhabitants
for their extraordinary capacity of enduring fatigue, lo
the E. of Persia, at Herat, the breed of horses is fine ; also
on the banks of the Indus and its tributaries; and in the
higher regions of Balk and Bokhara they are excellent and
numerous, and are exported in great numbers to Hindu¬
stan.1 The mule and the ass, all over India, are miserable
animals. The mules are of better quality in the Punjaub,
on the upper course of the Indus, and they improve still
more further west. In the countries W. of the Indus, they
are superior to those in Hindustan, and in Persia there is
a still finer breed. But the mule of the East is inferior to that
of Europe. The ass partakes of a similar improvement in his
progress westward, and is a far finer animal in Western Asia
than in Europe. In Syria, Palestine, and generally in Asia
Minor, he is distinguished by agility, fire, and patience of
fatigue, and ranks in the first class of domestic animals.
Buffaloes are found in the hot plains of Asia, as well as in
the mountainous tracts; and the oxen which are used in
the plough have all a hump on their backs. The wealth of
the pastoral tribes, who rove about in the western plains of
Khorassan, and in the hilly tracts of Afghanistan, consists
chiefly in sheep, which have tails a foot broad, and com¬
posed entirely of fat, but in other respects resemble the
English sheep, being better and handsomer than those of
India.2 Goats are common all over Asia, especially in the
mountains, where there are some breeds with curiously-
twisted horns ; and they are by no means scarce in the
plains.
In the northern parts of Asia, and in the high mountain
tracts, a different class of animals is to be found. These
cold regions are not distinguished by the same profusion of
animal life as the tropical countries. The beasts of the
forest decrease in numbers, size, and fierceness; and the wolf,
the bear, the glutton, and the wild boar, are the only fero¬
cious animals which thrive in these northern climates. In Asia,
advancing on the desolate plains of Siberia to about the 60th
degree of N. Lat., we find the cold still taking effect on the
animal as on the vegetable creation, and the living creatures,
as well as the plants and trees, stunted in their full propor¬
tions. Beyond this limit a different order of animals ap¬
pears, protected against the severity of the climate by a
thick covering of fur, which is sought after as a rich article
of dress in more opulent countries. These animals are ac¬
cordingly hunted for their skins, which constitute the great
staple article of trade in Northern Asia. In the Arctic re¬
gions the bear seems to form the only exception to the
diminished grandeur of the animal creation. This animal,
nourished in the regions of Northern Asia, acquires a larger
size, and far greater power and fierceness, than in southern
climates. The domestic animals of the northern and moun¬
tainous countries of Asia are of a less imposing appearance,
and not nearly of the same strength as those in the lower
valleys of the S. and W. In the high and cold plains of
Central Asia the camel is no longer used as a beast of bur¬
den, nor in the northern parts of the continent. Tibet and
Central Asia, till beyond the Altai Mountains, are inhabited
by Mongolish and Turkish tribes, whose wealth consists in
their cattle, which not only furnish them with food, cloth¬
ing, and shelter, but are also used as beasts of burden, and
in the labours of agriculture. The yak of Tartary, or the
bushy-tailed bull of Tibet, seems to supply the place of the
camel in these mountainous countries. This animal is about
the size of a small bull, of great strength, and is reckoned
a valuable property among the itinerant hordes of rI artars,
to whom it affords the means of easy conveyance, of cloth¬
ing, and shelter for their tents, from the prodigious quantity
of long flowing glossy hair on its tail, and finally of subsist¬
ence from its milk and flesh. In those mountains is also
found the musk-deer, which delights in the most intense
cold, and of which the musk, a secretion by the male, affords
a revenue to the government, as well as a valuable article
of trade. Here, also, on the highest mountains, amid ice
and snow, is the Cashmere goat, the wool of which affords
the materials of the finest shawls.3 Wild horses are seen
in the high plains of Tibet; and the breed of sheep, a pecu¬
liar species of which is indigenous to the climate, is of great
value. They are nourished on the short and dry herbage
of these exposed plains, and serve for subsistence to the in¬
habitants, as well as for beasts of burden. The wild and
extensive plains of Tartary are inhabited by pastoral tribes,
who depend in like manner on their herds. On the southern
side of the Altai Mountains we find the same tribes of wan¬
derers, most of them the scattered remnants of the Tartar
nations who had formerly so deep a share in the great revo¬
lutions of Asia. All these tribes subsist chiefly by pastur¬
age. Near the Ural mountains some live chiefly by hunt¬
ing or ensnaring the elk and other wild animals for their
furs. Among those who are shepherds sheep and horned
cattle are found ; while the hunting tribes have scarcely any
domestic animals. In all these countries the wolf and the
bear are known to abound. In the rigorous climate, farther
to the N., where the cattle are stunted in size, and can
scarcely subsist, their place is supplied by the reindeer, a
species peculiar to a rigorous climate, and most valuable for
all domestic purposes, whether for draught or for subsist¬
ence. During part of the year the inhabitants of those
desolate countries subsist upon its flesh or milk, its skin fur¬
nishes them with the chief part of their dress, and its horns
with such domestic utensils as they require. The dog is
also trained to draw the sledge.
The feathered race in Asia includes almost every known
species. In the southern parts are found all the tropical
1 Elphinstone’s Account of Cabul, chap. vi.
Ibid. p. 143.
3 Turner’s Embassy lo Tibet, p. 186.
Asia.
Historical
sketch of
the Asiatic
nations.
Nineveh;
Babylon.
ASIA.
741
birds, distinguished by the most beautiful plumage, and
some of them uttering sounds that have a resemblance to
the human voice. Here are also found some of the largest
and rarest birds,—the ostrich, the cassowary, and, in the
Himalaya Mountains, the gypaete, one of which, shot by a
British officer, is stated by Bishop Heber to have measured
from the extremity of one wing to another the enormous
length of 14 feet. The other birds are eagles, kites, vul¬
tures, magpies in the higher countries, hawks, crows, wild
geese and ducks, flamingos, herons, bustards, florikens,
rock pigeons, lapwings, storks, plovers, snipes, quails, part¬
ridges, different species of fringillidce, and almost all the
other small birds to be found in similar climates. In Nor¬
thern Asia the feathered creation is nearly the same as in
Europe.
The principle of life, which is so active throughout the
torrid zone, and produces quadrupeds of the most enormous
size, is also visible in the magnitude and numbers of the
reptile tribe, many of them armed with the most fatal poisons,
all of them odious to the sight, and some, such as the Py¬
thon Bivittatus, attaining the length of 20 feet, and of such
prodigious muscular strength as to coil round and crush
large animals to death. The influence of cold is adverse to
the growth of large serpents, which are not found in Asia
to the N. of the Altai Mountains. The shark, which is
found in all warm climates, haunts the tropical seas of Asia;
and the crocodile, which is a different animal from the alli¬
gator of America, though equally powerful and ferocious, in¬
fests the rivers. Innumerable insects of every form, and
most of them noxious and destructive, swarm in the torrid
regions of this continent. During the short summers of
Northern Asia, the musquito and other insects abound in
the woody tracts of Siberia, insomuch that near the Ural
Mountains the peasants burn constant fires before their cot¬
tages, as a defence against their attacks.1 But the locust,
which is common in certain parts of Asia, is the most mis¬
chievous of all these winged creatures. They light upon a
country in a cloud which darkens the air, and leave nothing
green behind them; fields sown with grain being utterly
laid waste, and trees stript of their leaves, and of all power
to ripen their fruits. They overspread the country with an
appearance of blackness for many miles ; and when they are
driven by the winds into the sea, their dead bodies cover the
shore in heaps. These destructive animals appear occa¬
sionally in the countries to the N. and W. of the Indus, in
Beluchistan, in the desert tracts of Khorassan, and in Persia.2
They are sometimes seen in Arabia in countless swarms;
and frequently to the north of the Altai Mountains, at the
sources of the Irtisch, whence they extend their destructive
flight as far as the Crimea and the southern provinces of the
Russian empire.3
Asia has been subject to more awful revolutions than any
other part of the world. Though it was at a very early
period the seat of flourishing kingdoms, it was soon desolated
by war. Its wealthy cities, sacked by their conquerors, fell
into decay and ruin ; and many of its countries, once civil-
lized and populous, now languish in desolation from violence
and misrule. The mighty revolutions which have shaken
this continent form an interesting subject, on which volumes
might be filled. All that we can propose is a historical
sketch of the great leading events which distinguish the
annals of Asia, with a brief notice of the various nations
which have flourished, or are now to be found within its
limits.
The early history of Asia, like that of all other countries,
is lost in antiquity; and the obscurity is but slightly dissi¬
pated by the indistinct accounts which we receive from the
Greek historians, and the brief notices in the Sacred Scrip- Asia,
tures, of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires. According
to the account of Ktesias, the Greek physician of Artaxerxes
Mnemon, the Assyrian empire was founded by Ninus,
about 2182 years before our era, and lasted during 13 cen¬
turies. Ninus is considered as the founder of Nineveh, and
is said to have extended his dominion over all the regions
between Bactria and Egypt. He was succeeded by his
wife Semiramis, who is stated to have been the founder or
enlarger of Babylon, and to have extended her conquests as
far as India. To her succeeded her son Ninyas, after whom
follow a long succession of more obscure sovereigns, whose
very names, except in as far as they may yet be recovered
by the recent discoveries at Nineveh, and of the key to the
arrowheaded character, may be said to have perished. The
last of the series was that Sardanapalus who immolated
himself when his capital was taken by his revolted sub¬
jects, Arbaces governor of Media, and Belesis viceroy of
Babylon, about 800 years before the Christian era. It
seems proved, however, that notwithstanding this alleged
termination of this empire, the Assyrians of Nineveh con¬
tinued to possess considerable dominions for two centuries
later; and in fact it was only in the eighth and seventh
centuries B.C., that the monarchy attained to a very high
degree of power under the kings whom the Hebrew Scrip¬
tures call Pul, Tiglath-pileser, Shalmaneser, Sennache¬
rib, and Esarhaddon, who extended their empire over Syria,
and destroyed the kingdom of Israel. But their power ra¬
pidly declined; and Nineveh was finally destroyed by the
united Medes and Babylonians, about 606 years b.c.
In the Sacred Scriptures we read of Nimrod, “ the mighty
hunter,” “ the beginning of whose kingdom was Babel.”
But nothing more is said of him; and all the early history
of Babel or Babylon is very uncertain. All that we know is,
that it was the seat of a kingdom in the year 747 b.c. : for
its ruler Nabonassar established a chronological era, com¬
mencing in that year; but we know not whether he was an
independent sovereign, or a tributary prince under the em¬
pire of Nineveh. In the following century, however, the
kingdom of Babylon was raised to a high pitch of gi’andeur
by several able princes, who extended their dominion to the
shores of the Mediterranean. Of these, the most powerful
was Nebuchadnezzar, who overturned the kingdom of Judah,
destroyed Jerusalem, and carried away the principal inha¬
bitants captive to Babylon, about 600 years b.c. He so
greatly embellished that city as to consider himself as its
second founder: but its glories were ephemeral; for in a
few years after his death, it was besieged and taken by the
Medes and Persians under Cyrus ; from which time it ceased
to be the capital of an independent state.
The ancient Medes seem to have been a branch of the
great Indo-European family of nations ; but their early his¬
tory is utterly unknown, except in as far as it may have been
interwoven with that of the Persians; by whose annalists
both are represented as having been the inhabitants of Iran,
under the empire of Jemshid. Media afterwards seems to
have fallen under the dominion of the Assyrian monarchs;
but, according to Ktesias and others, its governor Arbaces
revolted against his sovereign, and established an indepen¬
dent kingdom. The history of that revolution, however, is
so obscure, that some authors have considered Arbaces as
not merely founding a new kingdom for himself in Media,
but as supplanting Sardanapalus on the Assyrian throne at
Nineveh. However that may be, it is pretty certain that,
within two centuries after the time of Arbaces, Media was
still subject to the kings of Nineveh.
According to Herodotus, the Medes lived long in a state
1 Voyages de Pallas, tome ii. p. 369. 2 Pottinger’s Journey through Belochistan, p. 129; Elphinstone’s Account of Cabul, p. 145.
3 Pallas’ Travels through the Southern Provinces of the Russian Empire, vol. ii. p. 426.
of anarchy, till, tired of its evils, they chose for their king
Deioces, a person who had acquired a great reputation
among them for his just arbitration of their differences.
Deioces built a fortified palace at Ecbatana, and established
himself in the sovereign power of Media, which he trans¬
mitted to his descendants. His son and successor, Phra-
ortes, engaging in a war with the Assyrians of Nineveh, was
defeated and slain on the plain of Rogau. He was suc¬
ceeded by his son Cyaxares, in whose reign the Scythians
burst into the S.W. of Asia, and retained possession of
Mediator 28 years. On their expulsion, Cyaxares attacked
the Assyrians; and, assisted by the king of Babylon, took
and destroyed Nineveh, about 606 years B.c. He was suc¬
ceeded by his son Astyages, in consequence of whose defeat
by Cyrus, the empire was transferred from the Medes to the
Persians, about 546 years b.c.
The Persians, like the Medes, appear to be a branch of
the Indo-European family. Their early legends describe
as their original seat a delightful country, enjoying a very
mild climate, with seven months of summer weather. But
Arimanes, the Genius of Evil, smote it with the plague of
cold, so that it came to have ten months of winter, and only
two of summer. In consequence, the people were com¬
pelled to seek other settlements, and, under the guidance
of their sovereign or patriarchal leader, Jemshid, gradually
found their way to the several fertile regions interspersed
among the deserts that still cover a large portion of Persia.
Their original country, of which Arimanes thus deprived
them, is supposed by some to be the modern Turkistan;
while others look for it in the opposite direction, in the mo¬
dern Azerbijan. In the lapse of time the Persians were found
occupying Persis, Pars, and also spread over the hilly and
barren country extending towards the Indus and the Cas¬
pian. They seem to have been divided into many tribes,
no less distinguished by their mode of life, than by diversity
of rank. Three of them were considered as noble; and of
these the Pasargadae were the most illustrious. Of that
noblest tribe, the most noble family was the Achaemenian ;
and to that family belonged Cyrus the founder, and Darius
the establisher of the Persian empire.
Persia continued to rule over Asia for above 200 years,
when its power was overthrown by Alexander the Great.
His extensive conquests were divided among his generals,
who renewed the strife for dominion which had been for a
time extinguished by the ascendancy of Persia. Amid
these contentions Parthia and Bactriana in the east rose to
the rank of independent states. The Roman armies entered
Asia about 200 years before the Christian era, and subduing
all opposition, they finally established the dominion of Rome
from the Hellespont to the eastern boundary of the Euphra¬
tes. By the decided triumph of this great power mankind
obtained a fresh respite from the calamities of war. It was
the first care of the Romans to cement by policy what they
had gained by arms, and to establish order and tranquillity
in all parts of their widely-extended territories. From this
period, accordingly, may be dated the commencement of
that brilliant era of prosperity and repose enjoyed by this
portion of Western Asia for nearly 700 years, the time
which elapsed from its final conquest by the Roman armies
under Pompey to its subjugation by the Saracens in the
638th year of the Christian era. The people, profiting by
the singular felicity of their lot, devoted their attention to
commerce and the arts of peace, and attained to a high
degree of wealth and refinement. All the civil institutions
of society flourished ; science and literature were cultivated ;
and mankind, basking in the sunshine of domestic repose,
seemed to enjoy the illusion of perfect happiness. It is esti¬
mated that 500 populous cities covered the face of the Asia,
country. These were adorned with magnificent temples
and other splendid monuments of art; and some of them,
such as Pergamus, Smyrna, Ephesus, &c., and especially
Antioch and Alexandria, rivalled in extent and magnificence
the majesty of Rome itself.1
After an interval of 500 years, the Persian monarchy was
revived under the dynasty of the Sassanides.2 In Eastern Hindustan
Asia the splendid and populous empires of Hindustan and an(l China.
China, though imperfectly known in Europe, had flourished
for many centuries. The origin of the Hindu power is
buried in a remote antiquity. The first authentic notice of
this truly remarkable people was brought to Europe by the
officers who accompanied Alexander’s expedition to India.
Prior to the era of the Mahometan conquest, in the year
1000, the Hindus possess very imperfect materials for their
history.3 Hindustan comprehended then, as now, the ex¬
tensive country bounded by the Indus on the W. and the
Ganges on the E., though we know but little of its bound¬
aries or internal state. The origin of the Chinese, as of
other nations, is hid in obscurity. They claim their de¬
scent from a very high antiquity, their history going back
by tradition to the remote period of 40 centuries, and for
2000 years their annals are verified by the testimony of con¬
temporary historians. It is quite certain, indeed, that long
before the Christian era they had emerged from the bar¬
barism of pastoral life, and were devoted to agriculture and
commerce; that they had acquired wealth and prosperity,
and were thoroughly instructed in all the arts and refine¬
ments of civilized nations, as then known.
The historical sketch which we have given above includes The pasto-
only the civilized portion of Asia. But a great proportion ral tribes,
of her population were in ancient times shepherds, who
dwelt in tents ; and it is the more necessary to attend to the
distinction between these two classes, as it will be found to
illustrate the political history of Asia, and those stupendous
revolutions which have not only shaken this continent to its
centre, but have been extended to the remotest parts of the
world.
It has been already mentioned, that the vast table-lands
of Central Asia, though containing large tracts of desert, are
nevertheless interspersed with fertile and well-watered val¬
leys, which produce abundance of pasture ; and the immense
plains to the N. of the Altai Mountains, which extend over
the whole breadth of the continent, from the Aldan Moun¬
tains E. of the Lena to the Urals, afford subsistence for innu¬
merable herds of cattle. In all ages, accordingly, those
plains have been inhabited by wandering tribes of shepherds,
rude, ferocious, and delighting in war. It is finely observed
by the Roman historian, that “ the pastoral manners, which
have been adorned with the fairest attributes of peace and
innocence, are much better adapted to the fierce and cruel
habits of a military life.” Such, accordingly, has been the
character of all the pastoral nations. They have been al¬
ways addicted to violence and plunder; and their predatory
expeditions, whether for the plunder of individuals or of
empires, have been invariably conducted with the same fierce¬
ness and cruelty. In a pastoral state every man is a soldier,
and he is trained to war by his daily occupations. He is
hardened in his body by continual exercise and exposure
to the weather; in hunting the wild animals of the forest,
he acquires skill in horsemanship and in the use of all war¬
like weapons; and in the perpetual migrations of his tribe,
which must be carried on with the same order as the
march of an army, he is trained to vigilance and discipline.
These wandering barbarians were, besides, engaged, as may
be easily supposed, in continual wars with each other. Here,
i
Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap. ii. 2
3 Kennel’s Memoir of a Map of Hindostan.
Sir J. Malcolm’s History of Persia, chap. iv.
A S
Asia, as elsewhere, the usual scarcity of subsistence and of room
would soon be experienced with the progress of population.
Disputes would thence arise, and fierce contests, which
would only terminate with the destruction of one or other
of the contending tribes. Of such obscure wars we have
no accurate account, though it is certain, that from time
immemorial the work of mutual slaughter has been going
on in the interior of Asia; and it is obvious that those vast
multitudes, if they had been united under some able leader,
who could compose or crush all domestic dissensions, might,
in place of wasting their strength in intestine strife, have
directed it against the civilized portion of the earth,
where wealth presented a tempting prize to barbarian cupi¬
dity ; and, accordingly, this was precisely the calamity by
which mankind were at length overtaken. The world was
to be disturbed by a conflict, not as heretofore between im¬
proved states, but between barbarism and refinement. The
question was now to be decided, whether polished nations
or barbarians should rule the world; whether literature,
science, the arts, the improved institutions, and the whole
order of civilized society, should be broken up and buried
under an overrunning flood of savage hostility. From the
earliest times the countries of Asia Minor, and some parts
of Europe, were subjected to the irruptions of barbarians;
but no permanent conquest was ever attempted, and the
invaders were in general quickly repelled. Asia Minor was
defended against the inroads of the Scythians by the Per¬
sian monarch; and Rome, in the lion-like vigour of her
growing strength, quickly shook off such unequal adversaries.
Whether, however, from the increasing population of the
Asiatic plains, or from the greater political union of the dif¬
ferent tribes, those attacks were renewed with more vigour
than ever; and at times the mighty mass of population over
the whole breadth of the continent seemed to be agitated
by one movement; and, according as the impulse given
was to the E. or to the W., the kingdoms of Europe or the
empires of Hindustan and China were swept by the tempest
of invasion. Those formidable expeditions were attended
with various results. In those states which were vigorously
ruled, the discipline and tactics of civilized warriors proved
an overmatch for the untutored valour of barbarians. But,
on the other hand, when the people, enervated by ease and
luxury, neglected the study of war, and trusted for safety
to a mercenary force, the country was overwhelmed by its
barbarian conquerors. The Chinese empire was overturned
about 200 years before the Christian era, by an irruption
of the Huns; the fertile countries on the banks of the Oxus,
and of the Jaxartes as far as the Caspian Sea, which had at¬
tained to wealth and prosperity under the Macedonian kings,
and had ever since been cultivated like a garden, were re¬
duced by the white Huns, and under their sway Kharisme,
Bokhara, and Samarcand became the seats of industry and of
flourishing manufactures, and the great marts of the Indian
and European commerce ; while the Roman territory in the
W. was repeatedly assailed, and finally overturned, by hosts
of barbarians, who had quitted the crowded plains of Asia in
quest of settlements to be won at the point of the sword.
Mahome- It was about the middle of the seventh century that the Ma-
tan power, hometan power emerged from the Arabian deserts ; and the
shepherds of those burning plains, inflamed by religious en¬
thusiasm and the love of plunder, were equally formidable
in war with their brethren of the north. Of all the invaders
who, in this unhappy period, desolated the world, the Ara-
bian. tribes were the most fierce and cruel. Their religion
enjoined the blindest intolerance ; they were commanded to
piopagate their faith by the sword; and it was accounted
I A. 743
a merit in a true believer to shed torrents of infidel blood. Asia.
The track of Mahometan invasion was accordingly marked
by the ruin of peaceful cities and by unsparing slaughter.
In the course of two years the plain and valley of Syria was
subdued by the Arabs or Saracens, whose conquests were
soon extended over Asia Minor in the W. and Persia in the
E.; and the country of Transoxiana, or the fertile plains
lying on the Oxus and the Jaxartes, were, after several se¬
vere battles, reduced under the power of the khalifs, whose
authority, a century after the flight of Mahomet from Mecca,
in the year 622, extended in Asia about 200 days’ journev
from E. to W., from the confines of Tartary and India to
the shores of the Hellespont, and in Europe and Africa as far
W. as the Atlantic Ocean.
The dominions of the Arabian princes, in their widest ex¬
tent, were divided into provinces, under subordinate gover¬
nors, who owned themselves the servants or slaves of the
khalif at Baghdad, their temporal as well as spiritual ruler.
In the decay of the supreme power, those rulers, under the
forms of the most abject submission, had acquired independ¬
ence ; and the khalif remained at Baghdad the vain object
of outward homage, while he was inwardly despised. The
Persian kingdom was also detached from their dominion,
being usurped by a new dynasty, and was extended from the
Caspian Sea to the ocean. This dynasty, as usually happens
in disorderly times, was supplanted by two families, who,
making a division of the kingdom, ruled, the one over Kho-
rassan, Seistan, the high plains of Balk on the northern side of
the great Himalaya ridge, and the countries of Transoxiana,
with the cities of Bokhara and Samarcand; and the other
over the southern provinces of Persia, as far as the Persian
Gulf, namely, Irak, Ears, Kerman, Khusistan, and Laris-
tan. These families appear to have ruled in Persia for 125
years, namely, from 874 to 999. They were overthrown by
the Turkish princes of the line of the Ghuznevides, the foun¬
der of which was Subuctageen or Sebectagi, who, from a
common soldier, rose to the rank of a petty prince, and fixed
his residence at Ghuzni. His dominions consisted chiefly
of the tract of country which, after the division of Alexan¬
der’s empire, composed the kingdom of Bactria, namely,
the countries lying between the Caspian Sea and the Indus,
and near the source of the Oxus. He invaded Hindustan,
subdued Northern India and the province of the Punjaub,
and rendered the princes of the countries tributary to the
princes of Ghuzni.1 His son Mahmoud of Ghuzni, who
reigned in Persia about 1000 years after the birth of Christ,
was still more famous for the extent of his conquests. He
had extended his empire northward by the reduction of
Bokhara; and he now determined, in the true spirit of
Mahometan intolerance, to wage a holy war against the
idolaters of Hindustan. At this period the Mahometans
had effected no permanent settlement in Hindustan. The
people were purely Hindu, without any admixture of foreign
manners; and the whole country along the E. side of the
Indus to Cashmere was ruled by a prince of the Brahmin
race, and between whom and the kings of Delhi, Ajmere,
Canoge, and Callinger, a confederacy was now formed against
the common enemy of their country and religion.2 Mah¬
moud entered Hindustan in a.d. 1000, and having defeated
the armies of the confederate kings, lie reduced the pro¬
vince of Moultan. Eight years afterwards he penetrated
into the heart of India, where his farther progress was op¬
posed by the confederated princes of the country, from the
Ganges westward to the Neerbuddah. But the fanatical
invader was still victorious, and his progress was signalized
by rapine and slaughter. The idols were all broken to
* Sir *T. Malcolm s History of Persia, chap. vii.
See Memoir of a Map of Ilindostan, xliv. Major Rennel’s elaborate and masterly researches have thrown great light on the geo¬
graphy of this interesting portion of Asia.
744
ASIA.
Asia.
Turkish
tribes.
pieces, the temples, many of them of the most beautiful
' architecture, were pulled down, and an immense spoil was
carried away. In the course of his twelve expeditions into
India Mahmoud extended his conquests to the Ganges ; and
when he died, in 1028, his territories were of great extent.
The annals of those disorderly times afford no very accurate
data for ascertaining their exact limits, which are variously
stated by writers of great authority. According to Major
Rennel, the empire which he established comprehended the
eastern, and by much the largest part of Persia, and ex¬
tended nominally from the upper and western course of the
Ganges to the peninsula of Guzerat, and from the Indus to
the mountains of Ajmere in Northern India.1 Sir J. Mal¬
colm assigns Georgia and Baghdad for its limits on the W.
and S.W.; Bokhara and Cashgar on the N. and N.E.; and
Bengal and the Deccan, as far as the Indian Ocean, to the
E. and S.E. But though a large portion of Hindustan was
at this time overrun by the Mahometan armies, it was only
the Punjaub, or the country of the Five Rivers, that v as en¬
tirely reduced under any regular government, the other parts
of the country being merely occupied by troops.
The empire of Mahmoud declined after his death, owing
to divisions and civil wars, but chiefly to the rise of the great
Turkish tribe of the Seljookee, which was so called from the
name of their renowned chief Seljook, who, being banished
by his khan or chief from Turkistan, passed the Jaxartes
with his numerous followers, and settled in the plains of Bok¬
hara, in the neighbourhood of Samarcand, where he em¬
braced the Mahometan religion. It is only when those bar¬
barous hordes emerge from the desert, and come into con¬
tact with civilized life, that we obtain any clear account of
their migrations and history. Their contests with each other,
and their obscure wanderings in the interior, are not chron¬
icled among themselves, and are seldom known to other na¬
tions. Hence we have rarely any clear data for tracing their
origin, or their early conquests, or the consolidation of many
tribes into one great nation. It is certain, however, that the
vast population of Asia, agitated by internal tempests, has
been always violently driven on the great empires of China
and Hindustan, or on those of Persia and Rome, and has
either made a breach, or, if repelled, has assailed the civil¬
ized world at some other more vulnerable point. China has
been in all ages an object of attack ; and it is generally be¬
lieved that the Turks, and especially that tribe of them under
Seljook, had been driven by the Chinese and a tribe of Tar¬
tars from the high plains of Asia, a short time before they
sought refuge in the provinces of Transoxiana. They were
living near the territories of Bokhara when they first at-^
tracted the notice of the Sultan Mahmoud, the founder of
the dynasty of the Ghuznevides, who had advanced into Bok¬
hara with his army, and was so impressed with the fine mi¬
litary qualities of their chief, the son of Seljook, that he in¬
duced them to cross the Oxus and to occupy the country of
Khorassan.2 He had soon reason to repent of this fatal error.
Like all those wandering hordes, the Turkomans were shep¬
herds or robbers. They either molested the neighbouring^
states by petty inroads, or, with the whole united force of
the nation, they practised robbery on the great scale, seizing^
on kingdoms and despoiling nations. The first migration of
these eastern Turkomans is generally fixed in the tenth
century. They became formidable to Mahmoud, and more
especially to his successor Massoud, who, from inability to
resist their progress, was forced to grant them lands. He
was afterwards defeated by them in a general battle ; and
Asia.
the victorious Turks, under their leader Togrul Beg, whom
they had now elected king, invaded Khorassan, and finally v—^
expelled the Ghuznevides, the descendants of Mahmoud, from a.d. 1037.
the eastern provinces of Persia. They fled eastward to¬
wards the Indus, and established the Ghuznian empire in the
north-western provinces of India. This empire was main¬
tained with various success till about the year 1184, under
the Ghuznian emperors.3 It is difficult to give any accurate
view of its limits, which in such turbulent times would na¬
turally vary with the fortune of war. They appear to have
embraced the eastern parts of Persia, the mountain country
of Kabul or Afghanistan, and the Indian provinces of Lahore
and Moultan. ^ The Ghuznian dynasty was superseded by
that of the Afghan or the Patan emperors, who completed
the conquest of the greatest part of Hindustan Proper about
the year 1210. Togrul Beg hastened to improve his victory
over the Persian monarch. Turning his arms to the W., he
invaded Irak, in the centre of Persia, and advancing west¬
ward of the Caspian Sea into Azerbijan, the ancient Media,
he made his first approaches to the confines of the Roman
empire. He afterwards proceeded to Baghdad, and by his
conquest of that place gained possession of the person of
the khalif, who was treated with the most profound venera¬
tion. His successors Alp Arslan and Malek Shah extended
the empire transmitted to them by Togrul Beg. They sub¬
dued the fairest portion of Asia. Jerusalem and the Holy
Land, which flourished under the mild sway of the khalifs, was
taken and pillaged by one of the lieutenants of Malek Shah ;
and it was the vexation and rapine to which the Christian
pilgrims were exposed in their journey to Jerusalem under
the barbarous rule of the house of Seljook, that inflamed the
indignation of the Christian powers, and gave rise to those
wild and warlike expeditions for the recovery of the Holy
Land, known under the name of the Crusades. The empire
of the Seljookian Turks extended, under Malek Shah, from
Egypt and Syria to Bokhara, which he conquered as far
as° Samarcand and Kharisme. He received homage from
the tribes beyond the Jaxartes, and compelled the sove¬
reign of Cashgar to offer up public prayers for his pro¬
sperity, to strike money in his name, and to pay him an an¬
nual tribute.4
From this period till the invasion of Zinghis or Ghenghis Internal
Khan, which is 110 years, namely, from 1092 to 1202, Asiawars-
was convulsed by foreign and intestine wars. The death of
Malek Shah dissolved the unity of his extensive empire, in
which three new dynasties arose ; while in many cases the
provincial governors contended for supreme authority, and
harassed the country by their mutual wars.. It was during
this era of division and weakness that Asia Minor, which
was ruled by the dynasties of Iconium and Aleppo, was in¬
vaded by the hosts of the European crusaders, who rapidly
subdued the country, took the holy city of Jerusalem, and
extending their conquests over the hills of Armenia and the
plains of'"Mesopotamia, founded the first principality of the
Franks or Latins, which subsisted 54 years, beyond the Eu¬
phrates. Those European invaders retained possession of
Asia Minor and of Syria for nearly 200 years. Exhausted
at length by a long series of sanguinary wars, and not re¬
ceiving reinforcements from home, they were finally driven
from all their conquests by the coalition of the Turkish powers.
The Turkish dynasty of the Seljooks continued for 158
years, or 215 years if we reckon from the time that the tribe
first emerged from the desert under its leader Seljook. The
sultan of Carisme or Kharisme, who ruled over the country
1 Major Kennel’s Memoir of a Map of Hindostan, xlvi.
2 De Guignes, Histoire Generate des Huns, des Turcs, &c. tome ill. livre 10.
3 Dow’s History of Ilindostan, vol. i. p. 142 ; Major Kennel’s Memoir of a Map of Hindostan, cxli.
4 D’Herbelot; De Guignes, Histoire des Huns, tome iii. livre 14.
A S
Asia, situated between the Oxus and the Jaxartes1 with delegated
v—^ authority, profiting by the distractions of the neighbouring
kingdoms, declared himself independent, and invading Persia
with a powerful force, he defeated and slew the last of the
Seljookian monarchs, and subdued the greater portion of
their dominions. He extended his inroads over Syria, and
had become the terror of the Ayoubite princes and the sul¬
tans of Iconium; and he finally established his wide do¬
minions from the Persian Gulf to the borders of India and
Turkistan.2
Zinghis The continued irruptions of those barbarous tribes into
Khan. the regions of civilization had given rise to scenes of calamity
and of revolution hitherto unequalled in the history of the
world. Conquests had no doubt been achieved before by
the warlike nations of antiquity, and the rage of war had been
satiated by the ruin of peaceful cities and the massacre of
the people. But these evils, great as they were, fell far short
ot those inflicted on mankind by the conquests of the pastoral
tribes, which were carried to such a height by Zinghis Khan
and his destroying bands, as nearly to threaten the desola¬
tion of the earth, and the extinction of all the arts, improve¬
ments, and civil institutions of society. This Tartar chief,
or savage, who was originally the khan of a horde of shep¬
herds, comprising 30,000 or 40,000 families, inhabiting the
countries to the N. of China, seems, about the beginning of
the thirteenth century, to have united under his sway all the
other tribes which, under the various designations of Huns,
Turks, Moguls, or Tartars, wander on the spacious high lands
and plains of Asia, between China, Siberia, and the Caspian
Sea. He became, to use the expressive language of the great
historian of Rome, “ the monarch of the pastoral world, the
lord of many millions of shepherds and soldiers, who felt their
united strength, and were impatient to rush on the mild and
wealthy climates of the S.” This great conqueror swept over
the whole breadth of the earth with his barbarian hordes.
Art and nature were found alike unequal to stay his destruc¬
tive course. He traversed mountains and rivers, barren de¬
serts and unhealthy climates, with resistless speed ; and he
oppressed the walled towns by his countless multitudes. The
Chinese were the first enemies with whom, after quitting the
desert, he measured his strength. His innumerable squad¬
rons penetrated at all points the feeble rampart of the great
wall. Ninety-six cities were plundered and destroyed, and
the smaller towns and villages were reduced to ashes ; the
aged were given up to the destroying sword; a prodigious
multitude of children were carried away, who were after¬
wards massacred in the march homeward; besides a rich
spoil in gold, silver, silk, and cattle.3 In a second expedi¬
tion he was equally successful; the emperor fled before his
enemies to a more southern residence ; Yenking or Peking
was taken and burnt; and, through the weakness and divi¬
sion of the Chinese councils, the five northern provinces
of the empire were reduced under the dominion of the Mo¬
guls.4 The invincible arms of Zinghis were now turned
against the sultan of Kharisme, who, as has been already
mentioned, ruled over the fertile countries situated be¬
tween the Oxus and the Jaxartes, and had extended his
conquests over a great part of Persia. At this period his
territories contained the flourishing and commercial cities of
Samarcand, Bokhara, Kharisme, Herat, Balk,&c. His troops
were overpowered in a bloody conflict with the Tartar host,
the country was subdued, and the rights of conquest were as
usual most savagely abused. The open country was deso-
I A. 745
lated, the rich cities plundered, and the inhabitants either Asia,
slaughtered or carried into captivity; and in some cases every-
thing that had life, with the city itself, was destroyed. The
cities that perished in this general ruin were, Bokhara, situ¬
ated on a branch of the Jaxartes, a populous city, the centre
of an extensive commerce, and the seat of science and re¬
ligion ; Otrar ; Cojend, on the Oxus ; Samarcand, situated
near the source of the same river as Bokhara; Kharisme,where
100,000 men were massacred, and the surviving population
reduced to slavery; Balk, to the S. of the Upper Oxus, which
contained 200 splendid mosques, and a numerous population;
Nisabaur ; Herat, in Khorassan ; Candahar, farther E.; be¬
sides numerous other smaller towns and villages. All that
tract of country which extends from the Caspian Sea to the
Indus, comprehending the ancient territories of Transoxiana,
Kharisme, and Khorassan, and which was fertile, populous, and
well cultivated, was entirely ruined by this irruption of the
Tartars, so that, to use the words of the historian of Rome,
“ five centuries have not been sufficient to repair the ravages
of four years.” The conquests of Zinghis, before his death, a.d. 1227.
extended W. from the Indus to the Euxine, from the Paci¬
fic Ocean to the Volga, and from the Persian Gulf to the
confines of Siberia.
The children of Zinghis, who succeeded him, completed
the career of conquest which he had begun. China, divided
at that time into the two dynasties or empires of the N. and
S., was subdued and laid waste by his grandson Khublai, with
all the unrelenting cruelty of a Tartar conqueror ; and he
extended his influence and the terror of his arms over the
circumjacent kingdoms of Corea, Tonquin, Cochin-China,
Pegu, Bengal, and Tibet. A new dynasty of Mogul princes
was established in China, under whose sway the country
gradually settled ; and in the succeeding generation the ha¬
bits of the invaders were mollified by the influence of civi¬
lized life. Letters, commerce, and the arts of peace were
revived, and the ancient system and machine of Chinese man¬
ners and policy resumed its accustomed action. One hun¬
dred and forty years after the death of Zinghis, his degene¬
rate race were expelled by a revolt of the Chinese, and the
native dynasty of princes, namely, that of Ming, was elevated
to the vacant throne.
Persia was overwhelmed by the invasion of the Tartar
armies under Holagou Khan, the grandson of Zinghis. The
princes who ruled in the different districts of the country,
under the titles of sultans, emirs, and attabeks, were suc¬
cessively crushed under this great conqueror, who, advan¬
cing to the Euphrates, stormed and destroyed the city of
Baghdad, put the khalif to death, and thus for ever extin-A. n. 1243,
guished the line of the Abassides. Syria was overflowed by
the torrent of invasion; Damascus and Aleppo were given
up to pillage ;5 the kingdoms of Armenia and Anatolia were
overthrown; and the sultans of Iconium, the last remnant
of the Seljookian dynasty, were extirpated by the armies of
Holagou.
1 he descendants of Zinghis had no sooner subverted the
empire of China, than they resolved on the conquest of the
\V estern World; and collecting a mighty host, they advanced
from China to Europe, inundating the intervening space with
their innumerable hordes, and extirpating the reigning powers
in I urkistan, Tartary, and the northern plains of Asia. They
penetrated into Europe with their victorious armies, of which
detachments were sent northward to contend with the Rus¬
sian princes for the frozen regions of Tartary. The unity
e Guignes, in his learned and laborious work Histoire des Huns, gives a very clear narrative of the situation and boundaries of this
kingi om, and of its final ruin by the invasion of Zinghis Khan. The fate of the sultan, formerly a conqueror, who, flying from the
lartar horse, took refuge in an isle in the Caspian Sea, where he requested a horse might be allowed to feed near his tent, as the com¬
panion of his solitude, and his solace in adversity, is particularly touching. See tome iii. livre 14.
" De Guignes, Histoire des Huns, tome iii. livre 10. 3 Ibid, tome iv. livre 15. 4 Gibbon, vol. xi. chap. 64.
Les hommes, says De Guignes (tome iv. livre 17), “les femmes, et meme les enfans a la mammelle, furent egorges.’’
OL. III. 5 3
746
ASIA.
Asia. of the Mogul Empire, so firmly maintained by Zinghis Khan,
was weakened by the extent of its conquests. According to
its original constitution, all the other khans were the depen¬
dents or vassals of the great khan, under whose investiture
they held their authority. But by distance, and the various
mutations of time, those ties of allegiance were gradually
loosened. The different branches of the Mogul family con¬
formed, from policy or conviction, to the religion of the con¬
quered countries, those who ruled in China to the idolatry
of the Chinese, and the invaders of the Moslem territories
to the Mahometan faith ; and from this diversity of religion
and manners divisions arose, which terminated in a lasting
disunion. From a.d. 1240 till the rise of Timour or Tamer¬
lane, about the year 1360, the Mogul power in Western
Asia was shaken by intestine strife ; and a crowd of emirs,
sultans, and petty rulers contended, in incessant wars, for
the fragments of the broken empire ; while such of the Mos¬
lem potentates as survived the invasion of Zinghis, still main¬
tained, by their valour, the balance of power in Syria against
their Tartar enemies. The Ottoman line of princes, the
permanent rulers of the country, were in the meantime slowly
emerging into view. Amid the anarchy which reigned in
Western Asia from the downfall of independent powers, and
the rise of usurpers in their place, the country swarmed with
a warlike population, with loose disbanded soldiers, and ad¬
venturers of every description. Among these were many of
the Turkish hordes who had formerly pitched their tents on
the southern banks of the Oxus, and the khan of one of
those obscure tribes was the father of the Ottoman dynasty.
Othman was the first of this line who, about the year 1326,
by his conquests, laid the foundation of the Turkish Empire,
which has ever since continued to rule in Syria and Asia
Minor. About the year 1400 the Turks, under Bajazet,
had acquired an extensive empire, the glory of which was
for a time obscured by the conquests of Timour the Tartar,
or Tamerlane, who began to acquire renown by his early
conquests in Eastern Turkistan, or Transoxiana, about the
year 1360, when he subdued the kingdom of Cashgar, and
carried his conquests 480 leagues to the N.E. of Samarcand.1
He finally extended his dominion to the Irtisch and the
Volga; and in 1398, having previously reduced the Pun-
jaub and the province of Moultan, he advanced across the
intervening desert to Delhi, which submitted to his arms,
and was abandoned to pillage. He proceeded northward to¬
wards the sources of the Ganges in a crusade against the
idolatry of the Hindus, who were massacred without pity;
and, after an expedition of five months, he finally retraced
his steps to Samarcand, without effecting any permanent
conquest. In the western countries of Asia he encamped
and overthrew the rising power of the Turks under Bajazet,
and extended his conquests over Syria and Asia Minor,
giving over its flourishing cities, such as Aleppo, Damascus,
Smyrna, &c., to the sword and the flame. The rise and pro¬
gress of this great Tartar chief, and his rapid successes,
rivalled those of Zinghis himself; but they were not on the
same vast scale, nor had they such lasting effects. The
kingdoms which were conquered by Zinghis were colonized
by his soldiers and inherited by his children; but Tamer¬
lane’s conquests were more like predatory inroads ; and
though for the time he subverted the existing order of things,
and trampled in the dust the princedoms and powers of the
country, yet, as the flood of his invasion receded, those powers
quickly resumed their sway. In Asia Minor the Ottomans
speedily regained their ascendancy on the ruins of the Greek
power. They reared up, in the middle of the fifteenth cen¬
tury, the permanent fabric of their empire. Towards the
end of the same century Persia was, by a singular revolu¬
tion, transferred from the Tartar chiefs to the dynasty of Sef- Asia,
favean kings, or saints as they were considered before their
elevation to the throne. Under their rule the country con¬
tinued without any material change, until it was invaded in
1722, and conquered by Mahmoud, the first of the Afghan
rulers of Persia. The independence of Persia was vindi¬
cated by the rise of the celebrated usurper Nadir Shah, who,
ascending the throne about the year 1730, quelled all in¬
ternal dissensions, and re-established the Persian empire in
its ancient greatness and glory. He restrained the Turks
within the western boundary of the Euphrates ; on the N.
he extended his dominions to the Oxus, and awed by the
terror of his arms the Usbecs and other wandering tribes
of the desert; and on the E. he conquered Hindustan, which
he plundered of its wealth, and fixed the Indus as the boun¬
dary of his empire. Under his successors Persia has de¬
creased in extent of territory and in power, but has not been
subjected to any violent revolution, and still continues one
of the independent though declining empires of the E. In
1747 the Afghans, under the new dynasty of the Doorannee
kings, resumed their independence, which they still retain.
But the Doorannee Empire, which at one time extended over
a vast region between the Oxus and the Indus, touching
Persia and Hindustan, has melted away into several minor
states.
In Hindustan the influence of the Mahometan conquerors, Hindustan,
which was firmly established in 1210, was gradually ex¬
tended over the southern provinces, amid rebellion and mas¬
sacre. The uncertain dominion of the country appears to
have been shared among a crowd of tributary princes, who,
from their intestine quarrels, became an easy prey to the
invader. Delhi was the capital of the Mahometans ; and
their conquests were extended over Malwah, the Deccan
(by which we mean the country between the Nerbuddah
and the Krisna Rivers) and the Carnatic, which was ravaged
from sea to sea. The invasion, or rather the predatory in¬
road, of Timour in 1398, did not subvert the Mahometan
dynasty, which terminated in 1413 by the death of the mo¬
narch. The throne was then filled by a Seid, i. e. one of
the race of Mahomet, whose posterity enjoyed it till the
year 1450, when an Afghan took possession of it, and all
Hindustan was divided into separate governments. After
an interval of reviving prosperity, the empire, about the year
1516, fell again into utter confusion, which paved the way
for the conquest of the country by Sultan Baber, a descen¬
dant of Tamerlane and of Zinghis Khan, who being driven
from the provinces situated between the Indus and Samar¬
cand, over which he reigned, determined to try his fortune
in India. He crossed the Indus in 1518, and having de¬
feated the emperor of Delhi, he established the dynasty of
Timur, or the Mogul line as it has been termed, which was
illustrated by two of the greatest princes that ever reigned
in India, namely, 1st, Akbar, who, from 1555, reigned 51
years, and subjected to his sway all the provinces that had
revolted, from Ajmere to Bengal; and, 2%, by Aurung-
zebe, who, after deposing and imprisoning his father, the
feeble Jehem Shah, the grandson of Akbar, ascended the
throne in 1660, and died in 1707, in the 90th year of his
a«-e. In this reign the dominion of the Moguls was extended
over the Deccan, the whole of which, excepting only the
mountainous and inaccessible parts, was either entirely sub¬
jected, or rendered tributary to the court of Delhi.2 His
authority reached from the 10th to the 35th degree of lati¬
tude, and to nearly the same extent in longitude; and his
revenue amounted to 32 millions sterling. The Mogul em¬
pire gradually fell to pieces under a succession of feeble
princes; and about the year 1750 it was reduced to the city
1 Gibbon, vol. xii. chap. 65.
2 Dow’s History of Hindostan, vol. ii. ; Major Itennel, Memoir of a Map of Hindostan, Introduction, Ixi.
ASIA.
Asia.
of Delhi and a small tract of adjacent territory. The last
imperial army that ever appeared in the field was defeated
by the Rohillas in 1749; and during this period the whole
country was one scene of commotion, all the viceroys and
petty feudatories of the Delhi sovereigns,—the various moun¬
tain tribes, such as the Rajpoots, who ruled in Ajmere,—
the Sikhs, who had become formidable, and had established
themselves in Lahore,—and the Jats, a tribe also in the
north of India,—contending in arms for independence. No¬
thing remains of Mogul greatness but the name, which was,
and still is, used as the symbol of sovereignty, and the sanc¬
tion of all political and civil rights.
The decline of the Mogul empire paved the way for the
rise of the Mahratta power, which had already become for¬
midable in India under its founder Sevajee. At his death
in 1680 he had acquired considerable dominion on the
western coast of India. The confusion and anarchy that
followed the death of Aurungzebe greatly facilitated the
Mahratta conquests; and in 1740 this growing empire, which
was divided between two chiefs, the one residing at Poonah
in the west, and the other at Nagpoor in the east, occupied
the whole tract from the western sea to Orissa, and from
Agra to the Carnatic.1 4 lie Mahrattas, thus daily gather¬
ing strength, and the Mahometans, were now the two great
rival powers in Hindustan. The contest between them was
brought to an issue in the memorable battle of Paniput in
1761, when the Mahratta host of 200,000 men was entirely
overthrown, with the loss of the greater part of their army,
and their best generals; and from that fatal day their power
began to decline.
Rise of the The rise of the British power forms an important era in
747
British
power.
Different
Asiatic
races.
the history of India. The unwarlike inhabitants of Hin¬
dustan, successively subdued by the Greek, the Mahometan,
and the Tartar armies, were now destined even more surely
to fall under the science and discipline of Europe. The
French maintained their ground in India only for the short
period of 12 years, from 1749 to 1761. The British, who
engaged about the same time in the wars and politics of
India, were more successful. The battle of Plassy, in 1757,
fought with Surajah Dowlah, nabob of Bengal, gave them
a firm footing in the country. The war which followed ter¬
minated in their favour; and in 1765 they acquired the right
of collecting the revenues of Bengal, which was in fact equi¬
valent to the sovereignty of the country. The jealousies of
the native powers, excited by the encroachments of the
Europeans, gave rise to new contests. But victory was still
the result of each new struggle; and all the wars undertaken
against the British only tended to consolidate and enlarge
their empire. The British dominions in India may now be
said to extend, with little interruption, from the banks of the
Indus to the frontiers of Burmah, and from Cape Comorin
to the Himalaya. Our actual possessions in that country
may be roughly estimated to comprise an area of 750,000
square miles, with a population of 100 millions. See Hin¬
dustan.
Amid those revolutions, of which we have attempted to
give a brief sketch, it is not surprising that some of the most
ancient empires of Asia should have entirely disappeared ;
that populous cities should have fallen into decay and ruin;
and that extensive countries, once the seats of wealth, com¬
merce, and science, should now lie desolate. The Babylo-
nians and Assyrians have been long blotted out of the page
of history; and no traces of them remain in the population
of the world. The kingdom of the Jews has also been
ovei thrown ; but this ancient race are still wanderers on the
face of the earth, and are found in most parts of Asia.
I here are other five principal races, who, it is remarked by
oir W. Jones, have in different ages divided among them¬
selves as a kind of inheritance, and who still occupy, the vast
continent of Asia, with the many islands depending on it.
Ihese are the Hindus, the Chinese, the Tartars, the Arabs,
and the Persians. The origin of those different races is a
curious subject of inquiry, and must be sought for in the re¬
motest antiquity, and from the doubtful analogies supplied
by i eligion, manners, and language. Sir W. Jones, who has
so well illustrated many obscure points of ancient history,
is of opinion that Persia was the original seat of mankind,
from which, as from a common centre, they have gradually
spread over the earth. According to his learned hypothesis,
deduced from ancient works and an examination of the pri¬
mitive languages, a flourishing empire was established in
Persia or Iran, in the earliest dawn of history; and the po¬
pulation consisted of the three distinct races of Hindus,
Arabs, and I artars. About the era of Mahomet, it appears
that, besides the language in common use, the learned had
a language of their own, which had the name of the Pah-
lavi; and there was the still more ancient and abstruse lan¬
guage of the Zend, in which some sacred books were writ¬
ten, only known to a sect of priests and philosophers. The
Pahlavi he clearly proves to be of Chaldaic origin, and the
Zend, from an imperfect vocabulary which he procured, to
be a dialect of the Sanscrit, the ancient and learned tongue
of the Brahmins in India. Having thus ascertained the
analogy between the language of the ancient Persians and
that of the Arabs and the Hindus, he concludes that they
must have originally been the same nation; and that, as
Persia could not be peopled from the east by the Hindus,
whose religion forbids them to emigrate, nor by the Arabs
fiom the west, as we have not the slightest tradition of any
such emigration, both Arabs and Hindus must have come
from Persia, since we may still trace in this country the re¬
mains of their respective tongues, all of which appear to
have been derived from one common and more ancient root.
I he people of Tibet are descended from the Hindus,
and, according to the hypothesis of Sir W. Jones, who, on
all those subjects unites solid reasoning with the most pro¬
found learning, have engrafted the doctrines of Buddha on
their ancient religion. Their language, though it has been
coi rupted by an intercourse with the Chinese, still bears the
traces of a Sanscrit origin. The Afghans or Patans, who
occupy Afghanistan between Persia and Hindustan, are said
to have sprung originally from the Jews; but their language,
which is evidently of the Indo-European root, does not war¬
rant this tradition. The Japanese and the Chinese are evi¬
dently derived from a common stock, their literature, re¬
ligion, and manners being the same. The Burmese are
considered by some ethnologists to belong to the Hindu
race, though others give them a Tartar origin.
Hie I artars or I atars, under which appellation we in¬
clude the hordes of shepherds who range over the vast plains
of Asia, under the names of Scythians, Huns, Mongols, and
Kalmucs, differ entirely from the Hindus and Arabs in fea¬
tures, complexion, and form, as well as in manners and lan¬
guage, and appear evidently to be a distinct race. Their
language, which is the Turci or the Turki, of which the
modern Turkish is a dialect, might, according to Sir W.
Jones, be easily traced to a different root from the others.
Phis ancient I artarian language he mentions, on grounds
which it would not be easy to disprove, was current in Per¬
sia at a very early age; and hence he concludes that the
I artars formed part of the ancient population of Persia, and,
along with the other two races, issued from that country to
occupy the deserts of Asia. The Chinese, according to the
same learned author, whose opinion is founded on the San¬
scrit institutes of Menu, were originally a military tribe of
the Hindus, who, abandoning the ordinances of the Brahmin
Asia.
1 Major Kennel, Introduction, Ixxxv.
religion, and living in a state of degradation, emigrated east¬
ward, and occupying the countries bordering on Hindustan,
laid the foundation of the Chinese empire. But the whole
country has been since overrun and conquered by hordes ot
Tartars; and from the intermixture of those two races have
sprung the modern Chinese, whose coarse, broad, and Tar¬
tar-like physiognomy bears no longer the traces of their
Hindu ancestry.
The tribes who inhabit the great Asiatic archipelago,
which extends from Madagascar to the Philippines and the
neighbouring peninsula ot Malacca, bear in their features,
language, and customs, the undoubted marks of the same
origin ; and as the Sanscrit may be traced as the root of
most of the dialects spoken in these islands, they appear to
be descended from the Hindus. But in the lapse of ages
and in the various chances of war or migration, different
nations may be intermingled; the original traits by which
each was distinguished will then gradually disappear, so that
it may not be possible to discern the traces of a common
origin in the varieties of the same race. It is possible that
the0 inhabitants of the great Indian archipelago may have
come originally from Hindustan, bringing with them the
Sanscrit tongue; although it is probable that they are sprung
from the same stock as the people of the adjacent regions.
Sir Stamford Raffles, not less distinguished by his eminence
in eastern literature and antiquities than as a legislator and
a statesman, is of opinion that the Asiatic islands were
peopled from that portion of the continent which lies be¬
tween Siam and China. u The less civilized of the tribes,
he observes, “ inhabiting the islands, approach so nearly in
physical appearance to that portion of the inhabitants of the
peninsula which has felt least of the Chinese influence on
the one side, and of the Burman and Siamese on the other,
and exhibit so striking an affinity in their usages and cus¬
toms, as to warrant the hypothesis, that the tide of popula¬
tion originally flowed toward the islands from that quarter
of the continent lying between Siam and China. But at
what era this migration commenced—whether, in the first
instance, it was purely accidental, and subsequently gra¬
dual, or whether originally it was undertaken from design,
and accelerated at any particular periods by political con¬
vulsions on the continent, we cannot at present determine,
as we have no data on which to rely with confidence. It
is probable, however, that these islands were peopled at a
very remote period, and long before the Burman and Siam¬
ese nations rose into notice.”1 Mr J. Cranford, who re¬
sided for nine years in the Asiatic islands, and whose his¬
tory of those countries displays extensive research, and a pro¬
found knowledge of Eastern literature and antiquities, adopts
a different hypothesis respecting the original population of
the Indian archipelago. He describes the original inhabi¬
tants as consisting of two races, one a brown-complexioned
people, with lank hair, and in their persons short, squat, and
robust, supposed by other writers to be Tartars; and the
other, a negro race, of a puny stature and feeble frame, in
complexion black, or rather sooty-coloured, with woolly or
frizzled hair. The brown-coloured race conipose the civil¬
ized portion of the people ; and they have supplanted the
negroes, who are constantly found in a savage state in Su¬
matra, Java, and Celebes, where civilization has made the
greatest progress; while in New Guinea and other islands^
the negroes are almost the sole inhabitants. The origin of
these two races, and the period when they settled in the
Asiatic islands, is, according to Mr Crauford, buried in the
remotest antiquity. The Tartar origin of the one race,
though supported by many writers of learning, and the Afri¬
can origin of the negroes, is treated by him as absurd and
unfounded. “ Either hypothesis,” he observes, “ is too ab- Asia,
surd to bear the slightest touch of examination. Not to v«—
say that each race is radically distinct from the stock from
which it is imagined to have proceeded ; the physical state
of the globe, the nature of man, and all that we know of his
history, must be overturned to render these violent suppo¬
sitions possible.” Dr F. Buchanan, Sir Stamford Raffles,
and others, deduced the Tartar origin of those insular tribes
from their form and features, which is the best evidence we
can have where history is silent. The prevalence of the
Sanscrit language in these islands has also, and with appa¬
rently some reason, been supposed to indicate the quarter
from which the tide of population flowed ; nor is it easy to
see how the migration of a people from the continent of
Asia into this archipelago is at variance with the “ physical
state of the globe, the nature of man, and all that we know
of his history.” Mr Crauford traces the various languages
of the Asiatic islands to one common root. From this fact
he concludes those islanders to have all sprung from one
source, and he fixes on Java as their original place of settle¬
ment. Here he supposes they took up their abode when
they were little better than wandering savages; whence they
gradually spread over the other islands. Now it is on the
same ground that others trace their origin to some conti¬
nental nation of great antiquity. The language of a nation
may throw light on its origin and its subsequent migrations;
and in the present case it is admitted by Mr Craufurd that
there is a large infusion of Sanscrit in all the Polynesian
tongues; that it is “ a more essential, necessary, and copious
portion of the insular languages than Arabic;” that it exists
in “ a state of as great purity as the articulation and alpha¬
bets of the archipelago would admit, nearly unmixed with
any modern dialect of which it is a part, and apparently in
a state of original purity;” and that it is “ pure and abun¬
dant as each dialect of the same tongue is improved, and
rare and corrupt as the language is common and popular.”2
Sanscrit words, according to those who are versed in both
languages, abound in the court dialect of Java in the pro¬
portion of three to four, and seem to constitute its basis; in
the Kawr, or learned language of the priests, they occur still
more frequently, and in their original purity ; they are also
common in the written language, and are found, though not
so generally, in the ordinary dialect of the people. The
existence of Sanscrit to such an extent in the languages of
Java and the other islands, does not, according to Mr Crau-
fbrd, prove that these islands were peopled by emigrants
from Hindustan. He acknowledges that the fact of the
Sanscrit not being mixed in their languages with any living
dialect of India, is somewhat puzzling, and not easily recon¬
ciled to his theory; but on farther consideration, he thinks
this fact tends rather to explain the manner in which it was
introduced, which he ascribes to a few Hindu missionaries
or priests brought to those islands from a desire to propa¬
gate their religion. They would naturally, he supposes, use
the Sanscrit in teaching the mysteries of their faith, which,
being mixed with the common language of the country,
would form the Kaw or learned language of the priests, and
would thence be diffused in a corrupted state over the com¬
mon dialect of the people. From the prevalence of Sanscrit
to such an extent in the Polynesian dialects, as well as from
the ancient monuments of Hindu idolatry which are found
everywhere in those islands, it seems highly probable that
they must, at a very early period, have been the seat of a
Hindu empire, which has disappeared in the lapse of ages,
while the Hindu superstition has been supplanted by the
Mahometan creed. Whether this empire was established
by conquest in that early period, while the Sanscrit was yet
1 Sir S. Raffles’ History of Java, chap. ii.
2 History of the Indian Archipelago, by John Crauford, F.R.S., vol. ii. chap. v.
A S
^Asia. a living language, or whether the Hindus were the original
/~m~' settlers in these islands, and afterwards, from the intermix¬
ture of other races, lost the traces of their ancient lineage,
are points which lie hid in the darkness of antiquity. It
does not seem very credible, however, that a small number
°f Hindu missionaries should have had influence, as Mr
Cranford supposes, to change the language of the people,
and to substitute for the ancient religion of the country their
own foreign superstitions. So great a change seems more
probably to have been produced by foreign conquest, or by
a large immigration of the Hindu people.
The Ma- Of the various races which people the islands of Asia, the
Liys. Malays appear to deserve particular notice. Sir W. Jones
supposes them to be descended, since the time of Maho¬
met, from the Arabian traders and mariners who frequent¬
ed the Asiatic archipelago. But by later and more ac¬
curate inquiries they are now ascertained to have been
originally settled in Menangkabau, in the centre of the
island of Sumatra, and to have ruled over the whole
country, from which they sent out colonies to the other
islands. Ihe Malayan annals examined by Mr Marsden,1
and other documents, satisfactorily prove that, so far
from emigrating, as was generally supposed, from the
peninsula of Malacca to the Asiatic islands, they were ori¬
ginal settlers in Sumatra, from which they issued to in¬
vade and conquer the Malacca peninsula; and they had es¬
tablished a powerful empire prior to the Mahometan con¬
quests. J he Malays profess the Moslem creed, which was
introduced about the end of the thirteenth century, and
has made rapid progress among all those islanders. But
their original religion was that of Brahma, blended with
the antecedent rude idolatry of the country, such as is
still seen among the Battas. The Malay adventurers who
invaded the Malacca peninsula in the 12th century con¬
quered the country; and the indigenous inhabitants, so far
from being the stock from which the Malays have sprung,
are an entirely different race, resembling more nearly the
negroes of Africa. The Malayan empire, which extended
all over Sumatra, is now dismembered, though its colonies
have been found on the coasts of the Malacca peninsula,
.and throughout the islands as far east as the Moluccas.2
I he Malayan language is spoken without any mixture in
the inland country of Sumatra; it is understood every¬
where, and has extended over all the eastern islands.
The Bugis in the island of Celebes are a well-known race
in the eastern archipelago. During the flourishing era
of the Malayan empire in Sumatra they had establish¬
ed that of Guah or Mengkasar in Celebes on the east:
like the Malays, they sent forth numerous colonies; and
at one period extended their conquests as far west as
Acheen in Sumatra and Keddah in the Malayan penin¬
sula; and in almost every part of the archipelago Malayan
and Bugis settlers are to be found. In all those Asiatic
islands there is, however, an indigenous race, who were
settled there prior to the Malays or the Bugis; and these
last appear to have been intruders, but at what period of
the world cannot now be known. The native inhabitants
of Sumatra, Java, and the other islands, differ from them in
character, habits, and features. The Battas, in the inte¬
rior of Sumatra, are a distinct people, with their own pe¬
culiar habits and language: they have been reproached
by travellers for eating human flesh, of which Sir Stam-
1 A- 749
ford Raffles produces undeniable evidence. The natives Asia,
of Java are a quiet, contented race, attached to the soil,
and have not the roving, maritime, and piratical habits of
the Malays.
"With regard to the number of inhabitants in Asia, we Number of
have no data for any accurate estimate. The Asiatics inhabit-
possess no statistical knowledge; and, excepting surveys
instituted by government for the purposes of taxation, no
other political inquiries are ever set on foot by authority.
The various accounts of the Chinese population differ to
the extent of 100,000,000. Those regarding Persia, Hin¬
dustan, the Asiatic islands, &c. are little more to be de¬
pended on ; and still less can we expect any accurate cen¬
sus of the roving population of Arabia or Tartary.
The character of the Asiatics is represented in a very character
unfavourable light by all travellers. Lieutenant Pottinger, and man-
who travelled in Hindustan, Persia, and other countries, ners of the
asserts that moral turpitude may be said to pervade the 4siatic na*
population and society of every nation in Asia of whichtions'
we have the slightest knowledge :3 and this description is
confirmed by other travellers, who describe the people to
be dissolute in their morals, of cold and selfish disposi¬
tions, and withal cruel and treacherous; without any re¬
gard to truth, and indulging, without either restraint or
shame, in the most scandalous crimes. Of all the nations
in Asia the Persians are reckoned to be the most refined;
and yet, according to Herbert, Chardin, and others, and
more recently Fraser, Pottinger, and Sir J. Malcolm, they
are stained with all the Asiatic vices of cruelty, meanness,
lying, and the grossest licentiousness.4 The Hindus do
not rank higher than the Persians in the scale of morality;
and among the Burmese and other eastern states the treat¬
ment of women, who are held to be an inferior class, and
are sold into slavery by their husbands and parents, and
the cruelties which they commit in war, besides other
revolting customs, indicate a state of mannei’s which, con-
ti-asted with those of Europe, may be justly considered
barbarous.5 Of the low state of morals among the Chinese
we need seek no other evidence than the inhuman prac¬
tice, which is known to prevail in all the populous cities,
of exposing new-born children to perish on the streets.
I here is no truer mark of barbarism than an indifference
to the sufferings of our fellow-creatures; as on the other
hand it is only in a highly civilized community that man is
trained to the exercise of social benevolence. The savage
is always found to be cold, unsocial, and selfish: in the
progress of society this selfish principle is corrected; man
is impressed with the duties which he owes to his fellow-
men, and is taught to know experimentally, that it is not
in the selfish pursuit of his own good, but in the mutual
interchange of benefits, that the greatest sum of individual
happiness is to be found. If we examine the manners, in¬
stitutions, and policy of different nations, it will be seen
that mankind are humane and moral exactly as they are in¬
structed; and that as the diffusion of knowledge leads to the
piactice of all the social virtues, ignorance as surely pro¬
duces cruelty, selfishness, and vice. Thus, among the Per¬
sians and lurks cruelties are committed which would be
repudiated by the more advanced civilization of Russia; and
in illustration of the same principle we may here mention
a circumstance which serves to place in an equally striking
contrast the manners of the English and the Chinese. An
1 History of Sumatra. 2 o- o . T ,
sent^Ltrrenten^ho?7liaA-S^de‘ J 1 h0pe’” h6 f ^ V ^ “ 1 sha11 not be damped as 7miSa2ropePon account of the
acmiainted with thp ^ fm convinced the farther our researches spread, and the more intimately we become
be hannv to have anv evidpn * t lscover stronger, clearer proofs of the general application of the conclusion I have drawn. I should
be iiappy to have any evidence to the contrary, but do not anticipate it.”
4 Fraser s Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan.
* See Crauford s Journal of an Embassy to the Court of Ava in the year 1827.
750 A S
Asia. English vessel happened to be at anchor in the roads of
Canton, when a Chinese boat was overset, and the crew
precipitated into the water. The accident was observed
by numbers of the Chinese, who beheld with the utmost
indifference their countrymen struggling for their lives.
But the officers and seamen of the English vessel instantly
lowered their boats, and were seen, with all their usual
zeal in the cause of humanity, striving to save the lives of
those who were entire strangers to them. Now we can¬
not have a surer index to the station which each nation
holds respectively in the scale of civilization, than the
opposite conduct which they severally pursued in this
case ; and this insensibility to human distress is not pe¬
culiar to the Chinese ; it seems to pervade the whole
population of Asia; while in Europe we see everywhere
proofs of active benevolence,—the most munificent esta¬
blishments for the relief of misery; hospitals for the sick
and infirm; houses of refuge for the aged, the blind,
the destitute, and the insane ; besides charitable associa¬
tions of every description. For all the afflictions to which
frail humanity is subject, the active sympathy of Europe
supplies a remedy; and the spacious structures which,
under the influence of this feeling, have been reared up
in all the European towns, are at once the splendid monu¬
ments of humanity and of high civilization. In Asia the
rich and the powerful associate, not to relieve, but to op¬
press the poor ; and throughout its wide extent no asylum
for distress, nor any charitable institutions, are to be seen.
The miserable are left to their fate, which is generally to
die unpitied, either of famine or disease. There is no part
of Asia in which intelligence is widely diffused among the
people; and hence, while they are to “ vice industrious,”
they are to “ nobler ends timorous and slothful.” Yet in
the exterior pomp and show of the Asiatics there is some¬
thing specious and imposing; and the rich magnificence
of their flowing robes, their gorgeous palaces, their splendid
mosques and gilded temples, are calculated to raise ideas
of high improvement, which a nearer inspection fails to
realise; and, after all, what is there in this tinsel glare of
oriental luxury that can be compared to the severe sim¬
plicity and solid refinements of Europe.
This degraded state of society seems to be the joint
effect of tyranny and superstition. In Asia there is no
government which wears even the semblance of freedom.
In form, as well as in practice, they are purely despo¬
tic, the princes being tyrants, and the people slaves.
Nor is the power of the prince controlled by the influence
of manners, as in Europe, where the monarch, however
absolute, seldom indulges in the licence of despotic sway,
and where life and property are fully protected. The
manners of Asia favour the exercise of unlimited power;
and this vast continent is accordingly one scene of excess
and misrule, where the mere will of the monarch is a
warrant for the proscription and death of any individual,
however powerful, and for the ruin of his family. The
people, ruled according to those severe maxims of despo¬
tism, live in continual dread of violence and wrong; and
they naturally resort, in self-defence, to fraud, falsehood,
and treachery, which are the resources of weakness. Thus
all sense of independence is at last extinguished; and
under the iron rod of their political masters they de¬
generate into abject slaves, without honour, intelligence,
or morality. Despotism in Asia assumes so severe a
character, that it invades the security of private life, re¬
laxes all social ties, and re-acting on the people with its
pernicious influence, tends still farther to debase them,
and to fit them for the endurance of its degrading yoke.
The prevailing superstitions of Asia have had their due
share in corrupting the manners of the people. In Asiatic
Turkey, in Arabia, Persia, and partly also in Hindustan and
I A.
the Asiatic isles, the people have adopted the Mahometan Asia,
faith; in Hindustan they have followed the religion of
Brahma; and in Thibet, and farther eastward among the
Burmese, in China, and the isles of Japan, the religion of
Buddha or Foe is universally established, which, however
cox'rupted in its various forms and idolatries, is still known
to be derived from the Brahminical faith. Now all those
different systems enjoin a variety of minute observances,
and tedious pilgrimages and penances, a strict compliance
with which constitutes the essence of religion. A pilgri¬
mage to Mecca, for example, atones for all the iniquities
of a Mahometan life; and the Hindus and others have
their pilgrimages and penances for the expiation of guilt.
A relaxation of morals is the consequence; and hence in
those eastern countx-ies a strict profession of religion is not
inconsistent with the most scandalous crimes.
The sanction given to polygamy by all the systems of
religion in the East has also tended to encourage licenti¬
ousness. Mahomet found it convenient to allow this in¬
dulgence to his followers ; and the Hindus, the Burmese,
the Chinese, and most of the other Asiatic nations, follow
the same rule. In all Christian countries marriage is re¬
spected as a sacred and an honoux-able tie, equally bind¬
ing on both parties; and experience proves, that where its
obligations are duly fulfilled, it is calculated to produce
all the happiness and virtue which can be attained by man
in this sublunary state. In the intercourse of a European
family the best affections of our nature are called forth.
Here, as the poet expresses it,
Flows the smooth current of domestic joy;
and in those scenes the rising generation receive, from
the example and tuition of parents, those just and early
impressions, which are never erased. How different are
the baneful consequences of polygamy, which, being con-
traxy to the order of nature, must be upheld by tyranny,
and which degrades the weaker sex, from being the free
and equal companions of man, into the slaves of his
pleasures. The domestic tyrants of the East rule with
absolute power over all the inmates of the harem ; any of
whom, in a fit of x’age or jealousy, they may consign to a
cruel death, no eye witnessing the deed. The effect of
polygamy in this manner is not merely to taint the morals
of society, but the laws and policy of the state. It esta¬
blishes a tyrant, not on the tin-one, which would be the
lesser evil, but at the head of every family; and on his
unruly passions the law imposes no restraint. Hence in
Asia domestic comfort, so much prized in Europe, cannot
be known. An Asiatic family is not the abode of purity
and of domestic peace, but of licentiousness and strife; the
husband and father the object of terror rather than affec¬
tion ; the women his abject slaves, leading a life of jea¬
lousy and malice, and often conspiring against each other
by the most diabolical arts. The institution of polygamy,
which in this manner converts one half of the community
into tyrants and the other half into slaves, has proved, in
every country in which it has been introduced, the bane
of morality as well as of social peace. In Europe the
purer influence of Christianity, consecrating the marriage
union, and impi’essing on man a just consideration for the
other sex, has raised them to the rank in society which
properly belongs to them. It has released them for ever
from the bondage of tyranny and vice ; and under its mild
and beneficent maxims the nations of Europe have attain¬
ed to a degree of morality, refinement, and intelligence,
which distinguishes them to their advantage above the
most polished nations of antiquity, and presents a decided
contrast to the licentiousness and misery of the East. Manners
But if such be the state of society among the civilized 0f tjie pa5U
inhabitants of Asia, what, it maybe asked, is the condition toral tribes.
ASIA.
Asia^ of its rude tribes ? Among those semi-barbarians who
have no fixed habitations, but who dwell in tents, mi¬
grating periodically with their flocks in quest of pasture,
all crimes of violence, such as rapine, revenge, and mur¬
der, prevail without any restraint. The pastoral tribes of
Asia retain all their Tartar habits of ferocity; robbery is
their daily occupation, handed down from father to son ;
and they are perpetually engaged in predatory inroads,
m which they carry off as their lawful prey all that they
can seize corn, cattle, goods, and men and women, who
are sold for slaves. If any traveller were to venture with¬
in this legion of violence, he would be robbed and mur¬
dered without mercy; and no merchandise can be trans¬
ported from one place to another without a sufficient es¬
cort. I he regular commerce of Asia is in consequence
carried on m caravans, or large companies of merchants,
who travel together for safety; and even these are not
secure from the savage tribes, the remnants of the Tartar
population, who inhabit the mountains and central plains,
and who frequently emerge from their fastnesses in great
force for the purposes of plunder. Such were the shep¬
herds who, under Zinghis Khan and Tamerlane, issued
forth in innumerable bands, subverting the great empires
of the world, and extending their dominion from sea to
sea. liut various causes have concurred to circumscribe
their power. Among these we may reckon the invention
of fire-arms, which in war gives the entire ascendancy to
civilized nations. Prior to this invention the weapons used
were extremely simple, and could be easily fashioned by
the rudest tribes. In archery, or in the use of the slini
the merest savages may excel; and for a close encounter
tie spear or the sword could be easily procured, and as
effectually wielded by a barbarian as by any other arm.
But the materiel of modern war is far more complicated
and expensive, and cannot be procured without the aid of
wealth, and the nicest mechanical art as well as science;
so that it is justly observed by the historian of Rome, that
m the present state of the military art, a nation must be
civilized before it can conquer other nations. Since the
invention of fire-arms the superiority of civilized over bar¬
barous nations has been seen in every encounter which
has taken place, and “ the reign of independent barbarism
has been contracted within a narrow span.”
The extensive region of fartary, which occupies the cen¬
tre of Asia, has never been very distinctly defined; but it is
sun ounded on all sides by the civilized empires of Asia, 
on the north by Asiatic Russia, and on the south by Persia,
Hindustan, and China; and as the use of fire-arms has aug¬
mented the military strength of these different states, they
have gradually extended their sway over the savage tribe's
on their frontiers. Russia, which was overrun by Tamerlane
and other conquerors about the end of the 14th century,
was, after about 200 years of obstinate and bloody wars,
emancipated from the Tartar yoke; and it has ever since
been making reprisals on its barbarous enemies, having re¬
duced the tribes on its frontiers—the Kalmucs, the Bash¬
kirs, tlie Kirghises, who inhabit the banks of the Volga and
the country on the shores of the Caspian Sea, besides nume¬
rous other fartar tribes on the Chinese frontier, near the
sources of the Irtisch, the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena.
Her wars with the Turks also, an Asiatic tribe, though
o a different origin from the broad-featured race of Tar¬
tars, exemplify m a striking manner the warlike superiori¬
ty of civilized nations. The contests of China with the
barbarous hordes of Mongols, Kalkas, and Eluths, to the
west and north-west of her territorjr, and with the Mant-
choo Tartars^ who inhabit the country to the north, bor¬
dering on the Pacific Ocean, have also terminated in
t leir entire subjection. They have been successively sub¬
dued by the Chinese armies; and the missionary Gerbil-
751
Ion, giving an account of a great victory gained by the Asia.
C iinese, ascribes, it to the superiority of their artillery,
which the barbarians had no means of opposing. Persia
has been long a feeble power ; and the Tartar tribes who
range along her northern and eastern frontiers are still
extremely powerful, and frequently molest the adjoining
countries by their incursions. Independent Tartary may
now therefore be comprised within the following boun¬
daries, namely, the Altai Mountains on the north, which
orm the southern boundary of the Russian empire; the
Caspian Sea on the west; Chinese Tartary on the east •
and Persia and Hindustan on the south. These boun¬
daries inclose a space of about 1200 miles in length, from
the Altai Mountains to Persia; and 900 in breadth, from
the Caspian Sea to Chinese Tartary. To this must be
added the country between Hindustan and Persia, in¬
cluding Sinde at the mouth of the Indus; and west¬
ward the mountainous regions of Beluchistan, as well
as Afghanistan. In the high district of Balk, which is
within this space, and which is situated on the northern
declivity of the Hindu Koh or Himalaya Mountains, and
in Buckharia or Bokhara, on the fertile banks of the
Oxus and the Jaxartes, where the towns of Bokhara,
Samarcand, Khivah, Koukan, Khojund, and MRrghelan,
&c. some form of civil order is maintained by the inde¬
pendent princes of the country; but with these excep¬
tions the Tartar manners still prevail throughout this ex¬
tensive region. The towns are thinly scattered, and the
pastoral hordes range over the face of the land in all the
licence of savage freedom. These consist, not of the Tar¬
tars who possessed the country in the time of Tamerlane,
hut of the Lsbecks, a Turkoman tribe, who appear to have
descended, with the whole mass of their people, from the
inhospitable countries in the north, to the fine plains of
the Oxus and the Jaxartes, and to have expelled the Tar¬
tars, whose place they now occupy. The Turkoman tribes,
who inhabit the Elburz Mountains to the south of the
Caspian, and the deserts of Kharasm, which extend east-
waid fiom this interior sea about 600 miles, are describ¬
ed by braser, in his instructive work on Persia, as singu¬
larly fierce, cruel, and blood-thirsty in their habits. They
pour down from their deserts in great force on the cul¬
tivated districts, plundering villages and caravans with
every ciicumstance ot atrocious outrage, murdering on
the spot the old, the feeble, and the helpless, and carry¬
ing into slavery those who are fit for labour, and thus de¬
populating extensive tracts that were before fertile and
well inhabited. On the east of Persia the same ravages
are committed by other tribes, who dispose of their cap¬
tives to slave merchants, by whom they are carried to the
markets of Bokhara and Khivah. On the south the wild
inhabitants of Beluchistan, so well described by Lieuten¬
ant 1 ottinger, one of the most judicious and enterprising
ti avellers of modern times, plunder and murder their pri¬
soners, or carry them for sale to some of the great slave-
markets in the East. Numerous tribes of shepherds feed
then flocks on the banks of the Oxus and the Jaxartes; and
they are found scattered over all the northern and eastern
countries of Central Asia, as far as the boundaries of Rus¬
sia and China. But in the present improved state of the
military art.they are no longer formidable, and they waste
then foice in casual inroads, which are easily repelled.
liom the.earliest ages the countries of Western Asia,Progress
namely, Asia Minor, the valley of the Euphrates andofdisco-
Iigns, and Persia, were familiarly known to Europeans; very in
but of the northern plains inhabited by the Scythian
tribes, arid of the rich and improved countries of Hindustan
and China in the east, they were only informed by vague
and inaccurate reports, which were slowly corrected by the
progress of commerce or of conquest. Of the ancient
752
ASIA.
Asia, expedition of Semiramis into India we know nothing more
than that her armies were forced to retreat with loss.
But the subsequent invasion and conquests of Darius ex¬
tended the knowledge of the Europeans to the modern
provinces of Lahore and Moultan, commonly called the
Punjaub, or the country watered by the five head branches
of the Indus. Herodotus describes the climate of the
country as intensely hot; the inhabitants in some points
as little better than barbarians ; and with a small grain of
truth he mixes the strangest and most absurd fables. He
mentions the populousness and wealth of the country, and
the staple produce of cotton or wool growing on trees ; the
story of the white ants turning up the earth and digging up
gold, which has been copied by succeeding writers ; and,
finally, the region of the five rivers as bounded by a barren
plain, which must no doubt be the sandy desert that lies
between the valley of the Indus and the Ganges. The Scy¬
thians or Tartars who wandered over the northern and east¬
ern plains of Asia were only known by their irruptions into
Europe. The two tribes of the Massagetae and the Saca?,
the former inhabiting the desert plains to the east of the
Aral and north of the Jaxartes, and the latter the coun¬
try to the north-west of India, are mentioned by Hero¬
dotus and other ancient writers ; and their description is
merely a detail of pastoral manners. The expedition of
Alexander into India was a great step in the progress of
Asiatic geography. This warlike prince was intent not
merely on conquest, but on the diffusion of arts, com¬
merce, and science ; and, like some modern conquerors,
his army was accompanied by a body of men of science,
who were instructed to measure each day the distance tra¬
versed, to make an accurate table of the various routes, and
to observe and describe the countries through which they
passed. Science thus followed in the train of aims ; and
it was by a European army that the remote regions of
the East were first explored. Alexander pursuing his vic¬
torious march through Asia Minor, passed the limits of
European discovery, and entered the eastern country of
Bactriana in pursuit of the Persian army. Having passed
the Paropamisan range of the Himalaya Mountains, cross¬
ed the Oxus, and taken Maracanda, the modern Samar-
cand, he advanced northward to the Jaxartes, where he
pursued the Scythian host into the northern deserts to
the eastward of the Aral. Retracing his steps, he again
crossed the Paropamisan Mountains, and advancing east¬
ward among hostile tribes, through the modern countiy
of Cabul or Afghanistan, to the south of the Hindu Koh
range, he crossed the Indus near the mountains, and
having defeated the Indian army of Porus, he obtained
the command of the country watered by the five tributary
streams of the Indus, where his course was arrested by
the murmurs of his troops, who refused to follow him
across the desert to the Ganges. Still intent on discovery
as well as on conquest, he fitted out a large fleet, and
sailing down the Indus to its mouth, in the Indian Ocean,
he instructed his admiral, Nearchus, to return to Persia
by sea, while he took his course through the modern coun¬
try of Mekran, and was nearly lost with his whole army
in its sandy deserts. Nearchus directed his course along
the shores of Asia, and triumphing over the perils of un¬
known seas, arrived safely in the Persian Gulf which he
ascended to the mouth of the Tigris. This is the first
great voyage of discovery of which we have any authen¬
tic account; and considering the age of the world in which
it was accomplished, it must be viewed as a singular dis¬
play of courage and of nautical skill. Alexander was not
equally successful in tracing the connection of the Red
Sea with the Indian Ocean, which remained unknown un¬
til the reign of the Ptolemies in Egypt.
Seleucus, the successor of Alexander} canied his arms
into India for the purpose of completing its conquest;
but he does not appear to have reached the valley of the
Ganges. He sent, however, to the court of Sandracottus,
an Indian prince who reigned over all the countries from
Delhi to the mouth of the Ganges, his ambassador Me-
gasthenes, who acquired the most important and clear
information respecting those unknown regions. He visit¬
ed the celebrated city of Palibothra, the site of which has
so much perplexed modern geographers ; and, with some
admixture of fable, he accurately describes the countries
on the Ganges, and their productions; the amazing size of
the rivers; the most remarkable animals which he saw,
among others the Bengal tiger; and the manners of the
people, and their division into castes, with other singular
customs.
During the reign of the Ptolemies in Egypt the geo¬
graphy of xAsia was still farther illustrated, not by con¬
quest, but by commerce. Alexandria was at that time
the great emporium of the eastern trade; and India was
explored in its most remote parts, for the precious com¬
modities wdiich it was supposed to produce. The Egyp¬
tian mariners entering the Indian Ocean from the Red
Sea, and coasting along the Arabian shore, stretched across
the Persian Gulf by the help of the south-west mon¬
soon, to the mouth of the Indus, whence they sailed
southward along the Malabar coast, and doubling Cape
Comorin, extended their voyage on the coast of Coro¬
mandel as far as the modern city of Masulipatam.
In the age of Ptolemy the geographer, which was a
century later, the knowledge of the Europeans had ex¬
tended eastward beyond the Ganges to the Burman em¬
pire and the Gulf of Siam, though it does not appear that
the navigators of antiquity ever reached the Chinese coast.
The commerce of India was carried on by land as well
as by sea; and regular caravans commenced their route
from Byzantium eastward through Asia Minor and Per¬
sia, passing through the modern cities of Hamadan and
Herat; and journeying northward, and crossing the Oxus
and the modern country of Bokhara, they passed the great
branch of the Himalaya Mountains which runs north¬
ward from the main range under the modern appella¬
tion of Bolor Dagh; and descending into the lower plains
of Little Tibet, they assembled in great numbers, and,
after halting for some time, took their journey to the
capital of Serica or China, which occupied a period of
seven months. The description given of the Seres as
a frugal and mercantile people, averse to all intercourse
with strangers, and carrying on their trade at a single
station on the frontier, answers entirely to the modern
character of the Chinese. Jhe commerce, which duiing
the flourishing era of Rome was carried on between Eu¬
rope and the eastern parts of Asia, was interrupted by
the inroads of the barbarous nations who assailed, and in
the end overthrew^, the Roman empire ; and all knowledge
of Asia was for a time lost. It was not till the 6th or
7th century, during the reign of the caliphs at Bagdad,
that the Arabian geographers acquired a knowledge of
those countries. During this period the country to the
west of the Bolor Dagh Mountains, which stretch north¬
ward nearly to the frontier of Siberia, consisting of exten¬
sive plains, watered by the Oxus and the Jaxartes, was
well known to them ; and they were imperfectly acquaint¬
ed with the southern plains of Asia inhabited by the Tartars,
though they were as usual the subject of fables. The east¬
ern countries of Hindustan, the beautiful region of Cash-
mere, the great Asiatic plains, and China, with the island
of Sumatra and others, were known to the Arabian geo¬
graphers, though they seem to have had no correct know¬
ledge of the Asiatic shores. Their accurate description
of Chinese manners leaves no doubt of their having reach-
Asia.
ASIA.
Asia.
ed that country. The invasion of the Holy Land by the
crusaders tended, among its other consequences, to intro¬
duce into Europe a knowledge of those countries in Asia
which were famed for wealth and the remains of ancient
refinement; and from the camps of the crusading kings,
as well as from the pope, some remarkable embassies
were sent to the Tartar sovereigns, the descendants of
the conqueror Zinghis, the site of whose capital of Kar-
rakorum is now the subject of dispute, though it is gene-
rally agreed that it must have been situated far east, in
the wilds of Tartary. The object of the embassies dis¬
patched by the pope to the Tartar camp was to divert the
storm of barbarian invasion from Europe. The ambassa¬
dors were friars, who were carried to the head-quarters
of the Tartars, in the eastern wilds of Asia, through
countries which had never been explored by any Euro¬
pean. Rubruquis, a friar, who was sent ambassador by
St Louis to the Tartars, has given a lively and circum¬
stantial account of his adventures. He reached the Tar¬
tar capital of Karrakorum after a fatiguing and danger¬
ous journey of more than two months, having traversed a
vast tract of unknown country, and brought to the know¬
ledge of the Europeans the immense plains and high lands
of Central Asia, Eastern I artary or the country of the
Mongols, Thibet, and Cathay or China, and the eastern
shores of the continent. All those countries were after¬
wards visited by the celebrated Venetian traveller Marco
Polo, who, being dazzled by the splendid accounts dif¬
fused through Europe of the wealth and luxury of Asia,
was infiamed with the desire of exploring those distant
countries. He accordingly proceeded through Asia Minor,
Persia, the high country of Balk, visited the cities of
Cashgar and Yarkund, and skirting the great desert of
Shamo or Gobi, he reached the Tartar capital of Karra¬
korum, and finally entered the Chinese empire, of which
his account is circumstantial and correct, and of which
some of the magnificent cities, though they have fallen
from their ancient importance, are still recognised in his
accurate description. He returned to Venice by sea after
an absence of twenty-four years, having obtained accounts
of the eastern islands of Java, Sumatra, Ceylon, and of
Ormus in the Persian Gulf, at that time the great and
splendid emporium of the Indian trade. The discovery, in
1498, of the passage to India by the Cape of Good Hope,
opened the Indian seas to the European fleets ; and short¬
ly after this great event, the southern, and partly also the
eastern shoves of Asia, were completely explored, as well as
that great archipelago which extends from the Malacca pe¬
ninsula to New Holland. In the interiorof the continent the
progress of discovery was much slower, and only kept pace
with the gradual extension of the Russian dominion over
the barbarous tribes in Northern Asia. The Tartars under
Tamerlane in 1382 had invaded the east of Europe, had ta¬
ken Moscow, and overrun all the countries on the Volga and
the Dnieper. Ihe rise of the northern empire was for more
than two centuries obstructed by the inroads of the bar¬
barians ; and it was only after long and obstinate struggles
that they yielded to the superiority of the Russian arms.
About the middle of the 16th century Russia had ex¬
tended her conquests to the Obi, and her empire was en¬
larged northward and eastward, until it reached the fron¬
tiers of China and the Pacific Ocean. The general form
of the continent, which was exhibited in the maps from
mere conjecture, was in this manner laid open to Euro-
753
peans; and in the course of the last century the eastern
and northern shores were surveyed; also Kamtschatka, the
Kurile Islands, and Jesso. The islands of Japan had been
previously discovered by navigators. The relative limits
ot the Asiatic and American continents were traced by
Behring, Tschirikoff, and other navigators, who also dis¬
covered the Aleutian or Fox Islands; and finally by Cap¬
tain Cook, who advancing into Behrings Straits as far as
the parallel of 70° 44', ascertained the near approach and
true bearing of the two continents.
The interior countries of Asia near the Caspian and Aral
Seas have been visited by Russian travellers, who have cor¬
rected some errors of long standing in Asiatic geography.
Lake Aral was either unknown to the ancients, or they con¬
founded it with the Caspian Sea, of which they supposed it
to form a part, and to be the receptacle of the great river
Oxus. After the fact of two separate seas was fully known,
the Oxus was still supposed to terminate in the Caspian;
and its course was laid down accordingly in all the most
approved charts. The Russians, having visited those coun¬
tries, ascertained by actual observation that the Oxus, as
well as the Jaxartes, terminates in the Sea of Aral. There
seems, however, an ancient channel by which at least one
portion of the waters of the Oxus at one time may have
found their way into the Caspian, as mentioned by ancient
authors.—Humboldt, Asie Centrale, ii. 296.
Eastern Asia, namely, the Chinese empire, with the source
and termination of all its great rivers ; the northern country
of the Tartars; the course of the great river Amour; with
the high lands of Central Asia, namely Mongolia, the ori¬
ginal seat of the Mongols, were in the course of the six¬
teenth and seventeenth centuries explored by the Romish
missionaries, as well as by mercantile travellers. In 1624
Antonio d’Andrada, a Jesuit, travelled from the coast of the
Great Mogul to China. He passed through the country of
Serinagur, and ascending the great Himalaya range, he and
his companions endured such incredible hardships that he
was forced to return. He afterwards crossed these moun¬
tains along with a caravan, and was among the earliest tra¬
vellers who reached the country of Tibet, which he de¬
scribes, and also the manners and religion of the people.
In 1603 the missionary Goez set out from Lahore, where
he resided at the Mogul court on his way to China. He
travelled westward, and crossing the Indus, passed through
the countries of Kabul or Afghanistan, Cashgar to the N.,
and the country on the banks of the Oxus; and crossing a
ridge of the Himalaya Mountains, he arrived at Yarkund.
Fiom this place he journeyed with a caravan across the
central country of Mongolia to China. These missionaries
weie i eceived into high favour by the Chinese emperors,
who valued them on account of their science, and gave them
access to the public archives, which contained all the Chinese
surveys of the empire and of the adjacent countries. By
the help of these they exhibited with accuracy the interior
geography of Tibet, and also of that extensive country be-
yondthe Ganges which now forms the Burman empire, and
which is watered by the great rivers that take their rise in
the central mountains and run southward,—the Irawaddy
mto the Indian Ocean, the Setanginto the Gulf of Martaban,
i ™ .rms estuary, the Saluen into the same gulf,
the Menam into the Gulf of Siam, and the Menam Konp-
or the Mekong into the Chinese Sea.1 These missionaries
prosecuted with equal activity and zeal their inquiries into
the interior geography of China ;2 they traced the great
Asia.
Geographers are not agreed on the respective ap-
1 See Cranford’s Journal of an Embassy to the Courts of Siam and Cochin-China.
pellations of these rivers: in this we have been guided by Mr Cranford.
• rj)^CCi7Un*" il'CS.e m'ssi°nary travels the reader is referred to Hakluyt’s Collection of Voyages; Purchas’ Pil-
Ins p-iven an emnllv IparrWI ^ ansM74!); and to the Historical Account of Discoveries and Travels in Asia, by H. Murray, who
vol in ' ^ ’ JUIIC10US’an(f comprehensive abstract of all the existing information on the subject of Asiatic geography.
5 c
rivers the Hoangho or Yellow River, and the Yank-tse-
Kiang or Blue River, to their termination as well as to their
source, which they found to be in the depths of the central
mountains, and not in the imaginary lake of Cayamay, as
had been generally believed. Grueber, who set out on his
travels to the East in 1656, traversed the whole country of
China, partly by land and partly by water ; and his route to
Europe was through the Tartar deserts to Lassa, a town in
Tibet, and thence through the mountainous country of
Nepaul to Battana on the Ganges, Benares, and finally to
Agra, which he reached after a journey of more than twelve
months. Other journeys equally enterprising were also un¬
dertaken by the missionaries. Desideri set out in 1714 from
Delhi, and travelled across the Himalaya Mountains through
Cashmere into Tibet; and, at a later period, Horace de la
Penna, with a body of twelve missionaries, resided in the
same country for a number of years. The missionary Ger-
billon, who was in great favour at the Chinese court, tra¬
velled in 1688 through the Tartar deserts, with a Chinese
embassy, to the banks of the Selingha, there to settle with
the Russians the respective limits of the two empires; and
having been also in the practice of following the emperor in
his hunting expeditions into Tartary, he contributed with
other travellers to illustrate the geography of these countries
and the manners of the people.
The great extension of the British conquests in Northern
India has laid open to Europeans all that portion of Asia
which lies on the southern declivity of the Himalaya Moun¬
tains, which is interesting not only from its natural grandeur,
but also as it contains the sources of the Indus, the Ganges,
and the Brahmapootra. The Europeans were indebted for
all the knowledge which they possessed of those countries
to the Chinese missionaries, who represented the Ganges to
rise on the north of the Himalaya chain, from two small
streams which pass the town of Ladak. They fixed the
source of the Indus in the Bolor Mountains, one of the cross
ridges which run N. and S. from the main Himalaya ridge.
The British in India, with all their characteristic ardour in
the cause of science, have corrected those errors of the
Chinese geographers, having ascertained the source of the
Ganges to be not on the N., but on the southern side of
the Himalaya Mountains. The extent and bearing, and the
vast elevation, of many of the highest peaks of this northern
barrier of Hindustan, have also been fixed by the accurate
observations of Lieutenant Webb and other officers. From
the embassy of Elphinstone into Afghanistan we have re¬
ceived more full details of that country; and the course
westward of the great Himalaya chain has been accurately
traced, as well as the upper course of the Indus, through the
source of that river is still imperfectly known. The missions
of Turner into Bootan, of Kirkpatrick and Buchanan into
Nepaul, and the embassy of Major Symes and Dr Buchanan
to the court of Ava, and of Mr Cranford, who resided in the
character of ambassador at that court, and whose works have
thrown great light on the commerce and manners of Asia,
have contributed materially to illustrate the geography of
those countries. Of the vast regions of Tartary to the W.
of China, and under its dominion, we know little except
from the earlier travellers and missionaries, and from the
accounts published of the journeys of the Russian embas¬
sies through these countries. The travels of Hue, Gabet,
and Puch, have made some additions to our knowledge of
Tartary and Tibet; and the hitherto proverbial jealousy of
the Chinese authorities in regard to the intrusion of foreign¬
ers into their western dominions, may perhaps now be ex¬
pected to give way to a more tolerant policy.
Asia, notwithstanding the wars by which it has been de-
. solated, was from an early period the seat of commerce and
of wealth. The eastern countries of Hindustan and China
appear to have preceded Europe in civilization and industry,
and, independent of that diversity of natural productions Asia,
which is the foundation of trade, they had cultivated many v'"**'
arts and manufactures which were unknown in the Western
World. Asia accordingly abounded in many precious com¬
modities which could not be produced by the ruder industry
of Europe. Thus China had its silk and porcelain ; Hindu¬
stan its muslins, cotton, precious stones, and aromatics of all
sorts ; costus, bdellium, spikenard, ivory, tortoise-shell, pep¬
per, &c. These were in general demand throughout Europe,
where they could not be produced ; and they were procured
in exchange chiefly for bullion, which then, as in later times,
was the great article of export to India; also for woollen
cloths, wine, brass, lead and tin, glass, coral, female slaves,
&c., all which commodities met with a ready sale in the
markets of Hindustan. The staple commodity of China was
silk ; and the mode of producing this esteemed luxury being
unknown in Europe, it was brought in large quantities, eitl^pr
by the caravans or by the annual fleets, to Alexandria, at
that time the great commercial mart of the East, and was
thence sent to supply the demand at Rome, where it sold at
one time for its weight in gold ; but, owing to the high profit,
caravans began to travel so regularly to China, that the sup¬
ply increased with the demand, and the price was reduced.
Between the sixth and the seventh centuries Eastern Asia
was robbed of this precious monopoly by the art of two Per¬
sian monks, who contrived, in a hollow cane, to transport the
eggs of the silk-worm from China to Europe, where they
were hatched by means of heat, and the race quickly pro¬
pagated ; and one great link of commerce between China
and Europe was in this manner broken. The trade of Asia
was interrupted by the irruption of the barbarians, who in¬
vaded and finally subverted the Roman empire ; but the
moment the storm was past, commerce resumed its quiet
course. Constantinople, the eastern capital of the empire,
was still the centre of luxury and trade ; as were also such
parts of the Roman territory as had not been swept by bar¬
barian invasion ; and with those places the caravans still
traded, shaping their course as they best could to avoid the
distractions of the interior. Farther to the east the khalifs
who reigned at Baghdad encouraged science, commerce, and
the arts ; and the extensive country through which the Oxus
and the Jaxartes flowed was the seat of a flourishing com¬
merce and of many opulent cities. Besides Bokhara, still a
great city, Balk, Samarcand, Cosh, and others in the valley
of the Oxus and the Jaxartes, numerous splendid cities are
enumerated which are scarcely known to Europeans. To
the east of the great range of mountains which takes a di¬
rection from the main Himalaya ridge, the country of Cash-
gar contained Cashgar its capital, and Khoten, which were
both large, populous, and wealthy. Those countries served
as the connecting link between India and Europe, and the
resting-place of the caravans, which there collected in great
force, and prepared for their journey to China across the great
eastern desert, or for a more southerly course through the
country of Tibet. The armies of Zinghis Khan in the
thirteenth, and of Tamerlane in the beginning of the fifteenth
century, laid waste this highly-cultivated and flourishing
region. But those conquerors were not the enemies of com¬
merce, and the surplus produce of India still reached Europe,
though by a route rendered more difficult and dangerous from
the desolation of the intervening countries. But the effect
produced on the trade of Asia in the East by the encroach¬
ments of barbarism, and by the disorders in the interior, was
more than counterbalanced by the growing civilization of
Europe. About the beginning of the fourteenth century,
the darkness which had so long covered the western world
began to dispel, and the Italian cities of Venice, Genoa, and
others, had already made advances in letters, science, and
commerce. The costly articles of Asia, her rich stuffs and
precious aromatics, were now required to answer the grow-
ing demands of luxury and wealth ; and the produce of India,
J imported into Alexandria through the Red Sea, was thence
brought into Italy by the nobles of Venice and Genoa, who
were all engaged in trade, and was diffused in smaller quan¬
tities all over Europe. The Italian states were enriched by
this lucrative traffic, which only ceased with the discovery
of the maritime route to India by the Cape of Good Hope.
From this period the trade between Asia and Europe took
a different direction. The commodities of India and China
were transported to Europe directly by sea; and neither
Alexandria nor the other ports of the Red Sea or of Italy
w ere any longer the depositories of the Eastern trade. The
Portuguese, always distinguished by their ardour for mari¬
time discovery, were the first adventurers in the Asiatic seas.
In the course of the sixteenth century the English and Dutch
appeared as their competitors ; and with the growing wealth
of those countries the trade to the East rapidly increased.
I he commerce of Asia may therefore be distinguished into
the following branches :—Ls^, The inland trade of China,
Hindustan, Burmah, &c., with Turkey, the eastern countries
of Europe, and with the intervening countries of Persia, Balk,
Bokhara, and the regions of the Oxus ; also, by a different
route, the trade with R ussia and the N. of Asia. ‘Idly, The
maritime trade, including the coasting trade and the trade
to the Eastern Archipelago, and the great trade to Europe and
America, in which, from the progress of wealth and luxury,
there is a great consumption of Asiatic produce.
The inland trade of Asia is carried on by caravans, or
large bodies of merchants, who travel together for the sake
of security through those parts of the country which are dis¬
turbed by predatory tribes. It is only from the southern
countries of Asia, such as Hindustan, China, the Burmese
countries, Tibet, and the western countries of Persia, Af¬
ghanistan, Bokhara, and the regions of the Oxus and the
Jaxartes, that Europe can derive any supply of valuable
commodities; and all this trade, from whatever quarter it
comes, must flow in its progress to Europe through the
countries that lie between the Persian Gulf and the Caspian
Sea; as the caravans could not, without inconvenience and
danger from wandering tribes, pass to the north of this sea
or the Sea of Aral; and accordingly, though an annual cara¬
van is sent from Astracan to Khyvah and the countries on
the Oxus, the chief trade with Russia is by sea to the port
of Mangalshuck, and thence to Khyvah and Bokhara. The
Russians have also begun to trade with Persia from the Cau¬
casian province of Georgia, of which Tiflis, the capital, has,
from a wretched collection of wooden huts, been rapidly im¬
proved, under the protecting influence of a European go¬
vernment, into a respectable and wealthy town, the future
emporium, as may be anticipated, of this growing trade.
The caravans from Constantinople and Syria proceed through
Asia Minor and the northern or southern provinces of Persia,
according as their ulterior route is through Afghanistan and
the Punjaub into Hindustan, or to Tibet and China, or the
more northern districts of Balk, Bokhara, and the country
of the Oxus and the Jaxartes. Bokhara though reduced to
desolation by Zinghis Khan, is still one of the largest towns
of the East, its population being estimated by Burnes at
160,000. It is also a great commercial mart; and the
caravans which come from the west, passing along the
southern shore of the Caspian Sea through the Persian pro¬
vince of Astrabad, a most luxuriant and fertile country, ar¬
rive successively at Balfroosh, Ashruff, Astrabad, Mushed,
Serrukhs, Merve, formerly the capital of the Seljook sove¬
reigns, but now surrounded by deserts, and at Bokhara.
1 rom this great centre of commerce they proceed north-east¬
ward about 400 or 500 miles to Khojend and Kokaun, the
former a large city, said to contain 30,000 houses; and cross¬
ing the Bolor range of the Himalaya Mountains, they arrive
in the Mahometan states of Kashgar and Yarkund, 600
miles E. of Kokaun, passing some towns on the way, of
which Ush is the most important, being a trading and popu¬
lous town. Those two latter states lie within the precincts
of the Chinese authority, where the most exact order is en¬
forced ; and they are fertile, rich, and well cultivated. The
town of Cashgar is said to contain 20,000 houses, and to be
thronged with strangers from all parts of Asia. Yarkund is
also wealthy and populous. So strict a police is maintained
by the Chinese authority, that, according to the information
given to Fraser,1 a single traveller may traverse the whole
territory as safely as a large caravan. From Kashgar there
is a constant intercourse through Chinese Tartary, along the
edge of the great central desert, with China, though we know
little of the intervening countries beyond what we learn from
the accounts of the early missionaries. Besides this eastern
trade, and the trade westward along the southern shore of
the Caspian, two caravans, consisting of 4000 or 5000 camels
each, proceed to Astracan by Khyvah, round the northern
shore of the Caspian Sea. The imports from Russia into
Bokhara are iron, steel, copper, brass, quicksilver, vermilion,
coral, hardware, plated goods, gold and silver embroidery,
copper wire ; furs, the broad cloths and cotton manufactured
goods of Britain, Germany, and France ; refined sugar, co¬
chineal, paper, and a variety of rich goods, which, from this
great commercial depot, are diffused far and wide over Cen¬
tral Asia. Russia receives in exchange black lamb-skins,
certain manufactures of cotton and silk imported from Persia,
antique gems and coins, lapis lazuli, rubies, and turquoises,
which are received from the southern country of Buducksha,
where there are famous mines of these precious stones. From
Cashgar, Yarkund, and the side of China, Bokhara receives
large quantities of tea, the great modern staple of the China
trade, porcelain and China ware, and the various manufac¬
tures of China; and in return sends turquoises, coral, sheep,
lamb, and fox skins, and furs, &c. From Persia shawls are
imported, and woollen goods fi'om Kerman ; silk stuffs from
the cities of Yezd and Ispahan; gold and silver embroi¬
dery, copper ware, loaf, candy, and raw sugar; Hamadan
leather; and turquoises, of which there are mines in Persia;
and, in return, black sheep and lamb skins are sent, which are
in great request, to be manufactured into black caps ; cam-
blet made of camel’s hair, coarse coloured silk handkerchiefs,
lapis lazuli, indigo from India, cochineal, tobacco, chintzes
from Masulipatam, and cotton manufactures. Slaves form
a staple article in the commerce of Bokhara, and also of
Khyvah. These are made prisoners by the disorderly tribes
of Asia, the Koords, Turkomans, &c., in the course of the
wars in which they are constantly engaged; and they are
carried to the great slave markets of Bokhara and Khyvah,
where they are exposed for sale like cattle. The balance of
trade is always in favour of Bokhara. Money is consequently
in great plenty, and cannot be imported with a profit into
this trading city. The Russian caravans, as they journey
round the N. shore of the Caspian Sea, are frequently at¬
tacked by the Kirgeesh and Cossack tribes, and prisoners
are carried off and sold into slavery. Fraser was assured
that the number of Persian slaves in Khyvah and its depen¬
dencies exceeded the male population of these countries, and
amounted to 150,000; and that, according to inquiries set
on foot by the Empress Catherine, there were in Bokhara
no less than 60,000 Russian slaves.
The commerce of the west with the southern countries
of Asia, namely, Kabul or Afghanistan, Cashmere, and India,
passes through Persia by a different and more southerly route,
namely, by Cashan, Yezd, which is the seat of rich silk
manufactures, a great entrepot of commerce, and a conve-
1 Narrative of a Journey into Khorassan, Appendix.
756
ASIA.
Asia, nient resting-place for all the caravans, both from the East ridge, and the country on the head streams of the Indus, Asia.
^ and other quarters; through Furrah and Herat, on the export to India horses and ponies bred in Tartary, fur,
frontiers of Persia, famed for its rich manufactures of silk shawls, Moultan chintz, madder, assafcetida, tobacco, and
stuffs, a great channel of communication between the East dried and other fruits, such as almonds and pistachio nuts,
and the West, and also an entrepot of all the richest produc- The imports from India are coarse cotton cloths, worn by
tions from Kabul, Cashmere, and India on the one side, and the common people of this country, and also in Tartary;
from Bokhara, Persia, Ai'abia, Turkey, and even Europe on muslins and other fine manufactures, silken cloth and bro-
the other. From Herat the route continues through Furrah cade, indigo in great quantities, ivory, chalk, bamboos, wax,
and across the river Helmund and the ranges of the Paro- tin, sandal-wood, almost all the sugar which is used in the
pamisan Mountains, to Candahar, a journey of about 800 country, and spices from the Malabar coast, through Kur-
miles ; thence to Kabul, Peshawur, and the countries on the rachee and other parts of Sinde, and thence to Kabul and
Indus, and across extensive sandy deserts to the rich valley Candahar. The Indian cloths, shawls, chintzes, and also
of the Ganges, whence by this river, there is an easy access the indigo, are exported to Bokhara, from which are im-
to Bengal and to Central India. There are various other ported the broad cloths, cutlery, and hardware of Europe,
routes by which the commerce of Asia, concentrated with- received from the Russians, and finally consumed in Kabul
1 in the comparatively narrow boundaries of the Caspian Sea and the countries of the Indus, loaded with the expenses of
and the Persian Gulf, diverges in its progress eastward to a land journey across nearly half the globe,
the N., as well as to the S. From Bokhara there is a In the E. of Asia, China has from the earliest times been
mountainous route into Little Tibet, and thence through the seat of wealth and of an extensive trade. The Chinese
Tibet into China; besides other more sequestered and have been always noted for their industrious habits, and the
difficult roads, through glens and mountains, where the country has from time immemorial abounded in the most
only mode of transport is on the backs of asses and valuable produce and manufactures. These were sent west-
mulcs. ward in the caravans to Asia Minor and into Europe, or they
Persia, from its central situation between the East and were transported by sea to India, and carried thence by the
the West, is not only a great entrepot of Asiatic trade, but, European fleets to the Red Sea. The same commerce is
though on the whole rather a poor country, it still contri- still continued, and China exports its produce of woollens,
butes some valuable productions to the commerce of the silk, and satin ; tea in small boxes of thin lead; china,
East. It has long been famed for its abundant produce of porcelain, raw silk, cochineal, crystal, gold dust, golden
raw silk, of cotton, and of wool—that of the province of Ker- ingots, and silver with the Chinese stamp. These are sent
man especially being so valuable for shawls that it rivals in through Chinese Tartary into the countries on the Oxus,
some respects that of Cashmere; of fruits, turquoises, to- and also to Cashmere, Kabul, and the countries situated on
bacco, grain, &c. Almost all the principal towns of Persia, the southern declivity of the Himalaya Mountains. Regular
such as Kashan, Ispahan, Yezd, Tabreez, Kerman, Herat, caravans of horses and ponies, no other animal being fit to
&c., excel in the manufacture of silks, cottons, woollens, fine travel through those mountainous districts, set out fiom
carpets, &c.; Kerman also in the manufacture of shawls; Cashmere, and from Peshawur, the capital of the Afghan
and others in that of cutlery, arms, &c. These are its chief country of Kabul, and a considerable commercial resoit, to
exports to other countries, in exchange for their manufac- make their way through Chinese Tartary with goods im-
tures or produce. To India Persia sends raw silk, carpets, ported from India and Persia. China carries on also an
Kerman shawls, dried fruits, tobacco, horses—in which there interior trade to a considerable extent with Russia by the
is a considerable traffic, swords, &c., and specie to make up frontier town of Maimatchin, in which European goods and
the deficient balance. The imports from India are cotton furs are received in exchange for tea, silk, and other articles
goods, as chintzes, sent from Masulipatam by sea to Bushire, of Chinese produce and manufacture.
whence they reach the interior of Persia, and are thence In addition to her internal trade, Asia maintains an ex-Maritime
carried eastward into Kabul and the countries on the Indus; tensive intercourse by sea with Europe, America, and with commerce
the same article from Moultan, Lucknow, Delhi, &c.; some Egypt and all the countries on the Mediterranean. A
muslins, indigo, spices, sugar, and sugar-candy, in large great trade is also carried on from Hindustan and China to
quantities ; gold and silver stuffs and brocades from Benares ; the Asiatic Archipelago, and the trade of the Asiatic islands
precious stones, Cashmere shawls, iron, lead, copper, &c. with each other is of great importance. It appears that
Many of these articles, namely, Cashmere shawls, spices, those islands were at a very early period the seat of com-
indigo, muslins, &c., are carried through Asia Minor by a merce; and the learned researches of Europeans have
long land carriage to their final destination in European brought to light, in some of them, the monuments of ancient
Turkey, and are found, along with the lamb-skins of the no civilization. Sumatra was the seat of the Malay empire,
less distant Bokhara, in the bazaars of Baghdad and Con- Java of a Hindu state; and the Celebes were inhabited by
stantinople.1 To those countries Persia exports also every the Bugis, a race of expert navigators and merchants. The
article of her own rude and manufactured produce; coarse productions of these islands, and of the Moluccas and Bor-
fabrics, both of silk and cotton, for the consumption of Asia neo, namely, spices, aromatics, and gold, entered into the
Minor; and many heavy articles, such as grain, rice, tobacco, commerce of the ancient world, and were imported into
salt, coffee, cotton, &c.; besides fine silks, brocades, and Rome through Egypt. In later times, about the ninth cen-
prints, which are exchanged in Turkey for European goods tury, the Asiatic Archipelago was visited by the Arabs and
brought through the countries of the Levant, namely, broad the Chinese, while the adventurous Malays frequented the
and narrow cloths, cassimeres, cotton goods, chintzes, mus- coasts of Asia, and even of Africa, and particularly the
lins, veils, silks, satins, French brocades and embroidered African island of Madagascar. When these islands were
goods, imitation shawls, cutlery of all sorts, glass, &c., and visited by Europeans, about the fifteenth century, Malacca,
a considerable quantity of gold and silver bullion. Persia Acheen, and Bantam were the great marts of the Eastern
imports coffee and pearls from Arabia, in exchange for Archipelago, where the rich produce of Sumatra, Borneo,
wheat, dried fruits, and cloaks. The mountainous country and the Moluccas, conveyed in the small trading craft of
of Afghanistan, on the southern declivity of the Himalaya the country, was exchanged for that of India and China.
1 Elphinstone’s CdbulKinneir’s Geographical Memoir of Persia; Fraser’s Travels in the Persian Provinces around the Caspian Sea,
Appendix, p. 364.
ASIA.
AsK The Portuguese fixed on Goa, on the Malabar coast, as besides opium, iron, steel, European chintzes, and broad
the capital of their Eastern settlements ; and they after- cloths and Indian piece goods, with which they return east¬
wards selected Malacca as a central station for protect- ward during the south-west monsoon.1
ing and extending their intercourse with the neighbour- The eastern countries of Asia, viz. India and China, as
ing nations. The Dutch chose Bantam, and afterwards we have already stated, have from time immemorial been
Batavia, situated midway between Hindustan and China, famed for certain manufactures, such as silks, cambrics,
as the centre of their commercial settlements. The situa- muslins, &c., as well as for other products peculiar to the
tion was most advantageous, and the port was soon fre- climate, viz. spices, precious aromatics, medicinal herbs, &c.
quented by vessels from China and Japan, Tunkin, Ma- These were always in great demand in Europe, while* the
lacca, Cochin China, and the island of Celebes. But produce of Em'ope was not wanted in Asia. From the rude
the great and flourishing trade of Java was crushed un- state of industry among the Western nations, they had no-
der the colonial monopoly of the Dutch, and under what thing to offer in exchange for the finer manufactures of
Sir Stamford Raffles terms “the short-sighted tyranny India, and still less could the soil of Europe yield any equi-
of a mercantile administration.” The conquest of Java valent for the more genial produce of Eastern climes,
by the British in 1812 put an end to this thraldom, and Hence the great article of export in those times from Eu-
the great trade of the Asiatic Archipelago began to centre rope to Asia was always bullion, the instrument of exchange
in Batavia, which was fast rising into a great commercial all over the world. Bullion could only be procured by an
emporium ; all the articles which were the exclusive pro- exportation of European produce or manufactures at such
tluce of the Eastern islands being collected at its princi- low prices as to insure a sale; and the loss on such trans-
pal ports for re-exportation to India, China, and Europe, actions must have been made up to the merchant by the
feince Java was restored to the Dutch, the free port of high price of Asiatic goods. The ancient monopoly of silk
Singapore, established by the British, is the centre of a secured to Asia a favourable balance of trade with Europe,
p*eat trade, and is frequented by the Chinese in their bullion being the only article with which it could be pur-
junks, and by all the other navigators of those seas with chased. Notwithstanding the introduction of the silk ma-
the produce of their respective islands. The Chinese nufacture into Europe about the sixth or seventh century,
take back with them the nests of a certain species of the commercial pre-eminence of Asia still continued, and
bird, which are esteemed a great luxury at their tables, bullion was the chief article of export to the East. Through-
anu sell, it is said, for their weight in silver; biche-de- out the interior of Asia this superiority remains to the pre-
mei or tnpang, a dried sea-slug, also used in Chinese sent day; and a continual stream of bullion flows from the
dishes; Malayan camphor, the exclusive produce of Su- Bosphorus eastward through Asia Minor and Persia into
matra and Borneo ; the tin of Banca, the spices of the Mo- Hindustan, and is finally dispersed in the great ocean of the
luccas, opium, indigo imported from Hindustan; gold and Chinese currency. Bullion is also the principal article sent
si ver, tie first collected in Sumatra, Borneo, and some of from Arabia to India in exchange for Indian goods,
the other islands. The maritime country trade of the But a great revolution has taken place in the trade be-
siatic islands is carried on chiefly by the Chinese in their tween Asia and Europe, and especially with Great Britain,
jun s and brigs, by the Arabs in square-rigged vessels, and Europe is now in a condition to offer an equivalent in ma-
iy t ie ugis, the inhabitants of Celebes, who are all bold nufactures for the produce of Asia; goods of various kinds
and expert navigators. are sent in exchange for those of India; and from Great
1 iom the E. the annual fleet of Chinese junks arrives Britain remittances in bullion have nearly ceased. So pro-
with the favourable monsoon among these islands, from digiously has the price of goods been lowered by die use of
Canton, Amoy, and other provinces, with cargoes of teas, machinery, that the cotton wool of India is now imported
raw silk, silk, piece-goods, and innumerable minor articles, into Britain, and, after being manufactured, is re-exported
for the use of the Chinese, who are settled in great num- to the place of its growth, and sold at a lower price than
bers here, and are distinguished by their shrewd, intelli- the same goods from the loom of the Indian workman, though
gent, and industrious habits. I he Chinese extend their it is loaded with the expense of a double voyage across half
voyages to Sumatra, the Straits of Malacca, and east- the globe. I he goods of the European manufacturers are
ward as far as the Moluccas and Timor, collecting edible poured into Asia through all its seaports, and reaching
bird-nests, biche-de-mer, and other articles of which Java the interior on the backs of mules and asses, often after a
is the great entrepot. Java is also a great depot of Euro- journey of several thousand miles over deserts and moun-
pean goods ; and the people being rather industrious culti- tains covered with perpetual snow, they are sold cheaper
vators of their fertile island than mariners or traders, it ex- than the-same articles by the native workmen. The wool-
ports rice, a variety of vetches, salt, oil, tobacco, timber, len manufactures of Yorkshire, the cotton goods of Man-
brass-wire, and its own cloths, and a considerable quantity Chester and Glasgow, French cloths, and German linens, are
of European, Indian, and Chinese goods, in exchange for dispersed all over India, and even partially in China; they
gold dust, diamonds, camphor, benjamin, and other drugs ; are found in the bazaars of Bokhara, Samarcand, and Cash-
eciible bird-nests, biche-de-mer, rattans, bees-wax, tortoise- gar, and are carried eastward by the caravans into the wilds
shell, and dyeing woods from Borneo and Sumatra. The of Tartary. The natural productions of Asia, namely, spices,
rice and other productions of Java are exchanged for spices rich aromatics, dyes, and other rare luxuries of tropical cli-
anc pungent oils of the Moluccas, and for the tin of Banca. mates, will always be in demand in Europe; and the mono-
I he natives of Celebes are famed for the manufacture of a poly of tea by the Chinese gives them the command of the
particular species of fine cloths, of a very strong texture, European markets. Tea has now almost become one of the
winch are in great request, and, along with spices, wax, and necessaries of life, and it travels for a market across half the
sandal-wood, are exchanged for the produce of Sumatra, globe. It is the great commercial link between Europe
Borneo, and Java, whence they are exported to China. The and China, from which, like the precious produce of silk in
ugis have a large share of the carrying trade of the Asiatic ancient times, it can only be procured. But the improved
Arcmpdago ; and they bring the produce of the Moluccas, industry of Europe supplies, as already observed, an equiva-
and ol Borneo and Sumatra, to Java and the other islands, lent in woollen and cotton goods for this highly-prized
and receive in exchange tobacco, rice, and salt, from Java, luxury. Since the expiry of the charter of the East India
757
Asia.
1 Raffles’ History of Java ; Marsden’s Sumatra.
758
ASIA MINOE.
Asia Company in 1834, the trade has been thrown open to all
Minor. c]asses 0f British subjects, and our merchants can now
freely trade to all places accessible to Europeans to the
E. of the Straits of Malacca. During the short time that
has elapsed since then, the increase of the exports and
imports have fully realized the expectations held out by
those who opposed the Company's monopoly. See Hin¬
dustan. (h.m.) (w.p—e.)
Asia
Minor.
ASIA MINOR. From the unsettled state of this country,
once the seat of early civilization and the cradle of the fine
arts, it is now comparatively imperfectly known, and the
accounts left us by ancient writers are very meagre and un¬
satisfactory. It is, however, of perhaps greater interest to the
geographer, the historian, and the antiquary, than almost
any other country. It everywhere abounds with relics and
monuments of antiquity, all tending more or less to throw
light upon the history of the human race. It may be true
that Asia Minor was only of secondary importance in the
palmy days of Assyria and Egypt,—when science, literature,
and arts flourished in Greece, or when Rome sat mistress
of the world; but these rose to eminence for a short time,
only to fall into a greater depth of barbarism, whereas it
has maintained a greater or less degree of importance from
the first dawn of history to the present time. But even
apart from its historical interest, the country itself pre¬
sents much to recommend it to notice. The grandeur and
picturesque beauty of its scenery renders it at least equal, if
not superior, to any country of Europe, while its extreme
productiveness, coupled with the number of its excellent
ports and other advantages, give evidence, that under a more
favourable system of government it might become a place
of importance in a commercial point of view ; but at present
its imports are subject to very heavy and arbitrary taxes,
and almost every branch of industry is paralyzed by the
still more ruinous system of monopolies.
When the descendants of Noah were, from their num¬
bers, obliged to disperse themselves over the earth, the
family of Lud, one of the sons of Shem, is supposed to
have been the first to people the wilds of Asia Minor, and to
have at length settled on the banks of the Hermus. The
traditionary Lydus, the eponymous king of the Lydians, is
supposed to be the same with Lud, and his grandfather Manes
is probably the Noah of Scripture. It is not our intention,
however, to follow out here the history of the country, as
that will be found in other parts of the work. Suffice it to
say, that Asia Minor was the theatre of the earliest remark¬
able events recorded in profane history, as the Argonautic
Expedition, the Trojan War, in which the gods are said to
have descended from Olympus and joined battle with mor¬
tals *, the conquests of the Persians, the overthrow' of their
empire by Alexander, and the settlement in this part of Asia
of his successors. It subsequently fell under the Roman
sway, and suffered severely in after ages in the wars of the
Saracens, the Turks, Tartars, &c. It is also intimately con¬
nected with the early history of Christianity, and the first
Christian churches were planted here.
From the earliest times till after the establishment of the
Roman power in Asia Minor, that country, or a part of it,
went under the general name of Asia. Homer and others
apply this term to the valley between Tmolus and the Cays-
trus. When the Romans extended their conquests beyond
the peninsula, they divided their Asiatic territory into Asia
infra Taurum, and Asia extra Taurum. The term Asia
Minor seems to have been adopted about the fourth century
of our era, and was applied to that peninsula of Asia ex¬
tending westward from an imaginary line drawn from Tre-
bizond to the Gulf of Scanderoon. It comprehended Mysia,
Lydia, Caria, Lycia, Pisidia, Cilicia, Bithynia, Paphlagonia,
Pontus, Phrygia, Galatia, Lycaonia, Cappadocia, and Ar¬
menia Minor.
Most of the works of the ancient geographers and histo¬
rians on this country are now lost, with the exception of
Strabo, Pliny, Ptolemy, Stephen of Byzantium, and a few
others. Accounts of several military expeditions into the
country are, however, extant, as Xenophon’s account of the
expedition of Cyrus the younger; Arrian’s history of the
Asiatic expedition of Alexander the Great; the history of
the Roman wars in Asia, by Polybius, Livy, and Appian,
particularly Livy’s account of the Marches of the Consul
Manlius through Phrygia, Pamphilia, Pisidia, and Galatia, to
Ancyra; Anna Comnena’s account of her father Alexis Com-
nenus’ expedition against the Turks. Among modern tra¬
vellers in this country are Tavernier, Tournefort, Pococke,
Niebuhr, Beaufort, Kinneir, Richter, Leake, Keppel, Arun¬
del!, Fellow, Texier, Hamilton, Chesney, Ainsworth, &c.
The work, however, which promises to throw most light
upon this interesting country is that by the recent traveller
Tchihatcheff, entitled Asie Mineure, Description Physique,
Statistique, et Archeologique. The first volume has lately
been published, and is devoted to the physical geography ;
the second is to treat of the meteorology, botany, and zoo¬
logy ; the third of the geology; and the fourth is to give a
statistical and archaeological account of the country.
The peninsula of Asia Minor is the most western terri¬
tory of Asia, and extends northward from the Mediterranean
to the Euxine, and eastward from the Grecian Archipelago
to the banks of the Euphrates. Its length from E. to W.
is nearly 600 miles, and its breadth about 360, lying between
Lat. 36° and 42° N., and Long. 26° and 40° E. It is di¬
vided into the pashaliks of Anatolia, Livas, Karamania, Isthil,
Adana, Marash, and Trebizond. The principal towns are
Smyrna, Trebizond, Brusa, Angora, Konieh, and Kaisaryeh.
It may be described as an elevated table-land, consisting
principally of a succession of extensive plains, frequently
furrowed by deep valleys, and intersected by lofty chains of
mountains. The limits of this extensive upland, containing
these plains and valleys, are marked by an elevated and al¬
most continuous chain of mountains, round which, at a lower
level, a succession of narrow plains border the shores of the
Mediterranean and Black Seas. The Taurus mountain chain
extends from E. to W., near its southern coast, rising fre¬
quently to the height of 8000 or 10,000 feet; and along the
northern coast is another chain rising to the height of 6000
or 7000 feet, and comprising Mount Olympus and Mount
Ida of antiquity. On the S.E. are the mountain chains of
the Anti-Taurus, the loftiest point of which, Arjish Tagh,
attains the height of 13,000 feet.
The coast of Asia Minor is deeply indented by bays and
gulfs, particularly on its western and southern sides. Along
the western coast there are numerous deep and well-shel¬
tered harbours, as well as in that part of the southern be¬
longing to Lycia, while those of the northern coast are all
more or less exposed to the action of the winds. Asia
Minor contains several lakes, some of which receive streams
but emit none, evaporation being sufficient to preserve
their level. The Tuzla, or salt lake of Koch-Hissar, situate
nearly in the centre of Asia Minor, is stated to have only a
circumference of 30 leagues, although it is 50 miles in
length. Its waters are so salt that no fish exist in it; and
birds are said to avoid it, as when they alight on it their
plumage instantly becomes incrusted with salt so as to im¬
pede their flight. Wood thrown into it is immediately in-
crusted with salt. Vestiges of a causeway that once crossed it
are nearly concealed by a coating of salt; and in some places
the bottom is a solid mass of muriate of soda. This salt is
collected at four places, and is a government monopoly. Its
A S I
Asia surface is 2500 feet above the level of the Mediterranean.
Minor. In the language of the adjacent district it bears the names
—of Tuz-choli (salt desert) in summer, when partially dried
up; Tuz-Goli (salt lake), Agi-goli (bitter lake), or Koch-
Hissar-goli (lake of Koch-Hissar.) Southward of this
lake, towards the Gulf of Adalia, are several other lakes ; one
of these, Egerdir, is a fine fresh-water lake, 30 miles long,
surrounded by lofty branches of the Taurus, clothed with
forests. The lake of Beg-shehr, also fresh, is about the
same size, and discharges its superfluous waters by a con¬
siderable stream into the lake of Seidi-shehr, or Soghlah,
which has no visible outlet, but is fabled to have a subter¬
ranean passage through the chain of the Taurus. The
other lakes deserving notice are those of Ah-shehr, Eber-
Ghieul, Ak-Ghieul, near Eregli; Mangas-Ghieul, and
Ulubad, or Apollonia, to the S. of the Sea of Marmora.
The principal river of Asia Minor is the Kiril-Irmak,
which has a tortuous course of above 400 miles through the
eastern part of that region, and falls into the Euxine. It is
the celebrated Halys of antiquity. The other principal
streams falling into the Black Sea are the Jehil-Irmak, the
Jorukh, and the Sakaria; while the Caicus, the Hermus,
Cayster, and Mseander with its three affluents, now indivi¬
dually the Grimalki, Sarabat, and Meinder-su, pour their
waters into the Mediterranean.
The mountain ranges of Asia Minor seem to be princi¬
pally composed of limestone reposing on granite, quartz-
rock, and schists, with secondary formations on their flanks ;
in the valleys, tertiary and lacustrine deposits, ancient and
modern igneous rocks, and recent sedimentary accumula¬
tions. The micaceous schist and associated rocks, however,
form a great part of the mountain chains which intersect
the western portion of the peninsula. Tertiary lacustrine
formations occur in almost every valley, and secondary de¬
posits, with organic remains, are found in several places.
Trap-rocks are of frequent occurrence, and trachyte is
abundant in the western part of the country. About 90
miles eastward of Smyrna is the district of Katakekaumene,
or burnt-up country, about 19 miles in length and 8 in
breadth. It consists of mounds of erupted rocks, referable
to two epochs ; the older cones are low and flat, their craters
only marked by slight depressions, or have entirely disap¬
peared ; the more recent ones, three in number, still retain
their forms unaltered, though they have been extinct for
more than 3000 years. The former are covered with vine¬
yards which produce the Katakekaumene wine, celebrated
since the days of Strabo.
The climate in the lower parts of the country bears a
considerable resemblance to that of Southern Europe. The
soil, except in the rocky districts, is very fertile and well
watered. A large portion of the surface, particularly in the
territory bordering upon the two seas, consists of a fine al¬
luvial soil, covered with rich herbage, or the finest grain
crops. The mountain ranges are in many places mantled
with extensive forests of pine, beech, chestnut, walnut,
plane, and mulberry, while the plains and valleys produce
oranges, lemons, grapes, figs, and olives.
The chief productions of the country are silver, copper,
iron, lead, and alum ; grapes and other fruits ; grains, silk,
cotton, hemp, flax, tobacco, opium, saffron ; madder, mastic,
and other gum resins, galls, skins, hides, wool, goats’ hair,
leeches, sponges, wax, honey, salt, and some wine. The
imports are confined chiefly to coffee, sugar, spices, cutlery,
and cloths.
1 he principal inhabitants of Asia Minor are Osmanli, or
Othman Turks. In the interior are several nomade tribes
of lurkomans, Kurds, and Yorukhs ; of these the Turko¬
mans are the most numerous and civilized. Like the Os¬
manli, they are a branch of the great Turkee family, and
speak a kindred dialect. In summer they live in tents, but
A S I 759
in winter are generally inhabitants of villages. They pos- Asiatic
sess large herds of camels, buffaloes, sheep, and goats. They Societies-
have also a fine breed of horses, which they dispose of, with ^ v 1
flesh, butter, and milk, to the inhabitants of the adjacent
towns and villages, in exchange for money, arms, and ar¬
ticles of clothing. 4 heir women spin wool and weave hand¬
some carpets. Each camp or village is under a chief, whose
power is regulated by custom and the habits of his tribe.
They pay to the pasha of the province they inhabit a cer¬
tain rate per cent, for the privilege of pasturage in the un¬
cultivated lands. The Kurds are inclined to pillage travel¬
lers, and inhabit the wilder parts of the country. The Yo¬
rukhs live in tents throughout the year, among the moun¬
tains generally ; and when near towns they cultivate a little
ground, and are usually the charcoal burners of the district.
See Beaufort’s Karamania, Lond. 1817 ; Leake’s Jour¬
nal of a Tour in Asia Minor, Lond. 1824 ; RenneTs Geo¬
graphy of Western Asia, Lond. 1831; ArundelTs Visit to
the Seven Churches, Lond. 1828; ArundelTs Discoveries
in Asia Minor, Lond. 1834; Hamilton’s Asia Minor,
Lond. 1842 ; Chesney’s Expedition to the Euphrates,
Lond. 1850 ; Tchihatcheff’s Asie Mineure, Paris, 1853 ;
various Papers in the London Geographical Journal.
ASIATIC Societies. Numerous associations of learned
men have, within a comparatively modern date, been formed
for the purpose of adding to our knowledge of Eastern
counti’ies in the various departments of science and litera¬
ture. The oldest society of this kind was founded by the
Dutch in Batavia. Its transactions, published at Batavia
from 1780 to 1833, form 15 volumes. The next was the
Royal Asiatic Society of Bengal, founded at Calcutta in
1784 by Sir William Jones. Its transactions from 1788 to
1832 appeared under the title of Asiatic Researches, and
afterwards as the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society
of Bengal, to which the accomplished editor Mr Princep
contributed his researches in Indo-Bactrian and Persian
numismatics.
In 1823, the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain
and Ireland was established at London by Mr Colebrooke,
assisted by Ouseley, Staunton, Wynn, and other eminent
orientalists. The literary societies of Bombay and Madras
were subsequently incorporated as branches of this society.
Since 1833, its transactions have been published in the so¬
ciety’s journal, published quarterly, of which vol. xiii. ap¬
peared in 1852. To this journal Major Rawlinson has con¬
tributed his valuable researches on the ancient cuneiform
inscriptions of Persia. This society possesses a valuable li¬
brary and museum. Connected with it is the Oriental Trans¬
lation Committee, instituted in 1828, which has published
versions in English, French, and Latin, of many valuable
oriental works, as well as several original texts.
The Societe Asiatique of Paris was founded in 1822,
by the distinguished oriental scholars Silvestre de Sacy,
Abel-Remusat, Saint Martin, Chezy, Klaproth, Degerando,
&c. Its transactions appeared monthly under the title of
Journal Asiatique, until January 1828, when it took the
name of Nouveau Journal Asiatique. This society has pub¬
lished many important works. It holds an annual public
meeting, and has a good museum. An oriental institution,
with chairs of Oriental languages and a museum, is supported
at St Petersburg by the government. In Germany there
is the Deutsche Morgenlandische Gesellschaft, of the journal
of which 6 vols. have appeared at Leipzig. The Zeitschrift
fur die Runde des Morgenlandes, begun at Gottingen in
1837, is now edited at Bonn, by the eminent orientalist
Lassen. The labours of German orientalists have also
found a place in the well-known collection entitled Mines
de V Orient.
The American Oriental Society issues a journal, of which
2 vols. have appeared.
760 ASP
Asiarchae ASIARCILE (termed by St Paul, Chief of Asia, Acts
II xix. 31) were the Pagan pontiffs of Asia, chosen to su-
Asp. perintend the public games, which they did at their own
expense. They were always persons of high considera¬
tion.
ASIENTO (a Spanish word signifying a seat, a contract),
in Commerce, was used to denote a treaty between the king
of Spain and other powers, for importing negroes into the
Spanish dominions in America.
ASINARA, a small island of Italy on the western coast
of Sardinia, with good coral fisheries. Long. 8.15. E. Lat.
41. 5. N.
ASINIUS Pollto, a Roman consul and orator, who
distinguished himself under Augustus by his exploits and
literary works. He is frequently mentioned with praise by
Horace and Virgil, and is said to have collected the first
library at Rome. He died at Frascati, at eighty years of
age, a.d. 4. None of his works are extant.
ASKEATON, a small town of Ireland, county of Li¬
merick, on the river Deel, two miles from its junction with
the Shannon. It was founded by the Desmonds, and has
remains of a fine Franciscan house, and a castle. Pop. in
1851, 1957.
ASKERN, a place six miles from Doncaster in York¬
shire, noted for its sulphureous springs.
ASKEW, or Ascue, Anne, one of the numerous victims
to the cause of the Reformation in the year preceding the
death of the tyrant Henry VIII., was a lady of great merit
and beauty, of a good family in Lincolnshire, and in corre¬
spondence with Queen Catherine Parr, and the chief ladies
of the court. She had studied the Scriptures, and denied the
real presence in the Eucharist, for which a bigoted husband
expelled her from his house. On coming to London she
was arrested, and interrogated by Chancellor Wriothesley
and Bishop Bonner; at the instigation of whom, under threats
of torture, she signed a qualified recantation. She was im¬
prisoned, and wrote to the king, says Hume, “ that as to
the Lord’s Supper she believed as much as Christ himself
had said of it, and as much of his divine doctrine as the Ca¬
tholic Church had required. But while she could not be
brought to acknowledge the king’s explications, this declara¬
tion availed her nothing, and was rather regarded as a fresh
insult.” She was most cruelly racked in the presence, and
it was said by the hand, of the chancellor himself, in order to
extort confession of those ladies about court with whom she
corresponded. Her fortitude and fidelity probably saved the
life of the queen and others. She disclosed nothing, al¬
though her limbs were so dislocated by the rack that when
condemned to be burnt alive she could not stand, and was
carried in a chair to Smithfield, where, on 16th July 1546,
she underwent this terrible mode of execution with un¬
daunted courage, along with four other victims of an atro¬
cious tyranny. (t. s. t.)
ASKRIGG,a market-town and polling-place in the North
Riding of Yorkshire, on the Ure, 15 miles S.W. of Rich¬
mond.
ASMODEUS. See Abaddon.
ASMONEUS, or Assamoneus, the father of Simon, and
chief of the Asmoneans, a family that reigned over the Jews
126 years.—Josephus, Hist. Jud.
ASNA. See Esne.
ASOLO (ancient Acelum), a town of Austrian Italy, 18
miles N.W. of Treviso. It is well built and finely situ¬
ated ; has a cathedral and several other churches, with an
ancient castle, and the remains of a Roman aqueduct, &c.
Pop. 3500. Long. 11. 58. E. Lat. 45. 50. N.
ASOPH. See Azoph.
ASP, in Natural History, a poisonous kind of serpent.
It is said to be thus denominated from the Greek do-7ris, a
shield, in regard to the manner of its lying convolved in a
ASP
Asphal-
tites.
circle, in the centre of which is the head, which it exerts or-Asparagus
raises like the umbo or umbilicus of a buckler. This spe¬
cies of serpent is very frequently mentioned by authors, but
so carelessly described that it is not easy to determine which, v
if any, of the species known at present may properly be called
by this name. It was with the asp that Cleopatra is said to
have despatched herself, and prevented the designs of Au¬
gustus, who intended to have carried her captive to adorn
his triumphal entry into Rome. But the fact is contested:
Sir Thomas Brown places it in the list of vulgar errors. The
indications of that queen’s having used the ministry of the
asp were only two almost insensible pricks found in her arm;
and Plutarch says that the cause of her death is unknown.
Naturalists now suppose the asp of the ancients to be a species
of viper, either the V.Echis or V. Cerastes of Schlegel; and
some suppose it to be the Naja Haje.
ASPARAGUS. See Horticulture.
ASPARAGINE. See Chemistry.
ASPASIA of Miletus, a celebrated courtezan who set¬
tled at Athens under the administration of Pericles. She
was of admirable beauty; yet her wit and eloquence, still
more than her beauty, gained her extraordinary reputation
among all ranks in the republic. Her conversation was so
entertaining and instructive, that notwithstanding her dis¬
honourable profession, persons of the first distinction, male
and female, resorted to her house as to an academy. It is
said that she even numbered Socrates among her hearers.
She captivated Pericles in such a manner that he dismissed
his own wife, to make way for Aspasia, who, by her universal
knowledge, irresistible elocution, and intriguing genius, in
a great measure influenced the administration of Athens.
She was accused of having excited, from motives of per¬
sonal resentment, the war of Peloponnesus. The com¬
panions of Aspasia served as models for painting and sta¬
tuary, and themes for poetry and panegyric. Nor were
they merely the objects, but, as is said, the authors of
some literary works, in which they established rules for
the behaviour of their lovers, particularly at table; and
explained the art of gaining the heart and captivating the
affections.
ASPECT, in Astronomy, the position of one planet with
respect to another.
ASPECTANT, in Heraldry, signifies face to face; as
when two beasts or birds are borne opposite to each other
in the shield.
ASPER (Spiritus), in Grammar, an accent peculiar to
the Greek language, marked thus ', and importing that the
letter over which it is placed ought to be strongly aspirated,
or pronounced as if an h were prefixed.
ASPERN, or Gross Aspern, a village of Austria on the
left bank of the Danube, a few miles below Vienna. This
village and the neighbouring one of Essling are celebrated
as the scene of a tremendous conflict between the French
army commanded by Napoleon, and the Austrians under
the Archduke Charles. After two days hard fighting (21st
and 22d May 1809), with great loss on both sides, the French
were obliged to take refuge in Lobau, a small island in the
Danube; but Napoleon speedily retrieved his losses on the
field of Wagram.
ASPEROSA, a town and bishop’s see of Turkey in Eu¬
rope, situated on the coast of the Archipelago. Long. 25.
20. E. Lat. 40. 58. N.
ASPERMOUS (a, priv., and o-Trep/xa), in Botany, desti¬
tute of seed.
ASPHALTIC Pavement. See Bitumen.
ASPHALTITES LACUs,or Lake of Bitumen, so called
from the bitumen which floats upon its surface. It is more
familiarly known as the Dead Sea, a name associated with
many fables, and derived from a long standing belief that no
creature could live in its waters, or within reach of its pes-
A S P H A L T I T E S.
Asplml- tiferous exhalations. It lies between Lat. 31. and 32. N.
tites- Long. 35. 40. E.
',~w This celebrated lake is supposed to occupy the site of the
ancient plain of Sodom and Gomorrha; and this belief may
possibly have given rise to the idea of its deadly exhalation.
It is, indeed, possible that when the volcanic agencies that
appear to have torn and upheaved its rocky southern bor¬
ders were in operation, such emanations may have taken
place, but these have long ceased. Early in the Christian
era Pliny merely states that the Essenes, a tribe dwelling
on its banks, abandoned their stations on the approach of
summer as unwholesome; just as other lakes in warm cli¬
mates are pestilential at that season from marsh miasms. In
the present day the air over it has nothing peculiarly pes¬
tilential. It has been repeatedly visited, and the supposed
absence of animal life on and in its water is found to be fabu¬
lous. Heymann and Van Egmont observed swallows skim¬
ming along its surface; and a sparrow, which they had thrown
into the lake after clipping its wings, easily regained the shore.
Captain Lynch of the U. S. navy, saw ducks on its surface,
and snipes, partridges, singing birds, and hares, on its shores.
Some travellers have ascertained that the coral porites elon-
qata lives in its waters ; and Hasselquist and Maundrell long
ago mentioned living shells as occurring in it. Dr Wilson
observed shells of dead Clausilia and Pupa on its shores, which
he supposes to have been carried into it by the Jordan, but
may very well have lived there and been ejected after death
on the beach. It has even been asserted that one small
species of fish is peculiar to the Dead Sea. This designa¬
tion of the lake seems to have arisen from the little agitation
of its very dense waters by the winds, and the dull murmur
they make on its shores. Its surface very speedily resumes
its unruffled appearance on the ceasing of a gale, and is
scarcely curled by a moderate breeze.
The lake occupies a portion of a very remarkable depres¬
sion of the earth’s surface, the Wady-el-Ghoo. Within the
present century its surface has been found to be greatly below
the level of the Mediterranean. The problem was attempted
by Schubart and Russeggar with the barometer; but it was
more accurately determined by a series of levels taken by
some French engineers, and by Lieut. Symonds of our Royal
Engineers. The levels of the latter, carried from Jaffa to
the Dead Sea, give the depression of the surface of the latter
at 1312'2 feet. Ihe French state it at 1446 feet below the
Mediterranean, and 1407 below the Red Sea. The deter¬
mination of Captain Lynch, U. S. navy, nearly agrees with
that of Symonds. Three attempts have been made to survey
it by boats ; the first by Mr Costigan, an enterprising young
Irish traveller in 1835 ; the next by Lieut. Molyneux, R.N.,
in 1847. Exposure to the sun proved fatal to both. In 1848,
Captain Lynch was sent with iron boats and suitable appa¬
ratus by the American Government to survey the Dead
Sea, and the result has been published. The lake is stated
by Symonds to be 48-|- English miles in length, and ll^- at
its greatest breadth. Lynch makes its extreme length to be
42 miles from north to south, and rather less than 10 at its
widest part. These measurements are much below its
fancied dimensions. Even Mariti states its circumference at
180 miles. Its depth is very considerable. The greatest
depth, according to the observations of Molyneux, is 225
fathoms; and even then it was uncertain whether the plum¬
met struck the bottom. In the northern portion, between
Ain-Sidi to the mouth of the Arnon, the mean depth, ac¬
cording to Lynch, for a distance of seven geographical miles,
was 188 fathoms. Ihe southern portion of the lake is shal¬
low, and is divided from the deep part by a narrow peninsula
of loose calcareous marl. 1 o the south of this peninsula the
depth is only about 13 feet. With regard to the bottom of
the lake, it is in part rocky, but generally consists of a bluish
mud or slime, containing cubic crystals of salt. Bitumen and
VOL. III.
asphalt are found on the east and west shores of the lake,
with small masses of sulphur, especially at the end of the
peninsula which Lynch has named Cape4Costigan, a bluff 40
or 50 feet high, with an angular ridge 20 feet higher. The
sulphur is occasionally in masses as large as a walnut, and
the asphalt is manufactured into rosaries at Jerusalem. The
north shores of the lake Lynch describes as an extensive
flat of mud, with sandy plains beyond, and as the very type
of desolation, with the blackened trunks and branches of trees
strewed in every direction, partially encrusted with salt. The
north-west shore consists of a bed of gravel sloping gently
to the hills. The eastern shores are formed by the rugged
sterile mountains of Moab, a branch of the Hauran range.
The southern shore is low, flat, and marshy, of the most de¬
solate aspect. The whole line of the west coast is formed
of a range of rugged mountains like the eastern side. At
the south-west extremity of the lake is the isolated ridge
called the Mountain of Usdom, containing fossil salt. Here
Lynch found a lofty detached pillar of salt, standing at the
head of a deep narrow chasm. It is cylindrical in front,
and pyramidal behind; it is of solid crystalline salt, capped
by carbonate of lime. The upper part is 40 feet high, rest¬
ing on an oval pedestal 40 or 50 feet above the water. It
slightly diminishes in diameter as it ascends, and the top is of
crumbling limestone. It is probably this pillar of salt which
some travellers have mentioned as known to the Arabs under
the name of “ Lot’s Wife.”
Captain Lynch’s surveywas leisurely made; his boats were
22 days on the lake. He encountered a sudden squall on
one occasion, when the sound of the waves against the boats
is described as like that of sledge hammers rather than of
waves of the sea; yet when the squall as suddenly ceased,
within 20 minutes they were rowing along a placid sheet
of smooth water scarcely rippling to the breeze. This com¬
parative sluggishness of its waters is owing to their great
density, which has no parallel except in the lately discovered
Utah Lake of North America. Lynch once observed the sea
extremely phosphorescent ; which appearance we now be¬
lieve to be produced bymedusaria and other minute animals—
a further proof that the waters of this celebrated lake are not
hostile to life. The water, when examined in a glass, is clear
and transparent; but Mplyneux found it throughout at the
period of his visit muddy like the waters of the Jordan; and he
also speaks of its disagreeable smell. It has been chemically
examined by Macquer, Lavoisier, Sage, Marcet, Klaproth,
and last by Dr Salisbury of America. Its specific gravity as
given by Lavoisier = L240; by Klaproth, L24 ; by Marcet,
T211; by Salisbury, 1T877. These differences may de¬
pend on the season of the year, and the proximity to the
Jordan or the Arnon. Certain it is that its waters are far
more buoyant than those of the Mediterranean. The an¬
cients believed that men and animals, and even iron, floated
entirely on its surface. Mr Stephens, a late American tra¬
veller, states that when he made the experiment, lying on
his back without any motion of his hands, half his body re¬
mained above the surface, and he could easily have read in
that position; although in the Mediterranean he could only
float when using some slight motion of his hands.
1 he analysis of the water has been differently stated by
eminent chemists; thus we have for its contents-
761
Asphal-
tites.
Marcet.
Muriate of lime  3-920
Muriate of magnesia    10-246
Muriate of soda  10-360
Sulphate of lime  0-054
Water,
24-580
75-420
Klaproth.
10-60
24-20
7-80
o-oo
42-60
57-40
100-000 100-00
This striking difference probably depends on two causes:
o D
762 A S S
Asphaltum the loss of some water by evaporation in the keeping of the
II specimen of water before analysis; and the difference in
drying the salts before weighing them. That this last cause
^ 1 a" j is very important we know; and Marcet found that when the
’r v ^ saline ingredients were dried only at a temperature of 180°
Fahr., they equalled 41 per cent, of the water examined.
The analysis given by Dr Salisbury in the Transactions of the
American Scientific Association for 1851, gives also minute
quantities of potass, bromine, sulphur, silica, alumina, per¬
oxide of iron with nitric, phosphoric, and carbonic acid, and
organic matter, as ingredients in the waters of the Dead
Sea; and no doubt he would also have found in them iodine,
but his method of stating the proportions of each, while the
bases of the other salts only are given, renders quantitative
comparison unsatisfactory. He, however, states the ponder¬
able contents of the water at 23,002 per cent. He further
states that a gallon weighed 11‘877 lb.; a cubic foot 71T75
lb., while that of distilled water only 62*32 lb.
The saltness of the lake is derived from extensive beds
of salt that occur on its shores. At Usdom these beds ex¬
tend five geographic miles in length, and form cliffs from
100 to 150 feet in thickness. The waters of the Jordan,
though potable, contain exactly the same kind of saline sub¬
stances as the lake ; and as it has no outlet, the supply
brought by tbe Jordan, the Arnon, and its other tributaries,
must be removed by evaporation, leaving the salt behind;
so that in process of time the lake may become a bed of fossil
salt. The rugged mountains of Moab have all the cha¬
racter of erupted rocks; and the sulphur and bitumen, with
the large disengagement of bubbles of gas from the deepest
part of the lake, are probably indications of slumbering vol¬
canic action. (t. s. t.)
ASPHALTUM, Bitumen Judaicum, or Jew’s Pitch,
is a light, solid bitumen, of a dusky colour on the outside,
and a deep shining black within ; of very little taste, and hav¬
ing scarcely any smell, unless heated, when it emits a strong
pitchy odour. It is found in a soft or liquid state on the sur¬
face of the Dead Sea, and by age grows dry and hard. The
same kind of bitumen is met with likewise in the earth in
other places of the world—in China, America, and in some
places of Europe, as the Carpathian Hills, France, Neufcha-
tel, &c. See Bitumen.
ASPHODELEiE, a natural order of plants, containing,
among others, the well-known vegetable, asparagus. This
plant, and the root of the marsh-mallow, yield the chemical
principle asparagine. See Chemistry.
ASPHYXIA (do-^vfta), a temporary suspension of the
motion of the heart and arteries, causing swooning or faint¬
ing.
ASPICUETA, or Azpilcueta, Martin he, commonly
called the Doctor of Navarre, was descended of a noble
family, and born on the 13th of December 1491, at Varasayn,
near Pampeluna. Fie studied classics, natural and moral
philosophy, and divinity, at Alcala in New Castile. After
teaching with applause at Toulouse and Cahors, he was pro¬
fessor of canon law at Salamanca for 14 years, and after¬
wards at Coimbra for 20 years. Pope Pius V. made him
assistant to Cardinal Francis Aciat, his vice-penitentiary;
and Gregory XIII. never passed his door without calling for
him, and stopped sometimes a whole hour to talk with him
in the street. He was consulted as an oracle ; and his name
became so famous, that even in his lifetime the highest en¬
comium on a learned man was to call him a Navarrus. He
died on the 21st June 1586, having by temperance prolonged
his life to the age of 94. He wrote a number of treatises on
morality, law, &c. These were published in 3 vols. folio,
Rome, 1589; and in 6 vols. 4to, Venice, 1602.
ASS. See Mammalia.
ASSAFCETIDA, a foetid gum resin, obtained by exu¬
dation from the roots of at least two species of umbelliferous
ASS
plants, Ferula Assafcetida and F. Persica. The best comes Assam,
from Persia and Herat. Another locality has lately been v/—
assigned on the northern slope of the Himalayas in Syghan.
That produced in Northern Persia from F. Persica, is in¬
ferior in quality to that of Eastern Persia. See Botany.
ASSAM, a province of Eastern India, situate in the north¬
east of the Bengal territory, between the 25th and 29th de¬
grees of north latitude, and the 90th and 97th degrees of
east longitude. Its boundaries are Bhotan on the north and®oun(}»-
north-west; Thibet on the north-east; Burmah on the south-rivers’
east; Cachar, Jyntea, and the tract inhabited by the Cossya ral< u"
tribes on the south ; and the district of Goalpara on the west.tures.
Assam is an immense valley, surrounded on all sides, except
upon the west, by mountains of considerable elevation, and
interspersed with numerous eminences in the interior, rising
abruptly from the general level. The whole superficies is cal¬
culated at 21,805 sq. miles, a large portion of which is occu¬
pied by woods and rivers. Probably the rivers intersecting
Assam are more numerous than those of any other country
of equal extent, a consequence resulting from its being en¬
vironed by hills. The valley is divided throughout by the
Brahmapootra into two nearly equal parts; and many islands,
some of them very large, are formed by the confluence and
mutual intersection of numerous rivers, which contribute
alike to fertilize the ground and to facilitate the intercourse
of the inhabitants. Of these rivers not less than sixty-one
are known and distinguished by particular names, of which
thirty-four flow from the northern, twenty-four from the
southern mountains, and the remainder from sources beyond
the confines of Assam. The streams of the south are not
rapid, and have no considerable current until May or June.
The Brahmapootra, one of the largest rivers in the world,
derives its source from a well or circular basin at the eastern
extremity of the Brahmakund valley ; it enters Assam not
by a deep chasm, but by a series of cascades caused by the
accumulation of blocks of stone which have been propelled
forward by the torrent, and thus create a succession of ra¬
pids. Its earliest feeders after crossing the frontier are the
Kundil and the Digaroo, flowing from the Mishmi Flills on
the north, and the Tenga Pence and Noh Dihing which take
their rise on the Singpho Hills to the south-east. Shortly
afterwards it receives the Dibong, flowing from the north¬
east ; but its principal confluent is the Dihong, which deriving
its origin under the name of the Sanpoo, from a spot in the
vicinity of the source of the Sutlej, flows in a direction pre¬
cisely opposite to that river, and traversing the table-land of
Thibet at the back of the great Himalaya range falls into the
Brahmapootra in Eat. 27.48., Long. 95.26., after a course of
nearly 1000 miles. Doubts were long entertained whether
the Dihong could be justly regarded as the continuation of
the Sanpoo; these, however, have been gradually removed by
the additional testimony of more recent notices ; and as it is
ascertained moreover that the last-named river does not flow
into the Irawaddy, it appears impossible to account for its
course to the sea, except by presuming it to discharge its
waters into the Brahmapootra through the channel of the
Dihong. Below the confluence the united stream flows in
a south-westerly direction, forming the boundary between the
districts of Luckimpore and Durrung, situate on its northern
bank, and those of Sudiya, Seebpoor, and Nowgong on the
south; and finally bisecting Camroop, the lowest of the six
districts into which Assam is distributed, it crosses over the
frontier of the province and passes into Bengal. In its course
it receives on the left side the Booree Dehing, a river having
its rise at the south-eastern angle of the province ; and lower
down on the opposite side it parts with a considerable offset
termed the Booree Lohit, which, however, reunites with the
Brahmapootra 60 miles below the point of divergence, bear¬
ing with it the additional waters of the Sobu Sheree flowing
from Thibet. A second offset under the name of the Kul-
ASS
Assam. iung River rejoins the parent stream a short distance above
v die town of Gowhatty. The remaining rivers are too nu¬
merous to be particularized. Among the islands formed by
the intersection and confluence of the rivers is Majuli, or the
Great Island, as it is called by pre-eminence. This island
extends 55 miles in length by about 10 in breadth, and is
formed by the river Brahmapootra on the south-east, and the
Booree Lohit on the north-west. A Persian writer, Ma-
hommed Cazim, in describing Assam at the latter end of the
seventeenth century, makes some observations on its gene¬
ral appearance, which, as he bore no favour to the inhabitants,
may probably merit the greater confidence. He thus speaks
of Majuli—“ an island well inhabited, and in an excellent
state of agriculture ; it contains a spacious, clear, and pleasant
country. The cultivated part is bounded by a thick forest
which harbours elephants, and where these animals may be
caught as well as in four or five other forests in Assam. If
there be occasion for them, five or six hundred elephants may
fie procured in a year.” Describing the country south of the
Brahmapootra, the same author observes, “ across the river
on the side of Ghergong is a wide, agreeable, level country
that delights the heart of the beholder. The whole face of
it is marked with population and tillage ; and it presents on
every side charming prospects of ploughed fields, harvests,
gardens, and groves. From the village of Salagerah to the
city of Ghergong, a space of about 50 coss (100 miles), is
filled with such an uninterrupted range of gardens, plenti¬
fully stocked with fruit trees, that it appears as one garden.
Within them are the houses of peasants, and a beautiful as¬
semblage of coloured and fragrant herbs, and of garden and
wild flowers blowing together. As the country is overflowed
in the rainy season, a high and broad causeway has been
raised for the convenience of travellers from Salagerah to
Ghergong, which is the only uncultivated ground that is to
be seen. Each side of this road is planted with shady bam¬
boos, the tops of which meet and are entwined. Among the
Vegetable fruits which this country produces are mangoes, plantains,
products, jacks, oranges, citrons, limes, and punialeh, a species of am-
leh, which has such an excellent flavour that every person
who tastes it prefers it to the plum. There are also cocoa-
nut trees, pepper-vines, areca trees, and the sadij (an aro¬
matic leaf), in great plenty. Sugar cane excels in softness
and sweetness, and is of three colours, black, red, and white ;
there is ginger free from fibres and betel vines. The strength
of vegetation and fertility of the soil is such, that whatever
seed is sown, or slips planted, they always thrive. The en¬
virons of Ghergong furnish small apricots, yams, and pome¬
granates ; but as these are wild, and not assisted by cultiva¬
tion and engrafting, they are very indifferent. The princi¬
pal crop of this country consists in rice and mash. Ades, a
kind of pea, is very scarce, and wheat and barley are never
sown. And in respect to the other great division of the pro¬
vince he remarks, “ 1 he country which is on the northern side
of the Brahmapootra is in the highest state of cultivation, and
produces plenty of pepper and areca nuts. It even surpasses
the southern portion in population and tillage ; but as the
latter contains a greater tract of wild forests, and places diffi¬
cult of access, the rulers of Assam have chosen to reside in it
for the convenience of control, and have erected in it the capi¬
tal of the kingdom. The breadth of the Northern Division
from the bank of the river to the foot of the mountains, which
i> a cold climate and contains snow, is various, but is nowhere
less than 30 miles nor more than 90. The inhabitants of those
mountains are strong, have a robust and respectable appear¬
ance, and are of a middling size. Their complexions, like those
of the natives of all cold climates, are red and white; and they
have also trees and fruits peculiar to frigid regions.” Va-
rious agiicultural products appear to have been introduced
since the time of Mahommed Cazim. Wheat and barley are
now raised, though only to a small extent; but cotton, to-
A M. 763
bacco, and the poppy are extensively grown. The indi- Assam,
genous trees producing lac, and those yielding the gum
known as caoutchouc, are of great importance. But perhaps
the most valuable of the vegetable products of Assam is the
tea plant. This was first discovered in 1823, while theCultiva-
country was part of the Burmese dominions, by Mr Robert tion of tea.
Bruce, who had proceeded thither on a mercantile specula¬
tion. The war with the British breaking out shortly after,
and a brother of the first discoverer happening to be ap¬
pointed to the command of a division of gun boats employed
in some part of the operations, he followed up the pursuit of
the subject and obtained several hundred plants and a con¬
siderable quantity of seed. Some specimens were ultimately
forwarded to the superintendent of the Botanic Garden at
Calcutta. In 1832 Captain Jenkins was deputed by the
Governor-general of India, Lord William Bentinck, to report
upon the resources of the country, when the tea plant was
brought to his especial notice by Mr Bruce; and in 1834 a
minute was recorded by the Governor-general on the subject,
to which it is said his attention had been called in 1827 be¬
fore his departure from England. In accordance with the
views of that minute, a committee was appointed to prose¬
cute inquiries, and to promote the cultivation of the plant.
Communications were opened with China with a view to ob¬
taining plants and seeds from thence, and a deputation com¬
posed of gentlemen well versed in botanical studies was de¬
spatched into Assam. Some seedswere obtained from China;
but this probably was of small importance, as it was clearly
ascertained by the members of the Assam deputation, that
both the black and the green tea plants were indigenous there,
and might be multiplied to any extent; but another result
of the Chinese mission, that of procuring persons skilled in
the cultivation and manufacture of black tea, was of more ma¬
terial benefit. Subsequently, under Lord Auckland, a further
supply of Chinese cultivators and manufacturers was ob¬
tained, these being acquainted with the processes necessary
for the production of green tea, as the former were with those
requisite for black. In 1838 the first twelve chests of tea
from Assam were received in England. They had been in¬
jured in some degree on the passage, but on samples being
submitted to brokers and others of long experience and tried
judgment, the reports were highly favourable. It was never,
however, the intention of government to carry on the trade :
from the first it was proposed to resign it to private adven¬
ture, as soon as the experimental course could be considered
fairly completed. Mercantile associations for the culture and
manufacture of tea in Assam began to be formed as early as
1839, and in 1849 the government disposed of their esta¬
blishments, relinquishing the pursuit to the ordinary opera¬
tion of commercial enterprise. In 1851 the crop of the
Assam Tea Company was estimated to produce 280,000 lb.,
and the general aspect of the affairs of that company is de¬
scribed in their latest report as satisfactory and promising.
1 he climate of Assam is said to be more temperate than
that of Bengal, and subject to less variation. The warm
weather is moderate, and the nights cool and refreshing. The
mean temperature of the four hottest months does not ex¬
ceed 80°; that of the winter season amounts to 57°, and the
mean annual temperature may be stated at 67°. The rains
are of unusual duration, commencing in March and continu¬
ing till the middle of October. Earthquakes are frequent.
No less than twelve are stated to have occurred in the twelve
months between May 1834 and May 1835 : in 1845 a shock
was experienced at Nowgong, whereby considerable damage
was sustained.
A meagre sketch is all that is possessed of the geology of As- Geology,
sam. The mountains on the opposite sides of the valley are
characterized by distinct systems, those on the north being
composed of primitive formations, while those on the south
partake largely of sandstone, shell-limestone, and coal. Some
ASSAM.
764
Assam, valuable minerals, however, are met with: gold-dust is found in
' all the rivers flowing from the northern mountains, but it differs
Minerals. ™ purity and colour, and also in malleability. That which is ob¬
tained in the Dekrungh is particularly celebrated, and is distin¬
guished by a higher colour than that found in the Brahmaputra,
though it is more abundant in the bed of the latter river. The
greatest quantitiesof goldarefoundnearestthe mountains,which
probably indicates that it is carried down from them by the tor¬
rents ; but it is never sought in the southern rivers. Beds of
iron ore exist in various places, and tracings of former workings
to a considerable extent remain; but the native article being un¬
dersold by iron imported from England, as well as from adjacent
provinces, is by this competition driven out of the market. In
noticing the mineral productions, coal must not be overlooked.
It has been discovered in beds of considerable magnitude, from
the banks of the Noh Dihing in the south-eastern extremity of
the province, to the vicinity of the Kossilei River, within 60 miles
of Gowhatty; and from the circumstance of its existence at
these two extremities, as well as in several intermediate locali¬
ties, there appear grounds for the inference that the coal for¬
mations of Assam are co-extensive with the whole length of the
valley. In 1851 specimens of this mineral, derived from the
coal-bed of Jaipur, on the Booree Dehing, were forwarded by
the Government of India for analysis to Professor Oldham, the
superintendent of the geological survey. The professor’s re¬
port, though not given sufficiently in detail, owing to the con¬
dition in which the specimens reached their destination, was
still so far encouraging as to induce the belief that the labour
of further search would be amply remunerated. Neither cop¬
per nor silver are found in Assam. Rock-salt is dug out of the
earth, and brine springs are not uncommon in some localities,
from the produce of which salt is made; but the manufacture is
costly, and the salt is fully as expensive as that imported.
Animals. The zoology of Assam presents little that is remarkable.
Wild elephants abound and commit many depredations, enter¬
ing villages in large herds, and consuming everything suitable
to their tastes. Many are caught by means of female elephants
previously tamed, and trained to decoy males into the snares
prepared for subjecting them to captivity. A considerable num¬
ber are tamed and exported from Assam every year, but the
speculation appears to be somewhat precarious, as it is said
about twice the number exported are annually lost in the course
of training. Many are killed every year in the forests for the
sake of the ivory which they furnish ; and the supply must be
very great which can afford so many for export and destruction
without any perceptible diminution in their number. The
rhinoceros is found in the denser parts of the forests, and
generally in swTampy places. This animal is hunted and killed
for its skin and its horn. The skin affords the material for
the best shields. The horn is sacred in the eyes of the natives.
Contrary to the usual belief, it is stated that if caught young,
the rhinoceros is easily tamed, and becomes strongly attached
to his keeper. Tigers abound, and though many are annually
destroyed for the sake of the government reward, their num¬
bers seem scarcely at all to diminish. Their destruction is some¬
times effected by poisoned arrows discharged from an instru¬
ment somewhat resembling a cross bow, in w'hich the arrow
is previously fixed, and a string connected with the trigger car¬
ried across the path in front of the arrow, and fastened to a
peg. The animal thus struck is commonly found dead at the
distance of a few yards from the engine prepared for his de¬
struction. Leopards and bears are numerous; and the Arc-
tonix Collaris of Cuvier, a small animal somewhat resembling
a bear, but having the snout, eyes, and tail of a hog, is found.
Among the most formidable animals known is the wild buffalo,
which is of great size, strength, and fierceness. Many deaths
being caused by this animal, a reward is given for its destruc¬
tion. The fox and the jackal exist, and the wild hog is very
abundant. Goats, deer of various kinds, hares, and two or three
species of antelope are found, as are monkeys in great variety.
The porcupine, the squirrel, the civet cat, the ichneumon, and
the otter are common. The birds are too various to admit of
enumeration—wild game is plentiful; pheasants, partridges,
snipes, and water fowl of many descriptions furnish attraction
for the sportsman. Vultures and some other birds of prey are"
met with. Crocodiles swarm in all parts of the Brahmaputra.
Tortoises are numerous, and constitute a staple article of food
sold in the bazaars. Porpesses are common, their favourite Assam,
resort being the entrance of some tributary stream into the ^ ^^
great river. There they are hunted and speared by the natives.
Serpents of many kinds exist. Leeches abound; and a land
leech is very common in the hills, especially during the rains,
when it is found clinging to every bush and blade of grass.
It is believed that it might be applied in the exercise of the
curative art, as harmlessly as the ordinary medicinal leech, and
with similar results. The Brahmaputra abounds with very
fine fish in great variety, including the mullet.
The population of Assam is returned at 780,935. The History
Assamese are descendants of a race called Ahoms, who, and nmn-
about the thirteenth century, emigrated from some more !lers °/ t!>e
eastern region and possessed themselves of the country;
but having no females of their own race, took wives from
the aborigines, a circumstance favourable to their stability.
Of the religion of the conquerors it seems impossible to speak
except in negative terms. It is said to have exhibited no
trace of Bhudhism. Its followers were not Hindus, for they
ate beef; nor Mahometans, for they were consumers of pork.
Other descriptions of animal food, almost universally con¬
sidered repulsive, entered into their gastronomic repertory,
and in this respect they seem to have resembled the Chinese.
The Assamese have been described as a degenerate, weakly
race; more so, indeed, than the people of Bengal. This,
however, is questioned by late observers, who, while ad¬
mitting the Assamese to be physically inferior to the peo¬
ple of the north-west provinces, regard them as greatly su¬
perior to those of Bengal. In complexion they are repre¬
sented to be somewhat lighter than the Bengalese. Their
faces are flat; they have high cheek-bones, and in general
physiognomy bear a resemblance to the Chinese. Their
hair is black, coarse, and lank. The beard is scanty, and
the small quantity bestowed by nature is usually plucked
out. The personal characteristics of the women are de¬
cidedly superior to those of the other sex. They are fair to
a degree not usually met with in India, and many of them,
it is said, would in any part of the world be considered beau¬
tiful. In most parts of the country they do not affect the
personal concealment common in the East, but appear in
public as in Europe. The state of morals in both sexes is
Ioav. Among the men falsehood and knavery are predomi¬
nant. They are lazy and utterly careless as to making pro¬
vision for the future. If compelled to labour, they aban¬
don their work after a day or two, and resort to the more
pleasant occupations of drinking arrack and chewing opium.
The female part of the population estimate lightly that vir¬
tue which is the peculiar ornament of their sex. It is con¬
sidered a disgrace for a girl to remain unmarried after the
attainment of a marriageable age; but, as among the hum¬
bler classes this is often unavoidable, the fact of her becom¬
ing a mother before she is a wife occasions no scandal, and
a parent will bargain for her daughter’s honour with as much
coolness as if for the sale or hire of a domestic animal. The
health of the women is said to be injuriously acted upon by
this state of manners and morals. Those who escape the
stigma attached to protracted spinsterhood incur the cares
and dangers of maternity before the constitution has ac¬
quired sufficient strength to sustain them without injury ;
while those who remain unmarried till a later period of life
do not necessarily escape this source of debility, while they
are exposed also to the enervating consequences of a career
of illicit indulgence. Children are not numerous, and of
those born the proportion who die before reaching the se¬
cond stage of life is large. The darker shades of Assamese
life are, however, relieved by a few gleams of light. The
respect paid to old age is great. The affection of parents
for their children also appears strong, and the bonds of
family connection generally are maintained and strengthened
by the exercise of kindness. Beyond their own caste, how-
ASS
Assam, ever, little of good-feeling seems to exist among the people.
The Assamese have always been a people of warlike habits ;
this fact being vouched not only by their original conquest,
but by the extension also of the conquered territory. In 1638,
during the reign of the Emperor Shah Jehan, the Assamese
descended the Brahmaputra and pillaged the country round
the city of Dacca; they were expelled by the governor of
Bengal, who retaliated upon the plunderers by ravaging
Assam. During the civil wars between the sons of Shah
Jehan, the king of Assam renewed his predatory incursions
into Bengal: upon the termination of the contest, Aurung-
zebe determined to avenge these repeated insults, and de¬
spatched a considerable force for the regular invasion of the
Assamese territory. His general, Meer Jumla, defeated
the Rajah, who fled to the mountains, and most of the chiefs
made their submission to the conqueror. But the rains set
in with unusual violence, and Meer Jumla’s army was almost
annihilated by famine and sickness. Thus terminated the
last expedition against Assam by the Mahometans, whose
fortunes in this country were never prosperous. A writer
of the Mahometan faith says, “ Whenever an invading army
has entered their territories, the Assamese have sheltered
themselves in strong posts, and have distressed the enemy
by stratagems, surprises, and alarms, and by cutting off their
provisions. If these means failed they have declined a bat¬
tle in the field, but have carried the peasants into the moun¬
tains, burned the grain, and left the country desert. But
when the rainy season has set in upon the advancing ene¬
my, they have watched their opportunity to make excursions
and vent their rage ; the famished invaders have either be¬
come their prisoners or been put to death. In this manner
powerful and numerous armies have been sunk in that whirl¬
pool of destruction, and not a soul has escaped.” The same
writer states that the country was spacious, populous, and hard
to be penetrated; that it abounded in dangers; that the
paths and roads were beset with difficulties; and that the
obstacles to conquest were more than could be expressed.
The inhabitants, he says, were enterprising, well armed, and
always prepared for battle. Moreover they had lofty forts
numerously garrisoned and plentifully provided with warlike
stores ; and the approach to them was opposed by thick and
dangerous jungles, and broad and boisterous rivers. The
difficulties in the way of successful invasion are of course
not extenuated, as it was the object of the writer to exalt
the prowess and perseverance of the faithful. He accounts
for their temporary success by recording that, “ the Mussul¬
man hordes experienced the comfort of fighting for their
religion, and the blessings of it reverted to the sovereignty
of his just and pious majesty.” The short-lived triumph of
the Mussulmans might, however, have warranted a less am¬
bitious tone. About the middle of the seventeenth century
the chief became a convert to Hinduism. By what mode
the conversion was effected does not clearly appear, but
whatever were the means employed it seems that the de¬
cline of the country commenced about the same period. In¬
ternal dissensions, invasion, and disturbances of every kind
convulsed the province, and neither prince nor people en¬
joyed security. Late in the eighteenth century some inter¬
ference took place on the part of the British government,
then conducted by Lord Cornwallis; but the successor of
that nobleman, Sir John Shore, adopting the non-interven¬
tion policy, withdrew the British force, and abandoned the
country to its fate. Its condition encouraged the Burmese,
an aggressive people, to depose the Rajah and to make As¬
sam a dependency of Ava. The extension of their en¬
croachments on a portion of the territory of the East India
Company compelled the British Government to take deci¬
sive steps for its own protection. Hence arose the series
of hostilities with Ava, known in Indian history as the first
Burmese wrar, on the termination of which by treaty in
ASS 765
February 1826, Assam remained a British possession. In Assarium
1833 that portion of the province denominated Upper As- II
sam, was formed into an independent native state, and con- ^Assassin-
ferred upon Pcorunder Sing, the ex-Rajah of the country ;
but the administration of this chief proved unsatisfactory,
and in 1838 his principality was reunited with the British
dominions. (e. t.)
ASSARIUM, in Antiquity, denotes a small copper coin,
being a part or diminutive of the as. The word daadpLov
is used by Suidas indifferently with ofioXos and voytaya, to
denote a small piece of money; but according to Polybius
(ii. 15), the assarium was equal to half the 6/3oXos, or 3f
farthings. We find mention of the assarium in the gospel
of St Matthew, chap. x. ver. 29.
ASSASSIN, a person who kills another with the ad¬
vantage either of an inequality in the weapons, or by means
of the situation of the place, or by attacking him unawares.
The word assassin is said by some to have been introduced
from the Levant, where it took its rise from a certain prince
of the family of the Arsacidce, popularly called Assassins,
living in a castle between Antioch and Damascus, and bring¬
ing up a number of young men, ready to pay a blind obe¬
dience to his commands; whom he employed in murdering
the princes with whom he was at enmity. This people pro¬
bably owed their origin to the Carmatians, a famous hereti¬
cal sect among the Mahometans, who settled in Persia about
the year 1090; whence, in process of time, they sent a colony
into Syria, where they became possessed of a considerable
tract of land among tbe mountains of Lebanon, extending
itself from the neighbourhood of Antioch to Damascus. Ac¬
cording to Colonel Chesney, the Assassins, or Ismaili, have
their chief seat still at Kalat-el-Masryad in Persia; and they
have several strongholds in the mountains of Tripoli. Their
name is most probably derived from the intoxicating plant
Cannabis indica, which they use, and which is called
shin in Persic; “and has no connection with the Old Man
of the Mountain? The first chief and legislator of this re¬
markable tribe appears to have been Hassan Ben Sabah, a
subtle impostor, who by his artifices made fanatical and im¬
plicit slaves of his subjects. Their religion was compounded
of that of the Magi, the Jews, the Christians, and the Maho¬
metans ; but the capital article of their creed was to believe
that the Holy Ghost resided in their chief; that his orders
proceeded from God himself, and were real declarations of
his divine pleasure. To this monarch the orientals gave
the name of Sheikh-el-Jebelz; but he is better known in
Europe by the name of the Old Man of the Mountain.
This chief, from his residence on Mount Lebanon, like a
vindictive deity, with the thunderbolt in his hand, sent in¬
evitable death to all quarters of the world; so that from one
end of the earth to the other, caliphs, emperors, sultans,
kings, princes, Christians, Mahometans, and Jews, every
nation and people, execrated and dreaded his sanguinary
power, from the strokes of which there was no security. At
the least suggestion or whisper that he had threatened the
death of any potentate, all immediately doubled their guards,
and took every other precaution in their power. It is known
that Philip Augustus, king of France, on a premature advice
that the sheikh intended to have him assassinated, instituted
a new body-guard of men distinguished for their activity
and courage, called sergens d’armes, with brass clubs, and
bows and arrows; and he himself never appeared without a
club, fortified either with iron or gold. Most sovereigns
paid secretly a pension to the sheikh, however scandalous
and derogatory it might be to the lustre of majesty, for the
safety of their persons. The knights-templars alone dared
to defy his secret machinations and open force. This people
once had, or at least they feigned to have, an intention of
embracing the Christian religion. They reigned a long
time in Persia and on Mount Lebanon. Holagoo or Hu-
766
ASS
ASS
Assaying, laku, a leader of the Mogul Tartars, in the year 655 of the
Hegira, or 1254 of the Christian era, entered their country
and dispossessed them of several places; but it was not till
some years after that they were totally extirpated. This
achievement was owing to the conduct and intrepidity of
the Egyptian forces sent against them by the Sultan Bibars.
A History of the Assassins, in the German language, by
Mr Von Hammer, was published at Stuttgard in 1818. It
contains some new and striking views of the origin, proceed¬
ings, and doctrines of the sect. He represents them as
forming a military and religious order, subject to the control
and direction of a grand master, like the templars, to whom
the title of Old Man of the Mountain was applied. We
must content ourselves with referring our readers to this
learned and curious work.
ASSAULT, in English Lain, is an offer or attempt to
hurt the person of another; as, if one lift up his cane or his
fist in a threatening manner at another, or strike at him,
but miss him, this is an assault; the actual touching of the
person not being necessary to make the offence. Finch
describes it to be “ an unlawful setting upon one’s per¬
son.” No words whatsoever, be they ever so provoking, can
amount to an assault. There are, however, opinions to the
contrary.
ASSAY, Essay, or Say, in Metallurgy, the proof or trial
of the goodness, purity, value, &c., of metals and metalline
substances. In ancient statutes this is called touch, and
those who had the care of it keepers of the touch.
ASSAYING, taken in its general acceptation, is a chemi¬
cal process by which any ore, or other metallic compound, is
analysed, and its constituent parts determined. But the
term more particularly denotes the peculiar art by which
gold and silver are examined, and their qualities ascertained,
in relation to their state of purity. By the former the whole
contents of the substance under examination are separated
and collected; by the latter it is only necessary in practice
to find, by the destruction or separation of the alloys, the
amount of pure metal contained in the specimen operated
on, so that a value may be given, by computation, to the
whole mass. To this specific branch we purpose to confine
ourselves in the following observations.
The art of assaying the precious metals must be esteemed
of considerable importance in many points of view; but
more especially to commercial nations trading extensively
in these commodities. For although the ultimate destina¬
tion of these metals be their conversion into coin, plate, or
other articles of use and ornament, still there are vast trea¬
sures of bullion consigned to the stores of different countries
merely as commodities, as convenient representatives of
value, or in security for nominal wealth, the marketable
value of which is determined solely by the skill and accuracy
of the assayer. Every one having experience of such mat¬
ters knows that, unlike other things of a mercantile nature,
bullion cannot be valued by its bulk, weight, or any simple
external characteristic, but by ascertaining in some way the
amount of fine metal contained in a given quantity. And
implicit confidence being placed in the honesty, accuracy,
and fidelity of the assayer, who, by examining a small por¬
tion only, gives a certificate of its quality upon which the
whole is estimated, merchants are enabled to buy and sell
bullion without risk of loss, and with the most perfect as¬
surance of the value being maintained. By means of the
art of assaying, as applicable to small as to large things, we
also possess a certain safeguard against fraud in the manu¬
facture of plate and other articles of personal or domestic
use, which must be regarded as of some importance in a
country rich and affluent like Great Britain, where gold
and silver have become so common amongst the middle
classes as scarcely to be esteemed luxuries. We could only
wish that the laws which prevail in reference to plate were
Import¬
ance of
this art.
more generally extended in their application to the manu- Assaying,
facture of jewellery, and other personal ornaments ; for in
these things the public have no guarantee against fraud
and knavery beyond the character or assurance of the dealer.
If the art of assaying be deemed valuable and important
as regards bullion and plate, securing a certain and reliable
test of value, as well as a sufficient check upon fraudulent
designs, we cannot surely question its even greater import¬
ance in reference to the metallic currency of a country, the
standard accuracy of which affects materially the interests of
all, and so far tends to promote the welfare of mankind.
Whatever this standard be, it is obvious the value of all
property in exchange must be regulated and determined by
it, whether in land, houses, commodities, or the wages of
labour; and if we had no reliance on the integrity of our
coin, as a measure of value, we could enjoy no security in
our property. In all countries, therefore, claiming a cha¬
racter for honesty, the integrity of the standard should be a
fundamental principle. Any, the slightest, deviation from
it, will instantly be discovered, followed by a loss of credit,
and violent fluctuations in the exchange, which of ail things
are most injurious to trading communities. For the ex¬
change between one country and another is not determined
by coin merely as a circulating medium, but, in reality, by
the exact amount of fine metal contained in the coin ; and,
therefore, it is necessary to know that the proportion is
maintained called the standard, which, in our gold currency,
consists of eleven-twelfths of pure metal and one-twelfth of
alloy. This fact can only be ascertained by the process of
assay. But when nations acquire a character for honesty
and integrity, the currency will freely circulate all over the
world without suspicion, at its reputed value, and the cur¬
rency of one be easily converted into the currency of another.
But we should fail to secure this great advantage, this im¬
plicit confidence, without the assayer’s skill and check, by
which the due proportions of metal are guaranteed, and any
depreciation detected.
We need now no longer apprehend any of those capricious
and dishonourable changes in the currency, not unknown to
our history before the reign of Elizabeth, which enriched
the monarch at the expense of his subjects, created sudden
and violent changes in the value of property, and often
spread dismay and poverty amongst all classes, without any
clear knowledge of the cause. That patriotic and saga¬
cious queen, of whom England is justly proud, among other
great and durable merits, is honourably distinguished by
the restoration of our currency to purity, and by fixing
our present standard of value, from which, happily, no
deviation can be notified in succeeding ages. In this re¬
spect science and knowledge, if not always the handmaids
of integrity, are the best guarantees against fraud and evil
designs; and we can scarcely believe it possible, in these
times, to suffer from a dishonourable depreciation of the cur¬
rency, while any vague apprehension of error is instantly
dissipated by the numerous checks, public and private, on
the purity of our coin. Amongst these we may briefly in¬
stance the ancient ceremony called the Trial of the Pyx, Trial of
which, in the most public manner, secures an impartial exa- the Pyx.
mination of the coinage, and a verdict, as public, of its legal
or standard purity. In no other country have we been able
to discover an institution analogous to this, which, after all
intermediate tests have been tried in the process of manu¬
facture, affords an ultimate and judicial appeal for the public
satisfaction. And it may be added, to the credit of the offi¬
cers of the Mint, that, whatever may happen in future times,
amid the sudden and hasty revolutions in public affairs, dur¬
ing the past we are unable to adduce any instance of this
ordeal being passed without honour and integrity ; and in¬
stead of the allowance or remedy by law for errors, unavoid¬
able in manufacture, being taken advantage of, as a protec-
ASSAYING.
767
Assaying, tion to carelessness, we may pronounce that the coinage has
always been proved to be as nigh to the legal standard as is
possible, the deviation being on the average scarcely worth
notification.
The Trial of the Pyx takes place once in about every
three years, but no specified period is fixed by law. It is
so denominated from the pyx, or chest, in which the speci¬
men coins are deposited in the Mint for future examination;
these specimen coins being supposed a fair representation
of the whole money coined within a certain period. Out
of each bag of coin, whether gold or silver, two pieces are
taken, one for the trial by assay within the Mint, the other
for the general pyx ; and these are carefully sealed up in
paper by three officers, and deposited in the chest. It should
be remarked, that previously to the issue of coin to the pub¬
lic, a minor pyx takes place within the Mint, intended for
the examination of the coined money by appointed officers,
as regards both weight and fineness, and no coin is per¬
mitted to be delivered before it has passed this necessary
ordeal.
It having been notified to the government that a trial of
the pyx is called for, the Lord Chancellor issues his warrant
to summon a jury of goldsmiths, who, on the appointed day,
proceed to the Exchequer Office, Whitehall, and there, in
presence of several privy-councillors, and the officers of the
Mint, receive the solemn charge of the Lord Chancellor,
who directs them in their important functions, and requests
them to deliver to him a verdict of their finding. A piece
of gold and silver, cut from the trial-plates deposited in the
Exchequer, supposed to be of the exact legal standard, are
delivered to the foreman of the jury, who is required to de¬
clare to what degree the coin under examination deviates
from them. This being done, the jury proceed to Goldsmith’s
Hall, London, where assaying apparatus, and all other ne¬
cessary appliances, are in daily use for the trial of gold and
silver plate; and sealed packets of the specimen coins being
delivered to them by the officers of the Mint, they are first
tried by weight, and then a certain number are taken from
the whole and melted into a bar, from which the assay trials
are subsequently taken.
The verdict of the jury, founded on the results of these
proceedings, proving favourable, the Master of the Mint
and subordinate officers are released from all further re¬
sponsibility, while the country receives, by the publicity of
the verdict, an attestation of the standard purity of the
coinage.
In times of comparative ignorance, the art of assaying
was esteemed a mystery, and, like some other crafts, the
practice of it was retained in few hands. There were sup¬
posed secrets in the conduct of the processes which none
but the initiated were permitted to know ; but now it is ad¬
mitted that those secrets are nothing but the knowledge
acquired by long experience, amounting in reality to cer¬
tain allowances or adjustments in the results of the opera¬
tions. The uncertain tests and appliances employed in an¬
cient times, which afforded only a wide approximation to
truth, and exposed the public to extortion and fraud, have
in more scientific times been superseded by chemical pro¬
cesses as accurate as they are delicate and beautiful. The
exquisite and varied laws of nature, in connection w ith metals
and their transformations, are made instrumental to the use
and knowledge of mankind; and science, so called, enables
man to nicely balance and estimate the vast treasures found
in the bowels of the earth, and constitute them measures of
value more unchanging than any other product of nature.
As science has progressed, so has the art of assaying im¬
proved, while in modern times new fields have been opened
up for its use and application. Along with increased ac¬
curacy, it has become more varied and extensive in its prac¬
tice. Ihe amount of the precious metals have not only in¬
creased immeasurably, thereby magnifying the importance Assaying,
of the art, but in recent times changes in the mode of re-
fining or separating .these metals have created a new branch
of business little practised in former ages. The applica¬
tion of sulphuric acid to separate gold from silver, and sil¬
ver from gold, by which the operation is effected with great
economy, and nearly all the contents recovered at com¬
paratively little cost, has led to an extensive business in
parting assays, which did not formerly exist. In this man¬
ner the holder of bullion, of a mixed character, has a higher
value put upon his metal by reason of the gold or silver
contained in it; and in the market he is able to realize
the whole value by assay, less the deduction made to cover
the charge of refining. The parting assay is different from
the simple assay in this, that it declares upon the certificate
of a gold assay the amount of silver combined with it, and
of a silver assay the number of grains of fine gold contained
in each pound.
The bullion to be valued having been melted into ingots
or bars, small pieces are cut from each and folded separately
in slips of paper with a corresponding mark or number of
the bar, so as to preserve the identification of the assay re¬
ports with the bars. On these slips of paper the assayer
writes his report, which declares the quality of the gold and
silver, and this is the certificate upon which the bullion is
bought and sold in the market. The Bank of England,
however, and the Mint, in order to guard against any sur¬
reptitious change, or fraud, require the assays upon which
they receive bullion to be cut off in presence of appointed
officers. The assayer reports gold by carats, and silver by
pennyweights. In the one case the Troy pound is divided
into 24 parts or carats, and British standard being i^-ths fine
gold and ygth alloy, the carat will thus represent 10 dwts.
Troy, the standard being therefore 22 carats fine and 2 carats
alloy. In the other the Troy pound is divided into 240
dwts., and the standard of silver being 222 dwts. fine and
18 dwts. of alloy, the penny weight will represent the gJoth
of the pound.
Carats are subdivided into four carat grains, = 60 Troy Assay
grains each, and these are again further subdivided into weights
eighths of a carat grain, = 7^ grains Troy. The lowest and re-
trade report of gold is one-eighth of a carat grain, and off01’18-
silver, half a pennyweight. In reporting gold, the practice
in general use is to take 2 carats as the representative of
fine gold for bullion better than standard, and 24 carats for
bullion worse than standard. Thus a bar reported better
L 3f, or one carat, three carat grains, and three-quarters of
a grain, is within one-quarter of a carat grain of purity, or
15 grains Troy. But if a bar were found to contain only
one-half of fine gold, the report would not be one carat
worse, but ivorse 12 carats, or -Jfths. We may observe, how¬
ever, that this complex mode of enumeration, so great a
mystery to the uninitiated, will probably in a few years be
entirely superseded by the decimal system of notation in
general use on the continent. Already it is partially adopted
by assayers in England, who are now required to append
the decimal report, to the ordinary one, on the certificate.
Instead of carats and pennyweights, the numeral 1000 will
represent fine gold and silver, and any deviation in purity
from this will be expressed by a decimal instead of a vulgar
fraction.
It has been already remarked that the lowest denomina¬
tion of the trade report is Jth of a carat grain, or 7w grains
I roy, as respects gold, and half a pennyweight, or 12 grains,
as respects silver; but practically an assayer can arrive at a
much nearer approximation to the truth. As in the Royal
Mint, in making the combination for standard coin, he can
report to a single grain, or in each case; but in buy¬
ing and selling bullion some protection to the purchaser is
deemed necessary as an indemnity against errors and irre-
768 A S S A
Assaying, gular mixture of the alloy, and hence arises the above lati-
tude in the assay report. It is probable, however, that the
general use of decimal notation will eventually cause a
more accurate report, and deprive the bullion dealer of a
share of that advantage which obviously is greater than is
necessary.
An ordinary assay report of gold and silver expresses the
variation from the standard, and not the fine metal con¬
tained in it; and it is, therefore, marked as either better or
worse than standard. The standard of gold being 22 carats
fine and 2 alloy, or -J^ths fine, an ingot of gold found to
contain only 21 carats pure gold would be reported ivorse
1 carat; if it contained 23-y carats, it would then be reported
better 1 carat, 3 grains, and half a grain. The standard of
silver being 11 oz. 2 dwts. fine, and 18 dwts. alloy, an in¬
got of silver found to contain only 11 oz. of fine wTould be
reported ivorse 2 dwts., but if it contained 11 oz. 4^, the
report would then be better 2-J,- dwts.
In buying or selling, the betterness or worseness of the
bar is added or deducted from the gross weight; and the
value is computed on this, the standard weight, at the mar¬
ket price of the day.
When the assay required is a parting assay, or an assay
of gold containing silver, a report is given of the weight of
fine silver in the pound; and when the silver exceeds 15
dwts. per pound, all above that is usually added to the value
of the gold, that being an allowance made by general agree¬
ment for the cost of separation or refining. So likewise
with an assay of silver holding gold. The report declares the
number of grains of fine gold in the pound, and all above
3 or 4 grains is added to the computed value of the silver.
In these delicate operations we need scarcely impress
upon the reader how important an instrument an accurate
balance must be in securing a certain and uniform result.
The specimen taken by an assayer is no more than 12 or
15 grains of the mass, and if 12 grains, each grain would
represent an ounce, or ^-J^-th. In the Royal Mint, the fine
balances in use are sensible to the o^1 °fa grain-
The principle of assaying gold and silver is very simple
theoretically, but in practice great experience is necessary
to insure accuracy ; and there is no branch of business
which demands more personal and undivided attention. The
result is liable to the influence of so many contingencies,
that no assayer who regards his reputation wall delegate the
principal processes to one not equally skilled with himself.
Besides the result ascertainable by weight, there are allow¬
ances and compensations to be made which are known only
to an experienced assayer, and if these were disregarded, as
might be the case with the mere novice, the report wamld
be wide from the truth.
With regard to silver assaying, the chief principles in the
process are—1. The power of lead to oxidate, or destroy
the metallic property of the alloys, which it does by com¬
bining with them and sublimating them in fumes ; 2. The
absorbing power of the cupels in which the assays are made,
and by which a great portion of the lead is taken up.
With regard to gold assaying, the same principles pre¬
vail in the preliminary process of cupellation, the result be¬
ing a compound of gold and silver in their pure state. In
the second process of parting the two metals, the first prin¬
ciple is the property of nitric acid to bring silver into a state
of solution while it leaves gold untouched. The silver thus
separated from the gold, which remains in a pure state,
enters not into the calculation unless a parting assay is re¬
quired, and therefore it is not recovered for any purpose
connected with the art.
But before proceeding to the detailed description of the
various delicate and interesting processes comprised in the
art of assaying, we shall first describe the furnaces and im¬
plements formerly in use, as well as those changes and irn-
Y I N G.
provements which have been recently introduced and Assaying,
adopted, the result of experience and the promptings of
scientific research, by which it may be said assaying has
approached as near to certainty as can be expected in any
chemical operation.
Plate LXXIV., A A A A, fig. 1, is a front elevation of an assay j}escr-
furnace; a a, a view of one of the two iron rollers on which the fur-tjon 0f fur
nace rests, and by means of which it is moved forward or backward ; naces &c
b, the ash-pit; cc are the ash-pit dampers, which are moved in ap ’ i ’’
horizontal direction towards each other for regulating the draughty uge ^
of the furnace; d, the door or opening by which the cupels and
assays are introduced into the muffle; e, a movable funnel or chim¬
ney, by which the draught of the furnace is increased.
13 B B B, fig. 2, a perpendicular section of fig. 1 ; aa, end view
of the rollers ; b, the ash-pit; c, one of the ash-pit dampers ; d, the
grate ; e, the plate upon which the muffle rests, and which is covered
with loam nearly one inch thick; /, the muffle in section represent¬
ing the situation of the cupels ; g, the mouth plate, and upon it are
laid pieces of charcoal, which, during the process, are ignited, and
heat the air that is allowed to pass over the cupels, and which will
be more fully explained in the sequel; h, the interior of the furnace,
exhibiting the fuel.
The total height of this furnace is 2 feet 6|- inches; from the
bottom to the grate 6 inches ; the grate, muffle, plate, and bed of
loam with which it is covered, 3 inches; from the upper surface
of the grate to the commencement of the funnel, e, fig. 1, 21J inches;
the funnel e 6 inches. The square of the furnace which receives the
muffle and fuel is Ilf inches by 15 inches. The external sides o^
the furnace are made of plates of wrought iron, and are lined with
a 2-inch fire-brick.
C C C 0, fig. 3, is a horizontal section of the furnace over the
grate, showing the width of the mouth-piece or plate of wrought iron,
which is 6 inches, and the opening which receives the muffle-plate.
Fig. 4 represents the muffle or pot, which is 12 inches long, 6
inches broad inside; in the clear 6f ; in height 4J inside measure,
and nearly 5J in the clear.
Fig. 5, the muffle-plate, and which is of the same size as the bot¬
tom of the muffle.
Fig. 6 is a representation of the sliding door of the mouth-plate,
as shown at d in fig. 1.
Fig. 7, a front view of the mouth-plate or piece, d, fig. 1.
Fig. 8, a representation of the mode of making, or shutting up
with pieces of charcoal, the mouth of the furnace.
Fig. 9, a view of the cupel, which is generally 1 inch by |4hs of
an inch.
Fig. 10, the teaser for cleaning the grate.
Fig. 11, a larger teaser, which is introduced at the top of the fur¬
nace, for keeping a complete supply of charcoal around the muffle.
Fig. 12, the tongs used for charging the assays into the cupels.
Fig. 13 represents a hoard of wood used as a register, and is
divided into 45 equal compartments, upon which the assays ai'e
placed previous to their being introduced into the furnace. When
the operation is performed, the cupels are placed in the furnace in
situations corresponding to these assays on the board. By these
means all confusion is avoided, and without this regularity it would
be impossible to preserve the accuracy which the delicate opera¬
tions of the assayer require.
Figs. 14, 15, 16, 17, represent sections of a smaller assay fur¬
nace invented by MM. Anfrye and D’Arcet of Paris, called by them
Le petit fourneau d coupelle, and which may be advantageously
used by the experimental assayer. It is composed of a chimney or
pipe of wi’ought iron a, and of the furnace B. It is 17| inches
high, and 7J inches wide. The furnace is formed of three pieces ;
of a dome A ; the body of the furnace B; and the ash-pit C, which
is used as the base of the furnace, figs. 14 and 15. The principal
piece or body of the furnace has the form of a hollow cylinder, flat¬
tened equally at the two opposite sides, parallel to the axis, and in
such a manner that the horizontal section is elliptical.
The section of the furnace, fig. ] 5, presents several openings;
the principal, which is that of the muffle, is placed in i; it is shut
with the semicircular door m, fig. 14, and as is seen in the section m,
fig. 15. In front of this opening is the table or shelf upon which
the door of the muffle is made to advance or recede; the letter q,
fig. 15, shows the face, side, and cross section of the shelf, which
makes part of the furnace.
Fig. 19 is a plan of the grate of the furnace; and fig. 20 a hori¬
zontal view of it.
Figs. 21, 22, 23, are views of the muffle.
Fig. 24 is a view of a crucible for annealing gold.
Figs. 25, 26, 27, are cupels of various sizes, to be used in the
f urnace.
assaying.
Assaying. Figs. 28 and 29 are views of the hand-shovels used for filling the
furnace with charcoal.
Fig. 30, the smaller pincers or tongs by which the assays are
charged into the cupels.
Fig. 18, the teaser for cleaning the grate of the furnace.
Fig. 16 is a representation of the furnace first constructed by
MM. Anfrye and D’Arcet, and which was worked by means of a
pair of bellows, which forced a current of air through the brass
tube b, entering the ash-pit under the grate at the circular hole c,
fig. 15. The strength of the blaster current of air can be regulated
at pleasure by the stop-cock d, fig. 16.
As the accuracy of the art of assaying depends in a great
measure upon the construction of the furnace, as well as its
management, and other implements and appliances, we pro¬
ceed now to describe the improvements introduced recently
in the Royal Mint by Mr H. W. Field, the Resident Assay-
master of that establishment, which tend to secure greater
accuracy, and allow of the processes to be conducted with
greater economy. Instead of the expensive product, charcoal,
being used in the cupellation-furnace, anthracite coal has
been substituted ; and the old sand-bath, employed to boil
the acid, has been superseded by the use of gas.
th/e1fu,rnace alreadY described, figs. 1 and 2, the usual
mode of fighting and feeding it is to throw the charcoal in
at the top, igniting the fuel by means of a faggot of wood
placed on the charcoal. In this manner two to three hours
are necessary to raise the furnace to the required tempera¬
ture to carry on the process. 1
In the new furnace, Plate LXXY, figs. 32 and 33, the
fuel is ignited by a small quantity of live charcoal scattered
round the sides and end of the muffle; and a few minutes
having elapsed, the furnace is then filled up to the door, h
with anthracite coal, broken into fragments of about the size
of a two-inch cube, and perfectly free from dust. The
doors of the furnace should then be closed, excepting that
of the ash-pit, and damper in the chimney, intended to give
circulation to the air.
When the coal is found to be in a state of combustion
either the door at the top, x, or the furnace door, h, or both,,
should be opened, as experience may dictate; because it
must be borne in mind that, after a‘certain point, if the
heat were urged too suddenly, either the muffle would crack
and be spoilt, or the bottom be too hot and the roof too cold,
while at the same time clinkers formed in the furnace mio-fit
impede the draught. If these simple precautions are at¬
tended to, and the heat gradually raised, the annealing of
the muffle, cupels, and furnace will be uniform, and both
trouble and expense avoided. By the use of anthracite coal,
the process of cupellation may be carried on as successfully
as by charcoal, when a saving is made of 550 per cent.
Descrip- Plate LXXV., fig. 32, is the front elevation of Mr Field’s fur-
tion ofnewnace; «, a view of the front iron-roller, on which it rests: b, the
anthracite ash-pit; c c are the dampers moving horizontally from side to side
furnace. towards each other, meeting exactly in the centre ; d, the muffle-
door by winch the assays are introduced ; e e, the door slides. So
tar the body of the furnace is similar to the old one, except that
the bars on which the muffie stands run from front to back, and
are movable, rendering the removal of the brick-work unnecessary,
y this means the muflle stand is easily introduced, and bavins’
bars lnnS °n the Under 14 iS raised about an inch above fhe
• Tbe farnac® measures 2 feet 10 inches in height; 1 foot 7 inches
in width; and 1 foot 11 inches in depth. Instead of the furnace,
asformeriy, being fed at the top, the fuel is charged by the door h,
which also affords the means of regulating the draught, and of
throwing a current of air through the muffle by the door 5. This door
has a bar, k, traversing about two-thirds of it, running easily from
the top towards the bottom within i i, with a ketch, on each side,
to keep it close. These are made on an incline, and about 3 J inches
long so as to allow the traversing-bar to slide freely when the door
s not required to be closed. In this manner the door may be opened
from a quarter of an inch to the extent of three inches
This Ceding and regulating door is fixed by hinges, 11, to the
front part of the ironjrame covering the brick lining on the top of
the furnace. On this frame rests the square dome, the front of
VOL. III.
769
which, is removable by two handies, an; ami bv takinn o„t tb. «
two thumb-screws, a the door and pirt oi the frlme come awl,
the muVe "pe.3TS' 80 “ t0 “*Ue ‘he f“™“» *»
The fornac. shonld be placed in a recess under a chimney with
a movable iron ceiling, t about one foot above the dome, fitting close
in every part, so that the draught of air may pass through the fur¬
nace. A door, or flap, *, is attached to the iron ceiling by a hinge
opening on the side of the recess, with means to fix it at any pofnt
required, so that the current of air may be regulated by the operator •
S> uSW1oo1-d0°r affords another mode for damping the furnace
Flp'- wu aseCti°n °f the furnaCe 32 = ““’the two rollers
on which the furnace is placed ; bb, the slides on which the ash-pit
oors run; c, the door and ash-pit; d, the iron casing to the fur-
Tn+h; >’ i?, lming.5 fJ the ash'Pit ’ the two bars inserted
in the brick lining, one in front, one at the back, support the fur¬
nace bars, which can easily be removed at pleasure; h shows one of
the bars on which the muffle-plate rests; *, a movable tray on which
the mouth coal is placed; & is a section of a muffle charged with its
full complement of 50 cupels ; showing also the rows of holes over
each row of cupels, through which a current of air passes. Simi¬
lar holes are placed at the back in three rows. They are not pierced
through horizontally, but slope towards the ceiling of the muffle
at such an angle as to exclude the ashes; l represents the extra coverl
ing of fire-clay; m, the anthracite coal, showing the level; n, the
feeding and regulating door; o, the ketch, or inclined plane on which
the sliding bar travels; p, the door, with running staples in which
tne bar slides; q, the mode in which the movable front is brought
round, and fixed by thumb-screws, r; s v, the hood ; t, handle for re-
moving the front; w x, the damper and handle ; y, the iron ceiling
Fig 34 represents the upper internal view of the furnace bars,
with the muffle stand or plate, showing also the space intended for
tne tuel.
I1 ig. 35 is the mouth of the muffle door, representing the mode of
regulating the current of air by cylinders of charcoal. Fig 40 is the
movable muffle door.
Fig. 38 is a representation of a muffle, 14J inches long, 7J inches
Wide, until it begins to taper at about IJ inches from the front
^see fig.. 39) when it does not exceed 5 J inches. The height is 64
nches, in the clear 5f inches. Its sides are perforated with holes
about a quarter of an inch diameter.
^6’ ain aanealing-iron for softening the assays after they are
flattened and rolled. It resembles a square box of iron about 4th
of an inch thick,.having strengthening pieces rivetted at each end
and two in the middle, bbbbb, between which are receiving places
for the assays a a a. The apertures are made diagonally, as shown
by c c c, that the assays may not fall completely to the bottom of the
box, so that they may be conveniently removed. The under part
o the box has a kind of double keel, d, rivetted on it, so that in
taking it from the furnace there be no danger of upsetting it on
the neahng trident. r °
from^^urMce61113 ^ ^ rem0vinS the annealing-iron
iS t V-ieW °f the aPParatus for boiling the gold assays in Gas an-
acid. Though, it may be remarked, there is no peculiar novelty i?n paratJs
boiling by the agency of gas, this is a very useful and ingenious^ap- P
plication of the principle; and, we may add, that the apparatus
here represented, constructed by the Assay-master of the Royal
Mint, is superior to any in use. By it 45 gold assays can be ope¬
rated upon at the same time, but its greatest advantage is the perfect
control which it gives to the assayer over the process, by which
great uniformity in the result is obtained.
The whole apparatus, with the exception of the wooden feet and
shps upon which the flasks rest, is constructed of brass, and con¬
sists oi three tubes, b b b, firmly fixed at each end to two sides of
mahogany a a, by screws : each tube has a cap h soldered thereon
with small stopcock; the other end is open, in order to secure its
connection, by a vulcanized india-rubber tube, with three fixed pipes
laving stop-cocks; and these pipes again unite in one main pipe, also
furnished with a cock. r r
I rom. the end of the front and back tubes or bars, b b, rise the
metal pillars g g g g, to which are attached the inclined supports
A; & on each side, having notches for the movable bars///, which
are so ai ranged as to allow the operator to see over each bar the
row.of burners behind it, as well as inspect the ebullition of the
liquid. I rom the three tubes or bars 6 6 4 rise the gas-burners,
c d e, each row being fixed at a distance sufficient to allow the
flasks when resting over the burners and against the movable bar
to be secure from falling. The burners have each a separate stop¬
cock, and as the tubes, or bars, are arranged at different heights, the
highest being in front, the operator can easily reach the stop-cock
of any particular burner, or, if necessary, a key can be applied.
5 E
770
Assaying.
ASSAYING.
The movable bars /// have cross handles at each end to remove
them, and on the front of the bars a piece of wood is screwed, hav¬
ing semi-circular notches exactly opposite each burner in which the
neck of the flask rests, while the body of the flask is supported over
the burner by brass rings passing through the bar above, attached
and fixed by thumb or milled screws, thus affording the means of
adjustment as to distance from the burner, &c. These particulars
may be seen by a reference to fig. 42, abed.
Fig. 43 is a section of the apparatus; a, the wooden stand •, b b b,
the three tubes or bars by which the gas passes to the several bur¬
ners ; g g. the pillars, rising from the front and back bars, which at
h h hold the sloping notched supports k, for the movable bars / ;
c, e, faintly indicate the burners; d, the middle line of burners,
showing also the stop-cocks, with the rings supporting the flasks
over the flame ; m m, the notches for front and back movable bars; /,
the handle to the bar to which the ring supports are fixed by screws.
Fig. 44, a tray for the flasks when charging the acid, or wash¬
ing the assay.
Fig. 45, tray to stand in front of the operator in case one or
more flasks require to be removed before the whole are sufficiently
boiled.
Fig. 46 represents a stand for holding the movable, bars when
taken from the apparatus to charge the acids or otherwise.
Fig. 47 shews a burner unscrewed from the bar.
Fig. 48, the wire support.
Fig. 42, a portion of a movable bar ; a, a burner; b, part of
supporting bar ; c, a flask ; d, rings for canning flasks.
Fig. 49, a glass-lipped vessel in which the acid is placed be¬
fore filling the flasks, b, a pipette by which an equal quantity of
acid is supplied to each flask.
By this description, the mode of working may be easily seen.
The movable bars are first charged with the flasks containing acid.
The three small cocks h h h, at the end of the tubes, are then opened,
for speedy escape of the air ; next the main or chief cock; and then
the other three cocks communicating with the tubes. Each indi¬
vidual burner can be regulated by its own stop-cock, the whole tube
by its cock, and the whole apparatus by the main.
Having thus fully described the various implements in use
amongst assayers, without which the process could not be
conducted with any practical utility, it is necessary to make
some preliminary observations here with regard to the lead,
cupels. &c., before the operation of the assay commences.
The cupels are made of the ashes of calcined bones, or
phosphate of lime, and besides being uninjured by the ordi¬
nary heat of an assay furnace, they possess the peculiar pro¬
perty of absorbing the lead used to refine the silver. Hence
the term cupellation applied to the process of purifying gold
and silver by fire on cupels.
The cupels are formed in a circular mould made of forged
steel, nicely turned, by which means they are easily freed
from the mould when struck. The bone-ash being moist¬
ened with a quantity of water, just sufficient to make the
particles adhere, is put into the mould and pressed down
level with the surface. It is then struck with a pestle or
rammer, smoothly turned and polished, the end being of a
convex shape, and of the exact size of the cupel required.
(See Plate LXXV.,figs. 50 and 51, the section.) This con¬
cavity forms the cup in which the assay is made. These
cupels are allowed to dry in the air for some time before
they are used, and are annealed in the furnace before the
assay is charged in.
The lead used in cupellation should be of the greatest
purity, because, as most lead contains a small portion of sil¬
ver, this silver would necessarily combine with the assay,
and vitiate the accuracy of the result. Lead revived from
litharge is supposed to be the purest, as it contains scarcely
any silver. Another important consideration in the process
of assaying is the quantity of lead to be used with each
assay, but such information can only be acquired by expe¬
rience ; for the assayer must first ascertain the approximate
quality of the metal to be examined before he can deter¬
mine the amount of lead necessary.
This in ancient times was effected by the use of what
were called touch-needles, or slips of metal composed of
pure silver alloyed with definite proportions of copper in a
regularly-increasing series. The silver to be assayed was Assaying,
examined in comparison with these touch-needles in colour, v—/
tenacity, and other external characters, and its alloy was
estimated by that of the needle to which it showed the
closest resemblance. These needles are now seldom used,
the assayer relying on his general experience for the quality
of the metal. Having ascertained this point so far as is
necessary, he apportions the lead deemed requisite (ranging
from 10 to 20 times the weight of silver), which is first flat¬
tened into a thin plate from small bullets cast for this purpose.
We will now proceed to describe and explain the process Silver
of assaying silver by cupellation. assaying.
The small specimen of silver sent to an assayer cut from
the bar to be valued, usually weighs from 3 to 4 dwts.: it
is folded in a slip of paper on the head of which is written
the date, the mark or number of the bar from which it was
severed, and the kind of assay required. This piece is flat¬
tened upon a polished anvil by means of a hammer, which
should be examined and freed not only from dirt but from
any particles of metal flatted from previous assays. From
the silver, thus flattened to about the ^yth of an inch thick,
the centre portion is cut out, as being the most compact, and
is then adjusted in a “ preparing balance,” by cutting and
filing to the weight of what is technically denominated the
“ assay pound.” After this preliminary weighing, it is then
weighed most accurately in one of the superior balances.
At this stage of the operation it is necessary to ascertain
the approximation to purity of the metal, so that the proper
amount of lead be added ; but, as we have before remarked,
practice alone can guide the assayer in this particular. I he
chief indications relied on are the specific gravity, colour,
and even sound ; for the purer the silver is the less it rings,
while at the same time whiteness, softness, ductility, and
superior gravity are tokens of purity; but, on the contrary,
when sonorous, yellow, and specifically light, it may be in¬
ferred that the metal is base in the degree that these pecu¬
liarities are indicated.
The amount of lead having been determined, the assay
is wrapped up in a known quantity (say one-half of that re¬
quired for its purification), formed into a case somewhat re¬
sembling a thimble, great care being taken to make the
joints firm and close, so that no particle of silver shall escape.
When a number of assays are made at the same time, they
are arranged, enveloped in their cases of lead, on a board
divided into compartments, corresponding in number and
position with the cupels into which they are intended to be
charged. As the assayer makes generally two or more trials
of the same piece, so that great accuracy may be secured,
it is his practice to give one assay a side place in the muffle,
and the second a middle one, in order to check any irregu¬
larity in the result.
When a sufficient number of assays are weighed, and
arranged upon the board, in the manner referred to, and the
furnace raised to the necessary point of heat as well as the
cupels, the charging tongs are then taken, and the rest of
the lead apportioned to each assay placed individually upon
the cupels, beginning at the back of the muffle. The lead
added in this case is not flattened, but a piece or bullet of
known weight, various sizes of which, as well as cases, are
kept in stock by the assayer. The lead so placed in the
furnace rapidly melts and becomes covered with a grey
oxide, but soon after appears fluid and brilliant; and at this
point the assays are charged by means of a pair of tongs,
great attention being given that no part overhang or touch
the edge of the cupel. The assays are thus drawn into the
mass of molten lead, and any particles of silver are in this
manner prevented from adhering to the sides of the cupels
in charging; sufficient despatch being used to obviate the
fusion of the assay in its transition. The assays being
charged in order on their respective cupels, and the furnace
ASSAYING. 771
Assaying, previously filled with fuel, cylinders of charcoal, about six
inches long, are inserted in the mouth of the muffle, so as
to fill up the orifice in the furnace. The object of this is,
that the stream of air admitted to pass over the surface of
the cupels, and which is necessary for the rapid oxidation of
the lead, may not chill the muffle and retard the progress of
the assay. By displacing one or more of these pieces of char¬
coal, the assayer can increase the current of air, while at the
same time he is enabled to inspect the operation as it proceeds.
In the first instance, dense fumes will be observed to rise
from the melted metal, indicating the oxidation and sub¬
sequent volatilization of the lead. These continuing some
time are then followed by the appearance of small luminous
points on the surface, which increase in size and brilliancy
as the operation progresses. And then a minute stream of
red fused matter is seen to flow from the top of the silver
globule, and circulate around it, which is carried down and
absorbed by the cupel. This arises from the vitrifaction of the
lead by the air, which at the same time oxidates the copper.
As the cupellation advances, the fumes gradually lessen
in density till they disappear altogether. The melted but¬
ton at this stage is observed to become more convex and
round; and as the last vestiges of the lead and alloy are
being carried off, it assumes a cloudy appearance on the
surface, changing to large bright points of the fused oxide,
till at length it is nearly freed from all impurity. At this
point the noble metal displays some singular and beautiful
characteristics. Deprived of all the base alloys save the last
minute portion that tarnished its lustre, it has become bright
and pure, and gives forth from its surface irridescent circu¬
lating rays of light, which indicates the successful comple¬
tion of the process.
During the operation, the assayer’s attention should be
directed to the heat of the furnace, which must be neither
too hot nor too cold: if too hot, minute portions of silver
will be carried off with the lead, and so vitiate the assay;
moreover, the pores of the cupel being more open, greater
absorption will ensue, and there is liability to loss from that
cause. One indication of an excess of heat in the furnace,
is the rapid and perpendicular rising of the fumes to the
ceiling of the muffle, the mode of checking and controlling
which has been pointed out in the description of the im¬
proved furnace.
When the fumes are observed to fall to the bottom of the
muffle, the furnace is then too cold; and, if left unaltered, it
will be found that the cupellation has been imperfectly per¬
formed, and the silver will not have entirely freed itself from
the base metals.
The white, or dark appearance of the cupels, may also
afford some guide to the operator; but in such cases prac¬
tice and experience are the best instructors; and it is not
possible, in a general description, to measure out the precise
degree of heat necessary to the perfection of the process.
Idle cupellation completed, great care is required with re¬
gard to the cooling of the globules, for if that process be not
allowed to take place gradually, they will “ spring” or burst,
and throw out particles of pure metal from the interior. This
arises, as is generally supposed, from the exterior portion
cooling too rapidly, which forms a sort of shell that, shrink¬
ing as it cools, presses on the still liquid fluid and makes it
spurt out; but others have suggested that the cause of
“ springing” as it is called, is to be attributed to the disen¬
gagement of a small portion of oxygen combined with the
melted silver.
I he globules being cool are removed from the cupels with
a pair of pincers, and struck on the edge with a hammer on
the anvil, in order to remove any oxide or extraneous matter
adhering to the under surface, and are further cleaned with
a “ scratch-brush,” made of fine wire bound firmly together.
After this, having been carefully placed in their compart¬
ments, they are weighed with the greatest nicety, the loss Assaying,
in weight indicating the amount of alloy abstracted; and
affording the apparent quantity of pure metal in the pound.
But into the assayer’s calculation certain considerations enter,
derived from long experience and observation during the
process, which make the actual result of the assay button
only an approximation to the actual quality of the metal un¬
der examination. For, supposing the operation to have been
perfectly performed, he finds it necessary, for example, to
make some compensation for a certain amount of silver, not
lost, but absorbed in the cupel itself, which he knows to have
been abstracted from the assay.
This fact may be ascertained by reviving the oxide of lead
from the cupel, and cupelling the lead by itself, when it will
be found that the small globule of silver left on the cupel
considerably exceeds the proportion of this metal in the lead,
and will correspond nearly with the loss of silver in the assay.
And it is manifest, therefore, if this were not taken into cal¬
culation in the assayer’s report, the metal would appear less
pure than it really is, all deficiency of weight being reckoned
as alloy. It has been calculated, that when no more lead is
used than is necessary to separate the alloy, there is carried
down into the cupel as much silver as, when the whole is
again reduced, would make the noble metal xi^th of the mass,
when the natural admixture of the silver is only xxVad. But
if an excess of lead be employed, this loss of silver is some¬
what greater, though it does not increase in the ratio of the
excess of the lead.
French chemists, who impugn the accuracy and scien¬
tific nature of the process of cupellation as applied to the
assay of silver, have generally adopted another very ingeni¬
ous and delicate mode, called “ La voie humide” or humid
method, in contradistinction to the dry. This system is
maintained to be more certain and accurate in its results by
the French, but as English assayers are divided upon the
point, it is not generally practised, and therefore we need
not enter elaborately into a description of it.
This ingenious process was originally discovered by M.
Gay-Lussac, the distinguished French chemist, by whose
influence it was introduced into the Paris Mint and other
establishments. In his “ Instruction sur VEssai des matieres
d’Argent,” it is thus described:—“ Le nouveau precede
d’essai que nous allons decrire consiste a determiner le litre
des matieres d’argent par la quantite d’une dissolution de
sel marin titree, necessaire pour precipiter exactement 1’ar-
gent contenu dans un poids donne d’alliage.”
The metal being dissolved in nitric acid, a quantity of salt
is poured into it from a graduated vessel till the whole silver
is precipitated in the state of chloride, a compound insoluble
in water or even in acid. The quantity of chloride of silver
precipitated is determined, not by weight, which would ren¬
der the process tedious, but by the weight or the volume of
the dissolved salt necessary to precipitate precisely the sil¬
ver in the acid. The complete precipitation of the silver is
easily recognized by the cessation of the cloudiness in the
liquid, when the solution of salt is gradually converted into
nitrate of silver. In this process the presence of copper,
lead, or any other metal in the solution of silver, does not in
a sensible degree affect the quantity of salt necessary to the
precipitation; that is to say, the same quantity of silver,
whether pure or alloyed, requires a fixed and constant
quantity of salt to effect its separation from the acid.
Though the theory of the process appear thus so ex¬
tremely simple, in the practice of it, nice manipulation, and
long experience as to the presence of other metals equally
affected by the salt, are absolutely necessary ; and these have
carried it to such perfection that the results can be obtained
with as much rapidity, and, according to its advocates, with
more certainty and confidence than by the ancient mode of
cupellation.
772 A S S A
Assaying It remains for us now to notice briefly the silver parting
v—' assay, or that by which the amount of gold contained in
Silver silver is discovered and determined : an assay which has be-
parting come very common in modern times, in consequence of the
assay. discovery of the art of refining by sulphuric acid, whereby
gold can be separated from silver at a comparatively small cost.
The button or globule resulting from the cupellation of
the silver is simply digested with nitric acid in a glass bottle,
or matrass, on a sand-heat, and the acid taking up the whole
’ silver, leaves the gold at the bottom in the shape of a fine
brown powder. The acid being poured off, the residuum is
washed in warm water, and then allowed to fall into a small
clay-vessel, or crucible, in which it is brought to a red heat,
in order to expel any moisture. The weight is then ascer¬
tained, and the gold being deducted from the silver, shows
the proportion of each metal in a given weight. The re¬
port of this assay is stated as follows :—B. 15 dwts. for silver;
gold 12 grains per pound Troy. When the amount of gold
exceeds one-quarter of the assay-specimen, or -/g^-ths, it is
found necessary in practice to treat it as a gold assay.
Gold proceed now to describe the process of assaying gold,
assaying, as great,er values are alfected, demands even more
care and attention than that of silver.
The preliminary process exactly resembles the one already
described, the object of cupellation in this case, as in the
other, being to destroy the base metal or alloy contained in
the gold. If gold contained only copper as alloy, the assay¬
ing of gold would be as simple as that of silver, the globule
of fine metal on the test indicating by weight the quality of
the specimen operated on, as in the case of silver. But as
gold generally is found to contain a portion of silver in com¬
bination, and as silver is not destroyed by cupellation, it will
be manifest that another process is required to separate the
silver from the gold. To effect this object recourse is had
to the “ parting process.” This is done by means of nitric
acid, which entirely dissolves the silver, and leaves the gold
perfectly pure. But as gold does not commonly contain
sufficient silver to allow of the action of the acid and com¬
plete dissolution of the silver, it is found necessary in all gold
assays to add from 2 to 3 parts of fine silver on the cupel. In
this manner the particles of gold are disseminated, and no
longer protecting the silver from the acid, the dissolution is
easily accomplished.
In the first stages of the operation the same remarks are
applicable as were previously made on the assay of silver.
The specimen to be examined is rolled or hammered out,
and a piece taken from it free from extraneous matter ; it
is then nicely weighed against the integer, or assay pound,
the assayer exercising his judgment on the metal as to its
various characteristics of colour, &c., so as to determine the
addition of pure silver necessary, with other alloys, to effect
the solution in boiling acid, the proportion required being
full fds of the whole.
The silver added is then placed with the gold assay in a
case of lead weighing half that necessary to complete the
process ; and if there be a number, they are arranged on
the board as formerly described, ready to be charged seria¬
tim into the cupels prepared in the furnace. The remainder
of the lead is then added, and the process of cupellation pro¬
ceeds as before.
The assays having passed the cupel successfully, they are
flattened on a polished anvil, three well-directed blows with
a heavy hammer being sufficient to reduce them to the pro¬
per form and thickness to pass through the flatting-mill.
This is worked by hand, and reduces the pieces to thin plates
or laminae about ^th of an inch thick, which are annealed
or softened, and, to avoid confusion, they are placed on the
“ annealing iron” (fig. 36), from which they are taken one
by one and carefully rolled up with round-nosed pliers, in
such a manner that the acid may penetrate between each
Y I N G.
fold. They now resemble coils of silver, and are ready for Assaying,
the parting process.
From time immemorial sand-baths have been used for
boiling the acid, deemed the safest and best for matrasses
or bottles of glass, liable at all times to break by undue ex¬
pansion caused by the sudden and irregular application of
heat. But as gas in modern times has been applied to many
useful purposes, so amongst others it has been successfully
employed in boiling the parting assays.
The sand-bath is a somewhat clumsy contrivance, con¬
sisting of a square copper pan covered with fine sand about
an inch in depth. This is placed over an open charcoal fire,
and three-quarters of an hour are required to properly heat
the sand. Flat-bottomed, conical glasses, containing the
assays and acid are placed on the bath, and the liquid allowed
to boil; and by changing the glasses from time to time, so as
to equalize the ebullition of each, very satisfactory results
have generally been attained. But this plan has been re¬
cently improved upon by Mr H. W. Field of the Royal Mint,
by the introduction of his apparatus by which gas is used to
boil the acid, and which is effected more expeditiously, with
as much safety, and with more economy. This apparatus
will be seen by reference to fig. 41 to 49. Plate LXXV.
The flasks or bottles which are round-bottomed, lighter,
and more tapering than the old matrasses, are placed on the
gas-jets, and in five or ten minutes the acid is hot enough to
receive the assays. By means of this 45 assays can be ope¬
rated upon at the same time. The assays being charged,
the acid is seen instantly to attack the alloy with great vehe¬
mence, which becomes oxidized by abstracting a portion of
oxygen from the nitric acid, giving forth at the same time
dense nitrous fumes. So long as these dark red fumes are
visible the decomposition continues, but gradually they be¬
come fainter and fainter, till they disappear altogether. Lest
some silver remain in the gold, protected from the action of
the acid, the liquid is decanted, and its place supplied by
some stronger acid, of the specific gravity of P35. This re¬
moves effectually any particles of alloy that may be incor¬
porated with the gold.
In this process, the assayer’s attention should be chiefly
directed to the strength of the acid ; for if it be too strong
the cornet of gold is liable to be broken and reduced to
powder, rendering the subsequent collection of the grains a
work of difficulty; if too weak, a portion of silver or alloy
will remain incorporated with the gold, and vitiate the ac¬
curacy of the assay. The specific gravity of the acid ap¬
plied in the first instance should be about l-2, three or
four times the weight of the assay being added; in the se¬
cond boiling, it should be about P35 ; but experience will
be found a safer guide in such particulars than any definite
rules. The principal object is to employ acid of the exact
strength that will, after the silver has been extracted, main¬
tain the cornet unbroken and of a spiral form. Regard must
also be had to the proper proportion of silver added to the
assay ; for if that be in excess, the nitric acid is liable to re¬
duce the gold to powder.
When the acid is in the act of violent ebullition, the assay
will be found to rise in the glass and strike against it, and in
order to prevent this the French assayers generally put into
the liquid a piece of charcoal about the size of a pea, which
forms a kind of nucleus, around which the acid boils ; but
this application, however simple, discolours the acid and ren¬
ders it useless. At the Royal Mint, in lieu of charcoal, the
assayer uses small porous clay balls about |th of an inch in
diameter, which have not that objection, and being washed in
boiling water after use they can be employed again and again.
Before the cornets are removed from the glasses, the hot
acid is carefully decanted, and the flasks filled with warm
distilled water, so as to wash away the remaining acid, and
any residue of silver. This should be repeated until the
ASSAYING.
Assaying, liquid is seen to pour off perfectly clear. After this, the
flasks being filled with water, they are one by one inverted
over a small clay annealing pot, and the cornet of gold is
allowed to fall gently through the water into the pot. These
vessels are arranged in such a manner as to obviate any
confusion, and secure the identification of the assay. The
superfluous water being poured out of the pots, they are
then placed in the furnace and annealed under a bright heat.
The cornets, by the action of the acid and by the separa
tion of the silver, are thoroughly corroded, though their ori-r
ginal form remains unaltered. They are in this state ex¬
tremely brittle and porous, and when examined microscopi¬
cally appear to resemble a very fine sponge. They bear a
nearer likeness to pieces of brown earthenware than to gold.
But after annealing, they regain all the properties of that
truly noble metal; and being allowed to cool, they are care¬
fully weighed against the assay pound, and the diminution of
weight recorded. If they are weighed hot, it has been ascer¬
tained that a variation will occur of nearly |l.h of a carat
grain, and, therefore, such an error should be guarded against.
It is a matter of the greatest importance that the silver
used in this process should contain no gold, otherwise a
source of very material error would arise in the delicate ope¬
rations of the assayer. The silver cannot be too pure, and
a careful examination should be made of it before employ¬
ing it for that purpose. I he most certain mode of attain¬
ing tnat object is to precipitate silver from the nitrate, which
cannot possibly contain any gold.
As in the case of the silver assay, certain compensations
are found by experience necessary before an accurate re¬
port can be made of the gold assay. In the cornet it must
not be supposed that we have before us an assay perfectly
pure, as a previous paragraph may have suggested, or that
no loss of precious metal has taken place during the process.
Notwithstanding all the care and attention used by the as¬
sayer, it has been discovered that the cornet is not alto¬
gether free from silver ; and it is manifest if this were not
allowed for, the report would declare the gold to be finer
than it really is. The amount of silver so remaining is esti¬
mated by the Mint Assayer to range between 4 and 9 grains
roy. Jut in this particular it is probable no two assayers
vyili agi ee, as the allowance to be made depends on the prac¬
tice of each. And what is gained to the assay by silver, is
to some extent lost again, in the cupel and by the action of
the acid. For, by the experience of Mr Field, an assayer of
ong piactice, nitric acid does take up a small portion of gold,
contrary to the general notion of chemists ; which has been
proved by laying aside the second or strong acid (employed
moie than once) in a conical-shaped bottle where it was per¬
mitted to remain. After some time a coating of gold was
apparent at the bottom of the glass, and under the influence
o light the whole interior of the bottle was coated up to the
stopper when the acid reached so high.
1 wo bottles of acid that had been repeatedly used to digest
gold assays for some years, yielded in this manner full 30
&rains o gold. This fact has recently been confirmed by
experiments made by Mr C. Sterry of the Mint, and also
ny that careful chemist and assayer Mr G. H. Makins of
i/ondon.
Independently of these allowances and compensations,
another must be made for variations caused by the particu¬
lar process itself, as indicated by the trial piece put into the
furnace along with the assays, and which in kll respects
passes the same ordeal. This standard piece of metal con¬
sists of a certain weight of gold of a known quality, and
whatever variations it undergoes, the assays themselves are
supposed to be subject to the same.
Gold is found to contain other metals beside silver and
copper, such as platinum and the allied metals; and when
that happens the assayer has to exercise his judgment in
773
ascertaining the character of the metal and its amount. In Assaying,
oidinary cases, when the assay after cupellation contains gold
and silver only, it assumes the appearance of silver; but if
platinum be combined with it in any notable proportion, it
will easily be detected by the crystalline surface of a dead
white colour, covered with bright rough points ; if palla¬
dium, the button assumes the appearance of an ordinary
assay, but in the final clearing of the assay in the furnace it
resembles an assay cooled too quickly ; and while it tinges
the acid a deep rich red colour, the former is marked by a
pale yellow. Again, if iridium be in combination, it will
mix mechanically with the gold in metallic grains ; but, after
passing through the fire, it will leave streaks of black powder
on various parts of the cornet.
Small portions of platinum and palladium are removable by
the acid ; but, as iridium is insoluble in any acid, no means
have yet been devised of separating it from the gold in the
process of assaying.
The “ gold parting assay” is simply the process by which G°ld part-
the silver is separated from the gold, so as to enable the inS assay-
assayer to report the contents, that the bullion-holder may
realize the value. This is effected by dissolving the silver
in the nitric acid, as before described in the common assay,
and then ascertaining the amount of silver resulting in ex¬
cess of the quantity used in the process, which indicates the
amount of silver contained in the assay pound, and by com¬
putation in the Troy pound.
The gold coming from Australia, and particularly from
California, is found to contain a considerable amount of sil¬
ver, which can be separated easily and economically by the
sulphuric acid process of refining, and recently this branch
of assaying has also augmented far beyond what was required
in former times.
I he silver in solution resulting from the parting assay
may be precipitated in the metallic state, by diluting the
liquid with water, and then putting into it plates of copper.
The silver being thrown down and washed carefully until
the water be nearly tasteless, may then be dried and melted.
I his method, however, is considered offensive, because, in
the action, there is a copious discharge of dark red noxious
fumes of nitrous gas.
The plan now pursued by the Mint Assayer is to throw
down the silver in solution as a chloride, by the addition of
either common salt or hydrochloric acid, until all cloudiness
disappear. The residuum is then collected in proper earthen
pans, well washed, and slightly acidulated with hydrochloric
acid, immediately immersing in the liquid plates of iron,
which reduces the chloride to a metallic state. The plates
are then taken out, and the silver first washed with hot water,
containing a little hydrochloric acid, and then repeatedly
with hot-distilled water till it pours off tasteless. The pow¬
der is then dried and melted.
In conclusion, we append a table of the gold assay weights,
and their corresponding decimals ; premising that in a few
years the decimal system will probably supersede the ancient
complex mode of notation.
24
12
6
3
2
1
Carat
Grains.
24
12
8
4
2
1
Eighths.
64
32
16
8
4
Troy Weight.
lb. oz.
dwt.
10
io
5
2
1
Decimals.
12
6
15
7i
1-000000
•500000
•250000
•125000
•083333
•041666
•020833
•010416
•005208
•002604
•001302
774 ASS
Assaying. A description of the process of assaying might be deemed
^ incomplete without some reference to the assay-balance,
Assay- which may be said truly to constitute the right hand of the
balance, assayer, and on the delicacy and accuracy of which depend,
in a great measure, the truth of the results. With that view,
we may be allowed to give a detailed description of a beau¬
tiful and ingenious balance recently adopted in the Royal
Mint, constructed on improved principles by Mr G. H. Ma-
kins, practical Chemist and Assayer, Coleman Street, Lon¬
don, and manufactured by an excellent workman, Mr Oert-
ling of Store Street. It seems to combine all the advan¬
tages of modern improvements, both in design and workman¬
ship, and in practice must amply fulfil the most sanguine
expectations of the inventor.
In a good assay-balance three essentials are indispen¬
sable,—1. It should be quick in its action ; 2. It should be
constant and uniform—that is, oscillate to the same point
of the index with the same weight to any number of weigh¬
ings ; 3. It should be extremely sensible and delicate, indi¬
cating the minutest shades of difference. As, however, the
sensibility of a balance is found to diminish as the quick¬
ness of action is increased, the centre of gravity being
lowered, one of the excellencies of the balance alluded to
consists in the nice adjustment of these two opposing qua¬
lities.
The beam is what is generally called a skeleton-beam,
10 inches long, ^ an inch deep at the fulcrum, tapering off
at each end to the ^d of an inch. At the centre it is about
i^th of an inch in thickness, decreasing at the ends to the
^th of an inch. The weight of the beam is only 85 grains ;
and therefore it contains little more metal than is necessary
to secure the several parts together at the points of sus¬
pension.
The end adjustments, indicated by a, in fig. 52, Plate
LXXV, for the length of arm, are similar to many other
delicate balances, namely, a saw-cut with screws, to open
and shut by pressure. The pendants, b, at each end, are
supported by two hard steel-points, c, having a fine screw
cut on each, with nuts to fix them, so as to obtain a per¬
fectly straight line, touching all the points of suspension.
These pendants or pans, d, with the skiffs, e, are hung on
these points by means of steel-plates, having a cup-shaped
cavity for the one, and a groove for the other. It would
be impossible for the most skilful workman to form two cups
so accurately as to plumb or adjust themselves with mathe¬
matical precision to the points of suspension.
As the weight used with this balance rarely, if ever, ex¬
ceeds 20 grains, the parts of contact where friction occur
have been reduced to mere points, and in consequence the
wear is very slight.
One peculiarity of this balance is the use of a weight
called a rider, represented by/, supposed to be a German
invention, which is placed or rests on the beam itself, and
depresses it; the beam being divided in its length into ten
parts, and the rider placed on any part, the weight is ascer¬
tained, and thus allows of an easy and simple mode of weigh¬
ing decimally. The rider,/ is carried from one point or
division of the beam to another, or may be altogether re¬
moved by a movable arm, g g, worked by the hand from
the outside, h, of the case or lantern. It travels or traverses
the beam on a stage, i, fixed from side to side of the lan¬
tern at kk; and in this manner the small or fractional
weights may be ascertained without subjecting the beam to
disturbance by the admission of air upon opening the glass-
door, 11, of the case B.
A, represents the outline drawing of the balance and ap¬
paratus ; the supports being of massive construction in order
to obviate any tremulousness. They consist of two pillars,
m m, fixed on a base, n, and on the top of these columns
a table is fixed, o, with two upright pieces, p p, rising from
ASS
it, to which are attached the agate bearings, formed of an Asselyn
elliptical shape, and presenting therefore the smallest points I!
of contact to the knife edges. A corresponding table, q, is Xssemam.
fixed to the rods, p p, which move up and down the pillars,
m m, and by means of the lever handle, r, give action to the
beam. The table has two mortices in it exactly fitting the
upright pieces, s, which carry the agate-bearers, and upon
these uprights the table slides up and down. On the out¬
side of this second table, q, is a crutch or Y, t, which raises
the beam from its bearings when it is thrown out of action.
The beam, on being depressed, acts first upon the arms
of two rollers, fixed under the lantern, whose opposite arms
depress the ivory tables supporting the pans ; and at the
point when the tables are free, the lever has reached a con¬
necting stirrup between the movement rods, and then be¬
gins to lower the beam upon the agate bearers. The tops
of the ivory tables that support the pans are of a spherical
shape, v v, fixed upon the tables w w, so as to admit of the least
possible contact; and the pans have the curve of a radius
exactly equal to the distance between the ivory table and
the point of suspension ; so that, if they are found to swing
out of the perpendicular during the act of weighing, they
will be caught by the tables when they rise upwards ; y y
are spirit-levels.
In this balance there are adjustments for the amount of
fall of the fulcrum to the agates, as well as for the rise of
the ivory-tables to the pans ; but the former is small in
amount. The pillars being placed at the distance of 1^ inch
apart, and the index-needle, x, long—extending 6 inches
downwards—a good scale of division is obtained ; while the
motion of the index-needle being nearly level with the pans,
a great advantage is secured in use. (r. m—t.)
ASSELYN, Hans, a distinguished Dutch painter, was
born at Anvers in 1610, and became the disciple of Esaias
Yandervelde, the battle-painter. He distinguished himself
in historical painting, battles, landscapes, and animals, par¬
ticularly horses. He travelled into France and Italy, and
was so pleased with the manner of Bamboccio that he always
followed it. He was one of the first Dutch painters who
introduced a fresh and clear manner of painting landscapes
in the style of Claude Lorraine ; upon which all the painters
imitated his style, and reformed the dark brown they had
hitherto followed. Asselyn’s pictures were in high esteem
at Amsterdam. He died in that city in 1660. Twenty-
four pieces of landscapes and ruins, which he painted in
Italy, have been engraved by Perelle.
ASSEMANI, the surname of three learned Maronite
Syrians, who flourished in Italy in the last century. The
eldest, and the most learned of the three, Giuseppe Simone,
was born at Tripoli in Syria, in 1687. Having been sent
to Rome to receive a classical education, he soon distin¬
guished himself by his learning and industry, and was chosen
by Pope Clement XI. to go and visit the convents of
Egypt and Syria, in search of ancient MSS. with which to
enrich the library of the Vatican. He executed his com¬
mission with great success, and in reward for his services
was made archbishop of Tyre, and librarian of the Vatican.
His principal work is his Bibliotheca Orientalis Clemen¬
tina-Vaticana, in 4 folio volumes, 1 719-28, which contains
valuable biographical notices of Syrian Christian authors.
He also published, in 6 vols. fol. (Lat., Greek, and Syriac),
1732-34, the works of St Ephraem, a Syrian father of the
Church. He died at Rome in 1768 at the age of 80. Ste-
fano Evodio, his nephew, was created bishop of Apamea,
and succeeded his uncle as librarian. He also published
two folio volumes of Oriental Catalogues of Vatican MSS.
and other archaeological works of merit. Simone, the grand¬
nephew of Giuseppe, born at Tripoli in 1752, was long pro¬
fessor of Oriental languages in the University of Padua,
where he died in 1821. He is best known by his masterly de-
ASS
ASS
/ /o
Assembly, tection of the literary imposture of Vella, a pretended his-
tory of the Saracens in Sicily, which was confirmed by the
German Hager.
ASSEMBLY. This word, besides its well-known social
application to meetings for purposes of conviviality or gaiety,
is a term by which important political and ecclesiastical
bodies have become known in history and jurisprudence.
The original use of the term is in the French AssembUe. It
is applied in early history to those Assemblees du Champ de
Mars, ox Assemblees de Mai, of which the historical notices
are so uncertain that they are not clearly distinguishable
from the meetings of the States General or great vassals of
the crown. On the occasion of the meeting of the States
General in 1789, a memorable use was made of this dubiety
of expression, and the term National Assembly was applied
to the assemblage, when the third estate or commons revo¬
lutionized its character by resolving to sit and act whether
they were joined by the other orders or not. Of the history
of this body a full account will be found under the head of
France.
I he application of the term Assemblee in France to the
meetings of the clergy, elsewhere generally called councils,
is evidently the source of its transference to Scotland, through
Knox’s intercourse with Calvin. The General Assembly
thus became the fixed designation of the supreme collective
council, legislative and judicial, of the Scottish Church. The
first Assembly, when the system was of course but imper¬
fectly developed, was held in 1561. In the subsequent ec¬
clesiastical contests, of which an account will be found under
the head of Scotland, it was the object of the Presbyterian
party, in opposition to the Episcopalian party and the crown,
to vest a supreme and independent authority over ecclesi¬
astical affairs in the General Assembly. In the memorable
Assembly held at Glasgow in 1638, this supremacy was for
a time accomplished; and after having abolished the Epis¬
copal hierarchy, the body continued to sit and act after it had
been required by royal authority to dissolve. It was the prin¬
ciple of Cromwell’s government to tolerate the various Pro¬
testant communities in their worship and ordinances, but
not to permit any of them to assemble in deliberative bodies.
I hose who vindicate his policy hold, that when ecclesiastical
disputes are merely local, the influence of the victorious
majority in one place is neutralized by the superiority of its
opponents in another; while, if they were permitted to meet
and fight pitched battles, the stronger party would crush or
drive out the weaker. During the Commonwealth, this view
Avas in some measure confirmed by the existence in Scot¬
land of two opposite clerical parties, Avhich, though de¬
nouncing each other, never afforded an opportunity by meet¬
ing in assembly for a critical trial of strength. At the Re¬
storation, the suppression of the Assembly was continued on
different grounds. Along with the inferior church judica¬
tories, it was restored at the Revolution. William III., how¬
ever, and his advisers, by no means admitted the claims
ot entire independence of the state claimed for the church,
and more than once a contest appeared inevitable. He was
accustomed to convene and dismiss the Assembly at his plea¬
sure. At all times the Scottish church has denied this power
to the royal prerogative, but methods were found for avoid¬
ing a discussion ot the point. It came to be the practice for
the Assembly to meet and separate on certain established
days; and by a device adopted soon after the Revolution,
the royal commissioner, in the name of the sovereign, ad¬
journs the Assembly on its last stated day of meeting to the
stated day for recommencing; and the elected moderator,
without appearing to notice this proceeding, makes identi¬
cally the same adjournment, solemnly proclaiming it in the
name of “ the Lord Jesus Christ,” as the Head of the Church.
1 he Assembly consists of representatives, clerical and lay,
from the several presbyteries of the church, and of a few
other members. It is a general characteristic feature, that Assen
the clergy are always the majority. When the Free Church II
separated from the Establishment in 1843, it constituted a Assens-
General Assembly on the same principles; and, being a vo-
luntary church, has not of course been embarrassed by any
questions with the crown. The several bodies of dissenters
from the Church of Scotland, who became combined together
as the United Presbyterian Church, give the name of Synod
to the general aggregate body of their members, correspond¬
ing with the General Assembly in the other Scottish Pres¬
byterian bodies.
The Westminster Assembly of divines was a memorable
and important adoption for a short period in England of the
Scottish system. It was the creature of that remarkable in¬
fluence exercised by the Scottish party ere the Independents
and the army had asserted their preponderance. It followed
the victories of the Scottish arms, and those exhortations of
the covenanting preachers in London which obtained so
much attention and popularity in the eventful epoch of the
conflict between the parliament and the crown. In the ne¬
gotiations conducted at Oxford in 1643, one of the bills to
which the royal sanction was demanded, was termed “ A
bill for calling an assembly of learned and godly divines
and others to be consulted with by the parliament, for the
settlement of the government and liturgy of the Church of
England, and for vindicating and clearing of the doctrine
of the said church from false aspersions and interpretations.”
The measure was at length passed as an ordinance by the
authority of parliament. From the commencement, indi¬
cations of the growing power of the Independents is per¬
ceptible in the cautious jealousy of the parliament, which
required the assembly to inquire and report to the legisla¬
ture, instead of conferring on it independent powers. The
Assembly nominally sat for five years; but tor some time
before it was extinguished by Cromwell, it lost the confi¬
dence and co-operation of parliament. It consisted of 121
clergymen and certain lay assessors. From that peculiar
union with Scotland manifested in the adoption of the Scot¬
tish Covenant as the Solemn League and Covenant of the
two nations, some Scottish members were admitted as re¬
presentatives of the General Assembly, and exercised a pre¬
dominant influence on the deliberations. Of the documents
adopted by them, one, the Directory of Worship, received
the nominal assent of the English parliament. The Confes¬
sion of Faith was received with some modifications. Both
these documents, however, along with the Larger and
Shorter Catechisms, were received into the Church of Scot¬
land, and have since remained unaltered, as “ agreed upon
by the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, with the assist¬
ance of commissioners from the Church of Scotland, as a
part of the covenanted uniformity in religion betwixt the
churches of Christ in the kingdoms of Scotland, England,
and Ireland.” (j. H. Bij
ASSEN, a town of the Netherlands, capital of the pro¬
vince of Drenthe, containing 2800 inhabitants. It is 16
miles south of Groningen, and is connected with the Zuyder-
Zee by the Smilder canal. It has a considerable trade in corn.
ASSENEDE, a town of Belgium, province of East Flan¬
ders, 12 miles N.N.E. of Ghent. It has some woollen and
cotton manufactures, soap-works, &c. Pop. in 1851, 4131.
ASSENHEIM, a jurisdiction belonging to the Counts of
Solms Rodelheim and Assenheim, now mediatized to the
Grand Duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt. It is in the province
ot Upper Hesse. Its chief town, of the same name, is situated
at the confluence of the Wetter and the Nidda. Pop. 800.
ASSENS, a seaport town of Denmark, situated upon the
Little Belt, a strait of the Baltic which separates the isle of
Fuhnen from the continent. It is the ordinary port for the
traffic between the duchy of Sleswick and Fuhnen. Pop.
2700. Long. 9. 55. E. Lat. 55. 15. N.
776 ASS
Asser ASSER, John, or Asserius Meneyensis (Asser of St
. II David’s), was born in Pembrokeshire in South Wales, and
Assignat educated in the monastery of St David’s by the Archbishop
v «,r / ' Asserius, who, according to Leland, was his kinsman. In
this monastery he became a monk, and by his assiduous ap¬
plication soon acquired universal fame as a person of pro¬
found learning and great abilities. King Alfred, the muni¬
ficent patron of genius, about the year 880 sent for him to
court and made him his preceptor and companion. As a
reward for his services, he appointed him abbot of two or
three different monasteries ; and at last promoted him to
the episcopal see of Sherburn, where he died and was buried
in the year 910. He was, says Pitts, a man of happy genius,
wonderful modesty, extensive learning, and great integrity
of life. He is said to have been principally instrumental in
persuading the king to restore the university of Oxford to
its pristine dignity and lustre. He wrote the life of Alfred
(De Vita et Rebus Gestis Alfredi), first published by Arch¬
bishop Parker in the old Saxon character, at the end of
Walsingham’s Hist. Lond. 1574. It was reprinted at
Frankfort in 1603, in folio, and in 8vo at Oxford in 1722.
Various other works are ascribed to Asser by Pitts and
Leland.
ASSESSOR, among the Romans, was a term generally
applied to a trained lawyer who sat beside a governor of a
province or other magistrate, to instruct him in the adminis¬
tration of the laws. The system is still exemplified in Scot¬
land, where it is usual in the larger towns for municipal ma¬
gistrates in the administration of their civil jurisdiction to
have the aid of professional assessors. In municipal corpora¬
tions in England, officers with the same name are appointed
to assist at the election of councillors and ascertain the result.
ASSETS, a technical English law word, derived through
the old Norman phraseology from the same source as the
French assez, enough. Assets are real or personal. Where
a man hath lands in fee-simple, and dies seised thereof, the
lands which come to his heirs are assets real; and where
he dies possessed of any personal estate, the goods which
come to the executors are assets personal.
ASSIDEANS, or Chasiiueans (from the Hebrew' chasi-
dim, merciful, pious), those Jews who resorted to Mattathias
the lather of the Maccabees, to fight for the law of God and
the liberties of their country. After the return of the Jews
from the Babylonish captivity, there were two sorts of men
in their church,—those who contented themselves with that
obedience only which was prescribed by the law of Moses,
and who were called Zadikim, i. e., the righteous,—and
those who, over and above the law, superadded the consti¬
tutions and traditions of the elders, and other rigorous ob¬
servances : these latter were called Chasidim, i. e., the
pious. From the former sprung the Samaritans, Sadducees,
and Caraites; from the latter the Pharisees and the Es-
senes. See 1 st Macc. ii. vii.; 2d Macc. xiv. The name
of Chasidim has also been assumed by a Jewish sect which
originated in Poland about a century ago, and still exists.
ASSIDUI, or Locupletes, i.e., tribute-payers, Roman
citizens of the upper and wealthier classes, so designated by
Servius I ullius, in contradistinction to the Proletarii, or
those who benefit the state only by their progeny (gproles).
Cicero says, “ locupletes assiduos appellasset ah cere dando.”
—Repub. ii. 22.
ASSIGNAT, the name given to a peculiar species of
paper money issued during the first French revolution.
The influence of the system, operating along with the other
attempts to regulate trade, form a prominent feature in the
calamitous history of the epoch. The share borne in it by
the assignats is at the same time a memorable instance, for
the use of the economist and financier, of the hopelessness
of projects for creating or preserving national wealth by an
issue of paper money, not the representative of available
ASS
wealth and real business transactions. The first issue of Assign-
assignats was made in the security of the forfeited eccle- ment
siastical property, and was adopted as a preferable alterna- II
tive to throwing the forfeited lands on the market, which Assonance•
it was no doubt judiciously believed that so large an amount
of property would glut. The holder of the assignats might
use them as money, or claim the land which they repre¬
sented. As more forfeitures occurred, the issue of assig¬
nats was increased. But it soon ceased to be measured
by property, and was enlarged according to the exigencies of
the revolutionary government. The paper money fell to
half, then to a sixth part of the value of the same denomi¬
nation in silver, and sinking rapidly through successive
grades of decrease, silver held at last the value of 150 times
its denomination in paper. In August of 1773, 3776 mil¬
lions of francs were thus put in circulation : and virtually the
assignats became worthless. The establishment of the maxi¬
mum, and the other tyrannical interferences with trade by
which revolutionary governments endeavour to support
credit, have their proper place, along with the account of the
condition of the country during the depreciation of the as¬
signats, under the head of France. (j. h. b.)
ASSIGNMENT, Assignation, Assignee, are terms
which, as conjugates of the verb assign, are of frequent
technical use in the law of the different parts of the United
Kingdom. To assign is to make over, and the term is
generally used to express a transference by writing, in con¬
tradistinction to a transference by actual delivery. In Eng¬
land the usual expression is assignment, in Scotland it is
assignation. The person making over is called assignerer,
assigner, or cedent; the recipient, assignee. This last term
is of important application in the law of bankruptcy in Eng¬
land and Ireland, as expressing persons of two classes, the
official assignees and the trade assignees, to whom the
realization and distribution of the bankrupt estate is com¬
mitted. See Bankruptcy. (j. h. b.)
ASSIMILATION, in Physics, is that action or process
by which bodies convert other bodies into their own sub¬
stance and nature.
ASSINIE, a country of Upper Guinea, in Africa, at the
western extremity of the Gold Coast. On the river of the
same name, the French in 1843 established a factory.
ASSISI, a city in the delegation of Perugia, in the papal
territory of Italy. It contains about 5000 inhabitants, de¬
pending chiefly for subsistence on the devotees, who, to the
number of many thousands, make annual pilgrimages to the
cathedral. This cathedral contains the tomb of St Francis,
the founder of the Franciscan order. The poet Metastasio
was born here in 1698. Long. 12.24. 50. E. Lat. 43.4.22. N.
ASSITHMENT, a wiregeld, or composition, by a pecu¬
niary mulct; from the preposition ad, and the Sax. si the,
vice ; quod vice supplied ad expiandum delictum solvitur.
ASSIZE, in old English law-books, is defined to be an
assembly of knights and other substantial men, together with
a justice, in a certain place and at a certain time; but the
word, in its present acceptation, implies a court, place, or
time, when and where processes, whether civil or criminal,
are decided by judge and jury. In Scotland the word assize
is still technically used to denote the fifteen persons who, de¬
ciding on criminal charges, are colloquially termed the jury.
ASSOCIATION (from the Latin associare, to join in
fellowship), the act of associating or constituting a society or
partnership, in order to carry on some scheme or business
with more advantage. See Societies. On the influence of
association as a political engine, see Agitation. For associa¬
tions of workmen and employers, see Commandite.
Association of Ideas. See Metaphysics.
ASSOILZIE, in Law, to absolve by sentence of court.
ASSONANCE, in Rhetoric and Poetry, a term used
where the words of a phrase or a verse have the same sound
ASS
Assuay or termination, and yet make no proper rhyme. These are
Assye. USUa11 y accounted vicious in English. Assonant Rhymes are
j common among the Spaniards ; thus ligera, cubierta, tierra,
mesa, answer each other in a kind of assonant rhyme, having
each an e in the penult syllable, and an a in the last.
ASSUAY, the most southern department of Ecuador, in
South America. Cuenca, Loxa, Jaca, and Borga, are its
principal towns. Its chief productions are cinchona bark
and silver.
ASSUMPSI f, in the Law of England, a voluntary pro¬
mise, whereby a person assumes or takes upon him to per¬
form or pay anything to another.
ASSUMPTION, a festival of the Romish church, in
honour of the miraculous ascent of the Virgin Mary into
heaven. The Greek church also observes this festival, and
celebrates it on the 15th of August with great ceremonv.
ssumption, in Logic, is the minor or second proposition
in a categorical syllogism.
Assumption, Deed of. See Scots Law.
Assumption, or Assongong, one of the Marianne or La-
drone Islands in the Pacific Ocean, of a conical figure,
reary aspect, and almost totally covered with lava from the
eruptions of a volcano in the centre. It has no anchorage
near the shore. Long. 145. 55. E. Lat. 19. 45. N.
Assumption, the capital of the province of Paraguay in
South America. It is situated on an obtuse angle formed by
the eastern bank of the river Paraguay, 18 miles above the
junction of the first mouth of the Pilcomayo, and 48 above
that of the second. It was originally a small fort, but, from
the convenience of its situation, in a few years it became a
city, and in lo47 was erected into a bishopric. The adja¬
cent territory is rich and fertile in a high degree, and
abounds in a great variety of fruits. The air is temperate
and the climate salubrious ; the trees are perpetually green
and the rich pastures in the neighbourhood feed numerous
flocks of catde. The city is inhabited by Spaniards, Indians,
and Mestizoes, who trade in hides, tobacco, and sugar. The
araguay affords a channel of communication with Buenos
. yres ’ but passage is long, owing to the rapid flow of
the waters of that river : this, however, is considerably ob¬
viated by the favourable winds which blow from the south
ASS
Hyderabad, north-west, 261 miles.
i i l
Assyn-
Kalessi
w.ISpia6 s'the year‘ Pop' 12’00a LonW:
ASSUMPTIVE Arms, in Heraldry, are such as a per¬
son has a right to assume with the approbation of his sove¬
reign and of the heralds.
a or Insurance. See Insurance.
• f A cai •affcerwards(Pliny, v. 32), an ancient
city of Mysia, on the Gulf of Adramyttium, was the birth¬
place of Cleanthes the Stoic, and for some time the resi-
dence of Aristotle. Its ruins are contiguous to the modern
vi lage of Beiram ,35 miles W.S.W. of Mount Ida; and the
Ilf.6--111 by 1?olo”el. Leake to give, perhaps, the most
•eC/x/ldea of a Greek city that anywhere exists.—Leake’s
L 128 ’ Fellows’s Asia Minor, p. 46.
il l v ir! Soudlern India, a village in the native state
of Hyderabad, or dominions of the Nizam, situate on the
tongue of land inclosed between the rivers Juah and Kaitna.
1 his place is rendered famous in Indian history, by a deci¬
sive victory gained on the 23d September 1803, over the
combmed arnnes of Scindia and the Rajah of Berar, by
Colone! Wellesley, afterwards Duke of Wellington. The
r00pS,,fnS^ed *n dds batde amounted only to
50 non ^T, 6 thJ°Se °f the eneray consisted of nearly
U J . ■ , U,' Kreat dlsparity of numbers between the com¬
batants, the skill and promptitude displayed by the British
commander, combined with the valour of his men, and the
signal defeat of the Mahrattas, all conspired to give a lustre
Shi 1 if’ !ihlCh 1S1 SCarCe,y surPassed by that of any
other explmt m the annals of Indian warfare. Distance from
V (_).L« III*
Lat. 20. 18. Long. 75.
0°- (et)
ASS YN-Kalessi, a village of Asia Minor, in Caria, occu¬
pying a peninsula among the branches of Mount Grins, with
a mean bu); extensive fortress on the summit of the rock.
1 his village stands on the site of the ancient lasus, a consi¬
derable city, and many antiquities are still to be seen in it
Some of the most spacious sepulchres are at present inha-
27 38b EGLatk 37™ 7 N* ^ °rdinary dwcllinSs- Long.
ASSYRIA, the name of a country and empire of Asia,Bo„n-
the capital of which was Nineveh. The boundaries of thedaries.
country have been variously given by Greek and Roman his¬
torians. In its strictest and most original sense, it was ap¬
plied to a long narrow district lying on the east side of the
I igns, and which is commonly called Assyria Proper. In
a more extended sense, it comprehended the whole country
watered by the Euphrates and Tigris, between the moun¬
tains of Armenia on the north, those of Kurdistan on the
east, and the Arabian desert on the west; thus including not
only Assyria Proper, but also Mesopotamia and Babylonia.
It was also applied to the empire, the boundaries and ex¬
tent of which varied with the character of its monarchs.
Assyria Proper was bounded on the north by Armenia, on
the west and south-west by the Tigris, which separated it
from Mesopotamia and Babylonia, on the south-east by
8usiana, and on the east by the Zagros chain, separating it
trom Media. It corresponded to the modern pashalic of
Mosul, including the plains below the Kurdistan and Per¬
sian mountains.
The upper part of this region is rugged and mountainous ; Natural
while to the south and south-west extend vast level plains Features,
interspersed with low ridges of hills of sandstone, limestone’
and gypsum. According to Mr Ainsworth,—“ Assyria, in¬
cluding Taurus, is distinguished into three districts; by its
structure, into a district of plutonic and metamorphic rocks,
a district of sedimentary formations, and a district of alluvial
deposits; by configuration, into a district of mountains, a
district of stony and sandy plains, and a district of low wa¬
tery plains ; by natural productions, into a country of forests Products,
and truit trees, of olives, wine, corn, and pasturage, or of
bairen rocks ; a country of mulberry, cotton, maize, tobacco,
oi of barren clay, sand, pebbly or rocky plains; and into a
country of date trees, rice, and pasturage, or aland of saline
plants. In the mountainous parts, iron, silver, copper, lead
and antimony, are found, and in the hills to the south-west
are deposits of bitumen, naphtha, sulphur, and salt. Amon<>-
t ie forest trees, pines, oaks, and ashes are common, as are also
the walnut, mulberry, and plane ; the last of which attains a
great size. Besides the productions above enumerated, it
yields gall-nuts, gum-arabic, mastich, manna, madder, castor-
oil, and various kinds of grain, pulse, and fruit. In the moun¬
tain district, are bears (black and brown), panthers, lynxes,
wolves, foxes, marmots, dormice, fallow and red deer, roe¬
bucks, antelopes, goats, &c.; and in the plains are found lions,
tigers, hyaenas, beavers, jerboas, wild boars, camels, &c. Bees
are plentdnl, producing honey of the finest quality.
. ® ^v<) principal rivers which water this country, besides Rivers,
the I igns, are its tributaries, the Great and Little Zab, both
nsing in the lofty mountains of Northern Kurdistan. The
Great Zab rises in the elevated plateau between Lakes Van
and Urumiyah, 7000 feet above the sea, and falls into the
11gns> after a winding course of 200 miles. The lesser Zab
has several sources, the principal of which are about 20
miles south of Lake Urumiyah, and has a course of about
100 miles. The rivers Great and Little Zab divide this
territory into three parts ; that north of the Great Zab,
called Aturia, was the most ancient seat of the monarchy,
and contained Nineveh the capital; the part between the
two Zabs was called Adiabene, and the part south-east of
5 F
"78 ASSY
Assyria, the Little Zab contained the provinces of Apolloniatis and
Sittacene. According to Ptolemy, Assyria was divided into
six provinces, the most northern of which was Arrapachitis ;
south of it Calakine ; then Adiabene, with Arbelitis to the
north-east; while to the south lay Apolloniatis and Sittacene,
mentioned above.
History. The labours of Messrs Layard, Rawlinson, Botta, and
others, promise to throw much light upon the history and
manners of the ancient inhabitants of this country. W e shall,
however, defer notice of their researches till we come to the
article Nineveh, in the expectation that, by that time, much
additional light will be thrown upon this interesting subject,
and shall, in the meantime, only give a short historical notice
of the empire, founded principally on the sacred narrative ;
as, indeed, the accounts given by profane writers are so con¬
tradictory, and so mixed up with fables, that very little re¬
liance can be placed upon them.
Being in the vicinity of Ararat, this district was early
peopled after the Flood. From the word Asshur being used
in Hebrew both as the name of Shem’s second son, and for
the country of Assyria, ambiguity has arisen as to the foun¬
der of this empire. In G enesis x. 11, the sacred historian,
in speaking of Nimrod and his kingdom, adds—“ Out of
that land went forth Asshur, and builded Nineveh,” or it
may be translated as in the margin, “ Out of that land he
(i.e. Nimrod) went out into Assyria, and builded Nineveh.”
For reasons which it would be foreign to our present pur¬
pose to narrate, the latter reading is generally considered to
be the more correct, and Nimrod is regarded as the founder
of the Assyrian empire. For several centuries after this,
Scripture is silent respecting the history of this country.
In the days of Abraham, Chedorlaomer, a king of Elam, is
mentioned (Gen. xiv.) as having, along with three other
kings, invaded the territory of five petty princes of Palestine.
These four kings, according to Josephus, wrere only com¬
manders in the army of the Assyrian king, who had their
dominion over Asia. In the time of the Judges, the Israel¬
ites became subject to a king of Mesopotamia, Chusan-risha-
thaim, who is by Josephus styled King of the Assyrians.
According to the Greek historians, the founder of the
Assyrian empire wras Ninus, who is represented as having
conquered Babylon, Media, Egypt, and other countries. He
was succeeded by his widow Semiramis, who must not, how¬
ever, be confounded with another queen of that name who
reigned some centuries later. She was succeeded, after a
long and glorious reign, by her son, Ninyas, who, however,
preferred luxurious ease and indulgence to martial glory.
His example was followed by a long line of successors.
In the reign of Teutames, one of these, the Trojan war
broke out. Troy was then, according to Ctesias and other
Greek writers, subject to the king of Assyria. This, how¬
ever, seems very doubtful, as neither Homer nor Flerodotus
make any allusion to it. Of this degenerate race, Sardana-
palus, the last of the dynasty, was the most effeminate and
voluptuous. His feeble administration prompted Arbaces,
the governor of Media, to revolt, a measure in which he
was encouraged by the advice and assistance of Belesys, a
Chaldean priest, who persuaded the Babylonians also to
assert their independence. These provinces, aided by the
Persians and other allies, attacked the Assyrians, defeated
their army, and took the capital after a siege of two years.
The king, to prevent his falling into the hands of his enemies,
collected all his treasures, his waves, and concubines, wdthin
the palace, which he then set on fire, and thus perished.
After the death of Sardanapalus, the Assyrian empire was
divided into three kingdoms, namely, the Median, Assyrian,
and Babylonian. Arbaces retained the supreme power in
Media, and nominated governors in Assyria and Babylon,
who were honoured with the title of kings, while they re¬
mained subiect and tributary to the Median monarchs.
R I A.
The first king of Assyria alluded to in Scripture is he Assyria,
who reigned at Nineveh when the prophet Jonah was sent "w-'
thither. Hales supposes him to have been the father of
Pul, the first Assyrian monarch whose name is mentioned
in Scripture, and dates the commencement of his reign b.c.
821. By that time the metropolis of the empire had be¬
come a magnificent and populous city ; but one pre-emi¬
nent in wickedness. Pul invaded the land of Israel dur¬
ing the reign of Menahem, and obliged that king to pur¬
chase peace at the price of 1000 talents of silver (2 Kings
xv. 19, 20). According to Newton, this event took place
in the year 770 b.c. Hales agrees with Newton in suppos¬
ing that at Pul’s death his dominions were divided between
his two sons, Tiglath-pileser and Nabonassar,—the latter
ruling at Bablyon, and giving name to the “ era of Nabon¬
assar,” which took its rise in his reign, B.C. 747. In the
sixth year of the reign of Tiglath-pileser, Rezin king of
Syria, and Pekah king of Israel, came up against Ahaz,
and besieged him in Jerusalem. Ahaz thereupon sent mes¬
sengers, with a large present to Tiglath-pileser king of As¬
syria, requesting his assistance. The Assyrian king accor¬
dingly invaded the territories of the confederate kings, an¬
nexed a portion of them to his own dominions, and carried
captive a number of their subjects. In the year b.c. 729,
he was succeeded by Shalman, Shalmaneser, or Enemessar.
He made Hoshea, king of Israel, his tributary vassal, but
finding him secretly negotiating with So or Sobaco, king of
Egypt, he laid siege to the Israelitish capital, Samaria, and
took it after an investment of three years (b.c. 719). He
then reduced the country of the ten tribes to a province of
his empire, carried into captivity the king and people, and
settled Cuthaeans from Babylonia in their room. Hezekiah,
king of Judah, seems to have been for some time his vassal.
We learn from Josephus, on the authority of the Tyrian
annals, that he subdued the whole of Phoenicia with the ex¬
ception of Tyre, which successfully resisted a siege of five
years, and was at length relieved by his death in b.c. 715.
Sargon, mentioned in Isaiah (xx. 1) as being king of As¬
syria, in whose reign Tartan, elsewhere mentioned as a gene¬
ral of Sennacherib, besieged and took Ashdod in Philistia,
is by some supposed to be Shalmaneser or Esarhaddon, Sen¬
nacherib’s successor; but Gesenius is probably more correct
in thinking that he was a king of Assyria who succeeded
Shalmaneser, and reigned only for two or three years.
The result of Tartan’s expedition against Egypt and Ethi¬
opia was predicted by Isaiah, while that general was yet on
the Egyptian frontier at Ashdod. In the reign of Senna¬
cherib, Hezekiah king of Judah threw off the Assyrian yoke,
and allied himself with Egypt. This brought against him
Sennacherib with a mighty host, who attacked and subaued
the fenced cities of Judah, and compelled him to purchase
peace with 300 talents of silver and 30 talents of gold. But
notwithstanding this agreement, the king of Assyria was not
long in returning to invest Jerusalem. By the divine inter¬
position, however, a pestilence destroyed in one night the
Assyrian army. Sennacherib himself fled to Nineveh, where
he was slain by his sons, Adrammelech and Sharezer, about
b.c. 709. The parricides fled to Armenia, and a third son,
Esarhaddon, the Sacherdon or Sarchedon of Tobit, and the
Asaradinus of Ptolemy’s canon, ascended the throne. The
earlier part of his reign seems to have been employed in
subduing the provinces that had revolted against him. He
settled colonists in Samaria; and it seems to have been in his
reign that the captains of the Assyrian host invaded Judah,
and carried Manasseh the king captive to Babylon, which
appears to have been at that time the capital of the Assy¬
rian empire. The subsequent history of the empire is in¬
volved in much obscurity. The Medes had already shaken
off the yoke, and the Chaldeans soon appear on the scene
as the dominant nation of Western Asia; yet Assyria, though
AST
Astabat much reduced in extent, existed as an independent, state for
II a considerable period after Esarhaddon. Hales, following
-stern. Syncellus, gives as his successor a prince called Ninus (b.c.
667), who was succeeded (b.c. 608), by Nebuchodonosor, for
the transactions of whose reign Hales relies on the apocry¬
phal book of Judith, the authority of which, however, is very
questionable. The last monarch was Saruc, (called also Sar-
danapalus,) in whose reign Cyaxares king of Media, and Na-
bopolassar viceroy of Babylon, besieged and took Nineveh,
(b.c. 606). W hat remained of the empire was divided be¬
tween the two victorious powers, and Assyria Proper be¬
came a province of Media.
Modern The greater part of the country which formed Assyria
Assyria. Proper is now under the nominal sway of the Turks, who
compose a considerable proportion of the population of the
and ^irffer villages, filling nearly all public offices, and
diffeiing in nothing from other Osmanlis. The pasha of
Mosul is noqffnated by the Porte, but is subject to the pasha
of Baghdad ; there is also a pasha at Solymaneah and Akra;
a bey at Arbil, a mussellim at Kirkook,’ See. But the abo-
riginal inhabitants of the country, and of the whole moun¬
tain-tract that here divides Turkey from Persia, are the
Kurds, the Carduchii of the Greeks; from them a chain
of these mountains was anciently called the Carduchian or
Gordya^an, and from them the country is now designated
Kurdistan. Klaproth, in his Asia Polyglotta, derives the
name from the Persian root kurd, i. e. strong, brave. They
ai e still, as of old, a barbarous and warlike 1’ace, occasionally
yielding a formal allegiance, on the west, to the Turks, and,
on the east, to the I ersians, but never wholly subdued; in¬
deed, some of the more powerful tribes, such as the Hak-
kary, have maintained an entire independence. Some of
them aie stationary in villages, while others roam far and
wide, beyond the limits of their own country, as nomadic
shepherds \ but they are all more or less addicted to pre¬
datory habits, and are regarded with great dread by their
more peaceful neighbours. They profess the faith of Islam,
and are of the Soonee sect. See Nineveh.
AS f ABAT, a small town of Persian Armenia, near the
river Aras, 20 miles south-east of Nakschivan. The neigh¬
bouring country is fertile, and produces good wine. There
is a. root peculiar to this country, called ronas, used for
dyeing red, great quantities of which are exported to India.
Long. 46. 30. E. Eat. 39. N.
AS 1 Ah FORT, a town of France, capital of a canton in
the department of Lot and Garonne, arrondissement of A«-en.
Pop. 1318. &
AS FELL,^ Mary, an English authoress, born at New-
castle-upon-1 yne in 1668. She was instructed by her uncle,
a clergyman, in Latin and French, logic, mathematics, and
natural philosophy. Having spent 20 years of her life in
Newcastle, she went to London, where she continued her
studies; and, deeply affected with the general ignorance of
her sex, she published in 1697 a work entitled A Serious
1 roposal to the Ladies, wherein a Method is offered for the
J mprovement of their Minds. Her most finished performance
was, 7 he Christian Religion, as professed by a Dauyhter of
the Ch urch of England, published in 1705. She died in 1731.
• ASTELL S Island, one of the English Companv’s
is andh, at the north-west part of the Gulf of Carpentaria,
o model ate height, and wooded. Iron ore is found here.
Lat. 11. 55. S.
ASTEROIDS (from aarfp and eiSos), a name given by
llerschel to the new planets discovered between the orbits
ot Mars and Jupiter.
AEJ FRISK, a mark in form of a star (*), placed over a
ore oi sentence, to refer the reader to the margin, or else¬
where, for a quotation, explanation, or the like.
ASTERISM, any small cluster of stars.
A-SIERN, a sea phrase, used to signify anything at
AST
some distance behind the ship; being the opposite of A-head,
which signifies the space before her.
AS 11, a province of the duchy of Piedmont, in the con¬
tinental dominions of the king of Sardinia. It is bounded
on the north-east and east by Alessandria, on the south¬
east by Aqui, on the south-west by Alba, and on the west
and north-west by Turin. It extends over 268 geographi¬
cal square miles. It is a gently undulating plain, watered bv
the Tanaro and the Po; fruitful in all the productions of Italy,
especially in corn, wine, and silk. Pop. in 1848, 136,065.
Asti, (the ancient Asta) the capital of the province, is a
large and well-built town, on the left bank of the Tanaro.
It is the see of a bishop ; and lias a cathedral, a college, many
churches and monastical institutions, with 24,000 inhabi¬
tants, who carry on a considerable trade in corn, wine, and
silk, which is not a little promoted by the situation of the
town on the high road from Alessandria to Turin and Coni.
In the middle ages Asti was a great commercial city. Al-
fieri the poet Avas born here.
ASFLE, Thomas, a well-known antiquary, was born in
Staffordshire in 1734. His reputation, from his papers in
the Archceologia, procured him in 1770 the parliamentary
appointment of superintendent of the printing of the ancient
records of the kingdom, which occupied him till 1775 ; when
he was made keeper of the records in the Tower. His
principal work is the essay on The Origin and Progress of
Writing, published in 1784. He died 1st Dec. 1803.
ASTOMOUS (a and oto/xo., i. e., without a mouth), a
term used in zoology and in botany.
ASIORGA, a city of Spain, in the province of Leon,
on a plain near the River Tuerto, and having the appella¬
tion of a marquisate, which title it confers on a noble family.
It is surrounded with ancient fortifications, and has near it a
castle in ruins. It has a cathedral, being the see of a bishop
under the church of Compostella; and was called “ the city
of priests,” from the great numbers of that profession for¬
merly resident within its walls. Pop. 4000. Lons. 6. 9
53. W. Lat. 42. 27. 9. N.
ASTORIA, a settlement in the territory of Oregon, about
12 miles fiom the mouth of the Columbia River, named after
Mr Astor, its founder, who had designed it for an extensive
fur depot. In 1813 it was taken possession of, in the name
of Great Britain, by Captain Black of the Raccoon, who
changed its name to Fort George ; but at the close of the
v ar it was restored to the United States. It now consists
of only a few log-houses. It possesses a good harbour, which
is chiefly used by the shipping of the North West Company,
to whom Mr Astor sold the property. “
ASTRABAD, or Asterabad, a small province of Persia,
bounded on the north by the Caspian Sea and the desert,’
on the south by the Elburz Mountains, west by Mazan-
deran, and east by the River Gourgan. The country, al¬
though mountainous, and interspersed with deep forests, in
which it is scarcely possible to travel, possesses beautiful
and fertile valleys, producing rice, wheat, and other grains
in abundance, or spread out in a boundless expanse of ver¬
dure, the pasturage of numerous flocks and herds. Fraser,
who travelled through Persia in 1822, extols in the most
lavish tei ms the appearance of the country. The soil, with
little culture, is exceedingly productive, owing to the abun¬
dance of water which irrigates and fertilizes it. But while the
province in many parts presents a landscape of luxuriant
beauty, it is a prey to the ravages of disease, and the fre¬
quent incursions of the surrounding tribes. The heavy tor¬
rents which fall in the rainy season stagnate in the forests,
forming morasses which, in the heats of summer and autumn,
exhale a pestilential vapour, from the decomposition of the
vegetable matter they contain. From these seats of noxi¬
ous effluvia the wandering tribes of shepherds fly beyond the
Gourgan or the Attruck, and live on the verge of the burn-
779
Asti
II
Astrabad.
780 AST A' S T
Astrabad ing sand, although they have to carry water for each day’s
II consumption from the distant river. The better classes re-
jsra an. tjre from intense heats of summer into the mountains; but
the settled inhabitants of the villages, who cannot so easily
remove, and who generally remain, suffer severely from sick¬
ness. The inhabitants, notwithstanding the unhealthiness of
their climate, are a stout and athletic race. The revenue
derived from this province by the king of Persia does not ex¬
ceed the value of L.70Q0 sterling. It is famous, however, for
furnishing a supply of matchlocks for the king’s body-guard.
This is the ancient Hyrcania, and is the native country of
the Kadgers, a Turkish tribe, of whom the king is the head,
and on whom he considers he can rely in times of danger.
Astrabad, or Asterabad, a towrn of Persia, the capital
of the above province, is situated near the mouth of the
River Gourgan, which flows into the Caspian, and at the
head of a sheltered bay, extremely convenient for shipping.
Astrabad is a pleasant, well-built town, about 3^ miles in
circuit, and highly picturesque in appearance, from the build¬
ings being intermingled with trees and extensive gardens.
It was formerly larger, but Nadir Shah contracted it within
its present limits. A mound of earth surrounds it, the re¬
mains of a mud wall once lofty and formidable, and de¬
fended by numerous towers, and also by a wide and deep
ditch, now almost filled with rubbish. Astrabad owes its origin
to Yezzen-ibn-Messlub, an Arab chief of great celebrity,
who commanded the armies of Soliman, the seventh khalif
of the Ommiades, about the beginning of the seventh cen¬
tury. It was destroyed by Tamerlane. In 1744 Hanway
visited this place, and attempted to open a direct trade with it
from Europe. It has now but little trade ; and the bazaars,
though extensive, are but poorly filled, containing little more
than the necessary supplies for the consumption of the place.
The number of houses within the walls is estimated at from
2000 to 3000. The town is extremely unhealthy during the
hot weather, owing to the noxious exhalations of the sur¬
rounding forests. Distance N.E. of Ispahan 400 miles. Long.
54. 25. E. Eat. 36. 50. N.
AST R AK AN, a government of European Russia, bound¬
ed on the south-east by the Caspian Sea, north-east by Or¬
enburg, north by Saratov, west by the country of the Don
Cossacks, and south-east by the Caucasus. It lies between
Eat. 44. 50. and 49. 50. N. and between Long. 43. 30. and
5L 0. E. It has an area of about 50,000 square miles, di¬
vided into two nearly equal parts by the Volga, and consists
chiefly of sandy deserts, interspersed with saline lakes ; but
in the delta and on the banks of the rivers, grapes and other
fruits of southern climates are raised. The population in
1846 was estimated at 284,400, comprising Russians, Tar-
• tars, Georgians, Armenians, Persians, Hindus, &c., who en¬
gage in the rearing of horses, cattle, and sheep, and also in
the fishing of sturgeon, which forms the principal source of
wealth to the government. The annual revenue derived
from this source is estimated at from two to three million
of rubles. The vicissitudes of climate are great: with a
mean annual temperature of 48° Fahr., the summer averages
70°, and the winter 13° Fahr.
Astrakan, the capital of the government of the same
name, is situated on a small island in the Volga, about 30
miles above the influx of that river into the Caspian. It
consists of three parts, 1. the Kremlin or citadel, which stands
on a hill, and contains the cathedral, a spacious brick edifice
with the archbishop’s palace and the convent of the Trinity ;
2. the Belogorod or white town, containing the government
buildings, bazaars, &c.; 3. the Llobodeo or suburbs, where
the bulk of the population reside. In the last the streets
are narrow, irregular, and mostly unpaved, and the houses
are built of wood. It is the seat of a Greek and of an Ar¬
menian archbishop, also of an admiralty board; and it con¬
tains a number of Greek and Armenian churches and con¬
vents, a catholic and a Lutheran church, a Hindu temple, seve¬
ral mosques, a botanic garden, three bazaars, a gymnasium, an
ecclesiastical seminary, and several inferior schools. From
its favourable position, it enjoys a very considerable trade
both with the interior of Russia, and with India, Persia, &c.
Besides its importance as a fishing station, it has consider¬
able manufactures of cotton, silk, leather, &c. Lat. 46.21.
N. Long. 47. 55. E. Pop. in 1848 estimated at 50,000.
This city was anciently the capital of a kingdom belong¬
ing to the Tartars, who were expelled in 1554 by the Rus¬
sian prince Iwan Basilowitz. In 1569 it was besieged by
the Turks, but they were defeated with great slaughter by
the Russians. In 1670 it was seized by the rebel Stenko
Razin ; but he was soon dispossessed of it by his uncle
Jacolof, who remained faithful to the Czar. In 1702 and
1718 it suffered severely from conflagrations; and in 1830
the cholera swept away a great portion of its inhabitants.
ASTR7EA, in Astronomy, a name which seme give to
the sign Virgo, by others called Erigone, and sometimes
Isis. The poets feign that Justice quitted heaven to reside
on earth in the golden age; but growing weary of the ini¬
quities of mankind, she left the earth and returned to hea¬
ven, where she took her place among the stars, and from her
orb still looks down on the ways of men.
ASTRAGALOMANCY, a species of divination per¬
formed by throwing small pieces, with marks corresponding
to the letters of the alphabet, the accidental disposition of
which formed the answer required. This kind of divination
was practised in a temple of Hercules in Achaia. The word
is derived from aarpayaXos. and fiavreia.
ASTRINGENTS, a class of medicines which are used
for binding or contracting the several parts, external or in¬
ternal, of the human system, for restraining profuse dis¬
charges, coagulating the fluids, condensing and strength¬
ening the solids. The principal astringents are the mineral
acids, alum, lime-water, chalk, several preparations of cop¬
per, zinc, iron, &c., catechu, kino, oak-bark, galls, and all
vegetable substances containing tannin.
A STROLABE, a stereographic projection of the sphere,
either on the plane of the equator, the eye being supposed
to be in the pole of the world; or upon the plane of the
meridian, when the eye is supposed in the point of the in¬
tersection of the equinoctial and horizon.
Astrolabe is also the name of an instrument formerly
used for taking the altitude of the sun or stars at sea.
Astrolabe, among the ancients, was the same as our ar¬
millary sphere.
ASTROLOGY (from darpov and Ad-yos), a pretended
science, teaching to judge of the effects and influences of the
stars, and to foretell future events by the situation and dif¬
ferent aspects of the heavenly bodies.
This science was divided into two branches, natural and
judiciary. To the former belonged the predicting of natu¬
ral effects ; as the changes of weather, winds, storms, hurri¬
canes, thunder, floods, earthquakes, &c. Judiciary or judi¬
cial astrology is that which pretended to foretell moral events,
as if they were directed by the stars. It is commonly said
to have been invented in Chaldea, and thence transmitted
to the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans; though some will
have it of Egyptian origin. At Rome the people were so
infatuated with it, that the astrologers, or, as they were then
called, the mathematicians, maintained their ground in spite
of all the edicts of the emperors to expel them from the
city. The same superstition has prevailed in modern nations.
The French historians tell us, that in the time of Queen
Catherine di’Medici, astrology was so much in vogue that
the most inconsiderable thing was not to be done without
consulting the stars. And in the reigns of King Henry III.
and IV. of France, the predictions of astrologers were the
common theme of the court conversation.
Astra?a
1)
781
A S T R O
' STRONOMY, from usttip or aarpcv, a star, and a
-r*- law, is the science which treats of the laws observed
by the stars in their motions. By an extension of signifi¬
cation, it embraces every thing that is known relating to
the nature and constitution, as well as to the motions, of
the celestial bodies.
Ihe present treatise is divided into Four Parts. In
the First, which contains the History of Astronomy,
the progressive advancement of the science from the times
of the Chaldeans and Egyptians to the present dav is
hi icily sketched, and the labours of those illustrious indi-
N O M V.
vidua!s commemorated, who have either theoretically or History,
practically contributed most to its progress. The
cond Part, which we have denominated Theoretical
Astronomy, is devoted to a general view of the science, 
to the explanation of the different theories and methods
by which the motions of the celestial bodies are repre¬
sented, and their places computed; and the description
of such facts as observation has made known respecting
their nature and constitution. Part Third treats of
Physical Astronomy; and Part Fourth of Practicai
Astronomy.
PART I.
HISTORY OF
Astronomy, if we dignify by that name the first rude
attempts that were made to discover the order and con¬
nection of the celestial motions, may probably be regarded
as the most ancient of all the sciences. In fact, a certain
degree of attention to the heavenly bodies is forced even
on the savage who inhabits the forest, and derives his sub¬
sistence fi om the spontaneous productions of the earth.
Ihe regular vicissitude of day and night inevitably com¬
pels him to observe the diurnal course of the sun ; and he
cannot fail soon to perceive, that the variety and succes¬
sion of the seasons is equally dependent on the oblique
annual course of the same great luminary. The moon,
too, in the absence of the sun, is an object so conspicuous,
so consoling, and so useful, that her motions must at all
times have been watched with attention and interest; while
her various phases, her alternate waxings and wanings, her
regular disappearance and return after equal intervals of
time, would be contemplated with admiration and de¬
light. Nor are the wonders of the starry firmament less
calculated to strike even the most heedless observer of the
heavens. The magnificent spectacle of the sky bespangled
with brilliant points, and revolving in obedience to eternal
and unalterable laws, affords a constant succession of new
objects of sublime and exalted contemplation. The occa¬
sional recurrence, also, of eclipses and other unusual phe¬
nomena, which seem to interrupt the general order and
uniformity of the celestial motions, would stimulate to at¬
tentive observation; for the vanity of man has in all ages
rendered him eager to connect his own destiny with the
heavens, while his timidity has prompted him to regard
every apparent deviation from the ordinary course of
events as an emblem of the wrath, and a precursor of the
vengeance, of superior beings.
But though mankind were probably first impelled by
motives of mere curiosity to observe the courses of the
stars, no great length of time could elapse ere they per¬
ceived that the regular and uniform revolutions of the
heavens might be rendered subservient to their own wants
and conveniencies. By the help of the stars the shep-
heid, during the night, could count the hours, the tra¬
veller track his course through the uniform wastes of the
desert, and the mariner guide his bark over the ocean:
the husbandman, also, learned to regulate his labours by
t le appearance of certain constellations, which gave him
wai nmg of the approaching seasons. The indications de-
ASTRONOMY.
rived from the simple observation of such phenomena
were doubtless extremely vague; but as civilisation ad¬
vanced, the necessity of determining accurately the length
of the solar year and of the lunar month, in order to re¬
gulate the calendar and the religious festivals, led to the
accumulation and comparison of different observations,
whereby errors were gradually diminished, and the foun¬
dations laid of a more perfect acquaintance with the
heavenly motions.
Astronomy, presenting so many objects of interesting
curiosity, and having so many practical uses, could not
fail to be one of the sciences first cultivated by mankind.
Its origin is consequently hid amidst the obscurity and
traditions of the remotest ages, and is in fact coeval with
the origin of society, and the earliest development of the
human intellect. The records or traditions of almost
every ancient nation furnish some traces of attention to
the state of the heavens, and of some rude attempts to
discover the laws, the order, and the period of the most
remarkable phenomena,—such as eclipses of the sun and
moon, the motions of the planets, and the heliacal risings
of the principal stars and constellations. The Chaldeans
and Egyptians, Chinese and Indians, Gauls and Peru¬
vians, equally regard themselves as the inventors of astro¬
nomy ; an honour, however, of which Josephus deprives
them all, in order to ascribe it to the antediluvian pa¬
triarchs. The fables relating to the two columns of brick
and marble which these sages are said to have erected,
and on which they engraved the elements of their astro¬
nomy, to preserve them from the universal destruction by
fire and water to which, they are said to have learned
from Adam, the earth was doomed, are not worth the
trouble of repetition ; nor is there any better proof than
the assertion of that credulous historian, of their acquaint¬
ance with the a/mus magnus, or, as is most probably sup¬
posed, the astronomical cycle of GOO years, which brings
back the sun and moon to the same points of the heavens
so nearly, that its discovery implies a pretty correct know¬
ledge of the solar and lunar motions. Passing over, there¬
fore, those periods that present us only with a scanty de¬
tail of traditional observations or unimportant facts, we will
proceed to give a brief account of the state of astronomy
among some early nations who have undoubtedly contri¬
buted to the improvement of the science, or who, at least,
have transmitted to future ages some monuments of their
782
ASTRONOMY.
History, astronomical labours, and of their attention to celestial ob-
servations.
Astronomy of the Chaldeans, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Chi¬
nese, and Indians.
Chaldeans. According to the unanimous testimony of the Greek
historians, the earliest traces of astronomical science are
to be met with among the Chaldeans and Egyptians.
The spacious level and unclouded horizon of Chaldea af¬
forded the utmost facilities for observing the celestial
phenomena; and its inhabitants, enjoying the leisure af¬
forded by a pastoral life, and stimulated by the vain de¬
sire of obtaining a knowledge of the future from the as¬
pects of the stars, assiduously cultivated astronomy and
astrology. By a long series of observations of eclipses,
extending, according to the testimony of some authors,
over nineteen centuries, or even a longer period, they had
discovered the cycle of 223 lunations, or eighteen solar
years, which, by bringing back the moon to nearly the
same position with respect to her nodes, her perigee, and
the sun, brings back the eclipses in the same order. This
is supposed to be the period which they distinguished by
the name of Saros. They had others, to which they gave
the names of Sossos and Neros; but nothing positive is
known with regard to their nature or extent. One thing
only is certain, which is, that these Chaldaic periods,
whatever they were, were founded on no theoretical
knowledge of the celestial motions. They were purely
empirical, detected by the comparison of recorded obser¬
vations, and suppose neither theory nor science, unless,
indeed, a simple arithmetical operation is to be considered
as such; nor is there any reason to suppose that the
Chaldeans employed any process of computation whatever
in their predictions of eclipses. Having once established
their cycle, they were in possession of a simple means of
predicting all those which occurred in the course of it,
with as great a degree of accuracy as they considered re¬
quisite.
The knowledge of these lunisolar periods among the
Chaldeans is doubtless of great antiquity. Simplicius,
the commentator of Aristotle, asserts that Callisthenes
transmitted to Aristotle from Babylon a collection of ob¬
servations of all the eclipses which had happened during
the nineteen centuries that preceded the conquest of
Alexander. This relation, however, is at variance with
the accounts given by other historians. Epigenes, cited
by Seneca and Pliny, who is supposed to have lived short¬
ly before the time of Alexander, mentions observations of
730 years that had been found preserved on columns of
brick. Ptolemy also makes mention of certain observa¬
tions of eclipses that had been brought from Babylon,
several of which he had calculated and verified ; but the
earliest of these ascends only to the year 720 before our
era, or to the 26th of Nabonassar; and if either Hippar¬
chus or himself had been acquainted with others of a
more ancient date, they would doubtless have employed
them in the determination of the mean motion of the
moon. From this circumstance it appears probable that
the Chaldeans had no observation sufficiently exact to be
of any use to astronomy prior to the time of Nabonassar.
According to Apollonius of Myndus, the Chaldeans sup¬
posed the comets to be substances of the same nature as
he planets; that they are visible only during a portion of
their revolutions, and that they re-appear after certain
intervals. But this statement, which argues some just
notions respecting the celestial bodies, is contradicted by
Epigenes, who himself studied among the Chaldeans, and
who affirms, that instead of regarding the comets as sub¬
jected like the planets to the operation .of eternal laws, History,
they attributed their formation to vortices of inflamed
matter, supposing them to have only a temporary exist¬
ence, and to move in random directions through the fields
of space. Diodorus says, that they regarded the world
as eternal and imperishable, and held that its order is
due, not to chance, but to a divine providence; that the
planets, which have peculiar motions, announce future
events by their various aspects and colours; that they
portend rains, tempests, excessive heats; sometimes also
the appearance of comets, eclipses, earthquakes, and, in
short, whatever has a beneficial or hurtful influence on
the fortunes of nations or individuals.
From the few facts that can be gleaned from the vague
accounts given by ancient authors of the astronomy of the
ancient Chaldeans, it may be inferred that their boasted
science was confined to observations of the simplest and
rudest kind, neither guided by theory, nor assisted by in¬
struments ; for, notwithstanding the assertion of Hero¬
dotus, it is doubtful if they were acquainted even with
the gnomon, the simplest of all instruments for determin¬
ing the obliquity of the ecliptic, the altitude of the pole,
and the length of the tropical year. If to the knowledge of
their lunisolar periods, the result of ages of observation,
we add the notion of a spherical revolution about an in¬
clined axis, and an idea of the principal circles of the
sphere and the position of the poles, the sum will com¬
prehend all that constituted the science of a people re¬
garded by antiquity as having made the greatest progress
in the science of the stars. Astronomy, however, owes
some obligations to their humble labours. The observa¬
tions which they recorded served to correct the theories
that were afterwards imagined by the more brilliant ge¬
nius of the Greeks, and thereby furnished some materials
for the edifice of the world.
The Egyptians were in ancient times the rivals of the Egyptians.
Chaldeans"in the cultivation of astronomy; and although
they have left behind them still fewer monuments of their
labours, they have obtained, through the exaggerated
statements of the Greeks, even a greater reputation. The
Greeks acknowledge themselves indebted to the Egyp¬
tians for their science and civilisation; but regarding
themselves likewise as descendants of that ancient people,
they indulged their vain-glory in magnifying the accounts
of the antiquity and knowledge of their supposed ances¬
tors. It is not improbable that some traditional observa¬
tions of the heavens, along with some arts indispensable
to society even in its earliest stages, were carried into
Europe by tribes migrating from the banks of the Nile;
and it is certain that the early philosophers of Greece
travelled into Egypt for the purpose of acquiring a more
perfect knowledge of astronomy than could be obtained
in their own country. But the facts from which it can
be inferred that the Egyptians had much to communicate,
are few and ill attested. They are also blended with so
much absurdity and fable, that no accurate notions can be
formed, from the accounts that have been transmitted to
us, of the real advances which that people had made in as¬
tronomical science. The priests were the depositaries of
the national knowledge; and they carefully concealed it
from the vulgar by shrouding it in allegories, traces of
which, it has been remarked, may be detected in the
institutions even of the present day.
According to Diogenes Laertius, the Egyptians reck¬
oned 48,853 years from Vulcan to Alexander, during
which they had observed 373 eclipses of the sun, and 832
of the moon. These numbers in fact nearly express the
relative proportion of the eclipses of the two luminaries;
but the enormous length of the period altogether exceeds
ASTRONOMY.
History, the bounds of credibility; and it has been remarked that
the same number of eclipses might have been observed
within the more probable period of twelve or thirteen cen¬
turies. Supposing the numbers to be accurately stated,
it will follow that, as the observations terminated with the
conquest of Alexander, the Egyptians must have been in
the habit of observing eclipses at least 1600 years before
the commencement of our era. By attentively observing
the heliacal rising of the star Sirius, to which they gave
the name of Thaat, or Thoth (the Watch-Dog), because
its appearance shortly preceded the overflow of the wa¬
ters of the Nile, the Egyptians had discovered that the
year consists of 365^- days. This was their religious or
sacred year. Their civil year consisted of only 365 days ;
consequently the sacrifices and feasts, which were regu¬
lated by it, successively corresponded to the different sea¬
sons. Instead of attempting to obviate this inconvenience
by intercalation, they imposed an oath on their kings to
maintain the use of the civil year, superstitiously imagin¬
ing that each of the seasons would be blessed and ren¬
dered prosperous by enjoying in its turn the celebration
of the feast of Isis. The difference between the lengths
of the sacred and civil year suggested to them their fa¬
mous sothic or canicular period of 1460 solar years, cor¬
responding to 1461 civil years of 365 days, and which con¬
sequently brings back the months and festivals to the same
seasons. Dion Cassius ascribes the week to the Egyptians,
and says that they first dedicated a day to each of the pla¬
nets ; but it is sufficiently proved that this short cycle was
in use among the Chinese and Indians from the remotest
times, and was even known to the Druids of Gaul and
Britain. It was more probably suggested to different nations
by the phases of the moon. The Egyptians had likewise
been attentive to the courses of the planets. Diodorus
Siculus affirms that they could explain the phenomena of
the stations and retrogradations; and Macrobius ascribes
to them the knowledge of the real motions of Mercury
and Venus, and says that they regarded these planets as
satellites of the sun. This notion would do credit to their
philosophy; but it is unfortunately not mentioned by
any other author, and for this reason the testimony of
Macrobius is suspected. The state of their practical as¬
tronomy may in some measure be inferred from the means
they employed to determine the magnitude of the sun's
apparent diameter. By comparing the time, observed by
means of a clepsydra, which the sun takes to mount above
the horizon at the equinox, with that in which he makes
a complete revolution of the sky, they estimated his dia¬
meter at 28' 48". An observation of this kind is liable to
great uncertainty; and as there is no evidence that the
Egyptians possessed the slightest knowledge of spherical
trigonometry, they would probably make no allowance for
the obliquity of the equator to their horizon; and if this
correction was left out of the calculation, as it probably
was, their diameter, already too small, ought to have been
still farther reduced, and to have amounted only to 24'42".
It has been conjectured by Goguet, that the obelisks of
were intended to serve the purpose of gnomons;
and this conjecture acquires some probability from their
needle-shaped form, and the narrowness of their bases re¬
latively to their heights. It has however been proved by
MM. Jollois and Devilliers, in their description of Thebes,
that the obelisks were connected with the walls of temples
and palaces; a disposition which rendered them entire¬
ly unfit foi. the purposes of astronomical observation.
I heir summits were also of so unfavourable a form, that
the Romans were obliged to surmount them with a ball
in older to obtain a distinct and well-defined shadow.
The pyramids have also been adduced as evidences of the
783
early progress of astronomy among the Egyptians; for History,
the faces of these stupendous masses are turned directly
towards the four cardinal points, from which it is evident
that the people by whom they were constructed were at
least acquainted with the method of tracing a meridional
line.
From this brief account it appears, that the only cir¬
cumstances with which we are acquainted that imply the
knowledge of astronomical methods among the Egyptians,
are the length of the year, the doubtful discovery of the
true motions of Mercury and Venus, and the position of
the pyramids. The Chaldean observations were of use to
Hipparchus and Ptolemy in the determination of some
important elements; but those of the Egyptians exercised
no influence whatever on the future progress of the science.
The Phoenicians are also generally enumerated among Phceni-
the nations who cultivated astronomy at a very early cians.
period, though it does not appear, from any facts mention¬
ed by ancient authors, that they addicted themselves to
the observation of the heavens, or made any discoveries
relative to the motions of the planets. That they excelled
in the art of navigation is certain, from the commercial
intercourse which they carried on with many places on the
coasts of Africa and Spain, and in the principal islands
of the Mediterranean ; and it may readily be allowed that
in their long voyages they would direct their course
during the night by the circumpolar stars. If they had
any speculative notions of astronomy, these were probably
derived from the Chaldeans or Egyptians.
In China, astronomy has been cultivated from the re- Chinese,
motest ages, and always been considered as a science in¬
dispensably necessary to the civil government of the state.
I he Chinese boast of a series of eclipses, recorded in the
annals of the nation, extending over a period of 3858
years, all of which, they pretend, were not only carefully
observed, but calculated and figured previous to their oc¬
currence. The same motives which led the Chaldeans
and Egyptians to attend to the celestial phenomena,
namely, the regulation and division of time, had equal in¬
fluence among the Chinese; and we accordingly find the
care of the calendar occupying the attention of their
earliest princes. The emperor Fou-Hi, whose reign com¬
menced about 2857 years before our era, is said to have
assiduously studied the motions of the celestial bodies,
and laboured to instruct his ignorant subjects in the mys¬
teries of astronomy. But as they were yet in too rude a
condition to be able to comprehend his theories, he was
obliged to content himself with giving them a rule for the
computation of time by means of the numbers 10 and 12,
the combination of which produces the cycle of 60 years,
which is the standard or unit from which they deduce their
hours, days, and months. Tradition is silent with respect
to the sources from which Fou-Hi derived his own know¬
ledge. The Chinese attribute to him also the invention
of arithmetic and music. In the year 2608 b. c., Hoang-
4 i caused an observatory to be built, for the purpose of
correcting the calendar, which had already fallen into great
confusion, and appointed one set of astronomers to observe
the course of the sun, another that of the moon, and a
third that of the stars. It was then discovered that the
twelve lunar months do not exactly correspond with a
solar year; and that, in order to restore the coinci¬
dence, it was necessary to intercalate seven lunations
in the space of nineteen year's. If this fact rested on
undoubted evidence, it would follow that the Chinese
had anticipated the Greeks by 2000 years in the dis¬
covery of the Metonic cycle. The reign of Hcang-Ti
is also rendered memorable by the institution of the
Mathematical Tribunal,' for promoting the science of
784 ASTRONOMY.
History, astronomy, and regularly predicting eclipses, to which
an extraordinary importance has always been attached
in China. The members of this celebrated tribunal were
made responsible with their lives for the accuracy of
their predictions, by a law of the empire, which or¬
dained that, “ whether the instant of the occurrence of
any celestial phenomenon was erroneously assigned, or
the phenomenon itself not foreseen and predicted, either
negligence should be punished with death.” In the reign
of Tchong-Kang, the two mathematicians of the empire,
Ho and Hi, were the victims of this absurd and sangui¬
nary law; an eclipse having taken place which their skill
had not enabled them to foresee.
The emperor Yao, who mounted the throne, according
to the Chinese annals, about the year 2317 b. c., gave a
new impulse to the study of astronomy, which had be¬
gun already to decline. He ordered his astronomers to
observe with the utmost care the motions of the sun and
moon, of the planets and the stars, and to determine the
exact length of each of the four seasons. He sent Hi-
Tchong to the east to observe the star situated at the
point of the vernal equinox, Hi-Tchou to the south to
examine that at the summer solstice, Ho-Tchong to the
west, and Ho-Tchou to the north, to observe those situated
respectively at the autumnal equinox and winter solstice.
These docile observers found stars in the positions assigned
by the emperor; but the extraordinary resemblance of
their names imparts a fabulous air to the whole relation,
and excites a very excusable incredulity even with regard
to those statements which involve no improbability. To
this emperor are attributed the Chinese division of the
zodiac into 28 constellations, called the houses of the
moon, and the severe laws already noticed in regard to
the erroneous prediction of the celestial phenomena. •
From the time of Yao the Chinese year consisted of
365£ days. They also divided the circle into 365^ de¬
grees, so that the sun daily described in his orbit an arc
of one Chinese degree. Their common lunar year con¬
sisted of 36T||^ days; and by combining this number
with 365^, they formed the period of 4617 years, after
which the sun and moon again occupy the same relative
positions.
The earliest Chinese observations we are acquainted
with, sufficiently precise to afford any result useful to
astronomy, were made by Tcheou-Kong, whose reign
commenced about the year 1100 before our era. Two
of these observations are meridional altitudes of the sun,
observed with great care at the village of Loyang, at the
time of the summer and winter solstices. The obliquity
of the ecliptic thus determined at that remote epoch is
23° 54' 3T5"; a result which perfectly agrees with the
theory of universal gravitation. Another observation,
made about the same time, relates to the position of the
winter solstice in the heavens; and it also corresponds to
within a minute of a degree with the calculations of La¬
place. Laplace considers this extraordinary conformity
as an indubitable proof of the authenticity of those an¬
cient observations.
The golden age of Chinese astronomy extended from
the reign of Fou-Hi to the year 480 b. c. ; that is, over a
space of 2500 years. It is only, however, towards the
latter part of this long period that the history of China
becomes in any degree authentic; and the true date
which must be assigned for the commencement of obser¬
vations on which any reliance can be placed, is the year
722 b. c.; that is, 25 years posterior to the era of Nabo-
nassar. From that period to the year 400 e c. Confucius
reckons a series of 36 eclipses, and of these 31 have been
verified by modern astronomers. After this the science
fell into great neglect, notwithstanding the inveterate te- History,
nacity with which the Chinese in general adhere to their
ancient customs. The decline of their astronomy is
ascribed, whether justly or not, to the barbarous policy
of the emperor Tsin-Chi-Hong-Ti, who, in the year 221
b. c., ordered all the books to be destroyed, excepting
those only which related to agriculture, medicine, and
astrology, the only sciences which he considered as being
of any use to mankind. His fury, it is true, was princi¬
pally directed against those of Confucius, the stern mo¬
rality of which he felt to be a censure on his own profli¬
gacy ; but those of science and astronomy were included
in the general destruction. In this manner, it is said,
the precious mass of astronomical observations and pre¬
cepts which had been accumulating for ages was irretriev¬
ably lost.
Lieou-Pang, the successor of Tsin-Chi-Hong, endea-20G B.C
voured to repair the disaster, by re-establishing the tribu¬
nal of the mathematics, and ordering a new series of ob¬
servations to be undertaken. About the year 104 b. c.
the astronomer Sse-Ma-Tsien gave some precepts for
the calculation of eclipses, the motions of the planets,
and the syzygies. He employed instruments of copper,
the nature and construction of which are however not
very well understood, for measuring the extent of the 28
zodiacal constellations; and he observed the meridional
altitudes of the sun, by means of a gnomon 8 feet high.
The differences of right ascensions, and the intervals be¬
tween the risings, settings, and culminations of the stars,
were measured by clepsydrae. It would appear that after
this period astronomical observations continued for some
time to be made in China with considerable regularity.
In the 164th year of our era the astronomer Tchang-
Heng constructed armillary spheres and a celestial globe.
He also formed a catalogue of stars, which is said to have
contained 2500, but without either latitudes or longitudes ;
a circumstance which gives us a very unfavourable idea
of the state of practical astronomy at that time. About
the eighth century of our era, all knowledge of the science
seems to have been again lost. The predictions were er¬
roneous ; and the Chinese witnessed, with superstitious
terror, eclipses of which their astronomers had given them
no intimation. This induced the emperor Hieng-Tsong
to call to his court the astronomer Y-Hang, by whose in¬
defatigable activity a reform was speedily effected. With
a view to determine the situations of the principal places
of the empire, this astronomer constructed gnomons,
spheres, astrolabes, quadrants, and other instruments;
and sent one company of mathematicians to the south,
and another to the north, with directions to observe
daily the altitudes of the sun and the polar star. The
latitudes of the cities were determined by observing the
shadow of the gnomon, and the longitudes by eclipses of
the moon. Y-Hang had the mortification of announcing
two eclipses which did not take place. On these occa¬
sions he alleged the usual excuse, namely, that his calcu¬
lus was not in error, but that the celestial bodies had de¬
viated from their ordinary courses out of respect to the
virtues of the emperor. The fate of Ho and Hi had pro¬
bably suggested to the Chinese astronomers this ingenious
mode of disarming the emperor’s resentment by flattering
his vanity.
On considering attentively the accounts which have
been given of the Chinese astronomy, we find that it
consisted only in the practice of observations which led
to nothing more than the knowledge of a few isolated
facts. The missionaries who were sent out by the Je¬
suits about the end of the seventeenth century, to whom
we are indebted for what is known of the early history
ASTRONOMY.
History, of China, either seduced by some appearances of truth,
'^’~v~v~''or thinking it prudent to conciliate the people whom
they were attempting to convert, adopted their marvel¬
lous relations regarding the antiquity of their science,
and spread them over Europe. As the history of the
nation begins to become more authentic, their astronomy
shrinks into its real but insignificant dimensions. Super-
stitiously attached to their ancient usages, and blindly
adopting the habits of their ancestors, the Chinese con¬
tinued to observe the heavens from century to century
without making the slightest advances in theoretical
knowledge. In later times they have adopted many im¬
provements, for which they are entirely indebted to fo¬
reigners. During the time of the caliphs many Maho¬
metans passed into China, carrying with them the astro¬
nomical methods and knowledge of the Arabians. The
missionaries introduced the science of Europe; and the
most that can be said in praise of the Chinese is, that
their government sometimes relaxed so far its spirit of
jealousy and exclusion, as to afford protection to these
strangers, adopt their arts, and place them at the head
of the mathematical tribunal.
Indians. The astronomy of the Indians forms one of the most
curious problems which the history of science presents to
the consideration of the learned, and one which, notwith¬
standing the numerous dissertations to which it has given
rise, still continues involved in great uncertainty. Of the
science of the ancient nations, of which we have already
spoken, the accounts which have come down to our times
are founded on conjecture and tradition ; for few monu¬
ments remain to confirm or confute the glowing descrip¬
tions which authors have given of its high antiquity and
great perfection. But the claims of the Indians rest on
more solid foundations. We are in possession of the
tables from which they compute the eclipses and places
of the planets, and of the methods by which they effect
the computation: we have, in short, an Indian astrono¬
my committed to writing, which represents the celestial
phenomena with considerable exactness, and which, there¬
fore, could only be produced by a people far advanced in
science. But the difficulty of the problem consists in de¬
termining the sources from which this science originated,
and the epoch of its existence; whether it was created
by the people who now blindly follow its precepts without
understanding its principles, or was communicated to
them by another race of a bolder and more original ge¬
nius, through channels with which we are unacquainted.
Some authors regard India as the cradle of all the sci¬
ences, particularly of astronomy, which they suppose to
have been cultivated there from the remotest ages;
others date the origin of the Indian astronomy from the
period when Pythagoras travelled into that country, and
carried thither the arts and sciences of the Greeks; a
third opinion is, that astronomy was conveyed to India
by the Arabians in the ninth century of our era, and that
the Brahmins are only entitled to the humble merit of
adapting the rules and practices of that people to their
own peculiar methods of calculation. We shall endea¬
vour to describe very briefly the existing monuments of
the Indian astronomy, wrhich furnish the only data from
which.a rational conjecture can be formed relative to its
antiquity and precision.
We possess four different sets of tables of Indian
astronomy. I he first which were known in Europe were
brought from feiam by La Loubere, who had resided in
that country as ambassador from Louis XIV. They were
communicated by him to the celebrated Cassini, who,
notwithstanding the difficulties arising from the compli¬
cated and useless operations which they directed suc-
VOL. III. J ’
785
ceeded in detecting the principles on which they were History,
constructed, and in explaining their use and signification,
The date of these tables corresponds to the 21st of March
in the year 638 of our era. They suppose two species of
years, the solar tropical year, which they make to consist
of days 5 hours 50 min. and 4 sec., and the solar ano¬
malistic year, that is, the period in which the sun returns
to its apogee, which they estimate at 365 days 6 hours 12
min. 36 sec. This determination of the length of the
solar year is too great only by 1 mm. 15 sec. By means
of the same tables the longitudes of the sun and moon are
determined with considerable accuracy. They contain
a correction for the sun’s mean place, which corresponds
to the equation of the centre. At 90° from the apogee,
where the inequality of the sun’s motion is greatest, they
estimate the requisite correction at 2° 12’, which is about
16’ too great. This determination deserves to be parti¬
cularly remarked, because, on account of a secular inequa¬
lity of the eccentricity of the sun’s orbit, there was once
a time when the greatest value of the equation of the
centre was nearly 2° 12' ; and this fact is adduced as a
proof of the remote antiquity of the observations from
which the tables in question have been constructed.
These tables suppose the apogee to retain always the
same position relatively to the fixed stars; in reality it
advances or gains on the stars about 10" annually; but
the supposition is still much nearer the truth than in the
system of Ptolemy, where the apogee is supposed to be
absolutely at rest with regard to the plane of the sun’s
orbit, and consequently to fall back among the stars by
the whole quantity of the precession of the equinoxes, or
about 50" annually. With regard to the motions of the
moon, they are deduced from a period of 19 years, in
which are comprehended nearly 235 lunations; so that
the cycle of Meton appears to have been known in Siam
as well as in China. The moon’s apogee is supposed to
have been in the beginning of the movable zodiac 621
days after the epoch of the 21st of March 638, and to
make an entire revolution in the heavens in the space of
3232 days. The first of these suppositions agrees with
Mayer’s tables to within a degree, and the second differs
from them only by 11 hours 14 min. 31 sec. They con¬
tain only one correction for the two principal inequalities
of the moon’s motion, the equation of the centre and the
evection.
A second set of Indian tables was sent from Chrisna-
bouram, a town in the Carnatic, by Father Du Champ, to
De Lisle, about the year 1750. They are fifteen in num¬
ber. They give the mean motions of the sun, moon, and
planets ; equations of the centre for the sun and moon;
and two corrections for each of the planets, one of which
corresponds to the apparent, the other to the real inequa¬
lity. I he epoch of these tables is not so ancient as that
of the former. It corresponds to the 10th of March, at
sunrise, in the year 1491 of our era, when the sun and
moon were in conjunction.
A third set of astronomical tables was sent from India
by l ather Patonillet, and received by De Lisle about the
same time with those of Chrisnabouram. These have not
the name of any particular place affixed to them; but
being calculated for the latitude of 16° 16', Bailly thinks
it probable that they came from Narsapour. Their epoch
is midnight, between the 17th and 18th of March 1569.
The fourth and last set of Indian tables which we possess
have been published in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Sciences. They were communicated by a learned Brah¬
min of Tirvalore, a small town on the Coromandel coast,
to the French astronomer Legentil, who had gone to In¬
dia to observe the transit of Venus in 1769. The tables
5 g
786 ASTRONOM Y.
History. 0f Tirvalore, though somewhat different in form, present
many points of resemblance with those formerly known
in Europe. They suppose the same length of the year,
the same inequalities of the sun and moon, and they are
adapted nearly to the same meridian. But while they
correspond with the other tables in these elements, they
differ from them greatly in the antiquity of their epoch,
which goes back to the famous era of the Calyougham,
that is, the beginning of the year 3102 before Christ.
Now, the only question to be determined with regard
to the antiquity of the Indian astronomy is, whether this
epoch is real or fictitious; that is, whether the state of
the heavens at the commencement, of the Calyougham,
as assumed in these tables, was actually determined by
observation, or computed backwards from observations
of more modern date. The solution to this question
can only be obtained from the internal evidence afforded
by the tables themselves; by examining whether the
elements and precepts which they furnish are of sufficient
accuracy to enable the places of the sun, moon, and pla¬
nets to be calculated through a period of 44 centuries,
without involving errors which the refined accuracy of the
modern tables furnishes the means of detecting. A com¬
parison of the Indian with the modern tables has been made
at great length by Bailly, who imagines that he finds
ample evidence of the reality of the era in question, and of
the existence of an astronomy prior to that period, hard¬
ly yielding in accuracy to that which modern science has
built on the theory of universal gravitation. The theory
of Bailly has been adopted, and put forth with additional
clearness and evidence, by the late Professor Playfair.
One of the principal arguments which these illustrious
authors bring forward in support of it is founded on the
longitudes of the sun and moon. The mean place of the
moon at the commencement of the Calyougham, that is,
at midnight, between the 17th and 18th of February 3102
b. c., is stated by the Indian tables to be 306°. Her mean
place, computed from Mayer’s tables, without taking into
account the acceleration, with which the Indians in the
15th century were of course unacquainted, is 300° 51' 16".
Hence there would be a discrepancy of 5° 8' 44". But,
according to the theory and last tables of Laplace, the
moon, in virtue of the acceleration of her mean motion,
has passed over an arc of very nearly 6° more than she
would have done had her mean motion continued uniform
from the period of the Calyougham to the date of Mayer’s
tables. This added to 300°‘hi' 16" gives 306° 5F 16"
for the mean longitude of the moon at the epoch of the
Calyougham, differing from the Indian determination by
only 51' 16". Now, it is argued that this is a degree of
accuracy which could have been reached only by actual
observation, especially since, if the tables had been com¬
puted backwards, the error arising from the acceleration
alone -would have amounted to more than 5°. Bailly
computes the place ot the moon at the same epoch, from
all the tables, Greek and Arabian, to which the Indians
can be supposed to have had access, and the discrepancies
are so great as to render his conclusion almost inevitable,
that the Indian tables could not possibly have been drawn
from such sources. The tables of Ptolemy make the
moon’s longitude at that time 11° 52' 7" greater than the
Indian tables ; and those of Ulugh-Beigh, constructed at
Samarcand in 1437, give a difference of 6° also in ex¬
cess.
Similar results are obtained from the consideration of
other elements. According to the tables of Tirvalore,
the tropical year consists of 365 days 5 hours 50 min.
35. sec. Lacaille makes it 365 days 5 hours 48 min. 49
sec. The difference is 1 min. 46 sec. Now the tropical
year, being affected by the precession of the equinoxes, History,
is subject to a secular inequality, which, according to'^-^v^->
the theory of Lagrange, renders it actually shorter by
40’5 sec. at the present time than it was at the commence¬
ment of the Calyougham. The error of the Indian ta¬
bles is thus reduced to 1 min. 5-5 sec. In like manner,
the obliquity of the ecliptic, which has been gradually
diminishing during a great number of centuries, is sup¬
posed in the Indian tables to be greater than it is now
found to be by observation. The Brahmins estimate it at
24°. The formula of Lagrange makes the variation, in
4800 years, amount to 22' 32". This therefore must be
added to its obliquity in 1700, that is, to 23° 28' 41", in
order to have the true obliquity at the commencement of
the Calyougham. The sum is 23° 51' 13", and falls short
of the Indian determination by 8' 47". We shall men¬
tion only another element, the equation of the centre of
the sun. Bailly calculates that, according to the theory
of Lagrange, the equation of the sun’s centre, at the
epoch of the tables, was 2° 6' 28". The Indians make it
2° 10' 32". The difference is only about 4', and incom¬
parably less than could have resulted from calculation
by any methods which we can suppose the Indians to
have possessed.
These arguments, it must be admitted, are exceedingly
specious, but they are not by any means convincing,
Even with the best modern tables we could not, as Bail¬
ly himself acknowledges, answer for the accuracy of the
places of the sun and moon computed for so remote an
epoch. The corrections for the secular inequalities amount
in that long period to considerable quantities; and these
corrections are deduced by theory from elements with re¬
spect to which there exists great uncertainty. And if we
cannot be sure of the true places by computing back¬
wards from our own tables, with what degree of confi¬
dence can we pronounce upon the accuracy of the places
assigned in the tables of the Indians ? It may be said
that comparisons of this kind can never be supposed to
give results perfectly alike. Granted : but if the discre¬
pancies are such that the lapse of a thousand years more
or less is required to establish a rigorous conformity}
what becomes of the famous epoch of the Calyougham ?
Some of the elements of the Indian tables could not have
the values assigned to them but at a long period before
that epoch. In order to find their equation of the sun’s
centre, for example, it is necessary, according to the re¬
sults of modern theory, to go back to 6000 years before
our era. The argument, therefore, proves too much,
and is consequently inconclusive. The different sets
of tables of which we have spoken are closely allied
with each other, and the most probable supposition is,
that they are all derived from those of Chrisnabouram, of
which the epoch is 1491. At that era the Indians were
acquainted with the instruments, the geometry, and the
researches of the Arabians and Greeks. Through this
channel the tables seem to have come into their posses¬
sion. The Brahmins adapted them to their own particu¬
lar methods of computation, and threw back their epoch
to the period when, according to these tables, all the
planets were in conjunction with the sun. Every circum¬
stance connected with the science of the Indians con¬
spires to give us the humblest ideas of its value. Their
methods of computation are encumbered with the unne¬
cessary multiplications and divisions of enormous num¬
bers, endless additions, subtractions, and reductions, for
the purpose of obtaining numbers which could be put in¬
to technical verses, and even adapted to songs; so that
the astronomer might be enabled to effect his calculations
from memory alone, without its being necessary to have
ASTRONOMY.
7S7
History, recourse to tables or books. But simple and rude as these
methods are, if they were really invented by the Brah¬
mins, the science of that people must have greatly retro¬
graded ; for at present they merely follow a blind rou¬
tine, utterly ignorant of theory, or the principles on which
their processes are founded. Their astronomy, whether
of ancient or recent origin, has produced no effect what¬
ever on that of Europe ; it has no filiation or connection
with the science of the present day, and therefore has no
other claim on our attention than such as may result from
motives of mere curiosity.1
Astronomy of the Greeks.
The origin of astronomy in Greece, as in other early
nations, ascends beyond the period of authentic history,
and is concealed amidst the fables and traditions of the
remotest times. During the darkness of the heroic ages
some gleams of an acquaintance with the motions of the
stars occasionally burst forth ; and some traces appear of
astronomical observations, probably derived from Egypt,
the country which also furnished Greece with its gods and
its arts. The Greeks seem to have divided the heavens
into constellations about 13 or 14 centuries before the
Christian era; for the sphere of Eudoxus, which is pro¬
bably one of the fruits of the famous voyage of the Argo¬
nauts, must be referred to that period. Their early
attention to the appearances of the heavens is sufficiently
attested by their mythological fables, the greater part of
which are only allegories of the celestial motions, and of
the operations of nature. The lively fancy and brilliant
imagination of this ingenious people strewed flowers in
the most rugged paths, and spread agreeable images over
the driest and most uninviting subjects : hence the sky was
quickly covered with legends of the loves and exploits of
gods and heroes. It would be foreign to our present pur¬
pose to enter into an enumeration of these fables, or at¬
tempt to trace their connection with the first dawnings of
astronomy: we shall content ourselves with barely allud¬
ing to Uranus, to Atlas and his son Hesperus, who gave
his name to the planet Venus; also to his daughters the
Atlantides, from whom the Pleiades received their appel¬
lation ; to Endymion, who, on the summit of Mount Lat¬
inos, held nocturnal converse with the chaste Diana; to
Hercules; and Chiron the centaur, who taught men the
use of the constellations; Musseus, who imagined the fi¬
gures of men and animals which cover the celestial
sphere; Orpheus and Linus, who explained the theogo-
nies ; Atreus, from whose banquet the sun fled back with
horror; and Tiresias, who was struck blind for having
witnessed some secret of the gods.
Thales, The true foundations of Grecian science were laid by
hern G40 Thales, who was born at Miletus 640 years before our
era. He was descended from an illustrious family, which
had formerly reigned in Phoenicia, and inherited an ample
fortune, which he expended in collecting the expiring
embers of oriental science. Instigated by the love of
knowledge, he travelled first into Crete, and afterwards
into Egypt, where he was initiated into the mysteries of
the priests, to whom, in return, he is said to have taught
the method of measuring the height of the pyramids by
comparing their shadows with those of known objects.
Iteturned to his own country, he publicly taught the
truths he had collected during his travels, and formed a
sect which has been distinguished by the title of the History.
Ionian School. His doctrines regarding astronomy con-
tain a few truths which do honour to his sagacity and ob¬
servation, though they are mixed with much error and
absurdity. He taught that the stars are formed of fire;
that the moon receives her light from the sun, and is in¬
visible at her conjunctions, because she is hid in the sun’s
rays. He also taught the sphericity of the earth, which
he placed at the centre of the world. He divided the
sphere into five zones, by the arctic and antarctic circles,
and the two tropics; and held that the equator is cut
obliquely by the ecliptic, and perpendicularly by the me¬
ridian. He is also said to have observed eclipses; and
Herodotus relates that he predicted the famous one which
put a stop to the war between the Medes and the Ly¬
dians. It does not appear, however, that he ventured to
assign either the day or the month of the eclipse, so that
his prediction must have been confined to the year.
According to Callimachus, he determined the positions
of the stars which form the Lesser Bear, by which the
Phoenicians guided themselves in their voyages. It is
difficult, however, to conceive how Thales, unacquainted
with instruments, could determine the positions of stars
with so much accuracy as to render any essential as¬
sistance to the navigator. It is probable that he only
pointed out the configuration, and some of the more bril¬
liant stars of that constellation, among which he might re¬
mark that which is nearest the pole of the world.
Thales was succeeded by Anaximander, to whom is Anaximau-
also attributed the invention of the sphere, and the know- (|eri b»rn
ledge of the zodiac. According to Diogenes Laertius,^
he supposed, like his master Thales, the earth to be sphe¬
rical, and placed at the centre of the universe; but Plu¬
tarch ascribes to him the less philosophical opinion of its
resemblance to a column. He supposed the sun to be of
equal magnitude with the earth. He invented the gno¬
mon, and placed one at Lacedaemon to observe the sol¬
stices and equinoxes. But the circumstance which does
most honour to Anaximander, and which entitles him to
the gratitude of posterity, is the invention of geographi¬
cal charts. He is said also to have believed in the plu¬
rality of worlds,—a sublime idea, which was adopted by
almost every succeeding philosopher of Greece.
Anaximenes succeeded Anaximander in the Ionian Anaxime-
school, and maintained nearly the same doctrines. Pliny nes, born
says he was the first who taught the art of constructing ^ B.C.
dials,—an invention which, as we have just seen, has also
been ascribed to Anaximander. These two philosophers
probably revived the knowledge of an instrument the
use of which had been forgotten amidst the general rude¬
ness and ignorance of their countrymen. Before their
time the Greeks only marked the divisions of the day by
the different lengths of the sun’s shadow.
Anaxagoras was the disciple and successor of Anaxi-Anaxago.
menes. If this philosopher really entertained the ridicu-ras5 born
lous opinions ascribed to him by Plutarch, the Ionian500
school must rather have retrograded than advanced in
sound philosophy from the time of Thales. He is said to
have believed that the sun is a mass of red-hot iron, or of
heated stone, somewhat bigger than the Peloponnesus,—
that the heaven is a vault of stones, which is prevented
from tumbling only by the rapidity of its circular motion,—
and that the sun is prevented from advancing beyond the
tropics by a thick and dense atmosphere, which forces
1 Por an account of the Indian astronomy, see Bailly, Astronomic Indienne ; also a Memoir by Professor Playfair, in the Edinburgh
Transactions, yol. ii., or in the 3d volume of his Works; and the Papers of Jones, Bently, and Davis, in the Calcutta Memoirs. The
theory of Bailly is most satisfactorily refuted by Delambre. See his Histoire de VAstronomic Anciennc, tom. i.
788 A S T R O N O M Y.
History, him to retrace his course. These absurd notions are pro-
bably greatly exaggerated; but it does not appear that
Anaxagoras contributed much to extend the knowledge
of the heavens. A melancholy interest is, however, ex¬
cited in his behalf, on account of the persecution which
he suffered in consequence of his liberal opinions and his
disregard for the superstitious notions of his age. Having
shown the reason of the eclipses of the moon, he was ac¬
cused of ascribing to natural causes the attributes and
power of the gods. Having taught the existence of only
one God, he was accused of impiety and treason towards
his country. Sentence of death was pronounced on the
philosopher and all his family; and it required the power¬
ful interest of his friend and disciple Pericles to obtain
a commutation of this iniquitous sentence into one of per¬
petual banishment.
Pythago- While the Ionian sect was so successfully employed in
5t’0 p0™ cu^*va^ng and propagating a knowledge of nature in
Greece, another, still more celebrated, was founded in
Italy by Pythagoras. This renowned philosopher was in
early youth a disciple of Thales. In quest of knowledge,
which in those days could only be obtained by visiting
the sages of foreign lands, he travelled into Egypt, Phoe¬
nicia, Chaldea, and India, where his memory is said still
to subsist. Through the favour of Amadis, king of Egypt,
to whom he was recommended by Polycrates, the tyrant
of Samos, he was admitted into the sacred college at
Memphis, though with great reluctance on the part of
the priests. The severe ordeal through which these char¬
latans compelled him to pass, before they would consent
to initiate him into their mysteries, was sufficient to have
deterred the most courageous votary of knowledge; and
Pythagoras was probably the only stranger who ever suc¬
ceeded in fully exploring their secrets. After an absence
of thirty years he returned to Greece, and began to give
instructions in his native island of Samos. Soon after, he
passed over to the Grecian colony established at Taren-
tum in Italy, and settled at Crotona, where he speedily
acquired a splendid reputation. He was the first who as¬
sumed the modest title of philosopher, or lover of wisdom :
formerly those who devoted themselves to the acquisition
of learning were called sophists or sages.
Pythagoras is said to have acquired in Egypt the know¬
ledge of the obliquity of the ecliptic, and that of the iden¬
tity of the morning and evening stars. What he chiefly de¬
serves to be commemorated for in the history of astronomy,
is his philosophical doctrine regarding the motion of the
earth. He taught publicly that the earth is placed at
the centre of the universe; but among his chosen dis¬
ciples he propagated the doctrine that the sun occupies
the centre of the planetary world, and that the earth is a
planet circulating about the sun. This system, which still
retains his name, being called the old or Pythagorean
system of the universe, is that which was revived by Co¬
pernicus. It is, however, only just to the memory of this
last mentioned great man to observe, that there is a vast
difference between the bare statement of the possibility
of a fact, and the demonstration of its existence by irre¬
fragable arguments. Pythagoras having remarked the
relation which subsists between the tone of a musical
chord and the rapidity of its vibration, was led by ana¬
logy to extend the same relation to the planets, and to
suppose that they emit sounds proportional to their re¬
spective distances, and form a celestial concert too melo¬
dious to affect the gross organs of mankind. Another History,
fancy into which he was led by his passion for analogies,
was the application of the five geometrical solids to the
elements of the world. The cube symbolically repre¬
sented the earth; the pyramid, fire ; the octaedron, air ;
the icosaedron, or twenty-sided figure, water; and the do-
decaedron, or figure with twelve faces, the exterior sphere
of the universe. Pythagoras left no writings; and it is
doubtful whether he really entertained many of the opi¬
nions and reveries which have usually been ascribed to
him.
Philolaus of Crotona, a disciple of Pythagoras, em- Philolaus.
braced the doctrine of his master with regard to the re¬
volution of the earth about the sun. He supposed the
sun to be a disk of glass which reflects the light of the
world. He made the lunar month consist of 29i days,
the lunar year of 354 days, and the solar year of 3651
days.
Nicetas of Syracuse seems to have been the first who Nicetas,
openly taught the Pythagorean system of the universe.
Cicero, on the authority of Theophrastus, the ancient his¬
torian of astronomy, gives him the credit of maintaining
that the apparent motion of the stars arises from the diur¬
nal motion of the earth about its axis j1 * but this rational
doctrine seems to have been first broached by Heraclides
of Pontus, and Ecphantus, a disciple of Pythagoras.
Ihe introduction of the Metonic cycle forms an era inMetonic
the history of the early astronomy of Greece. The Chal-cyc'lei
deans, as we have already stated, established several luni-433 E-c-
solar periods; and the difficulty of reconciling the mo¬
tions of the sun and moon, or of assigning a period at the
end of which these two luminaries again occupy the same
positions relatively to the stars, had long embarrassed
those who had the care of regulating the festivals. Me¬
lon and Euctemon had the honour of first obviating this
difficulty, at least for a time ; for the motions of the sun
and moon being incommensurable, no period can be as¬
signed which will bring them back to precisely the same
situations. These two astronomers formed a cycle of nine¬
teen lunar years, twelve of which contained each 12 lu¬
nations, and the seven others each 13, which they inter¬
calated among the former. It had long been known that
the synodic month consisted of 291 days nearly; and in
order to avoid the fraction, it had been usual to make
the twelve synodic months, which compose the solar year,
to consist of 29 and 30 days alternately; the former being
called deficient and the lattermonths. Meton made
his period to consist of 125 full and 110 deficient months,
which gives 6940 days for the 235 lunations, and is nearly
equal to 19 solar years. This cycle commenced on the
16th of July in the year 433 b.c. It was received with
acclamation by the people assembled at the Olympic
games, and adopted in all the cities and colonies of
Greece. It was also engraved in golden letters on tables
of brass, whence it received the appellation of the golden
number, and has been the basis of the calendars of all the
nations of modern Europe. It is still in ecclesiastical use,
with such modifications as time has rendered necessary.
Eudoxus of Cnidus, about the year 370 b. c., obtained Eudoxus,
great reputation as an astronomer. According to Pliny,3?0 B-c-
he introduced the year of 365^ days into Greece. Ar¬
chimedes says that he supposed the diameter of the sun
to be nine times greater than that of the moon, which
shows that he had in some degree overcome the illusions
1 “ Nicetas Syracusius, ut ait Theophrastus, coelum, solem, lunam, Stellas, supera denique omnia, stare censet; neque prseter terram
rem ullam in mundo moveri; quae cum circum axem se summa celeritate convertat et torqueat, eadem effici omnia quasi stante
terra, ccelum moveretur.” (Cicero, Acad. Quasi.: Opera, tom. iv. p. 39, edit. Bipont.) Copernicus himself could not have stated the
doctrine with greater precision.
History.
ASTRONOMY.
Plato.
Aristotle,
born 384,
(bed 321,
li.C.
Helicon.
'.udeimis,
ialippus.
of sense. The titles of three of his works have been pre-
served—the Period or Circumference of the Earth, the Phe¬
nomena, and the Mirror. His observatory was still standing
at Cnidus in the time of Strabo. His memory deserves
to be honoured for the contempt which he evinced for
the Chaldean predictions, and for having contributed to se¬
parate true astronomy from the reveries of judicial as-
trology. Eudoxus seems to have been the first who at¬
tempted to give a mechanical explanation of the appa¬
rent motions of the planets. He supposed each planet to
occupy a particular part of the heavens, and that the path
which it describes is determined by the combined motion
of several spheres performed in different directions. The
sun and moon had each three spheres; one revolving
round an axis which passes through the poles of the world,
and which occasions the diurnal motion; a second re¬
volving round the poles of the ecliptic, in a contrary di¬
rection, and causing the annual and monthly revolutions;
the third revolving in a direction perpendicular to the
first, and causing the changes of declination. Each of
the planets had a fourth sphere to explain the stations
and retrogradations. As new inequalities and motions
were discovered, new spheres were added, till the machi-
nery became so complicated as to be altogether unintel¬
ligible.
Although Plato can hardly be cited as an astronomer,
yet the progress of the science was accelerated by means
of the lights struck out by his sublime and penetrating
gemus. He seems to have had just notions of the causes
of eclipses; and he imagined that the celestial bodies ori¬
ginally moved in straight lines, but that gravity altered
t icir duections, and compelled them to move in curves.
He proposed to astronomers the problem of representing
t le com ses of the stars and planets by circular and regu¬
lar motions. Geometry was assiduously cultivated in the
school of Plato; and on this account he claims a distin¬
guished place among the promoters of true astronomy.
Astronomy is also under some obligations to Aristotle.
In a treatise which he composed on this science, he re¬
corded a number of observations which he had made;
and, among others, mentions an eclipse of Mars by the
moon, and the occupation of a star in the constellation Ge¬
mini by the planet Jupiter. As such phenomena are of
rare occurrence, their observation proves that he had paid
considerable attention to the planetary motions.
A great number of astronomers about this time ap¬
pear on the stage, whose labours and observations prepar¬
ed the way for the reformation of the science which was
shortly after effected by Hipparchus. Helicon of Cizi-
cene is renowned for the prediction of an eclipse, which
took place, as Plutarch affirms, at the time announced.
istory records the names of only three individuals in
ancient Greece who predicted eclipses, Thales, Helicon,
and Eudemus. Eudemus composed a history of astrono¬
my, a fragment of which, consisting of only a few lines,
is preserved by Fabricius in the Bibliotheca Grceca. In
this it is mentioned that the axes of the ecliptic and equa¬
tor are separated from each other by the side of a pente-
decagon, which is equivalent to saying that they contain
an angle of 24°. This is the first value which we find as¬
signed by the Greeks to the obliquity of the ecliptic. It
is given in round numbers, and may easily be supposed to
contain an error of a quarter of a degree.
Calippus is celebrated for the period which he formed
o om i letonic cycles. Having observed, by means of
an eclipse of the moon which took place about six years
before the death of Alexander, that the Metonic cycle
contained an error of a fourth of a day, he introduced
the period of 940 lunations, containing four Metonic cy¬
789
cles, diminished by one day. He likewise formed a col- History,
lection of observations on the heliacal risings of the pla-^-^v^^-^
nets. Hieophrastus wrote a history of astronomy, andTheo-
supposed the milky waj7 to be produced by the imperfect Phrastus-
junction of the two hemispheres, which allowed the liMit
to penetiate from the firmament beyond. Autolycus ofAutolvcus.
1 itaneas wrote two books, one on the movable sphere,
the other on the risings and settings of the stars. These
are the most ancient of the astronomical works of the
Greeks which have come down to our times.
^ Pytheas of Marseilles, about the time of Alexander thePytheas.
Great, determined the length of the solstitial shadows in
various countries by means of the gnomon. He found
the shadows equal at Marseilles and Byzantium—a cir¬
cumstance which does not give a favourable idea of the
accuracy of his observations, inasmuch as the difference
of the latitudes of the two places amounts to 2^- degrees.
The observation is, however, interesting, as it is the most
ancient of the kind which has been preserved after that
of Tcheou-Kong, and as it confirms the successive dimi¬
nution of the obliquity of the ecliptic. Pytheas under¬
took several voyages for the purpose of obtaining geogra¬
phical and astronomical information, and advanced north¬
wards as far as Iceland. His relations have been treated
as fabulous by Strabo and Polybius, but the accuracy of
the greater number of them has been confirmed by mo¬
dern observation and experience. He was the first who
distinguished the climates by the different lengths of the
days and nights.
Astronomy in the School of Alexandria,
In the history of the various sects which have hi¬
therto come under our review, we meet only with some
useful remarks, with numerous hypotheses and conjec¬
tures, but with scarcely any appearance of regular and
connected science. Up to this date the astronomical
knowledge of the Greeks was confined to a few facts,
the discovery of which implies no theory, and scarcely
the aid even of the simplest instruments. The order
and arrangement of the planets, the causes of eclipses,
the identity of the morning and evening stars, the ap¬
proximate length of the year, that of the lunar month,
the obliquity of the ecliptic, and the cycles of Meton
and Calippus, were almost the sole results of their astro¬
nomical speculations. In the Alexandrian school we meet
for the first time with regular and systematic observa¬
tions. We there find angular distances measured with
appropriate instruments, and calculations made accord¬
ing to the rules of trigonometry.
Aftei the premature death of Alexander, his principal
geneials shared among themselves his magnificent con¬
quests, and Egypt fell to the lot of Ptolemy Soter. This
prince was distinguished by an ardent love of science,
and a desire to promote every species of liberal knowledge.
He accordingly invited to his court, which he had esta-
b ished at Alexandria, the most eminent philosophers of
Gieece, and fixed them there by his liberality and muni¬
ficent protection. His son, Ptolemy Philadelphus, who
inherited his throne, also inherited his genius and love of
science and learning. A superb edifice, styled the Mu¬
seum, was assigned to the use of the men of science whom
ie had attracted to his capital, to which he also added an
observatory, and the famous library, which had been col¬
lected with great care and at a vast expense by Deme-
tuus Phalerius. Ihe prince took great delight in the
Museum ; he visited it frequently, entered into familiar
conversation with its inmates on the subject of their vari¬
ous pursuits, and by his own example stimulated their
790 ASTRONOMY.
History, zeal and encouraged their inquiries. This noble institu-
tion, which survived all the vicissitudes of nine centuries,
was the means of conferring incalculable benefits on the
human race ; and the name of its founder, Ptolemy Phi-
ladelphus, will be gratefully remembered while science
and learning occupy a place in the estimation of man¬
kind.
Aristillus The first astronomers of the Alexandrian school were
and Timo- Aristillus and Timocharis, who flourished under the first
charis, 300pto]einy? about 300 years before Christ. The chief ob-
C‘ ject of their labours was the determination of the rela¬
tive positions of the principal stars of the zodiac, instead
of merely announcing their risings and settings, as had
been the practice of the orientals and the ancient Greeks.
The observations of these two astronomers conducted
Hipparchus to the important discovery of the precession
of the equinoxes, and served as the basis of the theory
which Ptolemy, some centuries afterwards, gave of that
phenomenon.
Aristar- Aristarchus of Samos, the next in order of the Alexan-
chus, B. C.drian astronomers, composed a treatise on the Magnitudes
28b and Distances of the sun and moon, which has been pre¬
served to our times. In this treatise he describes an
ingenious method which he employed to obtain the re¬
lative distances of the two luminaries. At the instant
when the moon is dichotomized, that is, when the ex¬
act half of her disk appears to a spectator on the earth
to be illuminated by the sun’s light, the visual ray pass¬
ing from the centre of the moon to the eye of the ob¬
server is perpendicular to the line which joins the cen¬
tre of the moon and sun. At that instant, therefore, he
measured the angular distance of the two bodies, and
finding it to be 87 degrees, he concluded, by the resolu¬
tion of a right-angled triangle, that the distance of the
sun is between eighteen and nineteen times greater than
that of the moon. This method is perfectly correct in
theory, but it is difficult to be assured of the exact instant
of the moon’s dichotomy, and in an angle of such mag¬
nitude a very small error greatly affects the result. The
error of Aristarchus is very considerable, the true angle
being about 87° 50'. The estimated distance of the sun
is by consequence far too small; yet the determination,
faulty as it was, contributed to expand greatly the exist¬
ing notions relative to the boundaries of the universe, for
the Pythagoreans had taught that the sun is only three,
or at most three and a half times more distant than the
moon. Another delicate observation made by Aristarchus
was that of the magnitude of the sun’s diameter, which,
as we learn from Archimedes, he determined to be the
720th part of the circumference of the circle which the
sun describes in his diurnal revolution. This estimate is
not very far from the truth, and the observation is by no
means an easy one. He embraced the doctrine of Py¬
thagoras respecting the earth’s motion, and appears to
have entertained juster notions than any of the astrono¬
mers who preceded him, on the magnitude and extent of
the universe. The treatise on the Magnitudes and Dis¬
tances is published in the third volume of the works of
Dr Wallis, with a Latin translation by Commandine, and
some notes.
Eratos- Eratosthenes, the successor of Aristarchus, was a na-
tlienes, tive of Gyrene, and invited to Alexandria by Ptolemy
born 276 Evergetes, who appointed him keeper of the royal libra-
B- C. ry# He is supposed to have been the inventor of armil¬
lary spheres, a species of instrument extensively used by
the ancient astronomers. By means of an instrument of
this kind he observed the distance between the tropics to
be to the whole circumference of a great circle as 11 to 83;
a ratio equivalent to 47° 42' 39", half of which gives 23°
51' 19*5" for the obliquity of the ecliptic. This is a very History,
important observation, and confirms the gradual diminu-
tion of the obliquity as indicated by theory. Eratos¬
thenes is celebrated for being the first who attempted, on
correct principles, to determine the magnitude of the
earth. Having remarked, by some means with which we
are unacquainted, that Syene, the most southern of the
cities of ancient Egypt, is situated nearly on the same
meridian with Alexandria, he conceived the idea of de¬
termining the amplitude of the celestial arch intercepted
between the zeniths of the two places, and of measuring
at the same time their distance on the ground; operations
which would afford data for the determination of the
whole length of the terrestrial meridian. Syene was
known to be situated exactly under the tropic; for at the
summer solstice the gnomon had no shadow, and the sun's
rays illumined the bottom of a deep well in that city.
On the day of the solstice he found the meridional dis¬
tance of the sun from the zenith of Alexandria to be 7°
12', or a fiftieth part of the circumference. It had also
been ascertained by the bematists or surveyors of Alex¬
ander and the Ptolemies, that the itinerary distance be¬
tween Alexandria and Syene was 5000 stadia; therefore
5000 x 50 = 250,000 stadia form the circumference of
a great circle of the earth, or the length of the ter¬
restrial meridian. Unfortunately, on account of the un¬
certainty respecting the length of the stadium here em¬
ployed, we possess no means of estimating the degree of
approximation afforded by this rude though ingenious
attempt; but the idea does immortal honour to Eratos¬
thenes, and the moderns have added nothing to his
method: their better success is owing solely to the pro¬
gress of the arts and the perfection of astronomical in¬
struments.
About this time the science of astronomy was enriched
by the discoveries of some of the distinguished geometri¬
cians whose labours have so greatly extended the glory
of the Alexandrian school. Euclid, the celebrated author Euclid,
of the Elements, lived in the reign of the first Ptolemy.
He composed a book on the sphere, which probably served
as a model for future works of the same kind, and was the
first who treated in a geometrical manner of the pheno¬
mena of the different inclinations of the sphere. Conon Conon.
of Samos, the friend of Archimedes, collected the records
of eclipses, which had been observed by the ancient
Egyptians ; and Callimachus ascribes to him the constella¬
tion of Berenice’s hair. Archimedes, whose profound Archi-
genius and deep knowledge of geometry and mechanics medes.
entitle him to the appellation of the Newton of the an¬
cients, also claims a high rank among the cultivators of
astronomy. His celebrated planetarium, which repre¬
sented the motions of the sun, moon, planets, and starry
sphere, has been a frequent theme of the admiration and
praises of the poets :
Jura poll, rerumque fidem, legesque deorum,
Ecce Syracusius transtulit arte senex.
Apollonius of Perga solved the important problem of the Apollo,
stations and retrogradations of the planets by means ofmus.
epicyles and deferents; and he is entitled to the glory of
having formed the alliance between the two sciences of
geometry and astronomy, which has been productive of
the greatest advantages to both.
Astronomy, which had as yet only consisted of a know- Hippar.
ledge of isolated facts, acquired a systematic form, anddius, ^
almost a new existence, from the genius and assiduity of * '
Hipparchus, one of the most astonishing men of antiquity,
and perhaps the greatest of all in the sciences which are
not purely speculative. This illustrious founder of astro¬
nomical science was born at Nice in Bythinia, and ob-
ASTRONOM Y.
791
History, served at Rhodes. Flamsteed and Cassini, probably mis¬
led by some ambiguous expressions of Ptolemy, have re¬
lated that his observations were made at Alexandria ; and
this opinion seems generally to have been adopted by his¬
torians. The question has been examined carefully, and at
considerable length, by Delambre (Astronomic Ancienne),
who comes to the conclusion that there is no reason what¬
ever to infer that Hipparchus ever saw Alexandria.
Ptolemy, in reporting the observations of Hipparchus,
supposed Rhodes and Alexandria to be situated on the
same meridian, and consequently does not find it neces¬
sary to mention the place at which the observations were
made.
Hipparchus commenced his brilliant career by verifying
the determination of the obliquity of the ecliptic made by
Eratosthenes. He next directed his attention to the
length of the tropical year. By comparing an observation
of his own, of the summer solstice, with a similar one made
by Aristarchus 140 years before, he found that the an¬
ciently received value of 3651 days was too great by seven
minutes. This leaves the tropical year a value still too
great; but it is probable that the error arose from the in¬
accuracy of the observation of Aristarchus: for the ob¬
servations of Hipparchus, compared with those of the
moderns, make the length of the tropical year amount
to 365 days, 5 hours, and 49 minutes, which is only 12
seconds greater than the truth. By a careful observation
of the solstices and equinoxes, he discovered that the year
is not divided by these points into four equal parts," the
sun occupying 94-1 days in passing from the vernal equi¬
nox to the summer solstice, and only 92^ from the same
solstice to the equinox of autumn. The sun, consequent¬
ly, remained 187 days in that part of the ecliptic which
lies between the equator and the north pole, and there¬
fore only about 178 in the other part. This observation
led Hipparchus to the great discovery of the eccentricity
of the solar orbit. He accounted for the apparent inequa¬
lity of the sun’s motion, by supposing that the earth is not
placed exactly at the centre of the circular orbit of the sun,
and that consequently his distance from the earth is subject
to variation. When the sun is at his greatest distance,
he appears to move more slowly; and when he approaches
nearer, his motion becomes more rapid. The distance of
the earth from the centre of the orbit is called the eccen¬
tricity : it produces an equation between the real and ap¬
parent motions, which is called the equation of the centre.
He determined the magnitude of this equation in terms
of the radius of the ecliptic, and fixed the position of the
line of the apsides, or that which joins the two opposite
points of the orbit which are at the greatest and least
distance from the earth. With these data he formed the
first tables of the sun which are mentioned in the history
of astronomy. The discovery of the eccentricity also led
Hipparchus to that of the inequality of the lengths of
the solar days at different seasons of the year. In the
interval which elapses between the sun’s passage over
the meridian and his return to it the following day, the
sun advances by his own proper motion towards the east
nearly a degree. But the rate of this motion is unequal,
varying between 57 and 61 minutes of a degree; and the
accumulation of the inequalities forms what is called the
equation of time, that is, the difference between the true
time, as shown by the sun, and the mean time, shown by
a well-regulated clock, the motions of which are equal
and uniform.
The attention of Hipparchus was next directed to the
motions of the moon; and on this subject his researches
were attended with equal success. From the comparison
of a great number of the most circumstantial and accurate
observations of eclipses recorded by the Chaldeans, he History,
was enabled to determine the period of the moon’s revo-
lution relatively to the stars, to the sun, to her nodes, and
to her apogee. These determinations are among the
most precious relics of ancient astronomy, inasmuch as
they corroborate the results of theory in one of its
finest deductions—the acceleration of the mean lunar mo¬
tion—and thus furnish one of the most delicate tests of
the truth of Newton’s law of gravitation. It was, indeed,
by a comparison of the observations of Hipparchus with
those of the Arabian and modern astronomers, that Dr
Halley was led to the discovery of that curious and im¬
portant phenomenon. Hipparchus also determined the
eccentricity of the lunar orbit, and its inclination to the
plane of the ecliptic; and the values which he assigned
to these elements, making allowance for the evection and
the inequalities of the moon’s motion in latitude, are to a
few minutes the same as those which are now observed.
He had also an idea of the second inequality of the moon’s
motion, namely, the evection, and made all the necessary
preparations for a discovery which was reserved for Pto¬
lemy. He likewise approximated to the parallax of the
moon, which he attempted to deduce from that of the sun,
by determining the length of the frustum cut off from
the cone of the terrestrial shadow by the moon when she
traverses it in her eclipses. From the parallax he con¬
cluded that the greatest and least distances of the moon
are respectively equal to 78 and 67 semi-diameters of
the earth, and that the distance of the sun is equal to
1300 of the same semi-diameters. The first of these de¬
terminations exceeds the truth; the second falls greatly
short of it, the distance of the sun being nearly equal to
24,000 terrestrial semi-diameters. It may, however, be
remarked that Ptolemy, who undertook to correct Hip¬
parchus with regard to the parallax, deviated still farther
from the truth.
The apparition of a new star in the time of Hipparchus
induced him to undertake the formation of a catalogue of
all the stars visible above his horizon, to fix their relative
positions, and mark their configurations, in order that
posterity might have the means of observing any changes
which might in future take place in the state of the hea¬
vens. This arduous undertaking was rewarded by the
important discovery of the precession of the equinoxes,
one of the fundamental elements of astronomy. By com-
paring his own observations with those of Aristillus and
Timocharis, he found that the first point of Aries, which,
in the time of these astronomers, or 150 years before,
corresponded with the vernal equinox, had advanced two
degrees, according to the order of the signs, or at the rate
of 48 seconds a year. This determination is not very
far from the truth ; for, according to modern observations,
the rate of the precession is about 50T seconds annually.
His catalogue contained 1080 stars: it is generally, but
erroneously, stated to have contained only 1022, after that
of Ptolemy, in which the nebulous and some obscure stars
are omitted. He also commenced a series of observations
to furnish his successors with the means of forming a
theory of the planets. Hipparchus likewise invented the
planisphere, or method of representing the starry firma¬
ment on a plane surface, which afforded the means of
solving the problems of spherical trigonometry in a manner
often more exact and more commodious than the globe
itself. He was the first who demonstrated the methods
of calculating triangles, whether rectilineal or spherical;
and lie constructed a table of chords, from which he drew
nearly the same advantages as we derive at present from
the tables of sines. Geography is also indebted to him
for the hapjny idea of fixing the position of places on
792
ASTRONOMY.
History, the earth by means of their latitudes and longitudes;
N^'v-'Oand he was the first who determined the longitude by
the eclipses of the moon.
These various labours and brilliant discoveries give a
high idea of the industry and genius of Hipparchus. His
writings have unfortunately all perished, excepting a com¬
mentary on the poem of Aratus; but the principal ele¬
ments of his theories, together with a few observations,
have been preserved in the Almagest of Ptolemy.
After the death of Hipparchus, nearly three centuries
elapsed before any successor arose worthy of the name.
During this long period astronomy gained no essential
advancement. Some rude observations, scarcely superior
to those of the Chaldeans, and a few meagre treatises, are
the only monuments which exist to testify that science
had not fallen into utter oblivion in an age so fertile of
poets and orators. Geminus and Cleomedes wrote trea¬
tises, which have been preserved to our times; Agrippa
and Menelaus are said to have observed; the Roman ca¬
lendar was reformed by Julius Caesar and the Egyptian
astronomer Sosigenes; and Posidonius measured a de¬
gree, and remarked that the laws of the tides depend on
the motions of the sun and moon.
Ptolemy, Ptolemy was born at Ptolemais in Egypt, and flourish-
A. D. 130. ed at Alexandria about the 130th year of our era, under
the reigns of Adrian and Antoninus. This illustrious or¬
nament of the Alexandrian school is entitled by his own
discoveries to the high rank among astronomers which has
universally been assigned to him; but the most signal
service which he conferred on science was the collection
and arrangement of the ancient observations. Out of
these materials he formed the MsyaA)] 2uvra^/g, or Great
Composition, a collection which exhibits a complete view
of the state of astronomy in the time of Ptolemy, and
which contains the germ of most of the methods in use at
the present day.
The hypothesis which Ptolemy adopted for the purpose
of explaining the apparent motions, was that which had
been followed by Hipparchus. We have already seen
that the genius of Pythagoras, soaring above the illusions
of sense, had conceived the sun to be situated at the cen¬
tre of the universe, and the earth to circulate, like the
other planets, about the sun; and that the same opinion
was entertained and supported by Aristarchus and a few
other astronomers. It would seem, however, that this
philosophical idea never gained much ground in antiquity,
even among the learned. The vulgar prejudice respecting
the immobility of the earth continued to prevail; and it
had become an inveterate axiom, that all the celestial
motions must be circular and uniform. Ptolemy himself,
who felt in its full force the difficulty of reconciling the
appearances with the notion of a uniform circular motion,
adopted the common opinion without scruple as a primor¬
dial law of the universe; for, says he, this perfection be¬
longs to the essence of celestial things, which neither ad¬
mit of disorder nor irregularity. To save this chimera—
the uniform circular motion—Apollonius imagined the
ingenious apparatus of epicycles and deferents ; and Hip¬
parchus advanced a step farther, by placing the centre of
the sun’s circle at a small distance from the earth. Ptolemy
adopted both hypotheses, and supposed the planet to
describe an epicycle by a uniform revolution in a circle,
the centre of which was carried forward uniformly in an
eccentric round the earth. By means of these supposi¬
tions, and by assigning proper relations between the radii
of the epicycle and deferent circle, and also between the
velocity of the planet and the centre of its epicycle, he
was enabled to represent with tolerable accuracy the ap¬
parent motions of the planets, and particularly the phe¬
nomena of the stations and retrogradations, which formed History,
the principal object of the researches of the ancient as-'Vj^~v^^,“
tronomers. The notions of Apollonius and Hipparchus
were thus reduced to a systematic form, and the propor¬
tions of the eccentrics and epicycles of all the planets as¬
signed, by Ptolemy; on which account the system has
been generally ascribed to him, and obtained the name of
the Ptolemaic System of the universe. As a first attempt
to bring the celestial motions within the grasp of geome¬
try, it does infinite honour to the genius of its inventors.
It is, however, totally irreconcilable with the precision of
modern observations; for it is impossible to represent on
this hypothesis the variations of the distances of. the
planets at the same time with their apparent motions.
But this difficulty could scarcely be felt by Ptolemy, inas¬
much as it was impossible, before the invention of the
telescope and micrometer, to form any accurate estimate
of the variations of the apparent diameter of a planet, and
consequently of its distance. It must be admitted, how¬
ever, that the Ptolemaic hypothesis might be sufficient
for the wants of practical astronomy, that is, for calculat¬
ing the places of the planets and forming tables of their
motions, were it not for its extreme complication. The
discovery of every new irregularity in the planetary mo¬
tions exacts the addition of a new epicycle ; and such was
the confusion resulting from this circumstance, that Al-
phonso X., despairing of being able to comprehend the com¬
plicated machinery, was tempted to exclaim, that if the
Deity had called him to his counsels at the creation of the
world, he could have given good advice. Yet, notwith¬
standing all its defects, the system of Ptolemy gained a
complete ascendency over the minds of mankind, and, so
difficult is it to leave the beaten path, continued to be im¬
plicitly followed by every astronomer during fourteen cen¬
turies, having been only finally exploded by Kepler s dis¬
covery of the elliptic orbit of Mars.
The most important discovery which astronomv owes
to Ptolemy is that of the Evection of the moon. Hippar¬
chus had discovered the first lunar inequality, or the equa¬
tion of the centre, which serves to correct the mean mo¬
tion at the syzygies, and had also remarked the necessity
of another correction for the quadratures. He even un¬
dertook a set of observations, with a view to ascertain its
amount and its law; but death put a stop to his labours
before he had brought them to a successful issue. Pto¬
lemy completed the investigation, and discovered that
the eccentricity of the lunar orbit is itself subject to an
annual variation, depending on the motion of the line of
the apsides. The variation of the position of the apsides
produces an inequality of the moon’s motion in her quar¬
ters, which has been technically denominated the evec¬
tion. The equation given by Ptolemy, though of course
empirical, is remarkably exact.
Ptolemy employed a very simple process for determin¬
ing the moon’s parallax, which was probably suggested to
him by the situation of Alexandria, where he observed.
He determined the latitude of a place a little to the south
of that city, over the zenith of which the moon was ob¬
served to pass when her northern declination was the
greatest possible. But when the moon is in the zenith, or
in the same straight line with the observer and the centre
of the earth, she has no parallax ; consequently the obli¬
quity of the ecliptic and the latitude of the station being
known, the moon’s greatest northern latitude was also
determined. The next step was to observe the moon’s
meridian altitude fifteen days after the first observation,
when her southern latitude was necessarily the greatest
possible. This observation gave the apparent altitude of
the moon, but her greatest northern and southern decli-
History.
ASTRONOMY.
793
nations being supposed equal, her true altitude, as seen It was published at Basle in 1541 and in 1551 ti,„ xj-.
- from the centre of the earth, was easily computed from Greek text was published a. the ’same “me in' IM8
the prevtous observation, and the dtlference between the Ptolemy was the author of numerous other works con
true and apparent altitudes gave the amount of the paral- nected with astronomy, of which his Geography \n
„ tt. , books, is the best known. It contains a list nf nil ttio
The observations of Hipparchus relative to the mo- places of which the latitudes and longitudes had at that
tion of the stars in longitude, or the regression of the time been determined. His treatise on On^fwas s n
equinoctial points, were confirmed by Ptolemy, although posed to be lost, till an imperfect Latin translation from
he mistook its amount, and diminished a quantity which an Arabic version, was lately discovered in the kind’s
Hipparchus had already estimated too low. According library at Paris. The last book of this work contains^
to Hipparchus the regression is at the rate of two theory of astronomical refraction, more complete than anv
degrees m 150 years. Ptolemy reduced it to one de- which existed before that of Cassini. It wodd seem thit
gree m 90 years. I his disagreement would seem to in- Ptolemy had not discovered the refraction at the time he
dicate an error of more than a degree in the observations, composed the Almagest, no mention behif made of the
which can with difficulty be admitted, considering the ac- subject in that work. The explanation whTch he mves of
cited "bv P nf 1 SU^S1StS am°ng ,dlfFerent observations the phenomenon is natural and satisfactory, indeed Entirely
c ted by I tolemy in support of his own determination, conformable with that which is now universally adopted7
hor this and some other reasons Ptolemy has been ac- The idea and explanation remained buS in the
pnmmn Y th! Xervatl0f of HlPParchus, and ac- till reproduced by Alhazen; but neither Ptolemy ^nor
dating them to his own theory; but there does not Alhazen attempted to estimate the amount of the refrac
appear to be any just ground for the imputation. The tion. His Plalisphere and Anal^^n which he trelt^
error with regard to the regression probably arose from of the stereographic and orthographic’ projections of the
Ptolemy has been called the PnW of astronomers,-a ^“Sy of
title which may perhaps be justified by the universal and application to the pursuits of sdence Like ArchSiX
long-continued prevalence of his system, but to which he he had a desire to^nsmit o ^
vnHnn, Amf/r°m I K nUmber °[ Value °f his 0wn obser- labour« bJ a public monumentP In the temple of Serapis
vations. After a laborious and minute examination of at Canopus, he is said to have consecrated a marble nil’
tie Almagest, Delambre doubts whether any thing, saving lar, with an inscription containing the principal elements
the authors declarations, is contained in that great work, of his astronomv such tKe c 7i P elf^entS
Ssrorf formsoKhl ipil?o?r;r,
observations made by himself; but his solar tables rate of On the rter./n/f Pt i P anets, ivc.
the precession eclinses determinntmn ef Vi ’ ’ i th deatb of Ptolemy astronomy ceased to be culti-Decline of
tion annSax nil ll , p S.n’°' ™te n “"I0"*5 the Greeks- The Alexandrian school sub-astronomy,
tion ana parallax, and, above all, his catalogue of stars, sisted indeed for some centuries after • but cenuine science
restdis ITb b “ d”Ubt gleatel' Part of the ‘m11 fled. and Us place been usurped by the vain wraZ
V, cal probity which forms one of the most indispensa- less or trifling commentaries on the works of Hipparchus
ble qualities of an observer.” He never in any instance and Ptolemy, and were productive of no observaXns o
theohWH ! k ^'T T6 t ian 18 necessaiT for even remarks, having a tendency to enlarge the boundaries
the object lie has immediately in view, and consequently, of the science The con ins of the Tice.,, i - -
by precluding all comparison of one observation 4h aS unfavoSfio the de^opment or fxe“dse ofTe“lw
other, has deprived us of the means even of guessing at faculties of the human intellect and the natora sciX"
;1"l0"i!: 01 tbe enors of lus solal'> lunar> an<1 with the liberal arts, faded away under the witherine in’
planetary tables. If an astronomer, as Delambre justly fluence of military despotism. &
WCn i° ad°fPt- th7 f‘c6- ^°UrSf at the Present From the brief account which has now been mven it
^hebTtttoLCverd0fal"e,tSha a',T t0 Tfi' "'m be Tily “ferred that the Gr“ks cultivated ast’ro-
norri^s^tErfe^^ec^i^ S ^ e^eS^ST
\ S co"detce„ds to cadilate the few observations observation or experiment; and hence, while geometry
Dis^ours PrliimSfreT H^cS”16 ‘“"hh made «reat and raPid “»**»«» i» ‘heir hands, physics and
1090 of minaire.j His catalogue contains only experimental philosophy were entirely nee-lectcd rriiP
Hipparchus but h s ext'edinX:?"57 than “,at 1’™'^ ‘hr%LuIatL pSt^
its detiUls exceedingly valuable on account of tronomy. They explained the doctrine of the sphere, and
The name AImnnpvf fTVTc* « vi <.i a u- \ tbe aPParent m°tions of the planets ; and framed ingenious
was bes^edlrZ £ 7 a ^ ArablC pr?fix> theories to account for such phenomena as came imme-
language Tt was teanfateTi^tb ArabianS’into wbof lately under the cognizance of their senses; but if we
first Latin translation was from thf a^K’ cen|uiy’ . ^b^ excePt the observations of Hipparchus and Ptolemy, and
at Venice in 1515 It nh 4 1 ' 1C1 ?nt published perhaps two solstitial distances of the sun from the zenith,
idioms and is very inaccurat^!! A 1° 4 ra *C mi°rds ant! observ.ed by Eratosthenes, we remark among them no ob-
Latin translation was madp fr 0 ar?u.s" The second servations made with instruments capable of measuring
Georo-e of Trebizond and i« o-^fl 16 ou?lna Greek by angular distances. Before Hipparchus, no mention is made
VOL. in ? °rea 7 suPerior to the first, of the astrolabe ; and the recorded determinations do not
5 11
794
ASTRONOMY.
History, give us a very favourable idea of the accuracy of that in-
strument. On casting our eyes over the catalogue of
Ptolemy, we scarcely ever meet with a fraction of a degree
smaller than one-twelfth, that is to say, less than five mi¬
nutes ; whence we may infer that the astrolabe only mea¬
sured twelfth parts of a degree. Occasionally, indeed, the
fractions one-fourth and three-fourths occur; but these
were most probably inserted by estimation. The Greeks
of Alexandria committed an error of no less than 15' with
regard to the altitude of the pole, one of the most essen¬
tial elements to an observer; and it does not appear that
they were ever able to determine the time to within a
quarter of an hour. Yet notwithstanding these circum¬
stances, which indicate that the art of observation was
still in its infancy, the science of astronomy is vastly in¬
debted to the labours and speculations of the Greeks.
The complicated but ingenious hypotheses of Ptolemy
prepared the way for the elliptic orbits and laws of Kep¬
ler, which, in their turn, conducted Newton to the great
discovery of the law of gravitation.
Astronomy of the Arabians.
While the nations of western Europe were involved in
the thickest shades of ignorance and barbarism, the torch
of science was rekindled, and blazed forth with extraor¬
dinary splendour, among the Saracens. The burst of fa¬
naticism which enabled the followers of Mahomet to carry
their religion and their arms over the fairest portion of
the ancient world subsided, in a great measure, after a
century and a half of uninterrupted conquest, and was
succeeded by a period of repose, during which they cul¬
tivated the arts of peace and civilisation with the same
ardour which had characterized their achievements in
arms. Under the enlightened and munificent protection
of the caliphs, Bagdat became what Alexandria had been
under the Ptolemies, the centre of politeness and know¬
ledge.
The accounts which we possess of the Saracen litera¬
ture are imperfect and scanty; but the first of the caliphs
who appears to have encouraged the study of astronomy
was Abougiafar, surnamed Almansor, or the Victorious,
who reigned in the eighth century. His grandson Alma-
mon, the seventh of the Abassides, and second son of the
famous Haroun A1 Raschid, who reigned at Bagdat from
813 to 833, is celebrated for the protection which he gave
to learning, and the zeal with which he laboured to pro¬
pagate the sciences of the Greeks among his subjects.
In granting peace to the emperor Michael III., he stipu¬
lated for liberty to collect in Greece all the writings of
the philosophers. These he transported into his own coun¬
try, and caused to be translated into Arabic. Finding it
mentioned in the geography of Ptolemy that a degree of
the earth was equivalent to 500 staclia, he resolved to
have this fact verified by a new measurement; and in
obedience to the commands of the caliph, a company of
mathematicians assembled in the spacious plain of Sinaar,
where, having observed the altitude of the pole, they se¬
parated themselves into two parties, and proceeded in op¬
posite directions along the meridian, measuring the dis¬
tance they passed over till the altitude of the pole varied
one degree. Being unacquainted with the nature of the
instruments made use of in these geodetic operations, we
cannot estimate the probable accuracy of the result; but
as it agreed perfectly with the statement of Ptolemy, we
have a right to infer that the measurement was executed
in a very inadequate manner, and that the mathematicians
of the caliph adopted the ancient determination from
want of confidence in their own.
The Syntax of Ptolemy was translated into Arabic History,
under the reign of Almamon, by Isaac Ben Honain. I he
translation was afterwards revised by Thabet or Thebith
Ben Korah, and it was about this time that it received the
appellation of Almagest. Astronomical observations, which,
as we have had occasion to remark, had been greatly ne-
o-lected by the successors of Hipparchus, formed a prin¬
cipal object of the attention of the Arabians. By the
orders of Almamon, the obliquity of the ecliptic was ob¬
served, and found to be 23° 33'. According to the mo¬
dern tables, the obliquity at that time was 23° 36' 34", so
that the error was less than that of Hipparchus and
Ptolemy, in their determination of the same element.
This observation supposes instruments of some accuracy.
Among the astronomers whom Almamon drew to his
court, we find the names of Habash of Bagdat, who com¬
posed three books of astronomical tables ; Ahmed, or Mo¬
hammed Ben Cothair, better known by the name of Al-
fragan, or Alfranius, who, from his great expertness in
computing, was styled the calculator. He composed an
elementary treatise on astronomy, which was only an
abridged extract of the works of Ptolemy; and likewise
wrote on sun-dials, and gave a description of the astrolabe.
The Jew Meshala, whose treatise on the elements was^
published at Nuremberg in 1549, also lived in the time ot
Almansor or Almamon.
The most celebrated of the Arabian astronomers was Albatog-
Albategnius, or Muhammed Ben Geber Albatani, so call-nius.
ed from Batan, a city of Mesopotamia, where he was
born. He was a prince of Syria, and resided at Aracte
or Racha, in Mesopotamia; but many of his observations
were made at Antioch. Having studied the Syntax of
Ptolemy, and made himself acquainted with the methods
practised by the Greek astronomers, he began to observe,
and soon found that the places assigned to many of the
stars in Ptolemy’s tables were considerably different from
their actual situations, in consequence of the error which
that great astronomer had committed with regard to the
precession of the equinoxes. Albategnius measured the
rate of the precession with greater accuracy than had
been done by Ptolemy ; and he had still better success in
his attempt to determine the eccentricity of the solar
orbit, his value of which differs extremely little from that
which results from modern observations. In assigning^
the length of the year, however, he fell into an error ot
more than two minutes; but this proceeded, as has been
shown by Dr Halley, from too great confidence in the
observations of Ptolemy. Albategnius also remarked
that the place of the sun’s apogee is not immovable, as
former astronomers had supposed, but that it advances at
a slow rate, according to the order of the signs,—a disco¬
very which has been confirmed by the theory of gravita¬
tion. A new set of astronomical tables, more accurate
than those of Ptolemy, likewise resulted from the inde¬
fatigable labours of Albategnius; and his observations,
important in themselves, are doubly interesting on account
that they form a link of connection between those of the
astronomers of Alexandria and of modern Europe. The
works of Albategnius were published in 1537, under the
title of Be Scientia Stellarum.
Thebith Ben Korah, another Arabian, acquired celebrity Thebith
by proposing an explanation of the motions of the stars,Ben Kora lf
which, under the name of the “ System of Trepidation,”
was eagerly received by the astronomers of the middle
ages, and disfigured the tables of Alphonso, and even
those of Copernicus. He ascribed to the eighth sphere,
or that of the fixed stars, two motions; one the diurnal
motion, the other that of trepidation, performed in small
circles round the first points of Aries and Libra, and of
A S T R (
History, which the radii were 4° 18' 33". He therefore supposed
two ecliptics, one fixed in the ninth sphere, the other
movable in the eighth. According to this construction,
the motion of the stars is sometimes direct and some¬
times retrograde.
The Arabians have been said to be not only the culti¬
vators but the apostles of the sciences, on account of the
activity with which they propagated them among all the
nations subjected to their dominion. The Fatimite ca¬
liphs, who reigned in Egypt during two centuries, rivalled
their predecessors the Ptolemies in the encouragement
which they gave to astronomy. Under the caliph Hakem,
Elm Jou- who reigned from 996 to 1021 of our era, Ebn Jounis ac-
nis. quired a splendid reputation. He constructed a set of
tables, and composed a sort of celestial history, in which
he has recorded numerous observations of his own and of
other astronomers belonging to the same country. This
work, imperfectly known through some extracts, long ex¬
cited the curiosity of astronomers, as it w^as supposed to
contain observations tending to establish the acceleration
of the mean motion of the moon. A manuscript copy of it,
belonging to the university of Leyden, was, in 1804, trans¬
mitted to the French Institute, and translated by Professor
Caussin. It contains 28 observations of eclipses from the
year 829 to 1004; seven observations of the equinoxes;
one of the summer solstice ; one of the obliquity of the
ecliptic made at Damascus, by which the value of that
element is found to be 23° 35'; and likewise a portion of
tables of the sun and moon, with some other matter illus¬
trative of the state of astronomy among the Arabians.
The observations which regard the acceleration of the
mean lunar motion are two eclipses of the sun and one of
the moon, observed by Ebn Jounis, near Cairo, in the
years 977, 978, and 979, and they agree with theory in
confirming the existence of that phenomenon.
The Saracen conquests in Spain were attended with
the same happy results as in Egypt, and science flourish¬
ed in that country while the rest of Europe was involved
Arzachel. Jn the darkest shades of ignorance. Arzachel is supposed
to be the author of the Toledo Tables, constructed about
the year 1180, but which, on account of the established
reputation of those of Albategnius, were never in great
estimation. He made some changes in the dimensions
which had been assigned by Hipparchus and Ptolemy to
the solar orbit, and deserves the praise of having been an
AJiazen. exact and attentive observer. Alhazen, who flourished in
the same country about the same period, contributed to
the progress of astronomy by a treatise on Optics, in
which he clearly indicated the necessity of making an
allowance for the celestial refraction in astronomical ob¬
servations. His treatise contained a theory of reflection
and refraction, an explanation of the cause of the twilight,
A verroes. and of the magnitude of the horizontal moon. Averroes,
a physician of Cordova, made an abridgement of the
Almagest in the twelfth century, and Almansor found
the obliquity of the ecliptic to be 23° 33' 30", which
proves that practical astronomy had now attained to a
tolerable degree of exactness.
If we inquire what effect the labours of the Arabians and
their disciples had on the progress of astronomy, we shall
find that their services were confined entirely to the practi¬
cal part. In point of theory they did absolutely nothing.
I hey admitted all the hypotheses of Ptolemy without the
slightest alteration, even with timid and superstitious re¬
spect, and did not advance a single step towards the disco¬
very of the solar system. But with regard to instruments
and methods of calculation, their improvements were nume¬
rous and important. They constructed instruments on a
larger scale, and divided them with greater care; and,
> N O M Y. 795
even from the time of Almamon, we remark among them History,
new and more exact determinations of the obliquity of '-^v^s^
the ecliptic, of the positions of some stars, of the preces¬
sion, of the length of the year, and of the eccentricity of
the suns orbit. 1o these fundamental points they added
numerous observations of eclipses and conjunctions ; they
industriously sought out and corrected the errors of
Ptolemy’s tables ; they perceived the necessity of mark¬
ing the instant of each phenomenon with greater care;
and their determinations of the commencement and end
of eclipses are in general accompanied with the altitude
of a star, which afforded them the means of calculating
the hour, angle, and the true time. In cases where less
precision was wanted, they made use of their clepsydra
and solar dials, to the construction of which they paid par¬
ticular attention. Trigonometry derived signal advantages
from their constant care to facilitate the calculations of
spherical astronomy. Albategnius substituted the sines
for the chords,—a most important improvement, the idea
of which was probably suggested to him by the Analem-
ma of Ptolemy. By this happy substitution the solution
of all rectangular spherical triangles was reduced to four
general formulae, of which the Greeks had the equivalent
in a much less commodious form. The same astronomer
also appears to have invented a very remarkable rule for
the oblique-angled triangles, perfectly identical with one
of the four general formulae now in use. Ebn Jounis, and
his contemporary Aboul Wefa, were acquainted with the
tangents and secants, and employed them very dexter¬
ously in reducing complicated binomial expressions to a
single and simpler term. They also employed subsidiary
arcs and other artifices in the calculus of the sines, in
order to facilitate the labour of computation. These
substitutions are now common ; but they remained long
unknown in Europe ; and 700 years after they were em¬
ployed by the Arabians, we first meet with some examples
of their use in the writings of Thomas Simpson.
The zeal of the Arabians for astronomical observations Holegw.
was communicated by them to the Persians and Tartars.llecou-
About the year 1072, Omar Cheyam determined the
length of the tropical year, and introduced the calendar ie
which has ever since been used in Persia. Holegu-Uecou-
Khan, who conquered that country about the year 1264,
caused an observatory to be built at Maragha, near Tauris,
where he assembled the most celebrated astronomers who
could be found within his dominions, and employed them
in forming new astronomical tables. This work was di¬
rected by the famous Nassireddin, and brought to a con¬
clusion in the year 1269. With the exception of some
trifling corrections of the mean motions, the whole of
these tables are copied from Ptolemy.
Ulugh Beigh, a Tartar prince, and grandson of the great Ulugh
Tamerlane, not only encouraged the study of astronomy, B.eigh’
but was himself a diligent and successful observer. At^ei^
Samarcand, the capital of his dominions, he established an
academy of astronomers, and caused the most magnificent
instruments to be constructed for their use. By means
of a gnomon 180 feet in height, he determined the obli¬
quity of the ecliptic to be 23° 30' 20", the precession of
the equinoxes at 1° in 70 years, and obtained elements for
the construction of tables which have been found to be
scarcely inferior in accuracy to those of Tycho Brahe.
The ancient astronomy had produced only one catalogue
of the fixed stars, that of Hipparchus. Ulugh Beigh has
the honour of having formed a second, after an interval of
sixteen centuries. This learned and munificent prince,
whose virtue and talents deserved the esteem of mankind,
was assassinated by his own son in the 58th year of his
age.
796
ASTRONOMY.
History.
Revival of Astronomy in Europe.
Frederick
II.
Alphonso
X., died
1284.
Roger Ba¬
con, born
1214, died
1294.
Purbach,
born 1423,
died 1461.
After the death of Ulugh Beigh, astronomy received
no farther accessions in the east. But the seeds of know¬
ledge had now begun to take root in a more propitious
soil, and Europe, destined to carry the development of
the human energies to its fullest extent, began to awake
from the lethargy in which it had continued during so
many ages. The first dawnings of returning day appeared
in Spain. In spite of the horror inspired by the Moslem
religion, the Christians began to perceive and acknowledge
the superiority and utility of the science of the Moors;
and the schools of Cordova became the resort of all those
whom curiosity, or love of knowledge, induced to seek
abroad for that information which could not be obtained
in their own countries. Geber, afterwards Pope Silvester
II., acquired the knowledge of arithmetic from that source ;
and John of Halifax, better known by the name of Sacro-
bosco, after having studied some time in Spain, made an
abridgement of the Almagest, which was long famous un¬
der the title of a Treatise of the Sphere.
The emperor Frederick II. is no less celebrated for his
protection of the sciences, than for the continual struggles
in which he was involved with the popes. He founded the
university of Naples, and caused Latin translations to be
made of the works of Aristotle and the Almagest of
Ptolemy. About the same time astronomy was zealously
encouraged and cultivated by Alphonso X., king of Castile.
This monarch, whose liberal mind seems to have been far
superior to the age in which he lived, formed a college or
lyceum at Toledo, the capital of his dominions, whither he
assembled the most eminent astronomers that could be
found, whether Christians, Moors, or Jews, and engaged
them in the task of correcting the errors of the ancient
tables. From their united labours were produced the
Alphonsine Tables, which obtained great celebrity, and
were, in some respects, superior in accuracy to any which
had preceded them. They are supposed to have been
chiefly the work of the Rabbi Isaac Aben Sid, surnamed
Hazan, inspector of the synagogue of Toledo. They are
said to have cost the king 40,000 ducats,—a sum certainly
far exceeding their real value, which is confined to the
correction of some epochs, and a more accurate determi¬
nation of the sun’s motions and the length of the year.
The same century gave birth to several other individuals
distinguished by their attachment to the sciences. Cam-
panus of Nivari translated Euclid, and left a treatise on
the sphere. Vitello, a native of Poland, composed a
treatise on optics, in ten books; and Albert, bishop of
Ratisbon, whom his contemporaries styled the great,
was the author of some works on arithmetic, geometry,
astronomy, and mechanics. But the greatest luminary
of that age was Roger Bacon, a Franciscan friar, whose
numerous works contain many indications of a powerful
and inventive genius. He made many important discove¬
ries in optics; but his knowledge of natural philosophy
and chemistry, uncommon in those days, had nearly
proved fatal to him ; tor he was suspected of necromancy,
and thrown into a dungeon, from which he did not escape
till he had satisfied his superiors and the pope that he had
never held unlawful intercourse with the devil. He com¬
posed a work on the utility of astrology, the places of
the stars, and the aspects of the moon; and he had the
merit of perceiving the necessity of reforming the calendar.
The fourteenth century produced no astronomer from
whose labours the science gained any accessions. George
Purbach, or Beurbach, so named from a small town in
Austria, where he was born in 1423, obtained great cele¬
brity as a professor. He studied at Vienna, and after
giving proofs of distinguished talents, he travelled into History.
Italy, where he was favourably received by the cardinal
Cusa, who himself cultivated astronomy. On his return
to Vienna he undertook a translation of the Almagest; and
although ignorant both of Greek and Arabic, his perfect
acquaintance with the subject enabled him to correct
many errors which had been introduced through the care¬
lessness or ignorance of former translators. He published
a table of sines for every ten minutes to a radius of
6,000,000 parts, which was afterwards extended by his
scholar Regiomontanus to every minute of the quadrant.
The most celebrated of his works is his Theoricoe Nova
Planetarum, which was published in 1460. He construct¬
ed a celestial globe, on which was represented the motion
of the stars in longitude from the time of Ptolemy to the
year 1450. He also measured the obliquity of the eclip¬
tic, and is considered as the inventor of decimal arithme¬
tic. He died in 1461, having only reached his 38th year,
with the reputation of being, at that time, the first astro¬
nomer in Europe.
Purbach had the good fortune to form a disciple whoRegiomon-
executed many of the plans which had been interrupted tanus>
by his premature death. This was the celebrated John|jU^
Muller of Kbnigsberg, better known by the name of Re¬
giomontanus. Attracted in his youth to Vienna by the
great reputation of Purbach, he continued to study there
during ten years, and on the death of his master repaired
to Rome for the purpose of acquiring the Greek language,
and of making himself, through it, acquainted with the
Almagest. At Rome he continued his observations, and
translated into Latin the works of Ptolemy, the Conics of
Apollonius, and some other treatises of ancient science.
In 1471 he retired to Nuremberg, where, with the aid of
Bernard Walther, a wealthy burgess, he founded an ob¬
servatory, and furnished it with excellent instruments,
principally of his own invention, by means of which he
was enabled to detect many errors in the ancient tables.
On the invitation of Pope Sixtus IV., who wished to re¬
form the calendar, he again repaired to Rome; but after
a few months’ abode there he died suddenly, according to
some accounts, of the plague, according to others, through
the effects of poison administered to him by the sons of
George of Trebizond, who adopted this execrable method
of revenging the exposure which he had made of their
father's errors in the translation of the Almagest. Regio¬
montanus was a learned and skilful man, but the great ex¬
pectations which his early labours gave of future services
to astronomy were disappointed by his untimely death.
He paid great attention to trigonometrical calculation;
and, although he did not reach the point which had been
attained by the Arabians, he had the merit of introducing
some useful theorems which till then were entirely un¬
known in Europe. His genius, however, did not enable
him to rise above the prejudices of his age, for he was an
astrologer as well as an astronomer, and is said to have
most lamented the errors of the Alphonsine Tables on ac¬
count of the uncertainty which they occasioned in the
calculation of genitures or horoscopes.
After the death of Regiomontanus, Walther continued Walther,
to observe at Nuremberg during thirty years. His obser-born 1430,
vations were collected by order of the senate of Nurem-d*6*!
berg, and published by Schoner in 1544, a second time by
Snellius, and, lastly, along with those of Tycho Brahe. In
1484 Walther began to make use of clocks, then a recent
invention, to measure time in celestial observations. He
was also the first who employed the planet Venus as a
term of comparison for determining the longitudes of the
stars.
Nuremberg had the honour of producing another astro-
ASTRONOMY.
Werner,
b >rn 1 468.
lemaic
system.
History, nomer of some celebrity. John Werner was the first who
explained the method which was afterwards brought into
general use by Maskelyne, of finding the longitude at sea,
by observing the distance between a fixed star and the
moon. He published some mathematical and geographical
treatises, and made a number of observations to determine
the obliquity of the ecliptic and the precession of the
equinoxes.
(|v)erth™w We are now come down to a period in the history of astro-
k-mafcJ t0" n01?y when the science was destined to undergo a total reno¬
vation, and the system which had been so laboriously esta¬
blished by Ptolemy, and blindly followed as an article of
religious belief by Arabs, Persians, Tartars, and Euro¬
peans, during so many centuries, was about to be explod¬
ed for ever. In proportion as the observations became
more numerous and accurate, the difficulty of represent¬
ing them by the Ptolemaic system became greater; and
astronomers were obliged to have recourse to the most
violent and improbable suppositions in order to ex¬
plain the phenomena, and, in the language of Ptolemy,
save the appearances. We have mentioned that Pytha¬
goras and his disciples entertained an idea very dif-
ferent from that which commonly prevailed, and supposed
the sun to be the immovable centre of the celestial mo¬
tions. It appears, however, from Aristotle, that this opi¬
nion was not founded on any analysis of the phenomena,
but on certain metaphysical notions respecting the com¬
parative dignity of the several elements. For example,
fire, being a nobler substance than earth, ought to occupy
the centre or place of honour. But such arguments could
have little weight except in the schools, and accordingly
were rejected by Ptolemy as too absurd to require a
serious refutation. In order to give any probability to
the Pythagorean doctrine, it was necessary to explain
the succession of the seasons and the precession of the
equinoxes on the hypothesis of the annual revolution of
the eai th about the sun ; to show how the unequal motions
of the planets in concentric orbits would give rise to the
phenomena of the stations and retrogradations; to ac¬
count, in short, for all the appearances, and point out
their coherence and mutual connection. All this was
effected by Copernicus, who had thereby the glory of first
making known the true system of the universe, and of
leading the way in that career of astronomical discovery
in which the genius of the human race has gained its
noblest trophies.
Nicholas Copernicus was born at Thorn, a city of Prus-
147° died S*a’ °n con^nes Poland, according to Junctinus on
1543! ^le January 1472, and according to others on
the 19th February 1473. From his earliest years he
displayed a great fondness and aptitude for mathematical
studies, and pursued them with corresponding success at
the university of Cracow. Stimulated by the desire of
acquiring a reputation equal to that of Regiomontanus,
he set out for Italy at the age of 23 years, in order to
study astronomy at Bologna under the celebrated Domi¬
nic Maria. He afterwards removed to Rome, where he
employed himself in studying and teaching the mathema¬
tics, and where he made several astronomical observations
about the year 1500. On his return to his native coun¬
try he was made a canon of Ermeland by his uncle the
bishop of W orms, and took up his residence at Frauen-
berg, a small Prussian town near the mouth of the Vistula,
where he passed 36 years of his life in observing the hea-
vens and meditating on the system of the world. In this
retirement he composed his famous work entitled Astro-
nomia Restaurata, sive de Revolutionibus Orbium Cceles-
tium, in which he explained the celestial motions in a man¬
ner as simple and connected as the system of Ptolemy
797
Coperni¬
cus, born
was complicated and incoherent. The system which Co- History,
pei mcus adopted in this work is now so familiar to every
one, that it is almost unnecessary to describe it. The
heaven, composed of stars perfectly at rest, occupies the
remotest bounds of space, then the orbit of Saturn, next
Jupiter, Mars, the Earth accompanied by its moon, Venus,
Mercury, and, lastly, the Sun immovable at the cen¬
tre. By this arrangement the stations and retrograda¬
tions of the planets became simple mathematical corolla¬
ries, following from the differences of the radii of their
orbits and their unequal motions. The diurnal rotation
of the earth explained more simply and rationally the ap¬
parent daily revolution of the heavens; and the pre¬
cession of the equinoxes was referred to a small variation
in the inclination of the earth’s axis to the plane of the
ecliptic. But the simplicity of the system, and its conse¬
quent probability, were the only arguments which Coper¬
nicus was able to bring forward in proof of its reality.
The motion of the earth can indeed never be made an
object of sense; but after Richer’s discovery of the dimi¬
nution of gravity towards the equator, it was impossible
to doubt longer of the existence of its rotatory motion;
and when Roemer had measured the velocity of light,*
and Bradley observed the phenomena of the aberration,’
the evidences of its annual revolution were rendered
equally convincing. Great, however, as were the merits
of Copernicus, it must be acknowledged that he left his
system in a very imperfect state. After the example of
the ancients, he assumed as an axiom the uniform circu¬
lar motion of the planets; and as the only motions which
are observed are in a state of incessant variation, he was
obliged, in order to save the inequalities, to suppose a dif¬
ferent centre to each of his orbits. The sun was placed
within the orbit of each of the planets, but not in the cen¬
tre of any of them, consequently he had no other office
to perform than to distribute light and heat; and, exclud¬
ed fiom any influence on the system, he became as it were
a stranger to all the motions. Yet notwithstanding these
and other imperfections, the establishment of the doctrine
of the earth s motion, with an evidence which dissipated
the illusions of sense, was a great step towards the true
knowledge of the planetary system ; and when we consider
the ignorance and prejudices of the age, and that Coper¬
nicus was moreover a priest, we cannot hesitate to admit
his claim to a high rank among philosophers. But whether
the actual services which he rendered to astronomy are
commensuiate with the great fame he hasobtained, may ad¬
mit of doubt. He revived an ancient opinion opposed to the
prejudices and religious dogmas of his times, and fortified
it with new and strong, though not absolutely convincing,
proofs. It seldom happens, however, with regard to those
sciences which ultimately appeal to experience, that gene¬
ral reasoning, even of the soundest kind, tends much to
their real advancement; and there is little reason for
t unking that astronomy would have been less perfect, or
that any discoveries since made in it would have been re¬
tarded a single day, even if Copernicus had never lived.
Iis grejR merit, like that of Lord Bacon, consists in the
sound views which he took of nature, and in advancing so
far before the general attainments of his agre.
Fearing the opposition which was likely to arise from
1 ebgious bigotry to opinions so much at variance with
vulgar prejudice, Copernicus long delayed the publication
°1. great work; and it was only at the urgent request
of his friends that he at last allowed it to be printed. He
is said to have received the last sheet of it only on the
day of his death. He was buried in the cathedral of
Frauenberg, and his only epitaph consisted of some spheres
cut out in relief on his tombstone.
ASTRONOMY.
798
History. The ideas of Copernicus soon spread over Germany,
where astronomy was at that time diligently cultivated;but
they do not seem to have met with general favour before
the commencement of the seventeenth century. The art of
observing was, however, gradually receiving improvement;
instruments were constructed on better principles, and
more accurately divided ; and the methods of computation
Nonius, were rendered much less laborious. Nonius, or Nunez, a
born 1497, Portuguese, invented the ingenious method of subdividing
died 1577- the small divisions of instruments which still retains his
name ; Reinhold extended the table of tangents of Re¬
giomontanus to every minute of the quadrant, reformed
the tables of Copernicus, and composed many works of
practical utility ; but of the immediate successors or
Copernicus, no one deserves to be more honourably men-
William tioned than William IV., landgrave of Hesse. This
IV., died prince built a magnificent observatory on the top of his
palace at Cassel, which he furnished with excellent in¬
struments of copper, and is said to have calculated him¬
self the positions of no less than 400 stars. He was aid¬
ed in the labours of the observatory by some astrono¬
mers of great merit whom his liberality drew to his court;
among others, by Rothman, and Justus Byrgius, a distin¬
guished artist, to whom Kepler has ascribed some idea of
the logarithms.
Tycho Tycho Brahe, one of the best and most indefatigable
Brahe, observers of whom practical astronomy can boast, was
born 1546, born Knudstorp, in Scania, the 13th of December 1546.
(.e hoi. famjiy wag one 0f ^]ie most ancient and noble in Den¬
mark ; and his father, probably thinking that illustrious
birth superseded the necessity of education, refused his
consent to have his son instructed in Latin. Through
the kindness of a maternal uncle, however, he was rescu¬
ed from the state of barbarous ignorance to which he had
been doomed by his parent; and, after having received
the requisite preliminary instruction, he was sent to the
university of Leipsic to study jurisprudence and scholas¬
tic philosophy. The tastes of the future astronomer were
first excited by an eclipse of the sun which happened in
1560. Struck with astonishment at the accuracy of the
prediction, he conceived a vehement desire to become ac¬
quainted with the principles of so certain a science, and
exerted his utmost ingenuity to elude the obstacles which
were interposed by his parents and governor to prevent
him from acquiring the elementary notions of mathema¬
tics and astronomy. By placing the hinge of a common
compass near his eye, he contrived to guess at the dis¬
tances of the planets from the stars, and by this means,
according to his own account, detected several errors in
the Ephemerides of Stadius. By his persevering efforts
he at last obtained the consent of his family to study ac¬
cording to his own inclinations; and from that moment
he divided his time between the observation of the hea¬
vens, and chemical experiments. He visited the different
cities of Germany where he hoped to meet with astrono¬
mers and skilful mechanicians, and was received with flat¬
tering attention by the landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, with
whom he contracted an intimate friendship. On his re¬
turn to Denmark he obtained from Frederick II. a grant
of the small island of Huen, in the strait of Sunda, toge¬
ther with a pension and some presents, by means of which,
and an expenditure of 100,000 crowns of his own patri¬
mony, he was enabled to build the castle of Uraniburg,
and procure a magnificent collection of the largest and
most accurate instruments which could then be construct¬
ed. In this celebrated retreat he passed twenty-five
years, actively employed in making observations, and at¬
tracting by his discoveries the attention of the learned
throughout Europe. On the death of his protector Fre¬
derick he fell under the displeasure of the government, H
and a storm of persecution was raised against him, from ^
causes which he has not explained, by a minister named
Walckendorp, who, on this account, has been devoted by
Lalande to the infamy and execration of all ages. He
was deprived of his pension, compelled to leave the castle
of Uraniburg, and to banish himself from Denmark. He
retired first to Wandesburg, near Hamburg; he after¬
wards sought an asylum in Bohemia, and ultimately set¬
tled at Prague under the protection of the emperor Ru¬
dolph II. Here he resumed his observations, assisted by
the illustrious Kepler and Longomontanus. The causes
of his exile are involved in mystery; but to whatever it
was owing, it turned out fortunate for the progress of
astronomy. Had he remained in his island, his observa¬
tions would not probably have fallen into the hands of
Kepler, and the discovery of the laws of the planetary
motions might have been deferred to another age. He
died at Prague on the 24th of October 1601.
As an indefatigable and skilful observer, Tycho is justly
considered as far superior to any astronomer who had
preceded him since the revival of the science in Europe.
His ample fortune gave him the means of procuring the
best instruments which the age could produce; and by
his ingenuity and persevering application, he was admi¬
rably qualified to employ them to the best advantage.
He computed the first table of refractions, and if it ex¬
tended only to 45°, the reason was, that the effects of
refraction, at a higher altitude, wrere altogether insensible
to his instruments. His solar tables were brought to so
great a degree of exactness, that he affirms he could
never detect an error in them exceeding a quarter of a
minute ; but there is reason to suspect some exaggeration
in this statement, particularly as Cassini, a century after,
with much better means, could scarcely answer for errors
of a whole minute. He contributed greatly to the im¬
provement of the lunar tables, and detected a consider¬
able inequality in the moon’s motion in longitude, to which
he gave the name of the Variation, by which it has ever
since been distinguished. Pie also discovered an equa¬
tion in latitude similar to the evection which had been
observed by Hipparchus, and fixed its amount with great
accuracy. He remarked the fourth inequality of the
moon in longitude, although he failed in his attempt to
ascertain its amount, or assign its law. He represented
the inequalities of the motions of the nodes, and in the
inclination of the lunar orbit, by the motion of the pole
of that orbit in a small circle round the pole of the eclip¬
tic. He demonstrated that the region of the comets is
far beyond the orbit of the moon, and determined the re¬
lative and absolute positions of 777 fixed stars with a
scrupulous attention, which gave his catalogue an im¬
mense superiority over those of Hipparchus and Ulugh
Beigh; and he left to his successors a regular series of
observations on the planets, amassed for the purpose of
establishing the truth of his own system, but of which
Kepler made a better use by employing them to establish
the system of Copernicus.
These are some of the important benefits which result¬
ed to astronomy from the labours of Tycho. As a philo¬
sopher he ranks low. Alchemy and judicial astrology, in
the reveries of which he was a firm believer, engrossed
as much of his attention as astronomy. Yet his errors,
or rather weaknesses, ought to be viewed with indulgence.
He was seated, to use the simile of Bailly, on the con¬
fines of two ages; partaking of the darkness which pre¬
ceded, and the light which came after him. He rejected
the simple system of Copernicus, and, whether from par¬
ticipating in the religious scruples of his age, or from the
ASTRONOMY.
799
History, ambition of appearing as the author of a new system, he accurately represented by supposing the planet to move History,
restored to the earth its immobility, and placed it in the in an ellipse, having the sun in one of its foci. Having
centre of the motions of the sun and moon. The Tycho- arrived at this important result, he next proceeded to con-
nic system was an unsuccessful attempt to reconcile the sider the angular motion of the planet, and finding that it
incongruous hypotheses of Ptolemy and Copernicus. It was not uniform in respect of any point situated within
never enjoyed any real estimation ; and its followers were the orbit, he concluded that the uniform motion, till then
only found among those who dreaded the anathemas of the universally received as an axiom, was a vain chimera, which
church, or who, belonging to some university or religious had no existence in nature. He perceived, however, that
corporation, were deprived of the liberty of expressing the areas described by the radius vector of the planet, at
their real opinions. its greatest and least distances, were equal in equal times;
Longo- Tycho was assisted in his observations at Huen, du- and subsequent observations enabled him to demonstrate
bornt1502 ring eight years, by Longomontanus, who afterwards be- that this equality extended to every point of the orbit,
diwl KJ47’ came professor of the higher mathematics at Copenhagen. It was therefore discovered that Mars moves in an elliptic
orbit, of which the sun occupies a focus, and in such a
manner, that the area described by a line drawn from the
This astronomer composed a large work, entitled Astro-
nomia Danica, in which he deduced the elements of the
different theories from the observations made at Urani- centre of the planet to that of the sun is always proper
bourg, and gave formulae /or computing the planetary tional to the time of description. The same conclusions
motions, according to the three systems of Ptolemy, Co- he found to be true in 1’espect of the orbit of the earth;
pernicus, and Tycho. and therefore he could no longer hesitate to extend them
Kepler, The great mass of accurate observations accumulated by analogy to the other planets. These are two of the
k/ Tycho furnished the materials out of which his dis- three general principles which are known by the name of
red b‘3l. cjp]e Kepler may be said to have constructed the edifice the Laws of Kepler.
of the world. This great man, the true founder of mo- It was some years later before Kepler arrived at the
dern astronomy, was born at Wiel, in the kingdom of knowledge of the analogy which subsists between the dis-
Wurtemberg, on the 27th of December 1571. He studied tances of the several planets from the sun, and the periods
philosophy at lubingen, and was instructed in mathe- in which they complete their revolutions. To the dis-
matics and astronomy by Moestlin, whose name deserves covery of this analogy he attached the greatest impor-
a place in the history of science, on account of his having tance, and regarded all his other labours as incomplete
been one of the first who had the courage to adopt and without it. After having imagined numberless hypotheses,
to teach the system of Copernicus. The philosophical it at last occurred to him to compare the different powers
mind of Kepler, disgusted with the improbabilities and of the numbers which express the distances and times of
absurdities of the ancient system, received with transport revolutions ; and he found, to his infinite satisfaction, that
the novel doctrines explained by Moestlin. The ap- the squares of the periodic times of the planets are always
pointment of mathematician to the emperor, which he in the same proportion as the cubes of their mean dis-
procured on the death of Stadius, confirmed him in the tances from the sun. This is the third law of Kepler,
resolution which he had taken to devote himself to astro- He demonstrated it to be true of all the planets then
nomical pursuits ; and the energy of his character enabled known. It has been found to be equally true in regard to
him in a very short time to make himself thoroughly mas- those which have been since discovered, and likewise to
ter of the different hypotheses and principal discoveries prevail in the systems of the satellites of Jupiter and Sa-
which had been made prior to his time. In the year turn. It is indeed, as can be shown mathematically, a ne-
1596 he published a Prodromus of Dissertations on the cessary consequence of the law of gravitation, directly as
properties and causes of the celestial orbits, which pro- the masses, and inversely as the squares of the distances,
cured him the friendship of Tycho, and an invitation to By these brilliant discoveries, the solar system was re¬
take part in the observations and researches of that great duced to that degree of beautiful simplicity which had
astronomer at Prague. On the death of Tycho, which been conceived by Copernicus, but from which that great
happened soon after, Kepler obtained possession of his astronomer had found himself constrained to depart. The
invaluable collection of observations, and was charged sun could not occupy the common centre of the circular
with the task of completing and publishing the Rudolph- orbits, but his place is in the common focus of the elliptic
ine Tables. . orbits of all the planets ; and it is to this focus that every
During his short residence with Tycho, Kepler learned motion is to be referred, and from which every distance
to check the fanciful suggestions of his brilliant imagina- is to be measured. The discovery of the elliptic motion,
tion, and to draw his conclusions from observations alone, of the proportionality of the areas to the times, and the
by rigorous and patient induction. The observations of method of dividing an ellipse, by straight lines drawn from
the Danish astronomer had furnished him with the means the focus to the periphery, into segments having a given
of establishing with certainty the truth or inaccuracy of ratio, formed the solution of a problem which had been the
the various hypotheses which he successively imagined; constantobject of the labours of all astronomers from Pto-
and the diligence with which he laboured in comparing
and calculating these observations during 20 years, was
finally rewarded by some of the most important discoveries
which had yet been made in astronomy. Deceived by an
opinion which had been adopted by Copernicus, and had
never been called in question by the ancients, that all the
celestial motions are performed in circles, he long fruit¬
lessly endeavoured to represent, by that hypothesis, the
irregular motions ol Mars; and after having computed
with incredible labour the observations of seven opposi¬
tions ot that planet, he at length succeeded in breaking
down the barrier which had so long obstructed the progress
ol knowledge, and found that the motions could only be
lemy to Tycho, namely, to assign the place of a planet at
any instant of time whatever. The tables which he com¬
puted for the elliptic motions form the model of those in
present use. Some additions have been made in conse¬
quence of the perturbations, which the geometry of Kep¬
ler was inadequate to estimate, and which were only
partially detected by the genius of Newton. It has been
considered matter of surprise that Kepler did not think
of extending the laws of the elliptic motion to the comets.
Prepossessed with the idea that they never return after
their passage to the sun, he imagined that it would only be
a waste of time to attempt the calculation of the orbits of
bodies which had so transitory an existence. He supposed
800 ASTRO
History, the tall to be produced by the action of the solar rays, which,
in traversing the body of the comet, continually carry off
the most subtile particles, so that the whole mass must be
ultimately annihilated by the successive detachment of the
particles. He therefore neglected to study their motions,
and left to others a share of the glory resulting from the
discovery of the true paths of the celestial bodies.
The observations of eclipses had formed the principal
object of the earliest astronomers, but it was Kepler who
first showed the practical advantages which may be deriv¬
ed from them, by giving an example of the method of
calculating a difference of meridians from an eclipse of the
sun. The method extends to occultations of the stars,
and is deservedly considered as the best we possess for
determining geographical longitudes and correcting the
tables. He composed a work on optics, replete with new
and interesting views, and gave the first idea of the tele¬
scope with two convex glasses, which has since been advan¬
tageously substituted for that of Galileo. Pi-ompt to seize
every happy idea of his contemporaries, he perceived with
delight the advantages which practical astronomy would
derive from the new invention of the logarithms, and he
immediately constructed a table, from which the loga¬
rithms of the natural numbers, sines, and tangents could
be taken at once.
Kepler was not merely an observer and calculator; he
inquired with great diligence into the physical causes
of every phenomenon, and made a near approach to the dis¬
covery of that great principle which maintains and regulates
the planetary motions. He possessed some very sound
and accurate notions of the nature of gravity, but unfor¬
tunately conceived it to diminish simply in proportion to
the distance, although he had demonstrated that the in¬
tensity of light is reciprocally proportional to the surface
over which it is spread, or inversely as the square of the
distance from the luminous body. In his famous work
De Stella Martis, which contains the discovery of the laws
of the planetary motions, he distinctly states that gravity
is a corporeal affection, reciprocal between two bodies of
the same kind, which tends, like the action of the magnet,
to bring them together, so that when the earth attracts a
stone, the stone at the same time attracts the earth, but
by a force feebler in proportion as it contains a smaller
quantity of matter. Further, if the moon and the earth
were not retained in their respective orbits by an animal
or other equipollent force, the earth would mount towards
the moon one fifty-fourth part of the interval which sepa¬
rates them, and the moon would descend the fifty-three
remaining parts, supposing each to have the same density.
He likewise very clearly explains the cause of the tides
in the following passage. “ If the earth ceased to attract
its waters, the whole sea would mount up and unite itself
with the moon. The sphere of the attracting force of the
moon extends even to the earth, and draws the waters
towards the torrid zone, so that they rise to the point
which has the moon in the zenith.” It is not difficult to
imagine how much these views must have contributed to
the immortal discovery of Newton.
It is afflicting to consider how frequently the just re¬
wards of true merit are usurped by charlatanism and pre¬
tension. While the fire-eaters and astrologers of Rudolph
were basking in the sunshine of imperial favour, Kepler,
from whose labours the sciences derived the most signal
benefits, passed his life in extreme indigence. Born with¬
out fortune, the only revenue he possessed, and out of
which he had to maintain a numerous family, arose from
the precarious produce of his writings, and his pension of
mathematician to the emperor,—a pension which, owing
to the calamities of the times, was seldom duly paid.
N O M Y.
On this account he was obliged to prefer frequent solid- History,
tations, and undertake long journeys, whereby he lost his'^"v~>-y
time, always precious to genius, and exhausted his mind
in anxiety. He died on the 15th of November 1630, at
Ratisbon, whither he had gone to solicit the arrears
that were due to him. In the present century a marble
monument has been erected to his memory by an enlight¬
ened prince, Charles of Alberg. It contains his bust and
the ellipse of Mars; a monument more glorious and more
imperishable than brass or marble.
Contemporary with Kepler was the illustrious Galileo, Galileo,
whose discoveries, being of a more popular nature, and born 15G4,
far more striking and intelligible to the generality of man-died 1642.
kind, had a much greater immediate effect on the opinions
of the age, and in hastening the revolution which was soon
about to change the whole face of physics and astronomy.
Galileo-Galilei, a Florentine patrician, was born at Flo¬
rence in the year 1564. Fie passed his youth at Venice,
where he continued till he was appointed to a professor’s
chair at Padua. After a residence of eighteen years in
that city, he was induced to remove to Pisa by Cosmo II.,
who assigned him a pension, and conferred on him the title
of his first mathematician. While residing at Venice, he
heard it reported that Metius, a Dutch optician, had dis¬
covered a certain combination of lenses, by means of which
distant objects were approximated to the sight. This
vague and scanty intelligence sufficed to excite the
curiosity of Galileo, who immediately set about inquir¬
ing into the means whereby such an effect could be
produced. His researches were attended with prompt
success, and on the following day he had a telescope
which magnified about three times. It was formed
by the combination of two lenses, a plano-convex and
plano-concave, fitted in a leaden tube. In a second trial
he obtained one which magnified seven or eight times ; and
subsequent essays enabled him to increase the magnifying
power to 32 times. On directing his telescope to the
moon, he perceived numerous inequalities on her surface,
the diversified appearances of which led him to conclude
almost with certainty that the moon is an opaque body
similar to the earth, and reflecting the light of the sun
unequally, in consequence of her superficial asperities.
The planet Venus exhibited phases perfectly similar to
those of the moon. These phases had been formerly an¬
nounced by Copernicus as a necessary consequence of his
system ; and the actual discovery of their existence made
it impossible to doubt of the revolution of Venus round
the sun. He detected the four satellites or moons of
Jupiter, and, in honour of his patron, gave them the name
of the Medicean Stars. The discovery of these little
bodies circulating round the huge orb of Jupiter afforded
him a strong analogical proof of the annual revolution
of the earth, accompanied by its moon. He perceived
spots on the disk of the sun, from the motions of which
he concluded the rotation of that body about its axis
in the space of 27 days. The singular appearances
of Saturn were beheld by him with no less pleasure than
astonishment. His telescope was not sufficiently power¬
ful to separate the ring from the body of the planet; and
to explain the appearances he supposed Saturn to be com¬
posed of three stars almost in contact with one another.
These discoveries proved that the substances of the ce¬
lestial bodies are similar to that of the earth, and demo¬
lished the Aristotelian doctrine of their divine essence
and incorruptible nature. They enlarged the ideas of
mankind respecting the planetary system, and furnished
the most convincing arguments in favour of the doctrines
of Copernicus.
The discoveries of Galileo excited the envy of his
A S T R (
History, contemporaries, and stirred up against him a persecu-
tion which embittered the last days of his life. The
motion of the earth, which he had proved so triumphant¬
ly, was considered contrary to many express declarations
of Scripture ; it was also considered as a heresy in the
schools, where the doctrines of Aristotle were followed
with implicit submission. In defending the Copernican
system, Galileo had incurred the bitterest resentment,
both of theologians and peripatetics. His great reputa¬
tion, his title of professor and first mathematician, gave
them reason to dread that the new doctrines, recommend¬
ed by such an advocate, would spread too rapidly, and
finally overthrow the altars of Aristotle. They therefore
combined to check their progress, and to procure the ruin
of Galileo by injurious representatives to the Grand Duke
and the court of Rome. Soon after his first telescopic
discoveries he was cited to appear before the Inquisition,
and a promise extorted from him that he would never,
either by word or writing, support the opinion of the mo¬
tion of the earth. But in a great mind the love of truth
is the most imperious of all passions, and cannot be re¬
strained by the frowns of despotism, or the persecution of
a fanatical tribunal. The evidences of the motion of the
earth burst forth from every point of the heavens; and
Galileo, in his celebrated Dialogues on the system of the
world, exposed them in so clear and forcible a manner,
that, although he appeared to put them forth for the pur¬
pose of refuting them, it was not difficult to perceive that
he regarded them as complete and indubitable. For this
relapse into heresy he was again brought before the tri¬
bunal of the Inquisition, and, in the seventieth year of his
age, condemned formally to retract and abjure the doc¬
trine of the earth’s motion, and to be imprisoned during
the pleasure of the Inquisition. This scandalous proceed¬
ing has called forth the indignant reprobation of every
lover of truth and freedom. “ What a spectacle,” ex¬
claims Bailly, “ an old man, whose hairs were blanched
with study, watchings, and benefits to mankind, on his
knees before the sacred Scriptures, abjuring the truth in
the eyes of Italy, which he had enlightened, in opposition
to the testimony of his conscience, and in spite of the
manifestations given by nature through all her works.”
The sentence passed on Galileo was not inflicted with
great severity. At the end of a year the Grand Duke
had the influence to procure his release from prison ; but
he was prohibited from returning to Florence, and obliged
to confine himself to the Tuscan territory. He retired to
the village of Arcetri, where he resumed his observations,
and shortly afterwards discovered the libration of the
moon. I he satellites of Jupiter continued also to engage
his attention, and he commenced a table of their motions,
and pointed out the method of determining the longitude
by means of their eclipses. The states of Holland, aware
of the great benefit of his researches to commerce and
navigation, sent two astronomers, Hortensius and Blaeu,
to present him with a gold chain, and encourage him to
persevere in his useful labours. A short time after re¬
ceiving this honourable mark of esteem from a foreign
country, Galileo suddenly became blind; and the task of
forming the tables of the satellites was reserved for Cas-
sinh He survived this misfortune only a few years, and
expired in 1642, in the seventy-eighth year of his age.
Science is indebted to Galileo for two other discoveries
of a different kind, less brilliant perhaps, but of far greater
impoi tance than those which we have yet enumerated.
These are the isochronism of the vibrations of the pendu¬
lum, and the law of the acceleration of falling bodies. His
telescopic discoveries could not have remained long un¬
known ; in fact, with the exception of those of the phases
VOL. in.
) N O M Y. goj
of Venus, and of the triple form of Saturn, they were all History
fiercely disputed, even during his own lifetime. It is now'^-^v-^-^
universally admitted that he was the first who discovered
the satellites of Jupiter, and the spots of the sun; but
the very circumstance of other claimants to these disco¬
veries having arisen, proves that they were within the
reach of ordinary attention. No one ever thought of dis¬
puting with Kepler the discovery of the laws of the plane¬
tary motions. Those of Galileo required only eyes, and
may be regarded as following of course from the disco¬
very of the telescope ; but his persecution, his condem¬
nation, and his being compelled to retract and abjure a
doctrine of which he had given the physical proof, inspire
a hallowed interest in his history, and contributed much
to the great reputation which he acquired throughout
Europe.
While astronomy was making these rapid advances in Loga-
the hands of Kepler and Galileo, an event occurred in rhhms in-
Scotland which contributed, though less directly, no less vente‘h
powerfully, to the acceleration of its progress. This was^'4-
the invention of the logarithms by Lord Napier, baron of
Merchiston; “an admirable artifice,” says Laplace, “which,
by reducing to a few days the labour of many months,
doubles the life of the astronomer, and spares him the
errors and disgust inseparable from long calculations; an
invention of which the human mind has the more reason
to be proud, inasmuch as it was derived exclusively from
its own resources.” It may be added, that without this, or
some equivalent artifice, the computations rendered neces¬
sary by more correct observations would far exceed the
limits of human patience or industry, and astronomy
could never have acquired that precision and accuracy
by which it is now distinguished above all the other
branches of human knowledge.
The same epoch presents to us a great number of ex- Labours of
cellent observers, who, although they did not produce any different
revolution in the state of astronomy, still rendered it use-astrono*
ful service. Schemer is celebrated for his observationsmers’
on the solar spots, and his disputes with Galileo. John
Bayer of Augsburg published a description of the constel¬
lations, accompanied by maps, in which the stars are
marked by a Greek letter ; a simple idea, which has been
universally adopted. Lansberg, a Flemish mathematician,
published in 1632 a set of astronomical tables, which,
though filled with inaccuracies, rendered good service to
science by apprizing Horrox of the transit of Venus over
the sun’s disk, which that young astronomer and his
friend Crabtree had the satisfaction of observing on the
24th of November 1639. They were the first who ever
witnessed that interesting but rare phenomenon. Snellius
is celebrated for his measure of the earth. Gassendi,
who had the merit, along with Descartes, of hastening the
downfall of the Aristotelian philosophy in France, made
some useful observations, particularly one of a transit of
Mercury in 1631. His works, which fill six folio vo¬
lumes, abound with curious and useful researches. Ric-
cioli, a Jesuit, born at Ferrara in 1598, contributed to the
progress of astronomy, not so much by his own dis¬
coveries, as by collecting and rendering an account of those
of others. He rejected the system of Copernicus, and
was more zealous in maintaining the doctrines of the
church than in investigating nature ; but his works form a
vast repertory of useful information. His Novum Alma-
gestum is a collection of the observations, opinions, and
physical explanations of the phenomena, together with all
the methods of computation then known. He was as¬
sisted in his labours by Grimaldi, who discovered the in¬
flection of light, and gave the names to the principal spots
of the moon which are now used by astronomers.
5 i
802 ASTRONOM Y.
History. The most accurate observations that were ever made
prior to the adaptation of the telescope to astronomical
Hevelius, instruments were those of Hevelius, a rich citizen of
li'ed 1687 l^antz‘c’ w^° devoted his life and a large fortune to the
4 ec ' service of astronomy. Having fitted up an observatory,
and furnished it with the best instruments which could be
procured, he commenced a course of observations, which
he followed assiduously upwards of forty years. In his
Selenographia he has given an accurate description of the
face and spots of the moon, accompanied with excellent
delineations of her appearance in her different phases and
librations. The idea of making drawings of the different
phases of the moon had previously occurred to Gassendi
and Peiresc, but they had not been able to execute the
project; indeed the difficulty attending it was such, that
it occupied Hevelius, who was an excellent draughtsman,
as well as observer, during a great number of years.
Hevelius made an immense number of researches on
comets ; and finding that the observations could not be
represented by rectilinear or circular orbits, he supposed
them to move in parabolas. During a temporary absence
from Dantzic, this indefatigable astronomer had the mis¬
fortune to lose, in a great fire which occurred in the city,
his observatory, instruments, manuscripts, and almost the
entire edition of the second volume of his Machina Cceles-
tis, which contained the results of his long labours and
numerous observations. He was now in his old age, but
his zeal did not give way under the terrible calamity.
He patiently recommenced all his calculations, recon¬
structed tables of the sun, and prepared for publication
his Firmamentum Sobiescianum, or celestial chart, which
did not appear till after his death. Towards the latter
part of his life, the use of telescopic sights began to be
generally adopted. Hevelius, however, resisted the inno¬
vation, and continued to employ plain sights. This pre¬
ference given to the ancient method by so skilful an ob¬
server induced Dr Halley to visit him at Dantzic, for the
purpose of ascertaining, by a comparison of observations
made at the same time and place, which of the two
methods gave the most correct results. Dr Halley ob¬
served with the telescope, and Hevelius with his own in¬
struments ; but such was the dexterity he had acquired
through long practice, that the difference of their obser¬
vations seldom amounted to more than a few seconds, and
in no case to so much as a minute. Notwithstanding this
agreement, it is to be regretted that Hevelius did not
adopt the new method; for, on account of the greater
precision given to instruments by the use of the telescope,
his observations, which were made without it, cannot now
be admitted in the construction of tables, and consequent¬
ly are for the most part useless to astronomy.
Huygens, Few individuals have rendered more important services
born 162!), to science than Huygens. Born at the Hague in 1629,
died 1695. he studied geometry under Schooten, the commentator of
Descartes, and gave early proofs of proficiency in that
science by a treatise on the quadrature of the conic sec¬
tions. Having passed into France, he studied law at the
university of Angers ; but his principal attention was di¬
rected to the physical sciences, particularly to optics. He
employed himself in grinding and polishing lenses; and
constructed a telescope of ten feet, with which he disco¬
vered one of the satellites of Saturn. His application of
the pendulum to clocks deserves to be considered as one
of the best gifts which genius has ever conferred on science.
He seems to have conceived the idea of this application
in 1656 ; and he presented the first description of the
pendulum clock to the states of Holland in 1657. He en¬
deavoured to make this invention subservient to the pro¬
blem of the longitudes ; and if his efforts were not attend¬
ed with the desired success, it may be said, that without History,
another invention, in which also he had a principal share,
that of the spiral spring, the object would never have been
accomplished so nearly as it was a hundred years later.
By means of his excellent telescopes he discovered that
the extraordinary appearance exhibited by Saturn was
occasioned by a ring surrounding the body of the planet,
and inclined to the ecliptic in an angle which he estimated
at 21°. He published Ids observations on this planet in a
work entitled Systema Saturnium, which still shows some
traces of that species of reasoning from final causes which
so greatly disfigures the writings of Kepler. For example,
on discovering the satellite, he conceived that as the num¬
ber of satellites now equalled the number of planets, it
was in vain to look for more, the equality being necessary
to the harmony of the system. He lived, however, to
witness the discovery of four more satellites belonging to
the same planet. Huygens was invited to settle in France
by Colbert, the patriotic minister of Louis XIV., who
assigned him a pension and a seat in the academy of
sciences. He continued in that country till the revocation
of the edict of Nantz in 1681, when he resigned his pen¬
sion and retired to Holland. After this he contributed
several papers to the Philosophical Transactions, and in
1690 published a treatise on light and gravitation. Geo¬
metry, mechanics, and optics, are indebted to the genius
of Huygens for many important discoveries. His theo¬
rems on central forces, his researches on the doctrine of
probabilities and continued fractions, and his theory of
involutes and evolutes, raise him to the highest rank
among the mathematicians of his age. Fie died on the
8th of June 1695, at the age of 66 years.
The application of telescopes and micrometers to gra- Telescopes
duated instruments forms an important epoch in the his-applied to
tory of astronomy. This happy improvement was first <l,i^rrants»
brought into use by Picard in 1667. Morin, indeed, had 1
applied a telescope to the quadrant so early as 1634, and
perceived the stars in full day in 1635. In 1669 Picard
began to observe the stars on the meridian in the day¬
time, with a quadrant, to which, in concert with Azout,
he had applied an astronomical telescope having cross
wires in its focus. Huygens invented the plate microme¬
ter in 1650; Malvasia that with the fixed wires in 1662;
and Azout that with the movable wire in 1666. (SeeDe-
lambre, Astronomie du Moyen Age, p. 618, Note by Bou-
vard.) It is principally to the happy discoveries and in¬
genious inventions just referred to, and the fine appli¬
cation of the pendulum to clocks by Huygens in 1656,
that we must attribute the rapid progress since made in
practical astronomy, and the extreme precision of modern
observations. Picard was also the first who introduced
the modern method of determining the right ascensions
of the stars, by observing their meridional passages, and
employed the pendulum for that purpose. He likewise in¬
troduced the method of corresponding altitudes, and is
entitled to be regarded as the founder of modern astro¬
nomy in France.
Roemer, the friend and pupil of Picard, discovered the
progressive motion of light in 1675, and measured its velo¬
city by means of the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites. He
Avas the first who erected a transit instrument, which gave
a new accuracy to observations of right ascension.
The Royal Observatory of Paris was completed in 1670, Dominie
and its direction intrusted to Dominic Cassini. This ce-Cassini,
lebrated astronomer was born at Perinaldo, in the coun-horn
ty of Nice, and educated in a college of the Jesuits at
Genoa. He acquired an early passion for astronomical
observations; and in 1644 was invited to Bologna by the
marquis Malvasia, where, in 1650, he succeeded Cavalleri
ASTRONOMY.
803
History, as professor of astronomy. In this situation he continued ing minute angles in the heavens. The same century History.
till 1669, when he went to Paris on the invitation of Louis witnessed the application of algebra to geometry, the dis-v-^~v~'>>-/
XIV. He was naturalized in France in 1673, and conti- covery of the laws of the planetary motions, of the infi-
nued in the charge of the observatory till his death, which nitesimal calculus, the acceleration of falling bodies, the
happened in 1712. sublime theory of central forces, and the great prin-
Cassini enriched astronomy with a great number of cu- ciple of gravitation which connects the celestial orbs, and
rious observations and discoveries. He determined the regulates the motions which it had been the business of
motions of Jupiter’s satellites from observations of their the astronomer to observe since the earliest ages of the
eclipses, and constructed tables of them, which were world. The different steps which conducted to this im-
found to be remarkably exact. He observed that the portant discovery, and the immediate consequences de¬
ring of Saturn is double, and discovered four of the satel- duced from it by its immortal author, are so fully deve-
lites of that planet. He also determined the rotation of loped in the admirable Dissertation on the Progress of the
Jupiter and Mars, and made a number of observations on Physical Sciences, in this Encyclopaedia, that it is unne-
Venus with the same view. He observed the zodiacal cessary to enter into any detail respecting them here; we
light, and made a near approximation to the parallax of may only remark, that if observation has furnished the
the sun. We also owe to him the first table of re- data for the discovery of the mechanical principle and
fractions, calculated on correct principles ; and a complete primordial laws of the universe, the knowledge of these
theory of the libration of the moon. Galileo had only ob- laws has been, in turn, of the most essential service to ob-
Maraldi.
served the libration in latitude; Hevelius explained the
libration in longitude, by supposing that the moon always
presents the same face to the centre of her orbit, of which
the earth occupies a focus. Cassini made the important
remark, that the axis of rotation of the moon is inclined
servation, by guiding and directing it to its most im¬
portant objects. • Many of the inequalities of the planetary
motions, in consequence of their minuteness and the slow¬
ness with which they vary, could not have been detected
by observation; others might perhaps have been per-
to the ecliptic, and that its nodes coincide with those of ceived, but we should still have been ignorant whether
tho in,™,. i 0*1, u.i. --i—1"- J their constant accumulation might not ultimately change
the state of the system, and, by destroying all confidence
in the tables, demolish the fabric which had been reared
at such a vast expense of time and labour. But when
these inequalities are detected by theory, and separated
from the mean motions with which they were blended, it
the lunar orbit, so that the poles of the orbit, ecliptic, and
equator of the moon, are on the same circle of latitude,
the pole of the ecliptic being situated between the other
two. The greater number of these discoveries are, how¬
ever, only of secondary importance ; and it must be con¬
fessed that Cassini took no part in the great and perma
nent improvements which astronomy received in that age. becomes an object of the highest interest to confirm their
He has, nevertheless, obtained an extraordinary reputa- existence by the most delicate and accurate observations.
tion. Lalande remarks, that in his hands astronomy un¬
derwent the most signal revolutions, and that his name is,
in France, almost synonymous with that of creator of the
science. Delambre has, however, taken a different and
far more accurate view of the real services of Cassini.
The revolution in Astronomy,” this judicious critic ob-
Hence, a more refined practice has constantly followed
every theoretical discovery. Besides, it is the perfec¬
tion of theory, and not the mere knowledge of isolated
facts, which gives astronomy its greatest value in the
eyes of the philosopher. Numerous and important as its
applications are, they have but a subordinate interest, in
serves, “ was brought about by Copernicus, by the laws of comparison of the knowledge of those general laws to
Kepler, by the pendulum of Huygens, the micrometers which every particle of matter in the universe is subject,
of Azout and Picard, by the sectors and mural of Picard, and by the discovery of which man has penetrated so
and his method of corresponding altitudes, by the transit deeply into the mysteries of nature.
instruments of Iloemer; and Cassini appears to us an By the discovery of the law of gravity Newton laidDiscove-
entire stranger to all these innovations. He followed the foundations of physical astronomy; and by the con-™8 °f
another route; he devoted a long life to painful observa- sequences which he deduced from that law, proceededNewton’
tions, which at last deprived him of sight. Let us not far in the erection of the superstructure. He showed^?.I*!,^
refuse him the praise which he has so well merited, but that the motions of all the bodies of the planetary system^ 1727'
let us reserve a place in our esteem for labours less bril- are regulated by its influence; he determined the figure
liant perhaps, but of greater and more permanent utility, of the earth on the supposition of its homogeneity; he
and which evince at least equal talent and sagacity.” gave a theory of the tides, discovered the cause of the
Cassini was assisted in his observations by his nephew, precession of the equinoxes, and determined some of the
James Philip Maraldi, who determined the regression principal lunar inequalities and planetary perturbations,
of the nodes, and the progressive motion of the apsides Many of his theories were left in an imperfect state; for
of the orbit of Jupiter. This astronomer also corrected it is not in matters of science that it is given to the same
the theory of Mars, and observed the sun’s parallax. He individual to invent and bring to perfection: their corn-
rejected the hypothesis of the progressive motion of light, plete development required that several subsidiary scien-
as being insufficient to explain the inequalities of Jupiter’s ces should be farther advanced; but it has been the
satellites; and he conceived the design of forming a new triumph of his system, that every subsequent discovery
catalogue of the stars, which, however, was never exe- has only tended to strengthen and confirm it. This bright
CUrp|(^' ornament of the human genius was born on the 25th of
Ihere is no period in the history of mankind so distin- December 1642, the day of the death of Galileo, and died
in the 17th ^ Y S1-63.1 an(1 important discoveries, or so remark- on the 20th of March 1727, in the 85th year of his age.
century! * j e *or t raP'ti development of the human intellect, as While physical astronomy was undergoing a complete Flamsteed,
the seventeenth century. We have already noticed the revolution in the hands of Newton, the practical part was b?rn
invention of the pendulum, and its application to regulate receiving great improvement from Flamsteed, the firstdietl
the motion of time-keepers; of the telescope, and some of astronomer royal, who conducted the Greenwich Obser-
the phenomena of the new worlds it has exposed to view; vatory. This celebrated institution, from which so many
of the logarithms, by which computations are so much important discoveries have emanated, was erected under
aondged ; and of the mechanical contrivances for measur- the reign of Charles II. in 1675. Flamsteed was appoint-
Progress
804
ASTRONOMY.
History, ed to it in 1676, and continued with indefatigable zeal to
discharge the duties of the office during the long period
of 33 years. In the course of this time he made an im¬
mense number of excellent observations, the results of
which are given in the Historia Ccelestis, the first edition
of which was published in 1712, at the expense of Prince
George of Denmark, the husband of Queen Anne. The
second appeared in 1723, some time after the death
of the author, in three volumes folio. The first vo¬
lume contains the observations which he made, first
at Derby, and afterwards at Greenwich, on the fixed
stars, planets, comets, spots of the sun, and Jupiter’s sa¬
tellites. The second volume contains the transits of the
planets and stars over the meridian, and the places of the
planets deduced from these observations. The third con¬
tains an historical notice, in which he gives a description
of the instruments used by Tycho and himself; cata¬
logues of fixed stars by Ptolemy, Ulugh Beigh, Tycho, the
landgrave of Hesse, and Hevelius ; together with the Bri¬
tish Catalogue, containing the places of 2884 stars. The
labours of Flamsteed were, however, confined entirely to
the practical part of astronomy. He made no improve¬
ments in theory; but he is entitled to the merit of having
been the first who brought into common use the method
of simultaneously observing the right ascension of the
sun and a star, a method by means of which the determi¬
nation of the positions of the stars is reduced to the observa¬
tion of meridional transits and altitudes. He was likewise
the first who explained the true principles of the equa¬
tion of time; and he improved the lunar tables by intro¬
ducing into them the annual equation which had been
suggested by Horrox. The Atlas Ccelestis, another post¬
humous work of Flamsteed, was published in 1753.
Halley, Flamsteed was succeeded in the observatory by Dr
born 16‘56, Halley, a philosopher whose inventive genius and indefati-
uied 1742. gable activity rendered him one of the brightest ornaments
of his country. Halley was the son of a wealthy citizen
of London, where he was born on the 8th of November
1656. From his earliest years he applied himself with
ardour to the study of mathematics and astronomy; and
having procured a few instruments, he began to make
observations, by which he was led to remark the inaccuracy
of the tables of Jupiter and Saturn. In his 19th year he
published a direct and geometrical method of finding the
eccentricities and aphelia of the orbits of the planets ; and
in the year following he undertook a voyage to St Helena,
with a view to form a catalogue of the stars in the southern
hemisphere. The station was unfortunately chosen, for,
owing to the incessant rains and foggy atmosphere of that
island, he was able to determine the places of only 360
stars in the course of a whole year. He had, however,
the satisfaction of observing a transit of Mercury over the
sun’s disk, a phenomenon which suggested to him the im¬
portant remark, that the transits of the inferior planets
might be advantageously employed in determining one of
the most essential elements of the planetary system, viz. the
parallax of the sun, and consequently the diameters of the
orbits. The method has since been successfully employ¬
ed in the case of Venus : the transits of Mercury, though
much more frequent, are not so well adapted to the
purpose. On his return from St Helena he was commis¬
sioned by the Royal Society to visit Hevelius at Dantzic,
and determine, by a direct comparison of observations, the
dispute which had arisen between that astronomer and
Dr Hooke respecting the relative advantages of plain and
telescopic sights. After this Halley for some time travelled
on the Continent, and on his return to England devoted
himself entirely to scientific pursuits. The fruits of his
leisure soon began to appear in the multitude of treatises
which he published from time to time in every depart- History,
ment of the mathematical and physical sciences. The
most important of those connected with astronomy was
his Synopsis Astronomies Cometicce,—a work abounding in
profound and original views, and which, in respect of the¬
ory, formed perhaps the most remarkable accession to the
science that had been made since the time of Kepler.
In this work he revived an ancient opinion, that the
comets belong to the solar system, and move in very ec¬
centric orbits round the sun, returning after stated but
long intervals. He also ventured to predict that the
comet of 1681 would again return to its perihelion in
1759,—the first prediction of the kind that was verified.
In 1720 Dr Halley was appointed to succeed Flamsteed
in the Royal Observatory; and though now in the 64th
year of his age, he undertook, with a view to improve the
lunar theory, to observe the moon through a whole revo¬
lution of her nodes, erroneously supposing, that after
such a revolution the errors of the tables would again ap¬
pear in the same order. He was the first who, by a com¬
parison of ancient and modern observations, remarked the
acceleration of the mean motion of the moon, and thus
called the attention of mathematicians to an important and
curious phenomenon, the physical cause of which was at
length detected by the powerful analysis of Laplace. He
was also the first who pointed out the secular inequalities of
Jupiter and Saturn, occasioned by their mutual perturba¬
tions,—a theory that formed the subject of several pro¬
found memoirs of Euler and Lagrange, and for the com¬
plete development of which astronomy is likewise in¬
debted to Laplace. Besides these important discoveries
in astronomy, the labours of Dr Halley also greatly con¬
tributed to the promotion of geometry and navigation. He
undertook two long voyages, and traversed the Pacific Ocean
to observe the deviations of the magnetic needle ; and pos¬
terity will gratefully recollect that it was through his press¬
ing solicitations that Newton consented to the publication
of the Principia. In 1703 he succeeded Dr Wallis as
professor of geometry at Oxford. He became secretary
of the Royal Society in 1713, and died at Greenwich in
1742.
The discoveries of Bradley, who succeeded Halley as Bradley,
astronomer-royal, form a memorable epoch in the history born 1692,
of the science. This great astronomer was born at Sher- died 1762.
borne in Gloucestershire in 1692, and acquired from his
uncle, Mr Pound, an early taste for astronomical obser¬
vation. He was destined for the church, and for some
time held a curacy, which he resigned in 1721, on being
appointed to succeed Keill as Savilian professor of astro¬
nomy at Oxford. His first essays indicated no extraordi¬
nary talent; but an opportunity having presented itself of
engaging in more important researches, he embraced it
with ardour; and by his sagacity and perseverance was
conducted to two discoveries which have entirely changed
the face of astronomy.
A singular motion of the polar star had been observed Discovery
by Picard, of which, however, that astronomer could nei-oftheaber.
ther assign the law nor give any satisfactory explanation. rati°n of
He only remarked that the inequality was annual, and
amounted to about 40 seconds. Hooke, in 1674, a few
years after the observations of Picard, imagined that he
had discovered a parallax in some of the stars; and Flam¬
steed, following the ideas of Hooke, explained, by means
of parallax, the minute changes of position which he had
observed in Polaris and some circumpolar stars. Manfredi
and Cassini demonstrated the error of Flamsteed, but
were not more successful in their attempts to explain the
motion in question. Samuel Molyneux conceived the
idea of verifying all that had been said respecting the
ASTRONOMY. 805
History, supposed parallaxes, and for this purpose commenced a tude of excellent astronomers, by whose successful la- History
series of observations at Kew, with an excellent 24 feet hours every department of the science was signally pro-^^v^O
sector constructed by Graham. Bradley, who happened moted. Among these Lacaille is pre-eminently distin-Lacaille
at that time to reside at Kew, took a part in these obser- guished, both by the variety and importance of his observa- born 1713,
vations, the result of which was, that the remarks of Pi- tions, and the indefatigable zeal with which, durino- twen-died
card were confirmed beyond the possibility of doubt. It ty-two years, he prosecuted the most laborious re*search-
was, however, abundantly evident that the apparent mo- es. He commenced his astronomical career in 1739, by
tions alluded to were not connected in any manner with assisting Cassini de Thury (grandson of the first Cassini)
parallax ; it therefore became an object of the greatest in- in the verification of the measurement of the meridian
terest to determine their physical cause, and assign their through France. In 1751 he undertook a voyage to the
law and period. The first idea that occurred was to in- Cape of Good Hope, the primary objects of which were
quire whether they arose from a change of position in the to determine the sun’s parallax, by means of observations
earth s axis; but this supposition was found to be inade- on the parallaxes of Mars and Venus, while similar obser-
quate to the explanation of the phenomena. Molyneux vations were made in Europe; and to form a catalogue of
having been in the mean time appointed a lord of the the southern circumpolar stars. No undertaking for the
admiralty, the observations were discontinued at Kew; benefit of science was ever more successfully executed,
they were, however, shortly after resumed by Bradley at In the course of a single year, Lacaille, without assistance,
Wanstead, with a smaller but more convenient instrument; observed upwards of ten thousand stars, situated between
and after they had been continued several years, it was the tropic of Capricorn and the pole, and computed the
found that the star (y draconis) on which they were prin- places of 1942 of them ; a labour which would scarcely be
cipally made, appeared^ to describe annually a small el- credited, if the details of his observations had not been
lipse, the transverse axis of which amounted to 40". This published in the Ccdum Australe Stelliferum, a work
was an important determination; for the ellipse afforded which was given to the world in 1763. Our admiration
the means of computing at all times the aberration of of the rapid execution of this vast undertaking will be in-
any star whatever, whether in longitude, latitude, declina- creased, when we consider, that during the same time he
tion, or right ascension. Bradley also pointed out the measured a degree of the meridian, and made numerous
physical cause of the aberration, and demonstrated that it observations on the moon simultaneous with those of La-
resulted from the combination of the motion of light with lande, who observed at Berlin, in order to determine the
the annual motion of the earth. This capital discovery moon’s parallax, by means of direct observations made at
was made in H28. _ _ the extremities of a meridional arc of upwards of 85 de-
iscovery Bradley, anxious to verify his ingenious theory, conti- grees. Before his return to Europe, he visited the isles
tation ofU"nUe( i 0^s^rvatI0ns’ an.^ soon the difficulty that had of France and Bourbon, where he measured the length of
the terres-80, 1 emharrassed Picard. Ihe places of the stars, the pendulum, and made numerous remarks on the natu-
trial axis. ca ^ ^ ated according to his formula for the aberration, ral and civil history of those countries. Astronomy is
could not be reconciled with the observations. The er- likewise indebted to Lacaille for a table of refractions
rors continued to augment during nine years, after which which he computed from a comparison of above 300 ob-
they went on diminishing during the nine years following, servations made at the Cape and at Paris. In 1757 he
Ihis inequality, of which the period, like that of the nodes published his Astronomies Fundamenta, in which he gave
of the moon, was 18 years, was readily explained by sup- rules and tables for computing the apparent motions of the
posing a slight oscillation of the earth’s axis, occasioned stars, which continued to be employed till Lambert sup-
by the action of the moon on the protuberant parts sur- plied the corrections depending on the nutation, and
rounding the equator of the terrestrial spheroid. After Delambre those depending on the aberration. To defray
assiduously observing its effects during twenty years, the expense attending the publication of this important
Bradley found that the phenomena could be accurately work, which he distributed in presents to the different
represented by giving the pole of the equator a retrograde observatories and astronomers in Europe, he submitted to
motion about its mean place in an ellipse whose axes are the drudgery of calculating ephemerides during ten years.
18" and 16", and completing its revolution in the period Lacaille composed several elementary works for the use
of 18 years. This result was communicated to the Royal of the students in the college of Mazarin, where he occu-
Society in 1748. To these two grand discoveries of Brad- pied the chair of astronomy, and inserted a great number
ley, the aberration and nutation, modern astronomy is of memoirs in the volumes of the Academy of Sciences,
wholly indebted for all its accuracy and precision; and, This great astronomer, distinguished as much by the ex-
as Delambre remarks, they assure to their author a dis- cellence of his moral qualities as his profound knowledge
tinguished place, after Hipparchus and Kepler, above the and indefatigable zeal, died suddenly in 1762.
astronomers of all ages and all countries. The Royal Observatory of Paris continued under the Cassini II
Bradley was appointed astronomer royal in 1741, and direction of the family of Dominic Cassini during 120 born 1677
from this time to the period of his death made an im- years. James Cassini, the second of that name, is prin-died 1756.
mense number of observations, which were presented by cipally known by a work on the magnitude and figure
his heirs to the university of Oxford, on condition that of the earth, and his Elements of Astronomy. He seems
they should forthwith be published. The first volume ap- not to have duly appreciated the new discoveries which
peared only in 1798, edited by Dr Hornsby. The rest were daily making around him. His Elements, published
were committed to the care of the late Dr Abraham Ro- in 1740, contains no mention of the aberration; and he
bertson, and appeared in 1805. Dr Bradley was chosen adopted the opinion that the earth is elongated instead of
a corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences in being flattened at the poles. His son, Cassini de Thury,
c V 1 ’ twenty*four years after his great disco- was chiefly Occupied with the meridian, and the geome-
very ot the aberration of light, he was admitted into the trical survey of France. The last astronomer of the fa-
t°^rm °ciety- He ^led on tlm 13th of July 1762, in mily, the Count de Cassini, was obliged to resign the ob-
the JOth year of his age. _ . servatory at the revolution.
, .... 11 e pngland was deriving so much glory from the The question of the figure of the earth furnished ample Measure-
11 lant discovei les of Bradley, France produced a multi- materials for the practical as well as the speculative as-mentof
the earth.
806
History.
ASTRONOMY.
Delisle,
horn 1688,
died 1768.
Lemon-
nier, died
1760.
Wargen-
tin, born
1717, died
1788.
Talande,
born 1732,
died 1807-
tronomer during the last century. The results of the
measurement of the meridian by Cassini were at variance
with the theories of Newton and Huygens; and the
Academy of Sciences resolved on making a decisive ex¬
periment by the actual measurement of the lengths of
two degrees, one at the equator, and another in as high a
latitude as could be reached. In the year 1735, three
astronomers, Godin, Bouguer, and La Condamine, were
commissioned by the French government to accom¬
plish the first of these objects in Peru; and the year
following, Maupertuis, Clairaut, Camus, and Lemonnier,
went to Lapland to execute the second under the
polar circle. Notwithstanding the greater difficulties
they had to contend with, the first party were the most
successful; but the result of both operations established
the compression of the earth at the poles. Bouguer pub¬
lished the details of the Peruvian measurement in an ad¬
mirable work on the Figure of the Earth, in which he has
also inserted an account of a great number of experiments
made by him in the same country to determine the
length of the seconds’ pendulum, and the effects of the
attraction of mountains on the plumb-line. Bouguer is
likewise the author of an excellent treatise on light.
This accomplished mathematician and experimenter did
not adopt the Newtonian theory of gravitation, but he
was the last apostle of the Cartesian philosophy in the
Academy of Sciences.
It would greatly exceed the limits of this article to give
even an abridged account of the numerous observers who,
about this period, contributed to the improvement of every
department of practical astronomy. We must therefore
content ourselves with merely noticing the names of some
of the most distinguished, leaving the details of their la¬
bours to be given in the biographical articles interspersed
throughout the work.
Delisle formed a school of astronomy in Russia, and has
left a method of computing the heliocentric places of the
sun’s spots, and of Mercury and Venus in their transits over
the sun’s disk, and likewise of determining, by means of the
stereographic projection, the directions of their path when
they enter and leave the disk. Lemonnier introduced the
discoveries of Bradley into his Astronomical Institutions,
and was the instructor of Lacaille and Lalande. He pub¬
lished a Histoire Celeste, containing a collection of obser¬
vations from 1666 to 1685, and a number of other works
and memoirs connected with astronomy. He made an
immense number of observations, but their accuracy is
far inferior to those of Bradley. Wargentin, secretary of
the Academy of Sciences of Stockholm, devoted the
whole of his life to the correction of the tables of the sa¬
tellites of Jupiter. The theory of the satellites was not
then far advanced; but when theory failed him, he profit¬
ed by the remarks of others and by his own reflections,
and endeavoured by repeated trials to find empirical
equations capable of conciliating the tables with the best
observations. By confining himself almost exclusively to
this subject, he acquired a high reputation, and was
ranked among the first astronomers of an epoch which
abounds in great names. His tables of the satellites have,
on account of their superior accuracy, been employed in
determining the masses, and other elements, which serve
as the basis of the analytical theories.
One of the most celebrated astronomers of the last cen¬
tury was Lalande. He commenced his early career by a
set of lunar observations at Berlin, undertaken simulta¬
neously with those of Lacaille at the Cape, for the pur¬
pose of determining the moon’s horizontal parallax. On his
return to Paris he was received, though only twenty-one
years of age, into the Academy of Sciences; and on the
resignation of Delisle was appointed professor of astrono- History,
my in the college of France. By his extraordinary zeal,v^^v-^>
indefatigable activity, and the care which he took to
have his name constantly before the public, Lalande soon
became one of the most distinguished men of his day; but
his reputation, acquired in a great measure from attention
to subjects which had only an ephemeral interest, and not
through any permanent or fundamental additions to sci¬
ence, has already begun to wane; and his works, many
of which are of considerable utility, seem to have fallen
into unmerited neglect. His character as an astronomer is
fairly and impartially summed up by Delambre in the fol¬
lowing terms:—“ If Lalande did not renew the founda¬
tions of astronomical science, like Copernicus and Kepler,—
if he did not, like Bradley, immortalize himself by two
brilliant discoveries,—if he was not so learned and accu¬
rate a theorist as Mayer,—if he was not to the same de¬
gree as Lacaille an exact, expert, scrupulous, industrious,
and indefatigable observer and calculator,—if he had not
the constancy to attach himself, like Wargentin, to a
single object, in order to become the first in a particular
department,—and if, in all these respects, he was only an
astronomer of the second rank,—he was the first of all as a
professor. No one ever did more to propagate the know¬
ledge and love of astronomy. It was his object to be
useful and celebrated ; and he succeeded, through his la¬
bours, his activity, his credit, and his solicitations: by
means of a most extensive correspondence he incessantly
laboured for the benefit of science : he even endeavoured
to serve it after his death, by founding a medal, which the
Academy of Sciences adjudges annually to the astronomer
who has made the most interesting observation, or writ¬
ten the most useful memoir.” (Delambre, Astronomic du
Moyen Age.)
Bradley was succeeded in the Greenwich Observatory Maske-
by Dr Bliss, who died in the course of a few years after Ivne, born
his appointment. Dr Bliss was in turn succeeded by Dr j732, died
Maskelyne, the late astronomer royal, under whose care1
the observatory maintained the high character which it
acquired from the immortal labours of his illustrious pre¬
decessors. Dr Maskelyne began his astronomical career
in 1761, when he was appointed to observe the transit of
Venus at the island of St Plelena, and endeavour to verify
the existence of a small parallax of the star Sirius, which
seemed to be indicated by the observations of Lacaille at
the Cape. Unfortunately the state of the weather pre¬
vented him from observing the transit; and his observa¬
tions on Sirius were abandoned in consequence of the
discovery of a defect in the zenith sector which he had
carried out with him for the purpose of making the ob¬
servations in question. The main objects of his voyage
were thus frustrated; but some indirect advantages re¬
sulted from it, which compensated in some measure for
the disappointment. The attention of Ramsden was
called to the sector, and a better method of constructing
these instruments was devised. At St Helena he made
several interesting observations on the tides, the variation
of the compass, the moon’s horary parallaxes, &c. In
going out and returning home, he paid particular attention
to the different methods of finding the longitude at sea,
and practised that which depends on observations of the
lunar distances from known stars, taken with a Hadley’s
sextant, or other reflecting instrument. He also composed
a set of rules for the use of the seamen, which he pub¬
lished on his return, first in the Philosophical Transactions,
and afterwards in the British Mariner s Guide. In the
year 1765 he was appointed astronomer royal, and soon
after recommended to the Board of Longitude the general
adoption in the navy of the lunar method of finding the
A S T R O N O M Y. 807
History, longitude, and proposed that tables for facilitating that Herschel was led to conclude that the whole solar system History,
method should be calculated and published in the Nauti- is in motion about some distant centre, and that its direc- v'—
cal Almanac. This recommendation was adopted, and tion is at present towards the constellation Hercules,—
the Nautical Almanac continued to be published under a conclusion which recent investigations have amply veri-
his superintendence during forty-eight successive years, fied. His observations on nebulae and double stars opened
He also published a set of tables requisite to be used up a new field of research, boundless in extent and in-
with that long-celebrated ephemeris; and by these means teresting by reason of the variety of the objects it pre¬
contributed to bring nautical astronomy to its present sents to the attention of the observer. The extraordi-
state of precision. Dr Maskelyne was most assiduous in nary activity with which he pursued his favourite occupa-
the discharge of his important duties as astronomer royal, tions is attested by 67 memoirs communicated from time
On one occasion only did he consent to leave the observa- to time to the Royal Society. A great part of these,
tory, viz. when at the request of the Royal Society he however, are filled with speculations of no value to astro-
proceeded to Scotland for the purpose of determining, by nomy; and his taste was rather to observe astronomical
experiments on Schehallien, the deflection of the plumb- phenomena than to engage in computations, or the more
line occasioned by the attraction of the mountain. The arduous and essential, though less fascinating, labours
result of the observations made on this occasion furnished through which the science can be really benefited. In
data for the determination of the mean density of the the course of the following chapters we shall have frequent
earth, which Dr Hutton, by a laborious process of calcu- occasion to allude to his discoveries, and his ingenious
lation, found to be about five times greater than that of speculations concerning the constitution of the sun and
water. Dr Maskelyne had the credit to procure, at the the sidereal heavens.
expense of the Royal Society, the regular publication of Few individuals have contributed so eminently to theDelambre,
his observations, by which he rendered a great service to perfection of modern astronomy as Delambre, the latel)0rn
all the astronomers of Europe. The lunar method of de- perpetual secretary of the Academy of Sciences. The
termining the longitude, the Nautical Almanac, the cata- scientific life of this illustrious astronomer did not com-
logue of 36 stars, and some improvements in the construe- mence till he had attained his 40th year; but from that
tion of instruments, are the principal benefits for which time till his death it was occupied by a series of unremit-
astronomy is indebted to Dr Maskelyne. ting labours to enlarge the boundaries, and ameliorate
Ilerschel, Sir William Herschel, born in Hanover in 1738, has the practice and theory of the science. Associated with
died* 1822 r^ndered. his name ^mortal by the discovery of a new Mechain, he was employed during the troubles of the re¬
planet Ayithout the orbit ol Saturn, and thereby doubling volution in measuring the meridian from Dunkirk to Bar-
the ancient boundaries of the solar system. Having set- celona,—a labour which was prosecuted with admirable
tied in England,, at Bath, he began to devote his leisure zeal in the face of innumerable difficulties, and even dan-
to the construction of telescopes and the polishing of re- gers of the most formidable kind. By an immense num-
flecting minors. Endowed with equal skill and patience, ber of excellent observations he determined the constants
he soon obtained instruments superior to any that had which enter into the formulae deduced from theory by the
been known before, by means of which he was led to the profound researches of Lagrange and Laplace, and also
most biilliant discoveries that have been made in the hea- formed a set of tables much more exact than any that had
yens since the time of Galileo. Being employed in mak- appeared before them. His Astronomic Theorique et Pra-
mg a review of the sky with a powerful telescope, he per- tique, in three quarto volumes, contains the best rules and
eeived, on the 13th of March I ^81, near the feet of Gemi- methods which have yet been devised for the guidance of
ni, a star of the fifth magnitude, having a disk perfectly the practical astronomer; and his Histoire, in six large vo-
well defined, and differing in appearance from the other lumes 4to, gives an account of every successive improve-
stars which afforded the same quantity of light. On ob- merit which has been made in the science, and a full ab-
serving it with a telescope whose magnifying power was stract of every work of celebrity which has been written
932, he perceived its diameter was enlarged, while that of respecting it, since the first rude observations of the Greeks
the stars underwent no change. These circumstances to the end of the last century. It is invaluable to the
were sufficient to draw his attention to the star, and no- historian, and will ever remain a proud monument of the
thing more was requisite to enable him speedily to disco- profound learning and laborious research of its author,
ver that it had a slow motion. He at first supposed it The observatory which was established at Palermo Piazzi,
was a comet, and acquainted Dr Maskelyne with the disco- about the year 1790, under the active superintendence ofborn
very. The circumstance was soon made known at Paris ; Piazzi, holds a distinguished rank among the similar insti-died
and it.was gradually perceived, that as the distance of the tutions of Europe. Yiazzi, born in 1746, took the habit
star did not sensibly vary, it was necessary to regard it of the religious order of the Theatins at Milan, and finish-
as a seventh planet. Herschel, in honour of his royal ed his noviciate in the convent of St Anthony. Among
patron, gave it the name of the Georgium Sidus ; but the his preceptors he had the advantage of counting Tira-
mythological appellation of Uranus has prevailed. On the bosehi, Beccaria, Le Sceur, and Jacquier; and from these
} 1th of January 1787 he discovered two satellites revolv- illustrious masters he speedily acquired a taste for mathe-
mg round the new planet, and subsequently found that it matics and astronomy. After filling several professors’
was accompanied by four others. It was soon noticed chairs in the colleges of the Jesuits at Rome and Raven-
that Uranus had been observed by Flamsteed, Mayer, and na, he was appointed in 1780 professor of the higher ma-
Lemonnier, who had each supposed it to be one of the thematics in the academy of Palermo. Here his first care
fixed stars. Their observations enabled Delambre to cor- was to reform the general system of education; and, by
rect the elements of the orbit, and calculate tables of its the afterations which he introduced, he contributed power-
motion. By means of his powerful telescopes Herschel fully to dissipate the shades of ignorance, which, under
determined the figure and rotation of Saturn, discovered the double influence of the Jesuits and the Inquisition,
t ic parallel belts on his surface, and perceived that the still lowered over the soil of Sicily. After having render-
ring was double. In 1/89 he discovered two new satel- ed this service to literature, he obtained from the prince
lites belonging to this planet, and revolving within the of Caramanico, viceroy of the island, permission to found
nng. from some appearances indicated by the fixed stars, an observatory, and undertook a voyage to France and
808 ASTRONOMY.
History. England, in order to provide the instruments necessary of two planets having nearly the same mean distance, and History.
for the new establishment. Having procured a vertical performing their revolutions nearly in the same time, led^^^*-^
circle, a transit, and some other instruments from Rams- Dr Olbers to imagine that Ceres and Pallas were frag-
den, he returned to Palermo and commenced his ob- ments of a larger planet which had revolved in the same
servations. His first care was to prepare a new catalogue place, and been shattered by some external force or inter-
of stars, the exact positions of which he justly considered nal convulsion. The immediate consequence of this hy-
as the basis of all true astronomy. In prosecuting this ob- pothesis was the probability of the existence of other
ject he did not content himself with a single observation, fragments of the original planet, hitherto undiscovered;
but before he fixed the position of any star, observed it se- and that if such fragments existed, the planes of their or-
veral times successively; and, by this laborious but accu- bits would pass through the points in which the orbits of
rate method, he constructed his first great catalogue of Ceres and Pallas intersect each other. This bold idea
6748stars,whichwascrownedby the Academy of Sciences acquired some probability from the subsequent discovery
of France, and received with admiration by the astrono- of two other planets in the very quarter of the heavens to
Discovery mers of all countries. His constant practice of repeating which Dr Olbers had directed the attention of astrono-
ot the pla- h js observations led to another brilliant result, the discovery mers. Juno was discovered by M. Harding of Lilienthal,
ne eres. of an gjg]-^ pianet. On the 1st of January 1801, Piazzi, on the 2d of September 1804; and Vesta, by Dr Olbers
searching for the star 87 of the catalogue of Mayer, himself, on the 29th of March 1807. Diligent observa-
cursorily observed a small star of the eighth magnitude, tion did not for many years add to their number,
between Aries and Taurus. On the following day he re- Astronomy is a science which borrows the aid of several Improve-
marked that the star had changed its position, and ac- other sciences, with which its advancement is simultane- in
cordingly supposed it to be a comet. He communicated ous. Instruments capable of appreciating, or measuring optical in‘
his observations to Oriani, who, seeing that this luminous the exceedingly minute quantities about which the ob- struments-
point had no nebulosity like the comets, and that it had server now concerns himself, could only be produced
been stationary and retrograded within comparatively in a very advanced state of mechanics. In the accurate
small limits like the planets, computed its elements on graduation of large instruments, our English artists have
the hypothesis of a circular orbit. . He found that this long maintained an unrivalled superiority. Graham, a Graham,
hypothesis agreed with the observations, and other astro- celebrated watch-maker, united to great dexterity in
nomers soon confirmed its accuracy. He gave the planet the mechanical arts a decided taste for observation ;
the name of Ceres Ferdinandea, in honour of Ferdinand, and the extraordinary improvements which he effect-
king of Naples, in whose dominions it was discovered, ed in the art of dividing form an era in the history
and who proposed to consecrate the event by a gold me- of practical astronomy. The sector used by Bradley,
dal, struck with the effigy of the astronomer; but Piazzi, in the observations which led to the discovery of the
nobly preferring the interests of science to vain honours nutation, was of his construction, and he was also the
which could add nothing to his glory, requested that the inventor of the first compensation pendulum. Sisson, Sisson,
money destined for this purpose should be employed in who succeeded him, maintained in this department the
the purchase of an equatorial, which was still wanting to honour and pre-eminence of England. Bird was ori-Bird.
his observatory. In 1814 he published a new catalogue, ginally a weaver in Durham, and first gave proof of his
extended to 7646 stars,—a splendid monument of indefati- mechanical genius by dividing dials for the watch-makers
gable zeal and activity. He made an uninterrupted se- in a manner far superior to what had been commonly prac-
ries of solstitial observations from 1791 to 1816, for the tised. He was employed by Sisson in the division of ma-
purpose of determining the obliquity of the ecliptic, which, thematical instruments, and recommended by that artist
compared with those of Bradley, Mayer, and Lacaille, in to Graham, who instructed him in his methods. He con-
1750, give a diminution of 44" in a year. Besides these structed the 8 feet quadrants employed in the Greenwich
labours, sufficient to occupy a life of ordinary industry, and Paris observatories, and another of 6 feet for Mayer
Piazzi composed a number of memoirs for the different at the observatory of Gottingen. Ramsden invented aRamstien.
societies of which he was a member, and was intrusted by machine for the more accurate division of instruments,
the Neapolitan government with several important com- on account of which he received a premium from the
missions respecting the public instruction and the regula- Board of Longitude. The mural quadrants of this art-
tion of weights and measures in Sicily. He died in 1826, ist were held in high estimation, and the transit instru-
after having bequeathed his library and all his instru- ment, sextant, and refracting micrometer, in passing
ments to the observatory at Palermo, and assigned a libe- through his hands, received considerable ameliorations,
ral annuity to be devoted to the instruction of young men His astronomical instruments in general were consider-
who evince a decided taste for astronomy. ed the best that could be procured in Europe. Mr
Discovery The discovery of Ceres led to that of three other little Troughton, who in his day stood the foremost of our Troiwhton.
o a as, planets, circulating at nearly the same distance from the British opticians, more than rivalled his predecessors. In °
Vesta.ai SUn’ a c^rcumstance unique in the construction of the so- the hands of this distinguished artist and astronomer, the
lar system. On account of the smallness of the new division of instruments was carried to a degree of preci-
planet, and the nebulosity by which it is surrounded, sion which at the time seemed incapable of being sur-
the difficulty of finding it after it had for some time ceased passed; while the great improvements he has introduced
to be observed, was so considerable, that Dr Olbers of into the methods of constructing and mounting large in-
Bremen was induced to examine, with particular care, struments, and his ingenious inventions to elude natural
the configurations of all the small stars situated in the vi- obstacles, and guard against the accidental derangements
cinity of its path, in order to have the means of detecting from which it is impossible altogether to protect them, en-
it at any time with greater facility. While engaged in titled him to the high place which he held by universal
making observations for this purpose, he discovered, on consent among the most eminent philosophers and original
the 28th of March 1802, and nearly in the same place mechanicians of the age. The numerous circles and other
where he had before observed Ceres, another planet simi- instruments of his manufacture, whether in the hands of
lar in size and appearance, to which he gave the name of private individuals or deposited in the different public ob-
Pallas. The extraordinary circumstance of the discovery servatories, are considered still as the finest specimens of
ASTRONOMY.
History, what art has yet accomplished for the advancement of as-
tronomical science. (See Supplement to Part I. for accounts
of Modern Instruments.)
Progress of Physical Astronomy.
Having now endeavoured to give an account of the
labours of those astronomers who have principally contri¬
buted to make us acquainted with the state of the heavens,
and the order and succession of the various phenomena
they exhibit, we will conclude this part of the article by
briefly adverting to the profound researches of some illus¬
trious mathematicians who have developed the theory of
Newton, and raised the fabric of physical astronomy to its
present proud elevation.
Problem of Although the law of gravitation, as proposed by New-
the three ton, had from the first been admitted by all the most
0 ies- eminent astronomers of Britain, it was for a long time
either opposed or neglected on the Continent. In fact,
great improvements were required both in analysis and
mechanics before it admitted of other applications than
had been made by its great author, or could be regarded
as any thing more than a plausible hypothesis. Newton
demonstrated, that if two bodies only were projected in
space, mutually attracting each other with forces propor¬
tional directly to their masses, and inversely to the
squares of their distance, they would each accurately de¬
scribe an ellipse round the common centre of gravity ;
and the spaces described by the straight line joining that
centre and the moving body, would be proportional to
the time of description, according to the second law of
Kepler. But when it is attempted to apply Newton’s law
to the case of the solar system, great difficulties immediate¬
ly present themselves. Any one planet in the system is
not only attracted by the sun, but also, though in a greatly
smaller degree, by all the other planets, in consequence
of which it is compelled to deviate from the elliptic path
which it would pursue in virtue of the sun’s attraction
alone. Now, the calculation of the effects of this disturb¬
ing force was the problem which geometers had to resolve.
In its most general form it greatly transcends the power of
analysis; but there are particular cases of it, and those too
the cases presented by nature, in which, by reason of certain
limitations in the conditions, it is possible to obtain an ap¬
proximate solution to any required degree of exactness.
For example, the Sun, Moon, and Earth form in a manner
a system by themselves, which is very slightly affected by
the aggregate attractions of the other planets. In the
same way the Sun, Jupiter, and Saturn form another sys¬
tem, in which the motions are very little influenced by the
action of any other body. In these two cases, then, the
number of bodies to be taken into consideration is only
three; and in this restricted form, the problem, celebrat¬
ed in the history of analysis under the denomination of
the Problem of the Three Bodies, is susceptible of being
treated mathematically. With the hope of ameliorating
the lunar tables, and of completing the investigations
which Newton had commenced in the Principia, three
distinguished geometers, Clairaut, D’Alembert, and Euler,
about the middle of the last century, undertook, simul¬
taneously, and without the knowledge of each other, the
investigation of the problem of the three bodies, and
commenced that series of brilliant discoveries which it is
the glory of our own times to have seen completed.
Clairaut, Clairaut’s solution of the problem of the three bodies
born 171.1, was presented to the Academy of Sciences in 1747, and
ie 7bo. was applied to the case of the moon. From this solution
he deduced with great facility, not only the inequality of
the variation, which Newton had obtained by a more com¬
plicated, though at the same time a very ingenious me-
YOL. III.
809
thod, but also the evection, the annual equation, and History,
many other inequalities which Newton had not succeeded
in connecting with his theory. It happened, however,
curiously enough, that in the calculation of one effect of
the disturbing force, namely, the progression of the
moon’s apogee, Clairaut was led into an error which pro¬
duced a result that threatened to overturn the system of
gravitation. The error consisted in the omission of some
of the terms of the series expressing the quantity in ques¬
tion, which he wrongly supposed to have only an insen¬
sible value; and by reason of this omission, his first ap¬
proximation gave only half of the observed progressive
motion of the apogee. As this result was confirmed by
D’Alembert and Euler, who had both fallen into the same
error, it seemed to follow, as a necessary consequence,
either that the phenomenon depended on some other
cause than the disturbing force of the sun, or that the law
of gravity was not exactly proportional to the inverse
square of the distance. The triumph which this result
gave to the Cartesians was not of long duration. Clairaut
soon perceived the cause of his error; and by repeating
the process, and carrying the approximations farther, he
found the computed to agree exactly with the observed
progression,—a result which had the effect of dissipating
for ever all doubt respecting the law of gravity. The re¬
searches of Clairaut were followed by a set of lunar tables,
much more correct than any which had been previously
computed.
The return of the comet of 1682, which Halley had
predicted for the end of 1758, or beginning of 1759, af¬
forded an excellent opportunity for putting to the test
both the theory of gravity and the power of the new cal¬
culus. Clairaut applied his solution of the problem of
the three bodies to the perturbations which this comet
sustained from Jupiter and Saturn, and, after calculations
of enormous labour, announced to the Academy of Sci¬
ences, in November 1758, that the comet would return in
the beginning of the following year, and pass through its
perihelion about the 15th of April. It returned according
to the prediction, but passed its perihelion on the 13th of
March. The correction of an error of computation re¬
duced the difference to nineteen days ; and if Clairaut
had been aware of the existence of the planet Uranus,
he might have come still nearer the truth.
Besides these important researches on the system of the
world, Clairaut composed an admirable little treatise on
the figure of the earth, in which he gave the differential
equations, till then unknown, of the equilibrium of fluids,
whether homogeneous or heterogeneous, supposing an at¬
tractive force, following any law whatever, to exist among
the molecules. He applied these equations to the earth;
demonstrated that the elliptic figure satisfies the conditions
ofequilibrium; assigned the ellipticityof the different strata
of which the earth may be supposed to be formed, toge¬
ther with the law of gravitation at the exterior surface.
He likewise discovered the important theorem which
establishes a relation between the oblateness of the ter¬
restrial spheroid and the increase of gravitation towards
the poles, on every supposition which can be imagined
relative to the interior construction of the earth. By
means of this theorem the ellipticity of the spheroid is
deduced from observations of the lengths of the seconds
pendulum at different points of the earth’s surface.
D’Alembert, as has already been mentioned, presented D’Alem-
a solution of the problem of the three bodies to the Aca- ^erh b0.m
demy of Sciences at the same time with Clairaut. In the die<*
year 1749 he published his treatise on the precession of
the equinoxes,—a work remarkable in the history of ana¬
lysis and mechanics. By means of his newly invented
5 K
810
ASTRONOMY.
History, calculus of Partial Differences, and the discovery of a withstanding, however, the great merit of Euler s memoir, History,
fertile principle in dynamics, he determined from theory several of the formulae expressing the secular and periodic
the rate of the precession, which is nearly 50" in a year, inequalities were found to be inaccurate; and in order to
He also determined the nutation of the earth’s axis, which procure a correction of these errors, and give greater per-
had been discovered by Bradley, and assigned the ratio of fection to so important a theory, the academy again pro-
the axes of the small ellipse which the true pole of the earth posed the same subject lor the prize of 1 (o2.. Ihis prize
describes around its mean place, in the same time in which was also carried off by Euler. In the memoir which he
the nodes of the lunar orbit complete a revolution. The presented on this occasion, he considered simultaneously
solution of this problem led to the determination of the the motions of Jupiter and Saturn, and determined, in the
ratio of the attractive forces of the sun and moon, which first instance, the amount of their various inequalities, inde-
D’Alembert found to be that of seven to three very near- pendently of the consideration of the eccentricities of
ly; whence he inferred that the mass of the earth is 70 their orbits, lushing the approximations farther, and
times greater than that of the moon. He proved likewise having regard to the inequalities depending on the eccen-
that the precession and nutation are the same in every tricities, he arrived at a most important lesult relative
hypothesis concerning the interior constitution of the to the periodic natuie of the inequalities occasioned by
earth. In 1754 he published the first two volumes of his the mutual perturbations of the planets; which laid the
Researches on the System, of the World. In this work he foundation of the subsequent discovery by Lagrange and
applied the formulae by which he had calculated the mo- Laplace of the permanent stability of the planetary sj'S-
tions of the moon to the motions of the planets disturbed tern. He demonstrated that tne eccentncities ant, places
by their mutual attraction, and pointed out the simplest of the aphelia of Jupiter and Saturn are subject to con-
method of determining the perturbations of the motions stant variation, confined, however, within certain fixed
of a planet occasioned by the action of its own satellites, limits, which it never exceeds; and he computed that
D’Alembert also treated the subject of the figure of the the_ elements of the orbits of the two planets recover
earth in a much more general manner than had been their original values after a lapse of about 30,000 yeai s.
done by Clairaut, who had confined his investigations to In the year 1756 the Academy of Sciences crowned a third
the case of a spheroid of revolution. He determined the memoir of Euler on the same subject as the two former,
attraction of a spheroid of small eccentricity, whose sur- namely, the inequalities of the motions of the planets pro¬
face can be represented by an algebraic equation of any duced by their reciprocal attiactions. Ihis memoii, ana-
order whatever, and even supposing the spheroid to be lyrically considered, is also of gi eat value. I he method
composed of strata of different densities. which he followed and illustrated has since been general-
The works of D’Alembert, which are extremely nume- ly adopted in researches of the same nature, and consists
rous, abound generally in profound and original views, in regarding as variable, in consequence of the distuibing
and contributed greatly to the advancement of the phy- forces, the six elements of the elliptic motion, viz. Isf, the
sical and mathematical sciences ; but it is to be regretted greater axis of the orbit, which, by the law of Kepler,
that the}' are very frequently deficient in that perspicuity gives the ratio of the differential of the mean longitude to
and order so necessary in abstruse speculations, and that the element of the time ; 2d, the epoch of this longitude ;
the course of his reasoning can be followed with difficul- 3<7, the eccentricity of the orbit; 4^A, the motion of the
ty when he descends into the detail of analytical opera- aphelion; bth, the inclination of the orbit to a given fixed
tions. He had a horror of calculation, and delighted in plane ; and, Qth, the longitude of the node. By consider-
general considerations and speculations which frequently ing separately the variations introduced into each of these
turned on matters of pure curiosity. elements by the disturbing forces, Euler obtained some
ruler The first memoir of Euler on the planetary perturba- important results; but even in this memoir his theory was
born 1707 tions was transmitted to the secretary of the Academy of not rendered complete. He did not consider the v ai ia-
died 1783.’ Sciences in July 1747, some months before Clairaut and tion of the epoch; and the expression which he gave for
D’Alembert had communicated their solutions of the pro- the motion of the aphelion did not include that part of it
blem of the three bodies, and it carried off the prize vvdiich which depends on the ratio of the eccentricities of the
the academy had proposed for the analytical theory of orbits of the disturbed and disturbing planet. Besides,
the motions of Jupiter and Saturn. In this memoir Eu- the present memoir, like the two former, contained seve-
ler gave the differential equations of the elements of the ral errors of computation, which, by leaning to results
disturbed planet, but suppressed the analysis by which he known to be. wrong, probably prevented the author him-
had been conducted to them. This analysis, however, he self from being aware of . the full value of the ingenious
subsequently expanded in two memoirs, the first of which methods of procedure which he had exposed. Euler con-
appeared in the Berlin Memoirs in 1749, and the second eluded this important memoir by making an extended ap-
in those of Petersburg in 1750. Of these supplementary plication of his formulas to the orbit of the eaith as dis-
memoirs the first is remarkable on several accounts. It turbed by the action of the planets, from some pi obable
contains the first example of a method which has been suppositions, first employed by Newton, relative to the
fruitful of important consequences—namely, that of the ratios of the masses of the planets to that of the sun, he
variation of the arbitrary constants in differential equa- determined the variation of the obliquity of the ecliptic
tions, and the development of the radical quantity at 48" in a century,—a result which agrees well with obser-
which expresses the distance between two planets in a vation. By this determination the secular variation of the
series of angles, multiples of the elongations. The obliquity of the. ecliptic, which had been regarded by
expressions which he gave for the several terms of this Lahire, Lemonnier, D Alembert, and other eminent as-
series were simple and elegant; and he demonstrated tronomers, as uncertain, was placed beyond doubt.. I he
a curious relation subsisting among any three consecu- three memoirs which we have mentioned contain the
tive terms, by means of which all the terms of the series principal part of Euler s labours on the perturbations;
mav be calculated from the first two. He was thus but physical astronomy is indebted to him for many other
enabled to develop the perturbing forces in terms of the researches. He gave a solution of the problem of the
sines and posines of angles increasing with the time, and precession of the equinoxes, and made several important
thereby to surmount a very great analytical difficulty. Not- steps in the lunar theory, with which beseems to have
ASTRONOM Y.
811
History, occupied himself before he undertook the investigation of
the planetary perturbations. In the year 1772, when entire¬
ly blind, he directed his son, Albert Euler, and two illus¬
trious pupils, Krafft and Lexell, in the composition of a
work of enormous labour on the same subject, which was
undertaken with a view to discover the cause of the moon’s
acceleration. This work was concluded with a set of
lunar tables deduced entirely from theory; but they were
found to be far inferior to those of Mayer, and in some
respects hardly equal to those of Clairaut.
The labours of Euler form an epoch in the history of
the mathematical sciences. From the arithmetic of sines,
and the simplest formulae of trigonometry up to the varia¬
tion of the arbitrary constants of differential equations,
there is hardly an analytical theory which has not receiv-
explained and made use of. Lagrange had the honour of History,
carrying off the prize; but although he treated the sub-
ject in a manner altogether new, and with extraordinary
analytical skill, he did not on this occasion arrive at a com¬
plete solution of the problem. In 1766 he obtained an¬
other prize for a theory of Jupiter’s satellites. In the ad¬
mirable memoir which Lagrange presented to the aca¬
demy on this subject, he included in the differential equa¬
tions of the disturbed motion of a satellite, the attract¬
ing force of the sun, as well as of all the other satellites,
and thus, in fact, had to consider a problem of six bodies.
His analysis of this problem is remarkable, inasmuch as it
contained the first general method which was given for de¬
termining the variations which the mutual attractions of the
satellites produce in the forms and positions of their orbits,
ed extension or improvement from the creative powers of and pointed out the route which has since been so success
Mayer’s
lunar ta¬
bles.
his great mind. The transactions of the Berlin and
Petersburg Academies are filled with his inestimable
productions; and if fecundity were not itself one of the
attributes of genius, the number of the profound and la¬
borious researches in which he was engaged would appear
altogether incredible.
The first theory of Euler formed the basis of the excel¬
lent lunar tables which were calculated by Tobias Mayer,
and first published in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Gottingen in 1753. Mayer was a skilful astronomer, and
determined the co-efficients of the arguments of the dif¬
ferent lunar inequalities from his own observations. He
continued to correct and improve his tables till the time
of his death, which happened in 1762, when a copy of
them, containing his last corrections, was presented by his
widow to the Board of Longitude in London. Bradley as¬
certained their accuracy by comparing them with a great
number of his own observations, and made so favourable
a report concerning them, that the Board of Longitude
presented the widow of Mayer with a gratuity of L.3000.
They were printed along with the author’s lunar theory
in 1765. Subsequently, the Board of Longitude directed
Mason, who had been assistant to Bradley, to revise them,
under the superintendence of Dr Maskelyne. Mason
compared them with about 1200 of Bradley’s observations ;
he corrected the co-efficients of Mayer, and introduced
some new equations which had been indicated by that
astronomer, but which he had considered as too uncertain,
or of too small a value, to render it necessary to load his
tables with them. Mayer’s tables, thus corrected, were
published in 1784, and for a long time continued to be
the most accurate that had appeared.
The solution of the problem of the three bodies by
Clairaut, D’Alembert, and Euler, gave rise to many other
important works relative to the theory of the moon, into
the merits of which, however, our limits will not permit
us to enter. Thomas Simpson, Walmesley, Frisi, Lam¬
bert, Schulze, and Matthew Stewart, treated the subject
with more or less success ; but the complete explication
of the theory of the lunar and planetary perturbations was
reserved for two mathematicians, whose discoveries per¬
fected the theory of gravitation, and explained the last
inequalities which remained to be accounted for in the
celestial motions,—we mean Lagrange and Laplace.
^.n ^le year 1^64, the Academy of Sciences of Paris,
born 1736, which had so successfully promoted the great efforts that
died 1813. had already been made to perfect the theory of attrac¬
tion, proposed for the subject of a prize the theory of the
libration of the moon. This was considered as an appeal
to the genius of Lagrange, whose splendid talents had
suddenly shone forth in two profound papers on the theory
of sound, inserted among the Memoirs of the Turin Aca¬
demy, and in which the calculus of variations was first
jagrange,
fully followed in the treatment of similar questions.
Of all the grand discoveries by which the name of La- Discovery
grange has been immortalized, the most remarkable is°ftheinva-
that of the invariability of the mean distances of the pla-rjabilit-v of
nets from the sun. We have already mentioned that^
Euler had perceived that the inequalities of Jupiter and1*15 Leb‘
Saturn, in consequence of their mutual actions, are ulti¬
mately compensated, though after a very long period.
In prosecuting this subject, which Euler had left imper¬
fect, Laplace had discovered that, on neglecting the
fourth powers in the expressions of the eccentricities and
inclinations of the orbits, and the squares of the disturb¬
ing masses, the mean motions of the planets, and their
mean distances from the sun, are invariable. In a short
memoir ot 14 pages, which appeared among those of the
Berlin Academy for 1776, Lagrange demonstrated gene¬
rally, and by a very simple and luminous analysis, that
whatever powers of the eccentricities and inclinations are
included in the calculation of the perturbations, no secu¬
lar inequality, or term proportional to the time, can pos¬
sibly enter into the expression of the greater axis of the
orbit, or, consequently, into the mean motion connected
with it by the third law of Kepler. From this conclu¬
sion, which is a necessary consequence of the peculiar
conditions of the planetary system, it results that all the
changes to which the orbits of the planets are subject in
consequence of their reciprocal gravitation, are periodic,
and that the system contains within itself no principle of
destruction, but is calculated to endure for ever.
In 1780 Lagrange undertook a second time the subject
of the moon s libration; and it is to the memoir which he
now presented to the Berlin Academy that we must look
for the complete and rigorous solution of this difficult pro¬
blem, which had not been resolved before in a satisfactory
manner, either on the footing of analysis or observation.
In the same year he obtained the prize of the Academy
of Sciences on the subject of the perturbations of comets.
In 1781 he published, in the Berlin Memoirs, the first of
a series of five papers on the secular and periodic inequa¬
lities of the planets, which together formed by far the
most important work that had yet appeared on Physical
Astronomy since the publication of the Principia. This
series did not, properly speaking, contain any new disco¬
very ; but it embodied and brought into one view all the
results and peculiar analytical methods which had ap¬
peared in his former memoirs, and contained the germs
of all the happy ideas which he afterwards developed in
the Mecanique Analytique.
On account of the brilliant discoveries and important
labours which we have thus briefly noticed, Lagrange
must be considered as one of the most successful of those
illustrious individuals who have undertaken to perfect the
theory of Newton, and pursue the principle of gravi-
812
History.
ASTRONOMY.
Laplace,
born 1749,
died 1827-
Discovers
the cause
of the
moon’s ac¬
celeration.
Inequali¬
ties of Ju¬
piter and
Saturn.
tation to its remotest consequences. But the value of
his services to science are not limited to his discoveries
in physical astronomy, great and numerous as they were.
After Euler, he has contributed more than any other in¬
dividual to increase the power and extend the applica¬
tions of the calculus, and thereby to arm future inquirers
with an instrument of greater power, by means of which
they may push their conquests into new and unexplored
fields of discovery.
With the name of Lagrange is associated that of La¬
place, whose rival labours divided the admiration of the
scientific world during half a century. Like Newton and
Lagrange, Laplace raised himself at an early age. to the
very highest rank in science. Before completing his
24th year, he had signalized himself by the capital, dis¬
covery of the invariability of the mean distances of the
planets from the sun, on an hypothesis restricted, indeed,
but which, as we have already mentioned, was afterwards
generalized by Lagrange. About the same time he was
admitted into the Academy of Sciences, and thencefor¬
ward devoted himself to the development of the laws
which regulate the system of the world, and to the com¬
position of a series of memoirs on the most important
subjects connected with astronomy and analysis. His
researches embraced the whole theory of gravitation ; and
he had the high honour of perfecting what had been left
incomplete by his predecessors.
Among the numerous inequalities which affect the mo¬
tion of the moon, one still remained which no philosopher
as yet had been able to explain. This was the accelera¬
tion of the mean lunar motion, which had been first sus¬
pected by Dr Halley, from a comparison of the ancient
Babylonian observations, recorded by Hipparchus, with
those of Albategnius and the moderns. The existence of
the acceleration had been confirmed by Dunthorne and
Mayer, and its quantity assigned at 10" in a century, but
the cause of it remained doubtful. Lagrange demonstrat¬
ed that it could not be occasioned by any peculiarity in
the form of the earth ; Bossut ascribed it to the resistance
of the medium in which he supposed the moon to move;
and Laplace himself at first explained it on the supposi¬
tion that gravity is not transmitted from one body to an¬
other instantaneously, but successively in the manner of
sound or light. Having afterwards remarked, however,
in the course of his researches on Jupiter’s satellites, that
the secular variation of the eccentricity of the orbit of
Jupiter occasions a secular variation of the mean motions
of the satellites, he hastened to transfer this result to the
moon, and had the satisfaction to find that the accelera¬
tion observed by astronomers is occasioned by the secu¬
lar variation of the eccentricity of the terrestrial orbit.
This was the last celestial phenomenon which remained to
be accounted for on the principle of gravitation.
Another discovery relative to the constitution of the
planetary system, which does infinite honour to the saga¬
city of Laplace, is the cause of the secular inequalities
indicated by ancient and modern observations in the mean
motions of Jupiter and Saturn. On examining the differ¬
ential equations of the motions of these planets, Laplace
remarked, that as their mean motions are nearly commen¬
surable (five times the mean motion of Saturn being
nearly equal to twice that of Jupiter), those terms of
which the arguments are five times the mean longitude of
Saturn, minus twice that of Jupiter, may become very
sensible by integration, although multiplied by the cubes
and products of three dimensions of the eccentricities and
inclinations of the orbits. The result of a laborious cal¬
culation confirmed his conjecture, and showed him that in
the mean motion of Saturn there existed a great inequa¬
lity, amounting at its maximum to 48' 2"-3, and of which History,
the period is 929 years ; and that in the case of Jupiter
there exists a corresponding inequality of nearly the same
period, of which the maximum value is 19' 46", but which
is affected by a contrary sign, that is to say, diminishes
while the first increases, and vice versa. He also per¬
ceived that the magnitude of the co-efficients of these in¬
equalities, and the duration of their periods, are not always
the same, but participate in the secular variations of the
elements of the orbits.
The theory of the figures of the planets, scarcely less Figure of
interesting than that of their motions, was also greatly ad-the earth-
vanced by the researches of Laplace. He confirmed the
results of Clairaut, Maclaurin, and D’Alembert, relative to
the figure of the earth, and treated the question in a much
more general way than had been done by those three
great mathematicians. From two lunar inequalities de¬
pending on the non-sphericity of the earth, he determined
the ellipticity of the meridian to be -g^-g very nearly.
Newton, in the Principia, explained the cause of the Tides,
phenomena of the tides, and laid the foundations of a
theory which was prosecuted and extended by Daniel
Bernoulli, Maclaurin, Euler, and D’Alembert; but as no
one of these geometers had taken into account the effects
of the rotatory motion of the earth, the subject was in a
great measure new when it was taken up by Laplace in
1774. Aided by D’Alembert’s recent discovery of the cal¬
culus of Partial Differences, and by an improved theory
of hydrodynamics, he succeeded in obtaining the differ¬
ential equations of the motion of the fluids which surround
the earth, having regard to all the forces by which these
motions are produced or modified, and published them in
the Memoirs of the Academy in 1775. By a careful exami¬
nation of these equations, he was led to the curious re¬
mark, that the differences between the heights of two con¬
secutive tides about the time of the solstices, as indicated
by Newton’s theory, are not owing, as Newton and his suc¬
cessors had supposed, to the inertia of the waters of the
ocean, but depend on a totally different cause, namely,
the law of the depth of the sea, and that it would disap¬
pear entirely if the sea were of a uniform and constant
depth. He also arrived at the important conclusion, that
the fluidity of the sea has no influence on the motions of
the terrestrial axis, which are exactly the same as they
would be if the sea formed a solid mass with the earth.
The same analysis conducted him to the knowledge of
the conditions necessary to insure the permanent equili¬
brium of the waters of the ocean. He found that if the
mean density of the earth exceeds that of the sea, the
fluid, deranged by any causes whatever from its state of
equilibrium, will never depart from that state but by very
small quantities. It follows from this, that, since the mean
density of the earth is known to be about five times greater
than that of the sea, the great changes which have taken
place in the relative situation of the waters and dry land,
must be referred to other causes than the instability of
the equilibrium of the ocean.
Closely connected with the problem of the tides is that Precession
of the precession of the equinoxes, which also receivedg ,5ineoxeSi
similar improvements in passing through the hands of 1
Laplace. He demonstrated, as has just been mentioned,
that the fluidity of the sea has no influence on the pheno¬
mena of precession and nutation. He considered some of
the effects of the oblate figure of the earth which had not
been attended to by D’Alembert, and showed that the
annual variation of the precession causes a corresponding
variation in the length of the tropical year, which at pre¬
sent is about 9 or 10 seconds shorter than it was in the
time of Hipparchus. He proved that the secular inequa-
ASTRONOMY.
813
History, lities of the motions of the earth and moon have no sensible
effect in displacing the axis of the earth’s rotation ; and he
determined the nutation of the lunar orbit corresponding to
the nutation of the terrestrial equator.
Jupiter’s Physical astronomy is also indebted to Laplace for a com-
satelhtes. p]ete theory of the system of Jupiter’s satellites, from which
Delambre constructed a set of tables which represent the
motions of these bodies with all desirable accuracy. And
when to these numerous and most important researches we
add the mathematical theories of molecular attraction, and
the propagation of sound, together with many great improve¬
ments in analysis,—and reflect, besides, that he is the author
of the Mecanique Celeste, the Systems du Monde, and the
Theorie des Probabilites,—we shall not hesitate to rank
him next to Newton among the greatest benefactors of the
mathematical and physical sciences.
By the brilliant discoveries of Laplace, the analytical so¬
lution of the great problem of physical astronomy was com¬
pleted. The principle of gravity, which had been dis¬
covered by Newton to confine the moon and the planets to
their respective orbits, was shown to occasion every apparent
irregularity, however minute, in the motions of the planets
and satellites; and those very irregularities which were at
first brought forward as objections to the hypothesis have
been ultimately found to afford the most triumphant proofs
of its accuracy, and have placed the truth of the Newtonian
law beyond the reach of all future cavil. Such is the state
to which analysis has now attained, that the geometer em¬
braces in his formulae every circumstance which affects the
motions or positions of the different bodies of the planetary
system; and the conditions of that system being made known
to him at any given instant of time, he can determine its con¬
ditions at any other instant in the past or future duration of
the world. He ascends to remote ages to compare the re¬
sults of his theories with the most ancient observations; he
passes on to ages yet to come, and predicts changes which
the lapse of centuries will hardly be sufficient to render sen¬
sible to the observer. But notwithstanding the proud ele¬
vation to which the theory of astronomy has been raised, it is
still far from having reached the limit beyond which further
refinement becomes superfluous. The masses of the planets,
and some other elements, remain to be determined with still
greater precision, by a diligent comparison of the analytical
formulae with good observations ; and the labours of the geo¬
meter may still be beneficially employed in giving greater
simplicity to the calculus, or in extending its power over
subjects which have hitherto eluded its grasp. The recent
discovery of several periodic comets completing their revo¬
lutions in comparatively short intervals of time, opens up
an interesting field for speculation and research, and will
doubtless be the means of throwing light over some curious
and as yet very obscure, points, respecting the appearances,
motions, and physical constitution of those strange bodies.
In the other departments of the science, also, numerous
questions still remain to be discussed, the solution of which
will occupy and reward the future labours of the astronomer,
and in which much progress has been made during the pre¬
sent century, by means of the powerful instruments now em¬
ployed at the great observatories of every civilized country,
and the improved methods of analysis brought to bear upon
the results of observation. The curious phenomena of double
and multiple stars, some of which appear to form connected
systems of bodies revolving about one another, or a com¬
mon centre of motion,—the variable stars,—the proper mo¬
tions of the stars,—the translation of the solar system in
space,—the progressive condensation of nebulae,—are sub¬
jects still in a great measure new; for it is only of late years
that observers have begun to direct the requisite attention
towards them, or indeed have been in possession of instru¬
ments of sufficient power and delicacy to observe and mea¬
sure the minute changes which take place beyond the boun¬
daries of our own system. ’ (t. g.)
History.
Supplement to Part I.—1853.
The discoveries in astronomy during the present century
have been so brilliant and numerous, and the progress in
every department is so rapid, and involves so many details,
that we should despair of adequately representing even the
outlines of the leading features in such a way as to benefit
the reader within the compass of the few pages which can
be allotted to the extension of the history which has already
been given. We propose, instead of attempting this, to give
as briefly as possible an account of the journals, institutions,
and observatories which have been chiefly instrumental in
producing this rapid progress of the science, and especially
to draw the attention of the English student to the works
of those great German astronomers, with which he must
make himself conversant if he would ever desire to under¬
stand the nature of the advances which have been made,
and which are absolutely indispensable if he hope to add
anything to the fabric which has been erected. The sup¬
plement thus given will familiarize the reader with the
sources of the various discoveries and investigations which
he will meet with in the subsequent parts of tbe article ; and
there is scarcely a subject of importance in any department
of astronomy which will not receive some elucidation.
Account of Serial Worlcs or Journals, Institutions, and Ob¬
servatories which have chiefly contributed to the improve¬
ment of Astronomy in the nineteenth century.
The history of astronomy has been given with sufficient de¬
tail to the beginning of the present century ; and, in confor¬
mity with the plan already indicated, we propose to exhibit the
sources ot its rapid advancement since that time, by giving
short notices of the principal publications and institutions which
have mainly contributed to its progress.
Of the serial works in question, the first to be mentioned is
Zach’s Monatliche Gorrespondenz, which, commencing with the
year 1800, was, till 1813, the leading astronomical journal in
Europe. The basis of this work was one conducted previously
by .Zach, entitled Allgemeine Geographische Ephemeriden.
1 his work was devoted chiefly to geographical researches ; but
Zach was induced to alter his plan, and to commence, on a more
extended scale, the celebrated Gorrespondenz, or, as it was en ¬
titled by its able editor, Monatliche Correspondenz zur Be-
fbrderung der Erd und HimmeVs Kunde. Soon after its
commencement (that is at the beginning of 1801), Piazzi dis¬
covered the planet Ceres, the complete history of which dis¬
covery, as well as of the discoveries of Juno, Pallas, and Vesta,
must be looked for in its pages.
At the end of 1813 this journal was discontinued, having
been really conducted from the year 1807 by Lindenau, though
Zach was still the responsible editor. Its abrupt termination
was due to the French war, in which Lindenau felt himself
called upon to take part on the staff of the Duke of Weimar.
This war produced a suspension of many of the literary and
scientific works of Germany ; and it was not till the beginning
of 1816 that a new journal was commenced, under Lindenau’s
direction, bearing the title of Zeitschrift fur Astronomic und
verwandte Wisscnschaften. This wrork, in which Lindenau
was assisted by Bohnenberger, differed from its predecessor
chiefly in being of a more strictly astronomical character, each
number consisting of articles comprehended under one or an¬
other of the three divisions, Original Treatises on Astronomi¬
cal Subjects, Critical Notices of Astronomical Works, and Cor¬
respondence.
One of the most valuable portions of this work, which was
814
ASTRONOMY.
History, not carried on beyond the year 1818, is the elaborate introduc-
tion by Lindenau'. It contains a long historical summary of the
progress of astronomy during the period of suspension of Zach’s
Correspondenz from 1813 to 1816, thus supplying a gap in the
continuous history of the astronomy of the present century.
Amongst the most remarkable of the contributions to the
Zeitschrift, we may mention the following :•—•
In vol. i., a paper by Gauss on the Theory of Certainty in
Observations ; also two or three papers by Bohnenberger on
the Precessional Motion of Stars for long Intervals of Time;
and a complete list of the works of Lagrange.
In yoI. ii., amongst other interesting papers and letters, an
essay by Littrow, On the Correction to the Mean Refraction
due to the Thermometer ; A Catalogue of the Arabic Names
of the Stars, by Zach; Observations by Bessel, especially of
Right Ascension, for the Determination of the Parallax of
61 Cygni; A History of the Greenwich Observatory by Lin¬
denau ; and an Investigation of the Orbit of the Comet of Pons.
In vol. iii., a paper by Zach, On Tobias Mayer’s Observa¬
tions of Uranus; and one by Littrow, On the Correction of the
Solar Tables.
In yoI. iv., Westphal On the Periods of Variable Stars;
Plana On the Changes in the Places of the Fixed Stars, pro¬
duced by the Secular Motion of the Plane of the Ecliptic;
A letter from Struve On the Commencement of his Operations
at the Observatory at Dorpat.
In vol. vi., the most important article is by Encke, On the
most probable Orbit of the Comet of 1680. Other works worthy
of notice are,—On the Accurate Computation of Nutation and
Aberration, by Bessel. On the General Formulce for Compu¬
tation of the Corrections of Six Elements, according to the
Method of Least Squares, by Plana.
The Zeitschrift was brought suddenly to a conclusion with
the sixth volume, at the end of the year 1818.
The epoch of this journal was one of very great importance
to astronomy. Old instruments and old methods were being
superseded by new ones. Telescopes of greater power were
mounted equatorially in several observatories; and meridian
instruments of improved construction were erected. At Green¬
wich, Troughton’s mural circle and transit instrument had been
erected, and a series of excellent observations had been begun
under Pond’s direction. On the continent, Reichenbach’s me¬
ridian circles were being introduced into every observatory;
and the first series of the Konigsberg observations, made by
Bessel with an instrument of this class, had been published.
But above all, the incomparable Fundamenta Astronomia of
Bessel was published at this time, giving the accurate results of
Bradley’s star observations, and new values of every element
necessary for their reduction, by investigations based on the ob¬
servations themselves.
The Tabulce Regiomontance, or synopsis of all the funda¬
mental quantities needed by the astronomer, which is still in¬
deed an indispensable text book, was published by Bessel in 1830.
Another serial work which must be mentioned, is Zach’s Cor-
respondance Astronomique, Geographique, Hydrographique,
et Statisque, of which the first letter is dated June 1818. This
was published in the French language, and was issued from
Genoa where Zach was residing. The series terminated with
the thirteenth volume in 1825.
In connection with Zach’s journals, it may be mentioned, that
a complete index to the Monatliche Correspondenz was com¬
piled recently by Dr Galle, and published in 1848, preceded
by a short memoir of the Baron de Zach.
The journal which succeeded the Zeitschrift, was the cele¬
brated Astronomische Nachrichten, which is continued at the
present time with unremitted utility. It was commenced in
1821 at Altona, under the editorship of Professor Schumacher.
The abilities and untiring zeal of its editor, who continued his
services till the time of his death in 1850, were mainly instru¬
mental in raising the Nachrichten to the high rank which it
possesses.
For a biographical account of Schumacher, the reader may
consult the eleventh volume of the Notices of the Royal As¬
tronomical Society. It will suffice here to mention his princi¬
pal works. They are, 1. A Collection of Astronomical Tables ;
2. Ephemerides of the bright planets from 1820 to 1829, and
of the distances of the bright planets from the moon, from 1822
to 1831, inclusive ; 3. His Astronomical Jahrbuch, from 1836
to 1344, which, in addition to a variety of useful tables, con¬
tains numerous popular scientific views and summaries by the
greatest geometers of the continent.
In 1829, the Royal Astronomical Society of London awarded
to Schumacher their gold medal for the Nachrichten ; and, in
illustration of the acknowledged character of the work, we quote
the following extract from the eulogium pronounced by Sir J.
Herschel on that occasion :—“ Amongst those numerous and
talented individuals throughout the continent and in England,
who are attached to astronomy professionally, or from love to
the science, the Astronomische Nachrichten of Professor Schu¬
macher establishes a point of concourse—a complete bond of
reunion. We have there a theatre of discussion of whatever
is most new and refined in the theory and practice of astrono¬
my ; the utmost delicacies of computation and scrupulous in¬
vestigation of instrumental errors are given by those most com¬
petent to reply and judge of them. To its pages, observations
of every kind find their way, especially those which depend for
their utility on corresponding observations, or which lose their
interest or importance by long suppression. Not a comet ap¬
pears, but there we find its elements handed in from all quar¬
ters with wondrous rapidity. Occultations, moon-culminating
observations, computations of longitudes and latitudes, disqui¬
sitions on practical points, descriptions, advertisements, and
prices of instruments,—in a word, everything which can awaken
and keep alive attention to the science,—everything that can
facilitate the contact of mind with mind The
Astronomische Nachrichten, in fact, contains the history of
astronomical science for the last thirty years ; it is the neces¬
sary complement and commentary of almost every astronomi¬
cal publication of value, and is the complete repertory of modern
theory and practice, not of Europe, but of the civilized world.”
This excellent serial still flourishes under the able editorship
of Dr Petersen, and continues to be the great medium of com-
History.
munication for astronomers.
A serial work of the same character as the Nachrichten, and
performing similar services for the science of astronomy in
America, has lately appeared under the editorship of Mr B. A.
Gould of Cambridge University, Massachusetts. The first vo¬
lume was completed in April 1851, and the work has gone on
uninterruptedly to the present time.
In proceeding to give some account of the principal ephe¬
merides, we shall confine ourselves chiefly to the French Con-
naissance des Temps ; the English Nautical Almanac ; the
Berlin Jahrbuch; the Effemeridi di Milano; and the Ameri¬
can Ephemeris and Nautical Almanac, of which the first
volume for 1855 has recently been published.
The series of the Connaissance des Temps commenced in
the seventeenth century, under the superintendence of Picard.
Lalande in the following century introduced great changes and
improvements, and the work remains substantially as he left
it. In both the ancient and the modern volumes, the places of
the planets are given only approximately at intervals of several
days, though in the modern volumes the daily places of the sun
and moon, and other solar and lunar elements, are given with
more detail and precision, and provision is made for the deter¬
mination of the longitude at sea by a copious table of lunar dis¬
tances for every three hours for the bright stars and the planets.
The places are given of a copious catalogue of fixed stars, and
particular attention has been paid to render the work useful for
maritime purposes. It has always been the vehicle for the pub¬
lication of some of the most valuable papers of the French
astronomers ; and in particular w'e may mention, that it con¬
tains the whole of Leverrier’s admirable discussions leading to
the discovery of the planet Neptune. For many years it was
published under the direction of the Academy of Sciences; but
was afterwards placed under the direction of the Bureau des
Longitudes. The modern volumes contain an excellent list of
geographical latitudes and longitudes, well determined.
The English Nautical A/mawac dates from 1767, for which
year the first volume was issued in 1766. It was undertaken
in connection with the parliamentary commission for the “ Dis¬
covery of the Longitude atSea.” Dr Maskelyne,the Astronomer-
Royal, conducted it for many years. It was afterwards succes-
ASTRONOMY.
History, sively under the direction of the celebrated Dr Thomas Young,
secretary to the Board of Longitude, and the Astronomer-Royal,
Mr Pond.
About the year 1830, however, the construction of the Al¬
manac was found to be defective, and reference was made by
the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty to the Royal Astro¬
nomical Society, requesting that body to consider what im¬
provements it would be desirable or necessary to make in the
work. A committee was consequently appointed by the society,
including every eminent astronomer in the British Isles, to¬
gether with Professor Struve of Dorpat, to report upon the
subject; and in consequence of their recommendations, the work
was brought to its present excellent form. One of the greatest
changes in principle made in the Almanac was its adaptation
to the wants of the theoretical and practical, as well as of the
nautical astronomer, to which last it was formerly almost ex¬
clusively devoted. This scheme introduced a great deal of ad¬
ditional computation of the accurate places of the sun, moon,
and planets for every day of the year; the introduction of mean
time instead of apparent; the supplying of the constants for
the corrections of the mean places of the stars ; and finally, a
more extensive list of fundamental or well-observed stars, with
their mean places deduced with scrupulous accuracy for every
year, and with the elements of their reduction. In addition,
the times of all the phenomena of Jupiter’s satellites are given ;
a moon-culminating stars, and of all stars down to the
sixth magnitude which could be occulted by the moon, together
with the elements for facilitating the computations of the oc-
cultations ; and lastly, a list of remarkable phenomena likely to
be useful. Every possible information with regard to the
places of the large planets, and of the four small planets first
discovered, is given, and complete elements for every solar and
every lunar eclipse during the year ; supplying, in fact, every
reasonable want of the general as well as of the nautical astro¬
nomer. One important addition to this work is the construc¬
tion of ephemerides of the planets calculated for the meridian
of Greenwich. By this means the observed and the tabular
places of these bodies can be immediately compared, and a very
easy reduction renders these places almost equally applicable
for other observatories not differing greatly in longitude, in¬
cluding alHn the British Isles, and several of the continental
observatories. The Nautical Almanac is so conducted that
the volume is always published about three years in advance .
of the current year, and its price has recently been reduced
from five shillings to half that sum.
Ihe first volume of the Berlin Jahrbuch was published in
1774: for the year 1776. Its object was twofold, viz., to sup¬
ply the want of such a work in which Germany had been for
some time singular, and “to obtain a repertory for all obser¬
vations, information, remarks, and treatises connected with
astronomical science.” From its commencement the Jahrbuch
was published under the inspection and sanction of the Royal
Academy of Sciences at Berlin. The volumes from 1776 to
1783 inclusive, bear on their title-page the name of no respon¬
sible superintendent; but the volume for 1784, and those that
followed it for a long period, were under the immediate editor¬
ship of Bode, and after he relinquished the office, it was put
into the hands of Encke, its present superintendent. It has
always been famed for the valuable collections of observations
and astronomical papers contained in its second part, which
forms one of the great storehouses of astronomical data from
its establishment to the present time. Its contents are parti-
cularly valuable in this respect for the period before the es¬
tablishment of the Monatliche Correspondenz, and it is here
t mt the astronomer must look for the records of his science in
the last century.
Almost all the articles in the second part of the first volume
are by Lambert, and though this and several succeeding volumes
are anonymous, yet it would appear that they were under
his management. At the present time it is one of the most
useful publications of its class, and is the only one which pro¬
vides original ephemerides for the recently discovered small
planets. 1 hose given in the supplements to the Nautical Al¬
manac are taken from the Jahrbuch, only adapted to the me¬
ridian of Greenwich.
liie Milan Ephemeris ( Jiffemeridi di Milano) is a useful
815
publication commencing with the year 1800. The modern History,
volumes are sometimes found useful from their supplying some ^ , ,
elements of the planetary motions which are wanting in other
ephemerides. It contains many valuable observations and
papers of the Italian astronomers. Other ephemerides are
those of Bologna, Coimbra, and Cadiz; but these require no
particular mention.
Very recently an American Ephemeris and Nautical Al¬
manac has appeared, which promises to be of great service. It
is printed in a large octavo volume, and is published under the
authority of the Secretary of the Navy. It is at present under
the superintendence of Lieutenant C. H. Davis, U.S.N., the
theoretical part being placed under the special direction of Pro¬
fessor Peirce of Harvard College, Cambridge.
This work does not copy implicitly any existing nautical al¬
manac, but, retaining what is best in our own and others, modi¬
fies the arrangement in a way which promises to be more gene¬
rally convenient. One great peculiarity in this work is the sepa¬
ration between the part designed exclusively for the purpose of
navigation, and that which is generally useful for the theoretical
or practical astronomer. In the second part the places of the stars
and the planets are referred to the meridian of Washington, and
in the computations, the best elements at present known are
scrupulously employed. Thus, for the star corrections, Peters’s
constants of precession, nutation, &c., have been adapted to
Bessel’s formula?; and with regard to the lunar computations,
the elements are based on Plana’s theory, but include Hansen’s
inequalities and secular changes of the mean motion and the
perigee ; and Airy’s corrections of the elements derived from
the reduction of the ancient Greenwich observations. For the
planetary computations, the latest corrections of the elements
of each planet have been employed. For Mercury, Lever¬
nier’s theory has been used (Conn, des Temps for 1848);
for Venus and Mars, Mr H. Breen’s corrections have been ap¬
plied to Lindenau’s elements (Memoirs of Royal Astronomical
Society, vols. xviii. and xx.); for Jupiter and Saturn, Bouvard’s
tables have been used with some changes, and Bessel’s value of
the mass of Jupiter is employed ; for Uranus the elliptic ele¬
ments of Bouvard are used as the basis, with Leverrier’s cor¬
rections and perturbations caused by Jupiter and Saturn (Conn,
des Temps for 1849), and with Peirce’s corrections and per¬
turbations arising from the action of Neptune; finally, for
Neptune, Peirce’s theory and Walker’s orbit have been used in
the construction of the ephemeris.
Another very useful work is the French Annuaire, which
contains some valuable articles by Arago, and the Annuaire
de Bruxelles which, since 1835, has been published yearly
under the superintendence of M. Quetelet, director of the ob¬
servatory of that city.
Finally, we must make mention of the Comptes Rendus of
the French Institute, which furnishes abstracts of all papers
read at the meetings of that body, and contains very many
valuable articles by the best French astronomers. This series
is, however, too generally known to require more than this pass¬
ing notice.
We will now proceed to give some account of such modern
societies and institutions as have most tended to advance the
science of astronomy ; and it will be sufficient to advert to two
of the most prominent of those connected with England, namely,
the Royal Astronomical Society of London, and the British
Association for the Advancement of Science.
The Royal Astronomical Society dates its existence from
the year 1820. Previously to this time the greater number of
papers relating to English astronomical research were presented
to the Royal Society, and many valuable articles appeared from
time to time in the Philosophical Transactions, particularly
those of Sir William Herschel. It was evident, however, that
astronomy involved so vast a field of research as to require a
totally independent organization. The Astronomical Society,
accordingly, was founded ; and, at its first meeting in 1821, it
enrolled amongst its members every astronomer of reputation in
England, and, amongst its associates, several of the most dis¬
tinguished philosophers of the continent. Amongst its officers
at this time were Sir William Herschel (president), and Sir
John Herschel, Mr Baily, Mr Babbage, and Dr Pearson; and
816 ASTRONOMY.
History, amongst its associates were found the names of Arago, Biot,
Delambre, Laplace, Bessel, Gauss, Harding, Littrow, Gibers,
Schumacher, Zach, and Piazzi—in fact, every continental as¬
tronomer of acknowledged reputation.
From the first establishment of the Society, its serial publi¬
cations were two, namely, the Memoirs, published from time
to time in quarto volumes, and the Monthly Notices. In the
former are printed papers, either practical or theoretical, hav¬
ing more than a temporary interest, and declared by a com¬
mittee appointed for the purpose to be worthy of a permanent
record ; in the latter are given abstracts of all papers pre¬
sented to the Society, and a full account of all the proceedings
at the monthly meetings. At the present time the Monthly
Notices take rather a wider range; and omitting such obser¬
vations as are sure to appear in the Nachrichten, they supply
abstracts and reviews of all astronomical papers or books what¬
ever, which appear either at home or abroad.
The quarto volumes of the Memoirs, now twenty-one in num¬
ber, are exceedingly rich in the contributions of both English
and foreign astronomers. Amongst the most valuable papers
contained in them may be mentioned some of the contributions
of the late Mr Francis Baily, including his compiled catalogue
of stars (commonly called the Catalogue of the Astronomical
Society) ; his Report on the Pendulum Experiments made
by Captain Foster ; his edition of the catalogues of Ptolemy,
Ulugh Beigh, Tycho Brahe, and Hevelius ; and finally, his
account of his repetition of the Cavendish experiment for de¬
termining the mean density of the earth.
The volumes contain also many valuable papers by Sir John
Herschel, Mr Airy, and many other distinguished astronomers,
which it would be invidious to particularize.
The Monthly Notices communicate to the Society generally
every astronomical circumstance of interest; they give the
correspondence of its members with foreign associates, and ac¬
counts of every class of observations communicated to the So¬
ciety by its fellows or correspondents; and, in fact, perform
all the offices of a monthly journal for the science in relation to
the English scientific public.
In the annual report of the council to the Society, a good
retrospect is taken of the events of the past year ; and from
the date of its establishment, its pages contain perhaps the
best materials extant for a history of the science, including
memoirs and accounts of all eminent astronomers who have
died in the interval.
At the end of 1830 the society obtained a royal charter of
incorporation, enabling them to amass property, to receive be¬
quests, and to insure its perpetuity ; and, generally, to aug¬
ment its consideration and sphere of usefulness. It has taken
ever since the title of the Boyal Astronomical Society of
London, and has the sovereign for its patron.
Of all the societies for the advancement of separate physical
sciences which have branched off from the Royal Society, as the
Astronomical Society was one of the first, so it has been probably
the most practically useful. Its reputation has been constantly
increasing ; and the influence of its works, and of the opera¬
tions set on foot through its agency, extends to every part of
Europe and America, and has produced a marked effect in
every department of the science.
The British Association for the Advancement of Science
has been also very instrumental in assisting the progress of
Astronomy. With its general objects and constitution our
present subject is not concerned ; and we shall confine our¬
selves to a mention of such astronomical books or works as it
has been the means of producing. The Association was in¬
debted for its existence chiefly to the exertions of the York¬
shire Philosophical Society, and to the convictions of that body
of the utility of organizing the efforts of the various societies
for the advancement of science existing in London as well as
in the provincial towns of our empire.
The first meeting of the Association was held at York in
September 1831 ; and, as concerns the science under conside¬
ration, a report on the state and progress of physical and prac¬
tical astronomy was requested from Professor Airy for the
meeting of the next year to be held at Oxford. Mr Lubbock was
also requested to furnish a report “ on the means which we
possess, or which we want, for forming accurate tables for cal- History,
culating the time and height of high water at a given place.” X .
The former of these reports, which is a most valuable sy¬
nopsis of the progress of astronomy from the beginning of the
present century to the date of the report, is printed in the first
volume of the Reports of the Association.
The astronomical works of greatest importance, performed
by aid of the funds, and under the auspices of the Association,
are, 1st, The compiled catalogue of 8377 stars, formed under
the direction of Mr Baily, with an elaborate introduction writ¬
ten by that astronomer; 2dly, the catalogue of Lalande, con¬
taining more than 40,000 stars, formed by the reduction of
the observations of the Histoire Celeste', and 3dly, the catalogue
derived from Lacaille’s Southern Observations, containing
9766 stars.
The formation of the above-mentioned catalogues, and the
reduction of the ancient observations of Lalande and Lacaille,
necessary thereto, are works of that magnitude and import¬
ance which only such a society could have undertaken, and
which rank amongst the most valuable boons to astronomy in
the present century.
We come now to the most important class of institutions
tending to promote astronomy, namely, the great Observa¬
tories, of which almost every country in the civilized world has
one or more. Our limits oblige us to confine ourselves chiefly
to those observatories which have produced in the present cen¬
tury important changes and advances in the science, merely
adverting to the others by way of reference.
Of observatories of the first class are those of Greenwich,
Cambridge, Oxford, Edinburgh, and the Cape of Good Hope,
in the British dominions ; of Dorpat and Pulkowa in Russia ;
of Berlin and Konigsberg in Prussia ; and, finally, the obser¬
vatory of Paris ; and of these we shall give short notices.
The Observatory of Greenwich is sufficiently well known to
prevent any necessity for dwelling upon its early history; and
our remarks will be confined to its operations since the acces¬
sion of the present Astronomer-Royal, Mr Airy, near the end
of the year 1835. At that time the instruments consisted
mainly of a 10-foot transit instrument , and a 6-foot mural cir¬
cle, both by Troughton ; of a 5-foot equatorially-mounted tele¬
scope by Ramsden, and of another small equatorial (since dis¬
mounted) by Sisson. There was also a gigantic 25-foot zenith
tube by Troughton, which has been since dismounted. The work¬
ing staff of the establishment consisted, in addition to the As¬
tronomer-Royal and the first assistant (the Rev. R. Main), of
five subordinate assistants. Since that time very little altera¬
tion has taken place in the statf or organization of the establish¬
ment, excepting in the employment of-additional computers.
In 1840 magnetical and meteorological observations were
commenced in’an observatory built for the purpose, of which
the superintendence was given to Mr Glaisher, one of the as¬
sistants in the astronomical department, and observations have
been carried on up to the present time ; for the last few years
they have been made, however, by a photographical process.
The principal changes and additions to the instruments are
the following:—
In 1838 was erected an equatorial instrument, of which the
telescope has an object-glass of 7 inches diameter, with a focal
length of 8 feet, presented by the Rev. R. Sheepshanks. This
instrument has a clockwork movement attached, and many
valuable observations have been made with it.
In 1847 was erected a very massive altitude and azimuth
instrument, constructed.by the Astronomer-Royal on peculiar
principles of solidity and strength, for the purpose of mak¬
ing extra-meridional observations of the moon with as great
accuracy as those usually made on the meridian, and thus se¬
curing generally a far greater number of observations in each
lunation, as well as a good supply of observations near the
conjunctions, which was totally impracticable before. Every
object intended by this instrument has been amply realized.
The observations made with it are of equal excellence with
those made on the meridian, and they are more than double in
number ;—in addition, observations have been made occasion¬
ally within thirty hours, and frequently within two days, of
the time of conjunction on either side.
ASTRONOMY.
History. In 1850 was erected a large transit circle, intended to re-
place the transit instrument and mural circle then in use. This
instrument, which was brought into use early in 1851, occupies
very nearly the same position as the mural circle formerly in
use, its centre being 6 feet S. of the point corresponding to
the centre of that instrument. It is also 20 feet E. of the po¬
sition occupied by the transit instrument. The focal length
of the telescope is 12 feet, and the diameter of the object-glass
is 8 inches. In connexion with the instrument are two colli¬
mating telescopes of 5 feet focal length, one to the N. and the
other to the S. of it. For the determination of the zenith-
point, observations are made daily of the coincidence of the
horizontal wire with its image reflected in mercury, as well as
observations of stars by reflexion. The pivots of the axis are
6 inches in diameter, and the instrument is of very great weight
and solidity. It is found that ordinarily as many observations
can be made with it by one observer as could be made formerly
with the transit instrument and mural circle by the employment
of two observers ; and that they are of unexceptionable ex¬
cellence.
AVe must not here omit to mention the system of galvanic com¬
munications now in operation. Wires were laid in the spring
of 1852, connecting the observatory with the general system of
wires of the South-Eastern Railway Company ; and since that
time a communication has also been made between the wires
ot the Electric Telegraph Company crossing Blackheath, and
the observatory. It is thus enabled to communicate at plea¬
sure (with the concurrence of the companies above named) with
any place to which the wires of these companies extend ; and
successful experiments have already been made for the deter¬
mination of the longitudes of the observatories of Cambridge
and Edinburgh. From the observatory hourly time-signals
are transmitted to the stations of the South-Eastern Railway at
London Bridge, Tunbridge, Deal, and Dover. For the trans¬
mission of these signals the circuit is closed by means of a
clock whose maintaining power is galvanic ; and by a combi¬
nation of the same agency and of electro-magnets fixed near the
trigger which drops the Greenwich time-ball at 1 o’clock, the
ball is dropped by electro-magnetic power. A ball erected at
the office of the Electric Telegraph Company in the Strand is
also dropped by the same agency, the wires in connexion
with its electro-magnets being included in the circuit. Se¬
veral sympathetic clocks in the observatory beat in coinci¬
dence with the motor-clock, especially one of which the dial is
exposed to the public; and it is intended that ultimately clocks
at London Bridge and other railway stations shall be put in
connexion.
To the Greenwich Observatory, and to the untiring labours
of its present eminent director , are due some of the most import¬
ant works of modern astronomy. The ordinary production of
each year is a thick 4to volume, averaging from 600 to 700
pages. The star-observations, as far as the year 1847, are
incorporated in a catalogue of 2156 stars, named the Twelve
Year Catalogue. Recently observations have been made of
all stars down to the fourth magnitude included in the British
Association catalogue, and visible at Greenwich ; a copious list
has been observed for the determination of clock error, and is
now in ordinary use in addition to the list of the Nautical
Almanac; and finally, a good list of circumpolar stars has
been observed for the determination of the azimuthal errors of
the transit instrument.
A great many comets have been in former years well ob¬
served with the equatorials, as well as a small catalogue of
double stars. The bright planets have all been well measured,
and, in particular, the ellipticity of the planet Saturn has been
determined by means of measures made with a double-image
micrometer, in a paper by Mr Main, printed in the eleventh
volume of the Memoirs of the Royal Astronomical Society.
Besides the ordinary work of the observatory, many great
works have been undertaken and completed by the Astronomer-
Royal. Of these the most important is the reduction of the
ancient lunar and planetary observations made at Greenwich
by his predecessors, beginning with Bradley. Both these works
are ot a most important character; and the former, imme¬
diately after its publication, was instrumental in detecting a
remarkable inequality of the lunar orbit, depending upon the
817
action of Venus, on the results being put into the hands of M. History.
Hansen. The ancient lunar and planetary observations form ^ - - 1
three thick quarto volumes. f
Another work of considerable importance was the determi¬
nation, in 1845, of a large arc of parallel on the earth’s sur¬
face, by means of chronometrical determinations of the longi¬
tudes of stations at Kingstown (Dublin), and the island of
Valentia on the west coast of Ireland.
The Observatory of Cambridge.—The building was com¬
pleted in 1824, and the first director of the observatory was
Professor Woodhouse. Professor Airy succeeded him in 1828,
and continued till the autumn of 1835, when he became Astro¬
nomer-Royal. He was succeeded by Professor Challis, the
present director.
The observatory was at first furnished only with a 10-foot
transit instrument by Dollond. To this was added in 1832 an
8-foot mural circle by Troughton and Simms, and a 5-foot equa¬
torial by Jones. Finally, the Northumberland equatorial (so
called from the title of its donor the Duke of Northumberland)
was erected under the direction of Mr Airy in 1838. The
telescope of this fine instrument is of nearly 20 feet focal
length, and the clear aperture of its object-glass is 11J inches.
It is mounted with its telescope in the plane of the polar
axis, which is supported above and below by pivots resting
in Ys.
At the accession of Professor Airy, he introduced a very im¬
portant principle, vigorously followed by himself up to the pre¬
sent time, and now imitated in the greater number of British
observatories, namely that of thoroughly reducing every ob¬
servation before its publication. The elements of reduction are
uniform throughout ; and, these being explicitly stated in the
introduction to each volume of observations, it is comparatively
easy to compare the results with those of any other set of re¬
duced observations, even if the elements be somewhat different,
by making the requisite alterations.
Mr Airy, while at Cambridge, introduced an important alter¬
ation in the use of the mural circle, by observing the reflected
as well as the direct image of a star at the same transit, and
thus determining the zenith point.
He also introduced the practice of observing the planets
when at a considerable distance from opposition on either side.
By this means errors in the orbits were rendered capable of de¬
tection, for which no data existed previously, especially such
as depend upon an error in the radius-vector.
The results of Mr Airy’s star-observations, made at Cam¬
bridge, were afterwards collected by himself, and published in
a catalogue of 726 stars, named the First Cambridge Cata¬
logue.
The planetary observations were also grouped by him, and
the normal results published in various papers of the Memoirs
of the Royal Astronomical Society.
The activity of the observatory has continued undiminished
to the present time; but, on account of the erection of the
Northumberland Equatorial, the chief subjects for observation
have become necessarily different. This instrument has been
employed systematically for several years in observations of
double stars, and of the small planets which recent discoveries
have rendered so numerous. Our readers will also remember,
and we shall have farther occasion to notice in our history of
the planet Neptune {Supplement to Part II.), the active part
taken by Professor Challis in the search for that planet, and
the fact that it was twice actually observed by him before
Galle’s discovery, although it was not recognised till after the
discovery.
The Radcliffe Observatory at Oxford.—This observatory
was erected about the year 1774. Its directors have been suc¬
cessively Dr Hornsby, Dr Robertson, Professor Rigaud, and
Manuel J. Johnson, Esq., the present director. The observa¬
tions which have given an honourable distinction to this ob¬
servatory have been made during the directorship of Mr John¬
son, and are inferior to none produced at any establishment
with an equal amount of observing force, in number, in accu¬
racy , or in punctuality of publication. They are also published
in a reduced state, which adds considerably to their value.
5 L
818 ASTRONOMY.
History. The instruments consist mainly—Is#, Of a ransit instru-
ment of 8 feet focal length, and 4 inches aperture of object-
glass, constructed essentially in 1843 by Simms ; 2dly, Of a
meridian circle of 6 feet in diameter, erected in 1836 by Jones;
3dly, Of a fine heliometer erected in 1850, by the Messrs
Itepsold of Hamburg, the object-glass of which is by Messrs
Merz of Munich, and is of 10| feet focal length and 7A inches
aperture.
Mr Johnson’s great work has been, since his accession to the
directorship in 1839, the re-observation of the stars in Groom-
bridge’s Circumpolar Catalogue, and the careful determina¬
tion of their magnitudes. This, with the aid of only one assist¬
ant, he has completed, and is preparing to arrange the col¬
lected results in a catalogue.
This work, when completed, will be a great boon to science
on many accounts, but especially for the accurate determina¬
tion of the proper motions of the stars, more than 4000 in num¬
ber, contained in the catalogue.
Another assistant has recently been added to the establish¬
ment, for the working of the heliometer.
Of the observatories in the British dominions, we will next
mention that at the Cape of Good Hope. This observatory was
established by order in council in 1820, at the instigation of
the then existing Board of Longitude. The Rev. Fearon Fal¬
lows was appointed the astronomer, with a salary of L.600 per
annum, and he was to be supplied with an assistant to carry on
the observations. He was instructed to make observations of
the same kind and in the same manner as those made at Green¬
wich, so that “ the whole might constitute two corresponding
series capable of comparison in all their parts.”
Mr Fallows arrived at the Cape in August 1821, and after
some unavoidable delays, the observatory was erected on a site
he had selected between Liesbeck River and Zwart or Salt River.
Notwithstanding innumerable disadvantages and annoyances
against which he had to struggle, he contrived to observe a
catalogue of 273 stars, the reception of which was announced
at a meeting of the Board of Longitude in November 1823.
A new clock by Hardy was shipped for him at the end of
1822, and the transit instrument and mural circle intended for
the observatory were progressing; but no steps had been taken
for the building of the observatory, which was not completed
till 1827, and the instruments were not mounted and ready for
use till 1829.
The instruments at that time were,—Is#, A transit instru¬
ment by Dollond, of 10 feet focal length, and 5 inches aper¬
ture ; 2dly, a mural circle by Jones, of 6 feet in diameter,
which proved a very faulty instrument, and caused most serious
annoyance, not only to Mr Fallows, but to other astronomers.
Mr Fallows did not live long after the completion of his
observatory, when he might have expected to reap some re¬
wards of his previous labours and anxieties. He died on
the 25th July 1831, deeply regretted in all scientific circles in
England.
Mr Henderson succeeded Mr Fallow's at the Cape, but re¬
signed his appointment in 1833. During his brief director¬
ship, however, he materially advanced the reputation of the
observatory. The bright double star a Centauri was found to
have a considerable proper motion ; and this induced him to
make a series of observations for the purpose of detecting its
parallax, which he ultimately found to be about one second of
space. This result has since been confirmed by his successor,
Mr Maclear.
Mr Henderson wns succeeded by the present director, Mr
Maclear, who had for his assistant, Mr C. Piazzi Smyth, the
present Astronomer-Royal of Scotland. The observations of Mr
Maclear for 1834 were published in 4to in 1840, but only one ad¬
ditional volume has appeared since. He has, however, been
actively employed, and many valuable results have been
printed in the Memoirs of the Royal Astronomical Society,
of which we may mention, in particular, the details relating to
the measurement of Lacaille’s arc of meridian.
Two more assistants have at different times been added to
the staff, and more recently a magnetical and meteorological
observatory has been added, provided with one additional as- History,
sistant. v ■
A good equatorial, with clock movement, of which the tele¬
scope is of feet focal length, and 6-9 inches aperture, was
erected in 1849 ; and a large transit circle similar to that at
Greenwich, and intended to supersede the present meridian in¬
struments, is in course of construction.
Mr Maclear is at present engaged in observing approxi¬
mately, with the mural circle, all the stars of the catalogue of
the British Association which are visible at the Cape, and has
already cleared up a great many errors and inconsistencies in
Lacaille’s observations.
The Royal Observatory of Edinburgh.—This observatory
is situated on the Calton Hill of Edinburgh. It had its origin
in an astronomical institution, whose members built on the
Calton Hill a small observatory, and placed it in the charge of
the Professor of Astronomy and Natural Philosophy, Dr Wal¬
lace. At this time there existed a sinecure Professorship of
Practical Astronomy ; but, at the death in 1828 of Dr Blair,
who had for some time occupied the chair, the government de¬
clined to fill up the vacancy immediately. The office remained
vacant from 1828 till 1834; when an agreement was made
between the government and the members of the Institution,
whereby the latter gave up to the university the use of the
observatory on the Calton Hill, which the former undertook to
convert into a public establishment, by furnishing it with suit¬
able instruments, and making provision for an observer and
an assistant. It was then resolved to fill up the office of Professor
of Practical Astronomy, and to combine with it the direction
and superintendence of the observatory ; and this arrangement
has continued till the present time, though until lately no at¬
tempt was made to form a class of practical astronomy.
Mr Henderson, on resigning his appointment at the Cape,
was appointed to the office, and continued to fill it until his
death, which took place in 1844. Under his able directorship,
and by his unremitting labours, the Edinburgh Observatory
immediately took its place amongst the best institutions of the
kind. The observations made with the transit instrument and
mural circle rivalled those made at Greenwich in accuracy and
in number, taking into account its small establishment; while
the director illustrated and extended astronomy generally by
a long series of papers on various branches of the science, many
of which are of great value, and are reckoned amongst the most
valuable contributions of the time. He had considered it an
indispensable duty to reduce the observations which he had
made at the Cape of Good Hope ; and at this he worked dili¬
gently as long as his life lasted, and his other duties would
permit.
It has been already mentioned that he determined the pa¬
rallax of a Centauri. By comparison of his observations of the
moon made at the Cape with those made in Europe, he esta¬
blished the necessity of a considerable augmentation of the
moon’s parallax ; while, by observations of very low stars, he
has produced materials for a new set of refraction tables.
Finally, he deduced from his observations a catalogue of the
declinations of 172 principal stars, chiefly in the southern
hemisphere. Indeed, he seems to have done for his epoch in
some degree the same thing which was done by the illustrious
Bessel; he redetermined and corrected some of the most impor¬
tant astronomical elements, and his papers remain as models
of elegance and accuracy to future inquirers.1
At the time of Mr Henderson’s death he left five published
volumes of observations, namely, those from 1834 to 1839, and
a sixth nearly ready for publication. His successor, Professor
Piazzi Smyth, took upon himself the charge of reducing the
observations of the remaining years up to the time of his de¬
cease. This task he has accomplished ; and the Edinburgh
Observations now form an uninterrupted series from 1834 to
1844, printed in ten volumes 4to, and inferior to none yet pro¬
duced in accuracy or utility.
The principal instruments of the observatory consist of a
transit instrument by Repsold and Son of Hamburg ; a mural
circle by Troughton and Simms ; and an altitude and azimuth
1 For a complete catalogue of his works, see the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society, vol. vi. p. 190.
ASTRONOMY.
819
History, instrument by the same artist. The transit telescope is of
nearly 8£ feet focal length, and 6J inches aperture. The
6-foot mural circle is similar to those formerly used at Green¬
wich.
Since the accession of Professor Smyth, a new arrangement
has been made with the government. The town authorities
have consented to make over the building to the crown, on con¬
dition of the latter taking upon itself the sole charge of defray¬
ing the expenses of the establishment, and of providing for its
adequate and perpetual maintenance. A general repair of the
building and the instruments has since been made, and at the
same time a board of visitors was appointed, so as to render the
management of the observatory in most respects similar to that
of Greenwich.
The Observatory of Paris was built by order of Louis XIV.
during the years 1668 to 1671. It had for its first directors
successively the four Cassinis ; namely, the celebrated Domi¬
nique Cassini, and after him Jacques Cassini, Caesar Francois
Cassini, or Cassini de Thury, and finally Jean Dominique Cas¬
sini, or the Comte de Cassini. For the ancient history of this
observatory^ the reader may refer to Delambre’s Astronomie
au dix-huitieme siecle, p. 311 ; we have space only for a few
remarks on its modern condition.
1 he instruments have consisted for some years chiefly of a
transit instrument by Gambey; of a mural circle, completed
by Fortin in 1822, and of another since erected by Gambey ;
and finally of a good equatorial of moderate size by the latter
artist.
Several volumes of unreduced observations have recently been
published in folio, which give ample evidence of the skill and
industry of the observers, but they do not appear to be made
on any settled plan, and the introductions defend the principle
of publishing them in the unreduced state. Individually, the
astronomers of the Paris Observatory have taken a good part
in the recent discoveries and rapid progress of the science.
Faye, Laugier, and Mauvais have been distinguished by their
cometary discoveries, as well as for other valuable works ; Le-
verrier is the famed discoverer of the planet Neptune ; and,
finally, Villarceau is distinguished for his researches on the
orbits of double stars.
For many years the Paris observations were printed in the
Connaissance des Temps. The observations from 1800 to
1803 are printed in the volumes for 1823, 1824, and 1825.
From 1803 to the commencement of 1810, they are printed in
the volumes extending from 1808 to 1812.
Afterwards they were printed in two distinct folio volumes,
the first of which contains the observations from 1810 to 1819,
and the second from 1820 to 1828. Finally, a new series has
been published in folio, containing, in ten volumes, the obser¬
vations from 1837 to 1846.
4. A heliometer of 42 inches focal length, by Utzschneider History,
and Fraunhofer, mounted equatorially.
There are as usual several smaller instruments, and a mag-
netical observatory has been added to the establishment.
Three folio volumes of observations, commencing with 1838,
have been published.
The importance of this observatory is chiefly due to the la¬
bours of Professor Encke. We have already mentioned his re¬
searches on the comet of 1680, and he is still more celebrated
for those on the comet bearing his name, which have been the
means of bringing into evidence the existence of a very thin
resisting medium pervading the planetary spaces. Recently he
has published a very ingenious method of calculating the dis¬
turbances of the small planets. This memoir has been trans¬
lated by Mr Airy, and is published as an appendix to the Nau¬
tical Almanac for 1856.
Dr Galle, who was till lately attached to the observatory, has
also added to its reputation by the discovery of two comets, and
still more by the discovery of the planet Neptune, on the first
evening of his search, near the position indicated by Leverrier.
The Observatory was finished in 1813, and none
has contributed more during the present century to the im¬
provement of every branch of astronomy than this observatory,
under the direction of Bessel.
It is situated on the summit of a hill on the N. W. of the city,
and at first was but moderately equipped with instruments. In
1820 there was added a good meridian circle by Reichenbach,
and with this instrument were made those observations of small
stars lying between 45° N. declination and 15° S. declination,
known by the name of Bessel’s Zones. These observations
have been recently reduced (as far as 15° N. declination) by
Dr Weisse, and the resulting catalogue is printed in 4to.
In 1829 was erected the celebrated heliometer by Fraunhofer,
which is described in the Memoirs of the Royal Astronomical
Society, vol. xii. The most celebrated work performed with it
by Bessel, was the detection of the parallax of the binary star
61 Cygni. It has been since used by Wichmann in the attempt
to detect the parallax of the star No. 1830 of Groombridge’s
catalogue.
In 1841, a new and improved meridian circle, by the Brothers
Repsold of Hamburg, was erected, and in the use of it Bessel
introduced the practice of obtaining the nadir point by means
of observations of the coincidence of the direct and reflected
images of the horizontal wire of the telescope.
The fame of this observatory is so intimately connected with
that of Bessel, that a full account of the works performed in it
would be but a record of part of the life of that great man,
and for this we would refer the reader to the Notices of the
Astronomical Society.
The Observatory of Berlin is of comparatively recent date,
but the institution was contemporary with that of the Academy
of Sciences, which dates from the commencement of the seven¬
teenth century. Omitting the history of the institution before
the erection of the modern building, which is only interesting
in connexion with the publication of the Jahrbuch under Bode,
and which may be found in Encke’s introduction to the first
volume ot his observations, we shall confine ourselves to a short
description of the modern observatory.
Encke succeeded Bode about 1822, but it was not till 1828
that, on the representations of Humboldt, measures were taken
for the erection of a suitable observatory, of which the founda¬
tion-stone was laid in 1832.
The building is situated in the Lindenstrasse, near the north
boundary of the city wall, and the instruments are placed in
apartments above the ground floor, on solid piers of masonry
carried up from the foundation. It contains—
1. A large refracting telescope by Fraunhofer, mounted
equatorially, of the same dimensions with that at Dorpat, the
mounting being similar to that of the Konigsberg heliometer.
3^-feet meridian circle by Pistor, the telescope of
which is of 5 feet focal length, and of 5^- inches aperture.
3. A 31-feet transit instrument by Dollond, placed in the
prime vertical.
Our limits oblige us to be brief in our accounts of the Russian
observatories at Dorpat and Pulkowa, which have both attained
the highest possible distinction through the labours of Struve.
The Observatory of Dorpat was built about 1811, and in 1813
Struve was appointed to it. For some time its chief instru¬
ment was an 8-feet transit instrument; but in 1822 a large
meridian circle by Reichenbach was added; and at that time
Struve began those researches in sidereal astronomy which have
rendered him so famous.
In 1824 was added the great Fraunhofer refractor, of which
a particular description, accompanied with plates, is given in
Part iv. of this article.
The remits of Struve’s labours with regard to double stars
are contained in a large folio volume, entitled, Stellarum du-
plicmm et multiplicium mensurce micrometricczper magnum
Fraunhoferi tubum, annis d 1824 ad 1837 in Specula Dor-
patensi, Petropoli, 1837. This volume is accompanied by a
smaller work of reference, entitled Catalogus Novus Stella-
rum Duplicium.
_ Very recently, M. Struve has published another large folio,
giving the mean places for 1830 of the stars observed at Dor¬
pat. . The title is Stellarum Jixarum imprimis duplicium et
multiplicium positiones mediae pro epocha 1830, deductce ex
observationibus meridianis, annis 1822 ad 1843, in Speculd
Dorpatensi institutis.
820 A S T K O
History. M. Struve was appointed in 1839 to the new observatory to
be erected at Pultowa, and was succeeded by M, Madler, who
has well sustained the reputation of the observatory of Dorpat.
The foundation-stone of the Observatory of Pulkowa was laid
in 1835 ; and in the autumn of 1839 this best endowed and
most perfectly organized of all European observatories was
completed and in working order. We must be content to give
only a few details concerning this admirable institution.
The instruments are the following :—■
1. A large transit instrument by Ertel, with provision for
reversing the position of the eye-piece and object-glass, and
with a collimating mark placed on a pier to the S. of the in¬
strument.
2. A large vertical circle by Ertel, in construction similar to
an astronomical theodolite. The focal length of the telescope is
77 inches, and the diameter of the object-glass very nearly 6
inches. With this instrument were made M. Peters’s observa¬
tions for determining the parallax of certain stars, of which the
results are given in his paper, Recherches sur la Parallaxe des
Etoiles Fixes, printed in the Transactions of the Petersburg
Academy.
3. A meridian circle by Repsold, with all the improvements
suggested by M. Struve’s experience. The focal length of the
telescope is nearly 7 feet, and the aperture of the object-glass
6 inches. “ This instrument is designed,” says M. Struve,
‘ ‘ for the collection of a great mass of observations to serve for
the construction of a vast catalogue of stars.”
4. A large transit instrument by Repsold, placed in the prime
vertical. The telescope is of 7|- feet focal length, and 6J inches
aperture of object-glass. With this i instrument M. Struve
made his observations for determining the value of the constant
of the aberration of light discussed in his paper, Sur la
Coefficient de CAberration des Etoiles Fixes, 1843.
5. The great refracting telescope by Merz and Mahler, of
which the focal length is 221 feet, and the clear aperture of the
object-glass 15 inches. It is mounted equatorially according to
the usual method applied to foreign telescopes. It has been
used with great effect by M. Otto Struve, son of the director,
on the system of Saturn and on other objects. A similar tele¬
scope has since been erected at the observatory of Harvard Col¬
lege, Cambridge, Massachusetts, which has added to astronomi¬
cal discovery.
6. A heliometer by Merz and Mahler, of which the focal
length is 10 feet, and the aperture of the object-glass is 7i
inches.
These are the grand instruments of the establishment, which
is also liberally supplied with smaller instruments of every
kind. There is also a very fine library attached to the establish¬
ment, of which the foundation is that of Gibers, purchased after
his decease.
Connected with the observatory are workshops for making
the requisite repairs and alterations in the instruments, and to
these are attached mechanists and carpenters superintended by
proper officers.
Besides the persons on the ordinary staff of the establish¬
ment, several others are ordinarily attached, either for instruc¬
tion or for the carrying on of special works, or in connexion
with geodeticai or geographical operations. To give some idea
of the extent of this noble institution, M. Struve estimated
that in 1844 there were no fewer than 103 persons (including
the wives and families of the persons employed) residing with¬
in its boundaries.
We are obliged to conclude this short account of a few of the
leading observatories of Europe, without mention of many
N 0 M Y.
others of very considerable importance in the history of as- History,
tronomy. We should have been glad to have given some de- v ,- v J
tailed notices of that of Bonn, including the labours of Arge-
lander, and of Hamburgh, including those of Rumker. The ob¬
servatories of Cambridge and Washington in the United States
are also of great importance ; as well as the private observa¬
tories of Mr Bishop, Mr Lassell, Lord Rosse, and Mr Cooper.
The preceding sketch may however suffice to show the great
activity that during the present century has pervaded every
branch of astronomy, and to guide the student in some measure
to the sources of astronomical knowledge relating to the present
epoch.
The following works may be consulted on the history of as- Works on
tronomy:—Riccioli, Almagestum Novum, Bononias, 1653, 2 the history
vols. folio; Sherburn’s Translation of the Astronomicon of0? astro-
Manilius, London, 1675; Weidler, Programma de Veteris nomy.
et Novce Astronomice Discrimine, Wittembergae, 1720 ; Sou-
ciet, ObservationsMathematiques, Astronomiques, &c.,1729,
2 vols. 4to. The second volume of this work, by Gaubil, con¬
tains a history of the Chinese Astronony, with Dissertations.
Weidler, Historia Astronomice, Wittemb. 1741; Idem, Com-
mentatio de Mechanica Astronomica Medii JEvi, 1742;
Long’s Astronomy, London, 1742 ; Costard’s Letter to Mar¬
tin Folkes concerning the Rise and Progress of Astronomy
among the Ancients, London, 1746 ; Foulques’ History of
Astronomy, London, 1746 ; Heathcote, Historia Astronomice,
Cantab. 1747, 8vo ; Esteve, Histoire Oenerale et Particuliere
de VAstronomic, Paris, 1755, 3 vols. 12mo ; Goguet, Origine
des Lois, des Arts, et des Sciences, various editions; Jablo-
now, De Astronomice Ortu ac Progressu, &c., Romae, 1763,
4to ; Bailly, Histoire de VAstronomie Ancienne et Moderne,
1775, 1779, 1782, 4 vols. 4to. This work has been published
without the notes and calculations in 2 vols. 8vo, Paris, 1805.
Gentil, Sur VAstronomie des Indiens, Hist. Aco.d., Paris,
1772 ; Gaubil, Histoire de VAstron. Chinoise, in the Lettres
Edifiantes et Curieuses, tom. xxvi.; Bailly, Traite de VAstr.
Indienne, Paris, 1787, 4to; Playfair’s Remarks on the As¬
tronomy of the Brahmins, in the Edinburgh Transactions,
republished in the 3d volume of his Works ; Asiatic Researches,
vols. ii., vi., viii. ; Adam Smith’s Fragment on the History
of Astronomy ; Lalande, Astronomie, Paris, 1792, 3 vols. 4to ;
Idem, Bibliographie Astronomique, avec VHistoire de VAstro¬
nomie depuis 1781 jusques d 1802; Yince’s Astronomy, vol.
ii., Cambridge, 1799; Kaestner, Geschichte der Mathematik,
Gottingen, 1796 ; Schaubach, Geschichte der Griechischen As¬
tron. bis auf Eratosthenes, Gottingen, 1802, 8vo ; Montucla,
Histoire des Mathematiques, Paris, an 7, an 10 (1802), 2d edit.
4 vols. 4to; Laplace, Exposition du Systeme du Monde, and
Pond’s Translation of the same work ; Small’s History of the
Discoveries of Kepler, 1803; Bossut, Histoire Generate des
Mathematiques, Paris, 1810, 2 vols. 8vo ; Voiron, Histoire de
VAstronomie depuis 1781 yMsgues d 1811, Paris, 1811, 8vo, a
continuation of Bailly ; Delambre, Histoire de VAstronomie
Ancienne, Paris, 1817, 2 vols. 4to ; Idem, Histoire de VAs¬
tronomie du Moyen Age, 1819, 4to ; Idem, Histoire de VAs¬
tronomie Moderne, 1821, 2 vols. 4to ; Idem, Histoire del’As¬
tronomie du xviii. Siecle, 1827, 4to. These six volumes of
Delambre’s Histoire contain copious extracts of all the prin¬
cipal works which have been published on the subject of astro¬
nomy, interspersed with much enlightened criticism; Gesch¬
ichte der Astronomie, von Dr G. A. Jahn, Leipzig, 1844, 2
vols.; Airy’s Report on Astronomy in British Association
Report for 1832, vol. i.; Grant’s History of Physical Astro¬
nomy, 1852, 8vo. (a. m—n.)
END OF VOLUME THIRD.
NEILL & CO., PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
History.
p< '-tance in the history as- History,
•rs «?lad to hare givei: some do-
idiii / .h»- • «. or i;
•a ell. Lord Kosst , and .Mr Coo^>er.
iy Liow ver sad « to sho’ the gr. a?
i • serre for
• va.I ue (. f the constant
q is;- paj.- !*, Sur ( ■'
Vl m and Mahler, of
tefesco pf.s It has been
. of the di:» ' tor,
ervatory of Harvard Col-
iehiiasaidedtoastroiiomi-
1 Vlah'or, of which the focal
■ nt turn of the object-glass is 7J
tt inente of the establishment, wi ich
t v J with smalh:" instruments of every
5 fine libraj’y attached to the establish-
. •if u. ■ •: bf f>fe?"h if: that of Olbers, porohased after
•:r Vi ary staff, of the t-'- : tf .
j •••.>: oi ;, od, cither tor j i ■
, - i*l works, or in com. .
j present century has >ervaded every
, and to guide the student in some measure
' itronomical knowledge reiatiag to the present
The . ' ; --ag works may be consulted on h histor? -if as-Works-on
tronom 1 a ioli, Almagestum Novum Bononije, . I. 2theHMor
vols. ft ; h^rbum’s Translation oj ths A tronom con w/'of astro*
et Asft nownioB Disomnine, Witte;iihorga;. 1722 • Sou-
r ;t; Ol trrva: nvcaMgthofnatiqv-es, Astronom^fuss, &e., 17.29,
Long’a Astroiu. r,jjoncku 1'A (', Mar-
'
among the -Li - \$ntsy Lend* ;*<>, Iques’ History of
Astronomy, hon on, 1746 i -. :: at . MistoHa 4 •?r- omia,
Cantab. 1747, i. Kstvve, i o1 ■ 0-in rat > t 1 irtiouliere
de t'Astronom- • at >1, , .12: 0.,>: lot, Ongme
des Leas, des J •’$*, st ■ < .ho, * , \'ox .... v nionsJahio*
novf, He Astroit * • i ' i..pres.iw, f Romna, 1763,
4to; Baiiiy, -t '■ •• Ano.*-i,n« et M ’dome,
lr c, Acad., Paris,
j. • ds^. in the Lettres
... Ay, Traite dt I’Astr.
Remarks on the A°~
the uroh Transactions,
(lentil, Sm .■ T,
1772: : II
Inu n
, 4 :
■ ." • . ■ To give so.') ie > :
< jn iy3 persons (in da.
r> . t • V f Yi -..U...); i :
r ‘oiint of afew d f i;
■ ■ ition c i aj
°
at 17l)2,3 vols. 4to:
. ’Hiatoire de V Astro
ice’s Astronomy, vol.
. 1802, 8vo r Monto‘la,
7- an JO lb - >2), 2ded .
; a Systeme du Mondf, and
a ; ■ Small’s History of ih>
■ • ut, Hutoire Generate des
vo : Voiron, Hist0ire dc
1 Jl, Paris, 1811, 8vo, a
,' toire de TA s t ronomie
b;ia, Jlistoire de I’As-
; Menii Hisioife de I’As-
; Ljem, Histoire de VAs-
. These fix volumes of
extracts of alTthe pr;' -
n h o subject of astro-
. d earitic:. n Gesch
ritish Association
‘ of Physical Astro
(a. m—•».)
ANATOM T.
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ARCHITECTURE .
PLATE Mil.
Fl/mk/dk SectwriabElepatwri/ofa/ Greek/D oric/Perip feral/&Kypcetkral Temple/.
('Section/on/ the/dotted/Tines of Flan/ below )
EnFly G.Aikman ,Edin r
W'.&.delt
//,m i>r<t (.'reel' (\ t<istv/e Peripteral X- Hx/hetluii/ Temple .
Published by A.XrC.R1 acP,Edinl)org'h.
IRC HIT &€ Tr |M5
LATK JdV.
% m m € # # -fe t # % #~m~*
i
A RCHITECTITRE.
Front EUvaii/m of a. Gredc Doric Hexasp.'letperipw-al Temple.
PLATE LAV.
Plan or w Greek Eexastyle-peripteral Jc ClriTlmil Temple.
Published bvA.&C. Black, Ediniuroh.
Eruff'Try G.AiLmeui.FJlnr
HU W
' •'■j.H-rrvstrkTempU
ARCHITECTURE.
PLATE 7.1.
//: //. iieV
Han of a, Greek Hexa -prostyle Temple
F.ng^by G.Aiitm/irv, EJin T
Publishedhjr A& C.Black, Edjnbur^h.
1
YRCHJTFJ TI RK.
'
oi
ARCHITECTURE.
PLATE LVT.
O : o i
n: //. ,t,j‘
Published byk.ScC Elack Edinbargb
Am-1 to G.Aikmmti,£durr
V K ( N I T \: C TV \l l<:
;-*i i ru n
i.ii! - M o r f, I> I N (; s
-- — FM*
\
Cn-ci.iii .
A R ( II I T i:c TI R K .
PLATE JjVJT.
5
m o ir L n i n <; s
Fillet
Ko in.'in
() R N AMK A T
(irecia?i.
K o in a ii.
Published by A: &: C. Dlack,EdiabiirgJi.
r
\R( jin rn »m:.
' . • HtkUiJ
%
PLATE LVUI.
ARC H ITECTURE.
Examples of the Ronui ti Coruithuuh.
Published by A& C.Black,Edinburgh.
;'
ax-i
: l! 1 ! !!l
Kr.
ARriiiTKcri ut
Eriintp/ rfthc Hi'mOM Onii-nt
ARCHITECTURE.
PLATE UX.
A RCIi ITKC'l 1 RK.
/'/. 1
Hg. /.
Fi# »'
4
1
ARCHITECTU RE.
PLATE LX.
Fig.l.
Published bj A.& C. Black. Edinburgh.
Fuji. 12.
P'n.i1.1 by G.Aihruin. F.dmS
1
I
\r< n rn:c rr k i*:
H t-
.
ftenutH Mention.. »uA tA An i.
I roiu P.»«, | it.
,y—• ry | ~ |. -j—
/‘At' ' ■ w A6m.'-f,vr. in « pro,itr. -rtrnnt .
1'i ona Po cn pen.
i'.uuti.'n f/fy. // ■'! fA*/.'/ ■■
*T' 1"
JFfy.8.
^.7.
tA. •> . Kjmwa?/? /ftp. //
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/ •.; •• /•• •*- .v /A .••»» • • A", •>*.> • 'ip. n
hibim.hpd bv A&C. B, ,xk,Efiuibordk
i
AM CH ITECTIJRE.
PLATE LX I.
of a fionuifi Mansion, with iito houses, shops & streets, surrounding it.
from Pompeii.
Sfreteh, ,>f the /:n/r.i/i, -e, to th&Mansiort (higfJ. 2 <& 3Jitt its present state .
Ftp. S.
Specimen, of the mode of ornamenting the sides of rooms in Pompeii. t
"i—| rp—n n t
P/att op■/ Roman Mansion, in a,prit'ate street.
from Pompeii.
Fig. 2.
Garden
Section, of the ahore Mansion, fFig. /) on. thr tine a. .a.
Fig. 3.
/wtfrasiFF' K/era/zon, 60 t/ce street of'tAe afore J/iinsio/i {fig./J
I
Fig. 7.
Section, of the above,^ Wans ion (Fig. (i.J
on, the line b.b.
Fig. 8.
FleraFon to the, street of the ahei
I
' JfansiorL {/fy. ft/
Eng I* by G. Atlkman, EtErif
jr.H. dtP.
Riblisted b\rA&C.BIack,Ediaburgk
AIK H I TE( TT K K .
» ■ a
''
PLATE LXJI.
ARCHITEerrRE.
u:n ,/,■/’
by G.Aikmazi.Edin^
Publisliod bv '> Ll.lark. hrlinburdli.
fy. o-
Fig.40.
a
m dri<
Published bjr A&C.Black,£dinburgh.
Ena^bu G.Aikma/v. EdinE
VRCII ITKCTI U <•
east V'r, itt trraiien
PLATE LA/V.
ARC IIITE CTURE .
ST PETERS.
c//s/ fro/it elevation .
Drum h> J. T. U an’. Ksq r Arcit i
Ena? bif S^dthmfLtv, EdiavT
Published bj A.Sc C. Black. Edinburgh.
a k e h mo c t r r i:.
VR C HIT VA T CRE
PLATE LSV.
ST PAUX'S
/South Flank Elevation .
E
."ritxv h’J P WaresEsq TArchZ
Eng ^ by G~A ikrruubEd-isir
\V
ST PETER'S.
/JVo/r/i Flank Elevatwii.J
SCALE
200 300 Feet
I  4
Published by A.X'.C. PlacJ^, I'.dinburgh
Hid1--::. JTiLdFl 'l -'2^31
f
. rrz.
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•PuWi- c\ l ’ at ••..P.dinburol
l.XVI.
ARCHITECTURE .
rLA ti:
Villa Capra
Tiear Wcenza..
Fry.J.
/>// J. J‘ //<//•<’, F.s>/.r. hi h f
J' l 'o-
villa Giulia
near Roth&.
F a R n e s e P A l A c E  Rome
/'rent elevation.
Putlislied bji\Jc C Black.Edinburgh.
f’/ti/'1 /»// o. .likrn.t//. E'dinZ
vkc ii vr\:c v\ i .
. t v U.j'uA.tm .’t'-K--
'■■ ■ /■ / . ./
A v-.r //!>/// ■
■
,
• -V>V"/i ■ ,*/• • , ■ •,
PLATE LAV/I.
,/rrA /horn the. ATave of'S?AU>asi's J/>7>sr C/iitrs//,.
Arcfies from 00 C/iopef i?v the,
JffiiteTower, Tondon..
ffoor-wav from Iff fey C/wrcfi,,
Oxfordshire.
Arches from the fbnrentueU IwrcA. . /rches from WiOt/uun. Abbey Church,, fier/s
Window fromSteyniny? Church,
Sussex.
Doorway from Iffley Church,, Oxfordshire.
//<). JO.
Hifuhm’ from Pyt/uujoras's School,
Cambridge.
-R . ^ ?
TUndows from, Barries ten, Clcurch,.
Tent.
Arches thorn Ilomsey Church, Hampshire,.
Window from, Steyninp Chr/rch,, Sussex.
rsr -
Window from Chichester Cathedral.
Arches from thejVaeeof S'furreAaen Church. Sussex.
Arches from the,Have of Salisbury Cathedral.
HAL d-d
PuMistedbv A. <8cC Black. Edinburgh
End J by G-Aikmasi , /. < /in.r
v it ( ii rr e< rru i:.
//: //.
Publisked by AJc C.Black. Edinbnr^k
r Aikman . fr'din r
a k < 11 i t i :< ' r rm *:.
Pt, A TI. ’
■tU tji' th? i;/*r of > ir.
ARCHITECTUR I
PLATE LXIX.
Sectional compartment of the Naye of J.iricoln Cathedral ■
Published hy A& C.Black. Hdmburgh
I
‘I
VUCIIITKOTRU. PLATE vex.
: ■ . - 
• ' . .
Published bj.A.&C.Black EdiaburcP
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PLATE LAM.
Ft#. 11.
FuplO.
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First Form
ARITHMETIC
CHINESE SWAN-PAN
PLATE LXXII.
Roman aba cits
Seoorul Form
mum
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allegorical numerals of
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CHINESE NUMERALS
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l°lioi
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TJTE ANCIENT GHINESE
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:| l. n
• 2t7 22 40
Y1
£ili imniini.
1 20 21 40 400 8.000
YEAR 1816.
16, OOO
Be.DA'S MANUAL NOTATION
i- - Greek Nitmerals § ^
I II A H X M X H H 2 |3 y 0 e s Z ri % t x X u. v £ 0 7179 y p 5 t v OX,! oj^aK : 2 2 3
JT ef 10 100 1000 10.000 30.000100.000 i 2 3 4 a 6 -j g 9 \zo io3o Wo jo 6o jo go go ' zoo 300 4oo jX 600 Soo goo I 1 ^
Roman numerals
I VA X L_r C M 07 OD c7 10
F Y if L C M^CIOCIJOD CCl cclpo I ),.) ) CCClOJO
■3 00 3000
Rapid ary Numeral s
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lh fh l^bk ^gL/4 b
3,000 lo.ooo
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N TIME R AL S
10, OOO
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OAucc^cvux icccy yym Cjii ^ ^ ^ ^ 302.303 304 co
•- 1334 8 M 12 JS 14 30 31 32 33y ,14 ' I06
i -r 7) <A Q ~~ C <> ^ Numeral
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OO OO OO
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I A l 'i (3 / S I Vv ,4,1 English
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VARIATIONS of EUROPEAN yNUMERALS
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Eng* by G.Aikntan.Editor
I. Fareg. del1.
Publi sleily A. ScCBlack, Edinburgh.
1
Published byA-^C-ElaxtEdinbiirdi 1853.,
'
[Edinburgh, November 1, 1853.
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SIR WALTER SCOTT’S WRITINGS AND LIFE.
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ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK’S PUBLICATIONS.
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CJ
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UNIVERSITY AND SCHOOL CLASS-BOOKS—(continued).
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ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK’S PUBLICATIONS.
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BLACKS TRAVELLING MAPS.
✓ f
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EDINBURGH: ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK’S PUBLICATIONS.
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA,
EIGHTH EDITION.
In every country where Science and Literature have been long and successfully cultivated,
and books extensively multiplied, attempts more or less skilful have been made to reduce the
mass of information to a compendious and regulated form, and to furnish a ready access to its
varied details by means of Encyclopaedias. Of the importance and advantages of such publica¬
tions, there can scarcely be two opinions. Executed on a plan sufficiently comprehensive, they
ought to embrace all the departments of human learning, rendering the Alphabet a ready key,
not only to the Arts and Sciences, but to the multiplied details of History, Biography, Geo¬
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which was added the Supplement, in two volumes, by Bishop Gleig, in 1801; this was fol¬
lowed by an edition in twenty volumes, in 1810 ; and other two editions during the succeeding
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The Seventh Edition, which was completed in 1842, embodied whatever remained
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and have given it so decided a preference in public favour, that its popularity, instead of suffer-
22
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ing diminution from rivalship, has steadily continued to increase, and never stood higher than at
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To all such the Publishers confidently recommend the Encyclopaedia Britannica, as a
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EDINBURGH: ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK.
“ The Encyclopaedia Britannica, a publication well worth your havingT
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Now Publishing, in Monthly Parts, price 8s., and Quarterly Volumes, price 24s.,
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA,
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GREATLY IMPROVED AND BROUGHT DOWN TO THE PRESENT TIME.
EDITED by
THOMAS STEWART TRAILL, M.D., F.R.S.E.,
Professor of Medical Jurisprudence in the University of Edinburgh ;
ASSISTED BY NUMEROUS CONTRIBUTORS, WHOSE INITIALS ARE ATTACHED
TO THEIR RESPECTIVE ARTICLES.
•
The ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA forms an Alphabetical Repertory of every branch of
Human Knowledge, and renders the Alphabet a ready key not only to the Arts and Sciences, but to
the multiplied details of History, Philosophy, Biography, Geography, Commerce, Manufactures, Sta¬
tistics, and Miscellaneous Literature.
The Publishers are fully aware that in a comprehensive work of reference, as this is, it is desirable
to obtain Completeness and Accuracy of Detail in all the Articles, of whatever length or consequence
they may be. Accordingly, while arrangements have been made to secure the co-operation of some of
the most eminent living authors for the more important contributions, the greatest regard will in every
respect be paid to those of the smallest size.
LIST OF SOME OF THE CONTRIBUTORS TO THE EIGHTH EDITION.
lit. lion. Thomas Babington Macaulay, M.P.
Richard Whately, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin.
R. Dickson Hampden, D.D., Bishop of Hereford.
William Whewell, D.D., Professor of Moral Philosophy,
Trinity College, Cambridge.
Baron Justus Von Liebig.
Dr Wm. Gregory, Professor of Chemistry in the University of
Edinburgh.
William Spalding, Professor of Rhetoric, St Andrews Uni¬
versity.
Sir Archibald Alison, Bart., Author of the History of Europe,
&c. &c.
John Stuart Blackie, Professor of Greek, Edinburgh Uni¬
versity.
Edward Thornton, Esq., Statistical Department, East India
House, Author of Gazetteer of Scinde.
Augustus Petermann, Esq., Physical Geographer to the
Queen.
John Wilson, Esq., Farmer, Eddington Mains, Berwickshire,
Author of various papers on Agriculture read before the
Highland and Agricultural Society.
Thomas Anderson, M.D., Professor of Chemistry, Glasgow,
and Lecturer on Agricultural Chemistry to the Highland and
Agricultural Society.
John Hill Burton, Esq., Advocate, Author of the History of
Scotland from the Revolution, &c.
Rev. Wm. Lindsay Alexander, D.D., Author of Connection
and Harmony of Old and New Testaments, &c. &c.
George Farquhar Graham, Esq., Author of various Works
on Music. >
J. R. M'Culloch. Esq., Member of the Institute of France,
Author of Commercial Dictionary, &c.
Sir William Hamilton, Bart.
George Ferguson, LL.D., Professor of Humanity, King’s
College, Aberdeen.
Charles Maclaren, Esq., F.R.S.E., Author of Topography of
the Plain of Troy, Geology of Fife and the Lothians, &c. &c.
William Hosking, Esq., Professor of Architecture and Arts of
Construction, King’s College, London.
Rev. Robert Main, M.A., F.R.A.S., First Assistant, Royal
Observatory, Greenwich.
Lieut.-Col. Portlock, R.M.A., Woolwich.
Rev. Wm. Scoresby, Author of Account of the Arctic Regions,
&c. &c.
J. H. Stocqueler, Esq., Author of British Officer, Military
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Jonathan Aylen, Esq., Master Attendant, H.M. Dockyard,
Sheerness.
James Wilson, Esq., F.R.S.E., Author of various Works on
Natural History.
David Craigie, M.D., F.R.S.E.
Hon. Lord Cockburn, Author of Life of Lord Jeffrey.
Dr Leonard Schmitz, F.R.SiE., Rector, High School, Edin¬
burgh, Author of History of Rome.
John Hutton Balfour, M.D., Regius Professor of Botany,
Edinburgh University.
James D. Forbes, F.R.S.E., &c. &e., Professor of Natural
Philosophy, Edinburgh University.
Emeric Szabad, late Secretary under the Hungarian National
Government of 1849.
Three Volumes are noiu published:—
VOLUME I. contains the Preliminary Dissertations. By Dugald Stewart, Sir James Mackin-.
tosh, Richard Whately, D.D., John Playfair, and Sir John Leslie.
VOLUME II. contains Articles from A- to ANATOMY. Illustrated by numerous Engravings on
Wood and Steel.
VOLUME III. contains Articles ANATOMY to ASTRONOMY. Illustrated by numerous En¬
gravings on Wood and Steel.
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Lay of the Last JfLinstrel, new edition illdsteated.
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With ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS from Designs by Birket Foster and John Gilbert.
Mr. Foster last Summer personally visited the District in which the Scenery described is situated, and his Illustrations
brace every Place of Interest noticed in the Poem.
Extra Cloth, Gilt Edges, 18s. ; Morocco Elegant or Antique, Gilt Edges, 25s. On 1st December.
Lady of the Lake, SECOND EDITION Illustrated.
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gill, Elmore, Egg, Hook, Stone, Phillips, Faed, Horsley, &c.
In Twenty-five Vols. Demy 8vo, Cloth Lettered, £11 :5s. On i5th November.
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Uncle Tom S Cabin, With One Hundred and Thirty Illustrations.
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it, I am disposed to regard it as the best in point of execution, particularly in respect to the woodcuts, which I have vet seen Glasaot
April 14, 1853. ‘
Lifo of Siv Walter Scott, By J. G. Lockhart, Esq.
New Edition, in One Vol. 12 Engravings, cloth, 7s. Gd.; extra, gilt edges, 8s. 6d.
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Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Author’s Edition Illustrated.
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Poetical Works Of Sir Walter Scott, Author’s Edition.
Six Engravings, cloth, gilt edges, 5s.; morocco antique, 10s. Large paper, cloth, gilt edges, 6s.; morocco antique, 10s. 6i'
Tales of a Grandfather {History of Scotland), By Sir Walter Scott.
Numerous Illustrations, 3 vols. cloth, lettered, 12s.; extra, gilt edges, 15s.
Tales of a Grandfather {History of France), By Sir Walter Scott.
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Beauties Of Sir IWalter Scott, (Selections from his Writings).
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Readings for the Young, From the Works of Sir Walter Scott.
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■